I stole the morning hours

With wordless thoughts

As we lay amongst the leaves

We drew the lines of our ancestry

Moments of introspection

Command the flight of our soul

And in fleeing

I sacrifice them to Hyperion.






A flock of wild geese

Cries out an ancient song

With their praises

I forsake autonomy

The river bends and

The water from the marina

Preaches another sermon

To a boy that grew beyond

A father’s expectations.






My love nestles in the twigs

Scent of rotting wood

Evaporates amid heavy mist

In the twilight the moon

Refracts my penance

As time delays a song

My first and final tribute.






Oh! How the overture of life

Resists the silent damnation of casualty

We talk on a first-name basis,

My childhood God and I.






Dear Kin

Parted at birth

Until now

Who imparts with

A due embrace

Yet I have nothing

To share

Perhaps distant strangers

We were meant to be.






Boy beyond this barricade

‘Tis my blood that I owe

The night brings comfort

To a heart that once was yours

That was stolen from you

Prayers reach this poly-god

But do they hear me like you do?






Justifications fail

To wake the gentle giant

That is satisfaction

I have rallied through

Many paths that sought

The silver light

Yet I return without prize

Do I owe it to half-heartedness

Or is it just the design of life?






Supple skin

I never had

Though boyish charms

I cradled at birth

Rich with ego

And nothing more

Content I am

With this crystal ball

While others are

Tied by a noose

Fear that is the hand

That reins them in

So it is I that will

Set them loose.






Free-falling into a state of flux

Reversing the light

Rousing the flames

Sifting through the ashes of a wreck

Joyriding the carousel of time

Speaking in a speechless rhyme

Being one and only

Belonging to myself but not I.






Embellished upon a shroud

Randomness prevails

Laughter succumbs to reason

That mounts on a saddle

Of inappropriateness

Hands touch a faded eminence

And with each stone hurled

Liberates a moment

That chronicles a life misplaced.






Questions haunt waking moments

A life pieced together

By a determination to play
The cold whispers of friends

Upbraid excessiveness

As I wrestle with my conscience

Do they not know that my actions

Are as transparent as they are?






I have been judged on numerous occasions

I have explicated myself just as many times

A moment of peace I relish the most

Yet a dose of that moment has a perverse price.






Family and friends are institutions

They belong to a realm of self-design

To our families we owe ourselves

To our friends we owe our invention.






Union of a totality

Severs along its seams

As bygone words

Brought only confusion

The heart forfeited earns

A medal of remorse

I have just lost a friend     

A partner in this scheme of life.






A primeval world casts its shadow

Like a diagram of a universal manifest

I am charged with the penalty of life

As I sit at my desk pouting in silence

The fruition of years of trial and error

Earns a warrant to further search my soul

Yet the story is not complete without

The daily hysteria of a manic-depressant.






I lay a command upon the soil

Like a kid wishing upon the stars

On the edge of consciousness

My whole is being carved

As one dream fosters another

An unknown hand stitches

Them like patch-work

As I plough through them

I wake only to define myself.






Oh! How you wane

By the slightest of petitions

You carry messages

Shed by lovers and dreamers

Carrying their song

To the deep

Immersing the

Credence of the sun

You become the soul

Of the night

Harbouring the voice

Of a millennia

Yet you stir like

A jester before court.






I look around me

And all is at right-angle

I look inside myself

And all that remains

Is but a jumbled

Deck of cards.






Reflections fail

To portray ourselves

As appearances suffocate

Our potential to be

Yet beauty needs

No reflection to

Reach its own potential.






The night has matured into day

And yet I write these words

Upon this page as if my day

Has no importance

Time for bed delays with each word

And as if with every word

I charm myself to sleep.






How I yearn for another baptism

The light sprinkling of that holy water

To cleanse me of my sexuality

Perhaps good fortune

Will then lead me back

To some semblance

Of a righteous human being.






The tanks came as

If God’s hand had swept by

And carried the children away

The face of humanity

Burnt off without mercy

The innocence of laughter

Now buried six feet under.






I learnt the Ten Commandments

Just as I turned my head from

A life of absolution

I sought the pleasures of adulthood

As I unsheathed myself from

The carapace of religion.






On this day I turn twenty-five

And I am slow in waking

The sensuality of dawn

Resuscitates the epitome of youth

Back to the pulsating rhythm

Of a church bell’s chime

Playing amongst the groves

When sweat poured down onto my face

Without care or derision

I am slow in waking

As this memory is mine to keep.






Boredom inspires great things

Our soul unwraps and

Beneath the echelons of the mind 

The flurry of questions

Conciliate one another

When the gaze salutes at nothing

When the heartbeat slows

Inspiration swells like a bud

And wakes us from our boredom.






I douse the flames

Of hypocrisy

As the world resumes

Its interactions like

The day before

I am no longer Hephaestion

But a relic of old.






Mornings begin its

Ritual of blessings

With a hymn from Selene

From dream to the privilege

Of motion and memory

Eyes open as unfamiliar gods

Shine their rays on you

And I alone.






She came in time

For my upbringing

Her songs at bedtime

Were pure and willing

She sang of legends

That soon became

A part of me and

Through the art of words

I rested my faith upon a fate

As the lyrics remained

Within these walls

Even when we parted.






Moments of truth reveal itself 

In times of strife and heart-ache

Within the soul

Two parts marry

And the frailty of the self

No longer hides its face

In the soil of consolation.






All too quiet is the mind

That seeks to become second

To the edicts of men
As nature’s voice rings truer

To our hearts within

And the pounding might

Of pulses rage

All is not lost when

We succumb to these demons.






As the day stretches beyond

Into undiscovered plains

My heart roams to where

The hyacinths grow

This garden of unthawed beauty

Remains my sacred asylum

Where thoughts of the purest kind

Loiters without prejudice.