By the harbour I met the sky

She came here to think, to imagine I suppose would be a better way to put it. But, as always she was distracted by the stars looking at her curiously with their pale painted faces. She never quite understood why they asked the moon such strange questions, but still never stole its thunder as it lay lazily in the sky. 

The moon had taught them many things of kings, queens and evil beings. It carried them to the windowsills of the storytellers as they tucked in their small people night by night. They baffled the stars how such simple musings could place even the little people who never seemed to stop running, in to a peaceful slumber.

Of course they never saw them running only during the winter when they were awake early and went to bed late. 

I checked my watch, ten more minutes and I would have to return before curfew to the small house beside the forest. It was a strange place not quite a house not quite a home, not anything really just a small piece of a life spent dreaming to avoid thinking of all that had gone by, but the many stories the stars had heard each night.

When the moon comes up

The illuminated kaleidoscope

with trees of pink and green,

with toadstools of red and white,

with flowers of amazing array,

and animals of strange and rare type.

There are rabbits that can tell the time,

and talk of pirates,politics,planes and more,

intelligent beyond our wildest dreams,

topics discussable gilore.

And if you choose not to talk,

to simply walk,

the sights you see are so magnifique,

the eye could take in no more.

But so what happens after dark,

in this strange and wonderful place,

well let me explain to look away now,

to have your childhood fantasy erased.

There is a city beyond the forest in wonderland

where all the amazing animals go,

To drink and steal and have the fun you really dont want to know.

They do not allow the children in too see what else they do,

but the fantasys of their immaginations whould not see this-is true,

they have commited terrible crimes of which i cannot describe,

the have damaged the minds of many people who they have come across at night.

I would advise a visit to wonderland,

but only during the day,

if you catch a glimpse of wonderland at night,

you will not want to stay.


Entering the house.
A deplorable,
incomprehensible sight.
3 dead,
near the front door.
“Who could be so cruel?”,
uttered one.
“One a mother!poor child!”
replied another.

“Ring a ring a rosies,
a pocket full of posies”,
rocking back,
and forth,
The aria,
of elapsed danger.
Her apparell,
a costume of red,
recently assumed,
the scent,
to the convulsing infant.
Grasping the dagger,
the newly dead,
to her,
was only coppying mummy.


Suffocated by the shock of you,

when words failed to suggest

not one uttered only a muffled scream

you owe the night a glance

for what in the moon you drew

the seizing sun saw you not

the cape of dark you threw

upon yourself in blackened streets

the only thing I recognized

was that perfect chain

around your neck

the gag for you I bore

when the dieing sun shone through masses of black curls

and the crimson poored from cuffed wrists

upon a tiled floor

in a place not unknownst to me

I knew I’d been before and the only thing

that calmed my doubt

that perfect chain you wore.

Letter to the heart

You deny the simple pleasures of life.

To embrace ones which kindle the fires of neither love nor care.

No words of heart can break your shield.

You are unbeatable, unbreakable.

Or am i just too destructable, too breakable for you.

Too tempting to your blackened soul.

The bate to your craze.

The red cloth that permits your enchanted desires.

But not one word nor three will change your opinion of me…

I love you

I whisper so you will not hear I am weak.

Oblivious as you are to the tears forming on my face.

Because you will never whisper to me….