Tuesday, May 22, 2007

A Way To Freedom

To be liberated
To be emancipated
To get away
To find a way

To be freed
We're all in need
Of freedom some day
We'll find a way

To be free to leave
Not one of us is a thief
We will not stay
We'll find a way

This dream we've got
We will not let it rot
Come what may
We will find a way

To be let out
And be able to shout
"We're free today!"
We will find a way


Friday, May 18, 2007


Splashing, slopping, lashing, swishing, sweeping,
gushing, whistling, crashing, bashing;
the watery depths - swallowing,
and the angels - weeping.

Continuously, for months, the water plumes,
indulging in its gleaming wet world.
The day is cold as the night, and just as dark and dreary
and the lightning curls, flickers piercing,
and the wind and rain are never weary.

On and on, this deluge seems to be without refrain
the land drunk, lifeless and cold in the February rain,
and the gale beats a rhythm upon the window panes
and viciously rips the catkins off the poplar trees
as an entire nation waits for the sun...

Yes, there is such a longing that blossoms for the mellow breeze!
Trapped inside, all day children huddle in corners, praying
and peering woefully at the storm outside:

The storm which twists and coils and clutches at the shrieking panes
and brings seas of wan white mist to enfold the land,
swirling slowly as they feign a tender embrace...

The same storm which leaves the few, pitiful vultures,
those too feeble to fly away,
harping mournfully as they look upon the drunken land
and see reflections of only desruction in the rippling puddles,
puddles like a looking glass,
where everything seems upside down as the black clouds overhead pass...

Aye, 'tis the self same storm which savages and ravages the helpless trees
and brings the sick leaves reeling down in throngs
pained shreds of the tattered, tumbling skies that,
like a dream,
seem to be falling into the skyline...

The Lord Thunder roars a solo in clashes of angry voices
and the Lady Wind shrieks back a chorus -
treble, tenor and bass.
It is a wild call, wailing heart-break in its song
as the stage, once thriving, turns desolate.

Then comes a queer, silent hushing...
The chill wind becomes languid as though in pain,
and the silver, liquid drops slow to a whispering lullaby.

Frantically they search for someone to hear their story,
their first and last secret before they hit the ground -
like precious pearls that, from heaven, fall amid squalor -
Listen. Listen Hear their tales of fleeing clouds, storm-bruised and frightened...

Disbelieving, a crowd seems to magically appear,
heads upturned as all ages surge out over the saturated fields.
Kneeling in the sodden loam, arms raised to the sky,
the beaten people hail the first, glorious sunbeams, mouths open,
tasting heaven on the little rainbows that peek shyly from the clear, blue sky.


My Shadow

The black shadows came over me
They controlled my mind and soul
My body is being covered by the shadow
Whilst the light of the angels die out
Hell is winning
And heaven is losing
Let my life turn into hell
And bring me darkness
My loving heart
Lost in the dark
Hoping to see the light again
God backs out and turns away
My hatred is too powerful and strong
Satan tries to win me over
But he is killed by me
The universe goes black
I am lost in eternal darkness
Walking alone
There is no speck of light
Just a black dark shadow with no feelings
Behind my back
Haunting me forever...


Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Down a hole

into the Dark,
into obscurity.
I can't see,
I can't touch,
I can't hear,
I'm gone...
I'm Down...
I'm away...
The wind lashes
my face like a whip.
The wall compresses me...
I can't breathe
I'm plunging deeper, and
I feel as though I'm on
a rollercoaster
Will it stop?
Will it end?
One wild Rollercoaster!