A weightless dream

The picture is dark yet the frame is stirring,
my heavy eyes shutting and my vision, blurring,
as matter disappears which was there before,
into the state of the imagination I stay evermore.

Colours appear incoherent and in waves,
as streams of rainbows fill the darkness of the deepest caves,
Slowly building walls of complex haze,
deeper still into a hypnotic daze.

My soul troubled with the day to day carries on into the night,
from rest into being carried by angels who have taken flight,
a symphony in the background relieves me into euphoria,
as if an ancient text reminded a modern memoria,

The winged beings drop me and I'm no longer tethered,
gravity is non-existent as I float in the breeze similar to a feather,
floating on the back of a waters caress,
looking upwards towards the stars address,

Pearls in the sky so bright and round,
I wish to join them and off the ground,
I begin to fly upwards with eagerness and haste,
my desire for eternity quickens my pace,
my shape and form has changed to match those in the skies,
I've become one with the stars and match ones brightest eyes.

The girl behind the wall.

Our time apart brings us down,

from the cheers and the laughter to the deepest frown,

the lack of our touch keeps our persona in the deepest remorse,

yet our words alone is a love that we enforce,

like a hand of the divine you lift my spirit when I fall,

the distance so far but it feels like you're on the other side of the wall,

so close I can feel every heart beat,

I hope you can hear every whisper,

through the wall that obstructs our meet.

The last time we met was impromptu and brief,

that moment of laughter can't hide the briefness of grief,

even the short time we've known each other brought us close,

our absence of sight leaves my feelings morose,
when the moment is appropriate I have a chance to serenade her,
every time I find her she is my crusader,
a bond is the strongest weapon to which only a true power can wield,
with her support and knowing with her grace I can act and shield.


At times between would stand the brutish wall of thorns,
yet at times of forgiveness where a mistake is mended,
with the rise of a new dawn,
beneath, an obstacle where a star becomes an eclipse,
I never fear the coming darkness and to which you disappear,
I can greet thee where light will hallow as the harmonic whisper from your lips.  

The sisters of a distant land

Far across the deepest pond,

a nation where I feel I belong,

The nation where my heart tears beyond,

lies the deepest connection,

thicker than blood,

softer than water,

stronger than God.

Across thy heartland lies the people I crave,

two girls,

my sisters,

from meeting to grave,

their looks may not resemble mine,

but their souls entwine,

with thine,

The support they offer is pure to provide,

The gratitude holds near and in my heart they reside.

Their beauty is a path which gives me pride to behold,

and a light to give me the warmth,

needed to shelter thee from the cold,

the distance and time are far and not always here,

when I'm dark and alone,

in my heart you're always near,

when the evil hath engulf me,

a time where I scream,

from the cold and the dark,

thou art always there to save me,

shelter me,

and in some cases,

guide me.

When I'm lost,

and off the path,

when the moment vague,

and the problem I entomb,

the light from your heart hath guide me,

you voice, as one,

takes me home.

The rose petal I give to thee

By life as a dangerous venture,

it is however the excursion I implore,

for the experience and the bonds we tether and fail to ignore,

I can grant thee a rose petal in faith and sincerity,

as the flower over time falls and withers into disrepair and disability.

This Rose petal I grant is from time now depraved,

it's meaning on my heart string forever I hath now engraved.

A Rose petal granted to remember a time once forgotten,

the loss of a chance where the memory hath become downtrodden,

this Rose petal I give to thee is to salvage the flower of chance,

on the stroke of midnight this Rose petal,

as friends, I can salvage with comfort the opportune moment for dance,

I will write this in task while my mind is benign,

to show I did not forget when thy sanity declines.

Potential, this Rose petal, is a time to forget the deluded,

when this petal is planted to replace the flower once uprooted,

do with this flower to a soul to which you feel,

my time came at a cost but with this flower give it to whom you will,

give this flower without regret but with repentance and creed,

give to thee the understanding of a life without greed,

with these words I hope to fill your fibre,

this Rose petal I give to thee awash from the sins of our previous favour.

The flower that lost is about to fly free,

this Rose petal I give to thee.

The darkness that hath engulfed me

The red which take my vision,

the blood that boils without passion,

the scream that awakens the process,

the anger that burns with distress.

The tide of fury cast far out to storm in,

As an invasion of an army chasing the spoils if they win,

this evil takes me taking all in my path,

the chance of victory for my foes, thou not hath.

Whilst in that state thine mind is volatile,

the voice charges me with mayhem all the while,

whispering lingers numbing my brain , how dull,

the forked tongue acting and scratching my inner skull.

The speed that it grants is swift and unmatched,

and agility that allows me to be hard to catch,

for such a power you would think I abuse with glee,

the paradox is absurd as this power abuseth thee.

I have no recollection and the vaguest of aftermaths,

when jeers turn to tears,

my memory slashed in half,

How do I calm?

How do I stop?

How do I enchant my recovery?

I merely hope and pray.

Behold my silent England

My England, a land of kings,

it's crown is there for the world to see,

a people most populous in a marriage of nations,

an identity lost through political degradation.

Behold the others with a voice strong to protect their cause and reason,

The largest of all, silent, silent with no protection, an act of treason,

upholding the others with coin and taxation,

No voice of our own to make our objections,

a Kingdom united is the most desirable force,

a kingdom now fractured, our cries go unheard.

As if through unproven crimes, to death our identity,

as St George slain the dragon, then to cut off his head,

our eccentricities in tatters, our dream put to bed,

We watch in horror as others preside over our issue,

This madness must end and federalism we must invoke,

for our kingdom to remain united, a parliament for St George and for King Arthur,

we must provoke.

Along the moonlit stride

Along the moonlit stride as the moon gazed down upon me,

I looked upon its gentle touch caressing the very thoughts upon which I dream,

the ground beneath where every step reflects every thought within my consciousness,

forever looking forward, never to look back towards the daylight that lay behind,

life upon this moonlit stride is diverse, rich with the birds yawn as they chirp into their nesting,

I place myself towards the night in hope to reach my star,

trying to look so far amongst the multitudes keeping order and light,

finding my own celestial being where neither time nor fortitude decay the most sacred of promises,

where my honour and chivalry is recognised and never questioned,

as I stare back down to find a lonely bridge,

I sympathise, in the shadow waiting for someone to make use of you,

I gaze upon the distance of the moonlit stride to find a silhouette,

who unmistakably wishes to grace me with their presence?

a divine shape,

a sight, even on the most auspicious of moonlit strides, is a natural beauty,

one of which even our mother nature cannot imagine to shape, measure or even comprehend,

as I move closer to the silhouette, the shape becomes more solid,

step into the moonlit stride, I ask,

you grace me with a sight most eager that I should chance to provide you with deliverance,

she strides forward as the moonlit stride bedazzles my eyes upon such a breathtaking sight,

the eyes of a deep lake in the most romantic of settings with the soul in the depths and the mist layered above,

dare I say to you that on the touch of hands poised in such readiness,

that your caress is vastly more appreciating and gentle then that of the moons gaze,

your touch, so gentle and so smooth that each brush stroke across the not so humbling of faces,

fills me with the very thoughts in which I dream.

into the forest and into a clearing, the leaves beneath our feet,

as your eyes gaze into mine you notice my colour change,

drawing you nearer to a kiss and a dance on the moonlight sonata,

along the moonlit stride as the moon gazed down upon me,

I looked upon its gentle touch caressing the very thoughts upon which I dream,

J’oïme à tous, ma faumme belle