The Narrator

The cadences of his voice

Arouse the erotic


Elements being brought together

Divorcing the listener

From reality

Indiscriminate initiates

Prepare for the union

Of the physiological senses



And Touch

I am a Pigeon

I am a Pigeon

In the class of pigeon

A minor collective

With minimal use        –          Other than to peck away at meager supplements

In a society of larger flocks

My low cooing

Dwarfed by loud cries

From brilliant relative cousins

Strutting their stuff on the higher branches

Flaunting their plumage

Sometimes I wish i was a bird of paradise

But life dealt me the shorter straw

Probable cause?

Evolutionary natural selection or mutation

From war torn era’s

The larger beautiful pigeons

Destroyed within fear

Or for want of control

By other extravagantly adorned birds

My pigeon existance

Due to survivors

Who traveled distances across the earths circumference



With the prowess

Of intellect




Disintegration of present memory

Alert the senses

Reliance on familiar idiosyncrasies


Colours interacting

Creating a faded rainbow

For instinctive communicative


That flow across the page

Passwords stolen

For the afterlife

Commemorative jewels


They are used to enter

The hypnotic state

Placed strategically

Cosmic translation begins

For the union of unorthodox

Opposite creatures

The subconscious traveler


In the emptiness

Bringing forth

Thy orb

Recurrent uniform


Are what I seek

To reach your planetary realm

So my past memories

Can be restored.

Venom and Lace

Venomous vocal Intercourse

Derails the victim

Laying the pathway for destruction

Hidden beneath the lace covering

To corral support

From unsuspecting allies

To allow hate to be spread

Averting truthful reality

To the unsuspecting innocent

Malicious intent is hidden

Behind the smiling screen

The transmission of toxin


Within the crevices

Polluting the mind

Of the directed personage

Directed malignly

Without remorse, culpability

Or accountability


The Phantom ascends

Is it an illusion

Or a mirage

Created from memories stored

Within the Hippocampus

It could be an Ignis Fatuus

Created during Medieval times

From a past life

But no it is the entity

Whom is known as “I”

Entering through the time stream

From our parallel world

The pale  light appears

Across the low marshy ground

With green vaporous gas released

The flame spontaneously erupts

A grey figure approaches

Preconceived images washed away

Alpha brain waves are stimulated

For the telepathic communication

A passionate anticipation

With a voracious hunger

For the transmission

Of the paranormal genetic link

Between my identical twin

The Dreaming

The investors progression

Through neural pathways

Enters the void of

Moral decoding

Irresistible mystery

Illusions of grandeur

Parquetry of numbers

Into the hive

With familiar instinct

To the underworld

And the spirituality of

Corporate desire


One movement to the left

Cold and despondant

One movement to the right

Caressing my soul With purposeful necessity

And soft musical tones

No equilibrium

I am perplexed

But drawn into the mystery


By the anarchism

Without purpose or law

Just the mindful disorder

I want to rebel

To achieve control

Over my own style

Defiance proves to be useless

Bravado dissolved

My paint brush strokes the internal canvas

To the will of my individual soul

The Pilgrimage

I leave “IT” out at night

For you

I know you are there

Hiding in the dark

“IT” can be anything I choose

That I want you to explore

I wait behind your headstone

To listen

For any whispers

But you never bestow me a sign

That you are near

Time is eternal

Before the phenomenon of change happens

Then I wake

Upon a grassy plateau

The shoreline below

The sun appearing on the horizon

You have once again ferried me

Across time

Without the memory of you

My pilgrimage will continue

A nightly ritual

Of leaving “IT” for you

Until you consent to reveal yourself

To me