The World according to Agnes Rado

The Tale of the Squatter

2009-09-20T16:33:00.001+08:00

In the new part of the town
Suburban myths gone around
Of a brand new trend of building
I took off investigating.

A place strangely called Town of Cacatz
A field not plagued by mice or the rats
A stone throw from old Squatter’s Brook
Neighboring a patch of wood.

Ride the steel horse through the heart
At the crossroads take the right
Where the poor man returns home
Gates guarded by garden gnome

Where colored girls start to sing
Gangs of youths welcome the spring
Raising bottles, fiddling with cars
Read graffiti like you’d read stars.

Where tired housewives start their slumber
And the old folk don’t remember
How the steel beasts got so fast
Spinning tales of simpler past.

A patch of them age old trees
Jolting back their memories
Of a fellow called the Squatter
A weird old man with a stutter.

A far war fought some time ago
They must have known every widow
For all stopped once or twice in here
Close to trees they started to heal.

Seems like a lifetime or more
Since he walked through their front door
Three times three knocks in the morning
It was his known way of calling.

Every morning by the brook
Running through that eerie wood
He rose…God knows where he’d camp
For that ground is mighty damp.

From an old cloth he’d untuck
Stale bread to feed every duck,
Swans, water fowls at his boot
Keen to share his day old loot.

With a stretch he greets the morning
Rubbing his joints, yawning, moaning
Stocktaking his souvenirs
Newspaper clips, apple peels.

He emerges from the forest
Like wood spirit from his long rest
Heavy footprints like a thud
‘Till he walks off all the mud.

Mo..mo..morning…Ma..ma..Maam.
Would you have place for a man?
Fre..fre..fresh bread on your table
Invite me I’m no tro…trouble.

Se..se..see you need a hand
I’m a fi..fine instrument
I can tell you where to build
Es…escape the scorching heat.

Like long ago wis..wi..wise folk
They took their ca..cats for the ro. road
Wa..wa..watched them choose the spot
To put their children’s co..co..cot.

Clever be…beasts are them ca..cats
I place all my be..be..be..bets
Orphan seed grows below your heart
A se..se..secret you still hide.

You can’t fo..fool this old ca..cat
For su..su..supper and a be..bed
I show you the new nursery
He’ll never know mi..misery.

He was pacing after dinner
When the hot sun became dimmer
Stuttered out some lullabies
The widow heard songs and cries.

In the first light of the morning
His hostess thought “leave him snoring”
Sure she needed helping hands
Short of money, short of friends.

With a fresh hot cup of tea
She followed a honey bee
Eager to share last night’s vision
This town will raise happy children.

In the back room by the bed
Where she found our squatter dead.
Smiling, bread packed for the road
He boarded the one way boat.

Clutching white chalk in his hand
The sketches were his own brand
Drawn across the wooden floors
Cradles, cats and little boys

A credit to the folks nearby
They gave him a nice goodbye.
They brought flowers to his grave
His headstone still bears no name.

As time took its toll on houses
Passed the woods a new town rises.
From the damp and sun scorched dirt
You can witness this new birth.

Feeling their dreams would expend
Baby boomers of this land
Music loving lads and ladettes
All their first words sounded “cacats”

A new tradition soon emerged
To walk across muddy earth
Feed the wild ducks day old bread
Talk about the dreams you had

When the silver moon‘s its fullest
Take a stroll across the forest
Follow your cat out to the field
He’s called to where you should build.

Where they feel the squatter sits
Steel machines cart pastel bricks
A good place to raise happy lads
Keeping cacats as their pets.

THE END

The Tale of the Silver Feather

2009-09-20T16:32:00.001+08:00

This tale takes you back in time
It was told without the rhyme
Far away and long ago
Choose the place you want to go.

When trees were green and birds drank dew
In the spring the magic grew
Planting seeds of restless dreaming
Young hearts started beating, yearning.

Young at heart but troubled soul,
Our man heard the age old call.
His home and love became smaller
Felt the urge to go and wonder.

Sometimes words can leave you stranded,
Wondered would he be remembered
Without going, without trying
His flame started slowly dying.

Clouds gathered above his world…
Spring breeze stirring up the dirt..
Stared at the road out of there
Had to go but not know where.

Before that grey gloomy day
Sharks circled the nearby bay
All black shadows feed on trouble
Full moon makes the dark thoughts double.

Every night they heard them barking
Only he saw black dogs fighting.
No bird song to greet the morning,
Restless spirits started roaming.

Seeking out the weakened souls
They flew through the open doors
A sleepless night one found a shell
An empty heart to claim, to dwell.

Our man grew a crystal heart
Fearing that these days he might
Have it broken beyond mending
Who could he trust with its tending?

There were three that he well knew
Did he want somebody new?
Or a token that his heart
Would be safe where last night died.

He told his love about his fear
What if he can’t stand be near?
Would she call him or forget?
What’s the token he can get?

When his dark clouds would be gone
Would he find himself alone?
Was the love he knew the longest
Be the true one...be the strongest?

That woman we spoke about
Thought she tamed his dying heart.
She saw shadows by him hover
So gave him a silver feather.

“My love I can feel you crying
Don’t let your flame slowly dying.
Life is like the wind carries you
Never forget once we all flew.

I will light a candle at night
We are brave and we can well fight
Roaming shadows, gusty winds,
I know that love always wins.

Sweep the front porch from the dirt
Keep at bay the doubt and hurt
Tears will turn to diamonds…gold words
Plant new seeds and feed the wild birds.”

A fateful journey from his village
Took him on a far pilgrimage
Took everyone by surprise,
Noone heard his silent cries.

With a measly gift as token
Visited another woman
Laughing at the silver feather
Was it more that she would offer?

To charm his stolen heart to beat
She sat quietly at his feet
“My Lord…” she spoke, batting lashes
“I would listen to your wishes

Close my eyes when your eyes wonder,
Forget about dark clouds, thunder
If you squint and look again
That shadow is from Heaven,

Can’t chase gloom by sweeping trouble
Stay here with me, happy, humble,
No broom gives you cleanliness
I saw us live in blissfulness.

Take this lock of hair as token.
Must be words of God that’s spoken
There is no dark here just shelter
Your curse is the silver feather.

Heaven sent you, this is your home
Never need to think of that crone
While you learn this I promise to keep
A kiss in my hair…the print of your feet.”

Now two hearts were spoken for
And it left him just one more.
Feeling empty, somewhat cheated
He gave to anger…growing hatred.

The night he spoke to our last woman
He felt his heart became frozen.
No heart gave him new found freedom.
He was Lord of Winter Kingdom.

Must be white clouds without squinting
Greener pastures without seeking
Golden riches I can take
Show me a fool or an ice maid.

Although he heard someone calling,
Tears like crystal droplets falling
They fallen on his deaf ears
Days to him now felt like years.

Meanwhile back in the man’s village
A woman starts her own pilgrimage.
Every night she lights a candle,
Talks to all who came from the shore.

Searching for a lost wounded man
Wondering as far as she can.
Sits at the bay, whispering words,
Her rhymes wash up all nearby pearls.

Word of a man gets around
Roaming homeless town to town.
Her man had no heart of stone
They say with him you feel alone.

They told of stories of him preaching
Drinking vine and seeing dark things.
Tells tales of doom and of vengeance.
Not the way that she remembers.

At last he saw a crystal castle,
Sparkling wine and golden tassel.
Regimented shiny goblets
Every room would demand respect.

Like in her hive a queen bee
Sat our woman number three.
“A lost bird just flew through my door
Scruffy but will scrub up soon.

A gold coin for your teary song
More to come if you stay long.
Nothing melts or can be broken
It’s your solid crystal token.

I’ll take you in and wash you clean
A crystal heart will fit right in.
Between these walls you‘ll forget…
I’m the price you want to get.

If I’m amused you will see
Crystal carriage fly us to the sea
You can share my crystal kingdom
I’ll name you my cure of boredom.

There is so much for the taking
Just remember, no use faking
If ever your heart starts to thaw
Only crystals have nice glow.

What then of my golden bird
Singing perfect songs of hurt.
No price for a mended heart
I collect expensive art.”

She gave him a crystal lyre
And her whole court would admire
The man who’s music has no words
Still its beauty almost hurts.

On two shores folks start to gather
To watch a faint light glowing brighter.
But it’s out on open waters
They make out a woman’s whispers.

Where the North and South winds join
A ghost song calls lost souls home.
The woman’s rhyme and man’s melody
Met in never heard harmony.

A warm feeling kept him playing
Until his fingers were bleeding
Then he used the silver feather
All cried that was made of matter.

We don’t know how this happened
What makes a crystal lyre melt?
Maybe so much it can take
Before it too starts to weep.

Sometimes time would just stand still
Our man thought he just fell ill.
A flame around his crystal heart
He stumbled out before he cried.

Tears of joy and tears of sadness
Then sudden slow and steady gladness
A woman’s voice he heard before
He heads for the sunny shore.

He was on his way to home
He knew he wasn’t alone.
Somewhere beyond crystal seas
A light beams bright that now he sees.

One more place…near where he docks.
Above that tower a raven flocks.
Among the dust and thick cobwebs
A maiden sits … her locks in dreads.

A small circle around her feet
The only place her broom would sweep
There his footprint left behind.
He must have lost track of time

“Oh my Lord..” She cried out weakened.
“You have returned with my token
As God’s my witness I kept my word.
He guided you to my world.

I prayed he showed you the way then,
You were not lost nor were taken
He gave you the pilgrimage
To set you free from your village.”

Some words should never be spoken
Our man smiled, pulled out his token.
He took in the sight and was proud
He didn’t move, nor he laughed.

“For this lock I humbly thank you
But if it was God that spoke through you
Not your wish for company
What’s this sight of misery?

Your heart must know good and bad,
Not to preach to fill your bed,
A fruitless foolish sacrifice….
God doesn’t want our demise.

He waited for no reply
Our man felt that he could fly
A silver feather in his pocket
He took to the road like a rocket.

Followed the light shining brighter
He heard his heart beating louder.
Though it was a cloudy day
Some sharks remained at the bay….

The cooling breeze still stirred the dirt
Stray dogs still lurked at the skirt.
But it was like always before
New seeds sprouted at his front door.

Clean smell of spring and wet earth
How would he undo the hurt?
But there she sat by the window.
Didn’t wear black like a widow.

In a bowl by the old chair
Diamond teardrops as they fell.
White washed walls and clean swept floors
Fresh breeze flew through open doors.

We’ll never know how they bonded.
They were both a little wounded.
In warmth with their love at last
We can say they must healed fast.

More times dark clouds gathered above
None as strong as a reclaimed love.
They learned the hard way what we know
That seasons come and seasons go.

They might wished for white sunny shores
When snow and frost left marks on their doors
Watched birds move with the changing weather
Our man was home with the silver feather.

And what of the words she spoke of
Her promise as he took off
With silver feather she might wrote
This story that seems so old.

The End

The Tale of the Poet

2009-09-20T16:31:00.001+08:00

Don’t know the science of rhymeBut listened to the poets cry
Truth has its own strong melody
Didn’t dissect Yates, Mallory

Last time I learned poetry
Foreign tongue read it to me.
My ancestors lived those words,
Drinking bulls’ blood, fighting Turks.

As young as I might have been,
I was led here by a dream
Of open spaces and red dirt
The land of a huge flightless bird.

They say well before you write
Better tame your dual heart
To feel all words of your new land
Or no one will understand.

Before it speaks it must crawl,
You can become a sad toll
Despite all the sun and richness
Most fall from acute homesickness.

Nights of rest and daytime duties
My dreams were all silent movies
Dreaming reflects all your actions
They came to me with the captions.

Waning, going at one far end
The Moon waxed above my red land.
For years I felt the two phases
I spoke broken, new learned phrases.

Paying dues or raising children
Big words just remained unspoken.
Played with fire when yearned water
My artist friend was a waiter.

My boat of love would never sink
But it drifts without the wind
Some days I can be left speechless
I take a breath, no more, no less.

You’d love more a renegade
Than listen to words on parade
When you ask your heart to listen
You believe the phoenix risen.

Let me repeat words mean much
No rules of the truth as such…..
Read me with wine and Chopin
Keep me move my restless pen.

I just write and let you measure
In units of pain and pleasure
How much my loaded pen weighs?
Is it your heart my rhyme raids?

The tale of Inspiration

2009-09-20T16:29:00.001+08:00

My muse came to me last night
Nagging me to start to write
It’s been years since we met last
Scruffy stalker of the past.

My old teacher knew my curse
Like bottomless painful thirst
Loneliness brought burning anguish
Only writing could extinguish

My verses of happiness
Always rang false in a mess
Silent muses of the war
In peace they found me a bore

Never forced my heart to sing
An instrument with a string
In landscapes so desolate
My yearning would resonate

So I let some years to pass
Didn’t toast or raised a glass
To my muse and by gone sadness
Left behind that world of madness
Never thanked him in my dreams
Frolicked in the new found greens
Held my man a little tighter
I’m a lover not a fighter.

Old folk say don’t grab too much
Don’t claim all that you can touch.
Greedy hands will all unfold
Showing what you really hold.

Empty arms and empty bed
Loosing treasures once I had
Conjured up my stubborn muse
Like last time, he blew a fuse.

Stumbling by a candle light
Felt him shuffling by my side
He smelled of wine and cigarette
Not a muse you would expect.

Forget maids with marble skin
Angels guarding you from sin
My muse is a scruffy bum
Asking you for ripe old rum.

Barefoot, hanging dirty wings
Playing with my silver rings
Searching for new written pages
An invasion so outrageous

Moaning, shuffling, sudden chuckle
How could he ease any trouble?
Held my hand looked deep in my eyes
His pale blue eyes shaming the skies

“Can’t offer me drink or food
Your treasures not worth the loot.
Take a feather from my wing
They were styled by the wind.

My feet dirty from the road
I walked when I heard you called
Did you expect a blue fairy?
They hide from people who are teary.

No vials of fairy dust
It’s my pockets I don’t trust.
Once they held a broken heart
Through a hole it took to flight.

Once the high priest of heartbreak
Appear to you at your wake
Grieving over days of pleasure
I help you find your greatest treasure.
Mixture of tears and some ink
And the courage not to think
Let your hands follow my feather
Let your heart sing from the deep well.

Call me Scruffy when you write
The full moon will shine so bright
Never mind your broken fuse
You’re not alone with your muse.”

So I again took to writing
Was it for the people’s liking?
I took the words as they came…
It is Scruffy you can blame.

THE END

The Book of The Cat part 7

2007-02-11T20:22:00.000+09:00

A long time ago, just like some of their tamers, some cats were blamed for other's misfortune. Whether for jealousy, superstition, plain ignorance or the fear of things we do not know, the fact is that many an innocent feline followed their human to a fiery end, some even stood witch trials and expected to present their own case.
Myth...a witch's cat spies your secrets and tells his human.
Fact....it is true that an old cat is a master in the art of telepathy and as such often displays your emotions. If we believe that people often name animals by their personality such as Grumpy or Smooch then you could easily understand why my grandfather had an old cat named Enigma sitting next to him as a good luck charm at poker nights while Avatar was locked out for the evening.
Myth....witches are shape shifters and sometimes they stalk you as cats by night. Just look at their eyes or the way they twitch their nose and hiss at times.
Fact...it is insulting to cats and underestimating felines' influence on their human believing that the above does not work the other way around.
Myth...witches' cats dance around fires on some nights and travel on broomsticks
Fact...well mannered cats never dance in public and as a safety precaution they should never be allowed on broomsticks when young.

The Book of The Cat part 6

2007-02-11T20:14:00.000+09:00

It is below feline honor to hold a grudge. We could say it is because he is good at cleansing energy or due to his selective and short memory. Nevertheless it is expected that you practice the same noble forgiveness so he can accept it graciously.
At times this ability can make life less stressful. Like when he hunts you while you wear those expensive nylon stockings or at the sunrise herb harvest when you discover the obvious signs of Mature Earth's anger in your garden.

The Book of The Cat part5

2007-01-31T17:20:00.000+09:00

A feline domain stretches as far as he could see and sometimes as far as he ventured before.He also claims everything that does not fight back upon first sight. You, your family and friends, especially other pets are all his property and he will retain his royal right to inspect or fish and hunt in his domain whenever he wishes to. In his good days he will share a mouse or two with you and if you remain a loyal subject you may be invited to a royal hunt where you can chase live prey to your heart's content that he rounds up for you. You could refuse his invitation by presenting him with a "Thank you" gift. Perhaps a shiny bell on a new soft collar.

The Book of The Cat part 4

2007-01-31T17:10:00.000+09:00

"Diplomacy" is a word your cat can never relate to. He does know where the food is coming from but politics, other than the rule of the jungle, do not interest him. He will accept your offerings of food and compliments graciously as long as you do not disturb his energy by being inconsistent or annoying. Despite all this there will be times when you believe that your cat is the feline version of Richard the Third, knifing his way up in feline and human hierarchy. Consider it well before inviting a fellow pet keeper especially if this precious creature happens to be below your cat in the food chain. For the sake of peace warn him well ahead of the possibilities.

The Book of The Cat Part 3

2007-01-31T16:58:00.000+09:00

There are many noble things a feline can teach his human. A young witch can learn to keep her personal space, to walk with grace, to use her senses, good grooming habits and most importantly how to land on her feet and walk away with dignity. A female black cat is considered an inspiration of instincts and nobody can demonstrate it finer how to survive many seasons with only one little black dress to your name. Of course when you are young and restless you can earn to be liked to a cat by other behavior. My grandmother used to call me her kitten, maybe because I learned to purr each time she baked her famous black forest cake. In old days pagans used the most sensitive energy meter, the black cat, to choose the safest and coziest place on a block of land, then they built the heart of the house around it.

The Book of The Cat Part 2

2007-01-31T16:26:00.000+09:00

After you have chosen your cat or more correctly he has chosen you life will never be the same. felines like to control and it is now your job to establish the respect you will need for peaceful living. Some swear by padded baskets and pretty pastel collars and in exchange they are naturally expect ing loyalty and obedience. It is more likely that your cat will adore your reflection but barely tolerate your presence.
A cat's greatest weakness is his fascination with sparkling objects. However, use this charm wisely to gain the kind of attention that only the beholder of the shiny thing deserves. Felines are very corruptible while at play but trying to play fetch with him would only insult his intelligence and a waste of his precious time.

The Book of The Cat Part 1

2007-01-31T16:01:00.000+09:00

Foreword
Old legend says that long before people were obsessed with recording history, a pact was made between the feline and the human race. In a secret location guarded by the statues of the two ancestors of all witches' cats, Enigma and Avatar, there is a sacred book containing all rules and wisdom of the black cat tamer.
Today we only know the meaning of one feline word which roughly translates to "Me.. Now!!" in English.
In order to fine tune the senses and master great Pagan values such as bravery, surviving skills, raising pure energy or style a novice witch must study and behold...

City Tales Series/Song From the Mirror

2006-09-19T11:03:00.000+08:00

City Tales Series /The Song Of The Dancer

2006-09-18T09:35:00.000+08:00

City Tales Series /The Song Of The Bard

2006-09-02T11:00:00.000+08:00

City Tales Series/The Song Of The Curious

2006-09-01T00:46:00.000+08:00

Oh God...help your curious one...
Mad beneath the smoldering sun
Grant me blissful ignorance...
In the Eden we played once...
Knowing is my greatest demise
Of answers I can't get enough...

I shout my pain into pillows
Nice spring day to swing from willows
I want to know how death feels
Be there when the white shark feeds

Give my nerves the last alert
As my head falls into dirt
From a tower I would fly
Just to hear a widow cry
The last breath fueled mighty curse
Before my blood vessels burst

Make me believe I am mortal
Or is this place a mere portal
To somewhere else where you'd answer
With rhymes do you hear me better....

You pushed on us the greatest drug
Adam was the first true mug...
Couldn't he choke on a seed
Why we suffer for his deed...

Knowledge is man's privilege
The greatest fools in your village..
On your fruit we're overdosing
In survival we are losing...

Sacrificing virgins today...
Would it be a fair price to pay
To please the Gods of common sense
Or be a hero of pretense

End with a bang...not in this bed...
Cuing in the great hall of death
I feel so lonely ...I could just cry..
Talk to me when I bleed...
I don't want to die... I don't want to die

City Tales Series /The Song Of The Fireman

2006-08-28T12:13:00.000+08:00

City Tales Series/Song For The Inner Child

2006-08-26T17:39:00.000+08:00

The human psyche's complicated
Your childhood is implicated
How you perceive daily struggles
When your fragile mind just boggles

We adults are responsible
Expected to face the trouble...
Respect elders brought us here
Then change roles when death is near

In the archives of our genes
Carrying the same disease
Color coded tiny patterns
Carbon copied from our parents...

Magic spiral DNA cells
Tell us where a tragedy dwells
Raising arms or raising bottles
Can be blamed on missing cuddles

A German came to our defense...
A grown split mind that depends
On safe wombs and lullabies...
Names his mother with his cries

When you feel the end of the road
And you rather hang on a rope...
Locked up in the dark of your mind
A forgotten inner child...

Waiting for a magic word
To show you a secret world
Casting light in sad dark places
Scribbling a smile over faces

Draws rainbows on morbid landscapes
A laughter hexes sadness and fears
Teaches you to love irony....
With due respect to psychiatry

City Tales Series/Song From The Jacket

2006-08-22T21:02:00.000+08:00

White sheets reflect filtered sun rays
I explore my mind's deep blue maze
On two sides guarding the gates
Turquoise angels in a daze

Medicated I walk further
With a mission I will conquer
Every bend and every road
Left behind a heavy load...

Lean chicken and prunes for dinner
Watching hospital lights glimmer
In blue twilight of corridors
The restless moans and insane snores

My brain's abstract butterflies
Flicker in the nurses' eyes
Ariadne was a fine whore...
Something you don't read in folklore...

Tempted Theseus to cheat
To escape the Labyrinth...
I'm cutting my silver thread
Forget everything you've read

My kin...Minotaur sleeps
Curled up on the golden fleece
As night watch of the mental ward
To chase the ghost of Sigmund Freud

City Tales Series /The Song Of The Herbalist

2006-08-15T10:50:00.000+08:00

City Tales Series/The Song Of The Fooled

2006-08-14T21:23:00.000+08:00

Every road led to you
Every song is a 'bit about you
Is it better what you've chosen...
Open fire keeps me frozen

Left me by a throw of dice
Love songs don't born out of lies
Can't fake heartbeat when you hold me
Memories don't become moldy...

Like the North side of the beach
Where the warm sun doesn't reach...
Like the ship when leaves the lagoon
Forgets it follows the same moon

Called yourself a master liar
Chasing stars appearing brighter...
A lifelong pattern may seems safer
To become the great pretender

It doesn't hurt that you fooled me
Better be naive than empty
This role of the freedom fighter
Suits you when one holds you tighter

But the reason I am damned
Not letting go of your hand
When suddenly you start to drift
On a waive that's cloudy and swift

Now my harbor is a trap
Words of love no more than threat
To take your promised land away
You built here the other day

I'm not scared to sleep alone
I manage to have a home
At the silver full moon rise
I don't ask for paradise

But I ask my man to stand
Not to cut the last thin strand
I don't need cards...
No use scrying
In my dreams i hear you crying

Can you shake off old roads' dust
Remembering friendship and trust
While your feverish head's cooling
My love...
It's yourself you're fooling

City Tales Series/Lullaby

2006-08-14T14:06:00.000+08:00

You are safe my dear
And I'm always near
Turn off your light
Tonight you might
Dream us of treasure
Deep from the sea...

Forget who you are
You can stop time
Just watch the shadows
Chasing the sparrows
Move closer to me

Dream of golden tides
Now just close your eyes
Hear seagulls flock
Don't wind the clock
Sail tonight with me

City Tales Series/ The Song Of The Clown

2006-08-13T16:49:00.000+08:00

City Tales Series/The Song Of The Necromancer

2006-08-13T12:24:00.000+08:00

Gracious dark Sky brought me thunder
From the place where eagles plunder
Gracious Water rained on dirt
Saw a grey rat giving birth

Gracious Fire kept me warm
While collecting slugs and bone
Gracious Earth embraced the night
I followed this eerie light....

Tongues of silent silver serpents
Speak for me as loyal servants
Ask this old abandoned grave
Is it new life that you crave...

To guard me as his mortal mistress
I lend senses to this lifeless
Witness the world through my eyes
Watch a new moon come to rise

Dark and fertile soil's dweller
Bring me your wisdom and answer
I'm alone here cold and hungry
I summon you if you show me...

Which direction people headed...
While crafting a curse... so dreaded
It turns a young head old and weary
I'm lost in this cemetery

City Tales Series/The Song Of The Ice Queen

2006-08-13T01:02:00.000+08:00

Monday's suitor had the right smile
For half a day I seized to cry...
Tuesday's came with great promises
With fragrant gifts pleasing senses...

Wednesday's man had pale blue eyes
I looked for your face in the skies...
Thursday's lad came lit a fire
Not enough to wake desire...

Friday's brought swans from the lake
I pinned his heart onto a stake...
That night saw me all alone...
Should I turn the next one to stone...

Or melt their souls like broken gold
Pour it into magic mould
Conjure my love back in my arms...
The one I want resisted my charms...

Opening enchanted chests
I began my dreadful quest
I collected hundred parts
Blue eyes..warm hands...beating hearts...

An angel's voice...a pilgrim's spirit...
Two nights saw my dark candles lit...
Sunday at the wake of dawn
Hang this sign above my door:

If this sight won't bring you fear
Brave souls wishing to come near
Read these lines and run while you can...
I'm cursed to love only an invisible man

City Tales Series /The Song Of The Unbaptised

2006-08-10T11:05:00.000+08:00

Maybe my words are not holy
Not written in testimony
But we found divine in colors
Chasing sunrise of distant shores

To my still life you found motion
We were pilgrims to the ocean
The sounds of feelings so bizarre
Made sense played through your guitar

Maybe I can't quote the scriptures
But I praise God through my pictures
Stroked small wonders of creation
Love the tales of evolution

Through the churches' stained glass windows
Mused on pale light flooding the floors
Touching old carved wooden seats
Felt the pray of long dead priests

Why do you think God won't like it
If we missed a speech from pulpit
Not to memorise the Bible
A love song's stronger than recital

A greying head can harbour a child..
A melody filled untamed mind...
When lost reaches out for safety
You were happy people tell me

I stared at you flying your kites
Hundred happy sparks in your eyes
When I see the clouds you tamed
My inner child calls her playmate

On white paper I fill the space
Slowing my heart to my pen's pace
Shedding ink instead of crying
Watching sunsets...candles dying

What if I will run out of words
Would it be possible to burst
From unsaid questions...
strange emotion
Writing it out is my potion

City Tales Series /The Story Of The City Critter

2006-08-09T21:36:00.000+08:00

The boy's critter is allegory
Of confessions...Sad memory
He lived a simple life this critter
Among scattered city litter

Daylight fainted into night
The boy arrived with strange delight
The critter was an awkward friend
At times he felt entertained

We can't explain how this creature
Came to know a human feature
What we know that he appeared
Greeting something his kind feared

Every time beside a branch
Ignoring the human stench
Knew the sound of one's footstep
Weighed with worry and regret

The critter couldn't really fathom
How this boy was always alone
Unbeknown to this brave insect
The boy held a deep dark secret

How sad it was doesn't matter
Noone else knew but the critter
Shuffling closer over weeks
He drank from the fallen tears

Why was this night much more special
The boy walked on the shore with a girl
Her smell didn't worry him
He nested once beside a bin

Sweet fragrance of thrown apple corks
The girl's skin oozed the same fine odours
He came out nevertheless
Waiting for the boy to confess

There he met a greater concept
Hard to learn for any insect
How the human race supreme
Squashing things that bring on fear

A dark chapter therefore ended
For the kid he once befriended
Small sacrifice to start a new page
Without witness of his sad rage

City Tales Series/The song of the lover

2006-08-09T21:09:00.001+08:00

There is a child hiding inside
After tonight she crawled out and cried
The woman said to close my eyes
Singing ancient lullabies

If you say you love me truly
Writing songs to make us happy
Want to stay then why you went
Did you worry about rent

Or did you comfort an old lover
To make her smile and leave me shiver
Did you whisper our words to her
Through a night of careless pleasure

Or did you cry walking the streets
Sparing comfort, wrinkled sheets
Did you run while God has spoken
To collect my heart as token

Or created a new bond
Redeemed the old vagabond
Found yourself on well worn path
Searching for things that might last

Did you want your precious freedom
To roam alone in your kingdom
Forgetting words meant so much
No more thinking when you touch

Will I ever know the truth
Would it sound good will it soothe
An old wound ripped up afresh
Should you follow your heart or flesh

Then I saw the great irony
The weeping child is really just me
Maybe again I'll forget
This night of ink and cigarette

But I thank my inner kid

Without her I can't forgive

Its a verse of simple rhymes

Sometimes its hard to be wise

Will you wake me in the morning
Or once again I will be mourning
With snotty nosed kid by my side
A love that not yet seen full light

I leave a light always on
Through the fog to guide you home

City Tales Series/The Song Of The Vagabond

2006-08-07T19:18:00.000+08:00

Come my pigeons, hear my story
It is sad and maybe corny
Sitting here it doesn't matter
In this balmy city weather

Take my words high when you fly
I can curse whisper and cry
Sing them front of that window
Tell that woman I'm in limbo

Let me pay you with breadcrumbs
Feathered messengers of bums
People always turned away fast
Pigeons listen while the crumbs lasts

Where should I start where should I end
What can I say that would mend
A broken song, a broken life
To make a shuttered woman smile...

I didn't have much to start with
Wasn't rich but wasn't starving
I always found food and beds
Gave love for cigarettes

My blue eyes made women weak
I learned to be the one they seek
I lied and cheated on so many
I never wanted to be ready....

For anything more than romance
On silk clad beds framed with valance
Just left a brave one for trying
She thought she could teach me flying

I ran from words I never heard
Pleased those treated me like dirt
I could say now I was blind
To see her warm and open arm...

As a trap for free thinkers...
Fragrance of rose petals lingers...
Is this where a foolish man sits
Down on his luck out of his wits

I wish there was a medicine
To wash a grown man of his sin
I talk to pigeons and see God
Not to think of wasted love

My polished shoes a testimony
I'm still part of humanity

City Tales Series/Ghost of the Cat

2006-08-03T17:32:00.000+08:00

City Tales series/ The Song OF The Muse

2006-07-31T21:18:00.000+08:00

I raise my glass to Van Gogh
A bitter toast to Mozart
I roam the streets of cities
Where they worship fine art

I lost my last poet
On a train station
There he bought himself
Two grams of inspiration

I waited by the classroom
Of Indigo Generation
The Bard and the writer
Couldn't pay attention

Few moons from now
My new Dante will perish
While fortune smiles on those
With the paper fetish

Behind foggy windows
My dreamy eyed dancer
Traded her soft skin
For shiny shoes and shelter

Inside pink crystal balls
Clay Pegasus landed
In fumes of glue and petrol
The age of Dreaming ended

The oracle of the street
Saw gray spirits descending
Threefold two pills a day
Cured his rambling

One day men might learn
That Prophets can studder
And angels with broken wings
Don't shout from the gutter

City Tales Series /The Song Of The Kite Flyer

2006-07-24T05:32:00.000+08:00

City Tales Series/ The Song of the Cat

2006-07-15T13:15:00.000+08:00

Hear me you two legged animals
With strange smell and flowing voice
Dancing females...furless males
See your hands can conjure shapes

Friends of fire..Bringers of food
Stroke us and we feel your mood
We answer your silent calls
Sitting guard at unseen doors

But closer to the full moon
Above you..High in the trees
The wild breeze of the Gods
Pumps free blood to our veins

City Tales Series /The Song of the Mermaid

2006-07-15T09:58:00.000+08:00

"City Tales" series City Angels

2006-07-15T09:56:00.000+08:00