Haze

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Haze

Tis the season
Of yellow drifts
Of dreamy smoke.
Wisps of hazy, yellow tendrils
that wrap – like fingers –
around your throat choking,
as they chortle.
They scratch at your eyes and
Milk your sinuses.

It hangs like a pall –
Like a bride veiled before an altar –
Over our City,
Where three bent towers
Stand like joss sticks
Burn slowly in reverence
To our slow but surely death.
And within, gamblers try their hand
In attempts to defeat Sorrow,
And avert death.

But Death, like the House,
Will not be cheated;
His bony fingers
Grasped around his Scythe,
Like the Haze around
Our skyscrapers and throats.
He waggles a finger and clucks,
Like the condescending teacher
Who’s caught you in The Act.

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Sunrise Set

Sunrise Set

When Night gives way to Dawn,
And Dawn gives way to Morning;
With the Sunrise there is an
Energy that flows through the crowd.
Surrounded by your best Friends
On the beach,
Enveloped by Music that
Speaks to your Soul,
It’s a moment of sheer bliss;
Music, like Love, is Universal and
Trance is Love.

Zoukout ’09 with, the one and only, Armin van Buuren on the decks, dropping one of best anthems of 08 — Going Wrong. Suffice to say I went berserk before and after the video was shot.

Sketch a Scream

Sketch a Scream

We all have our silent screams and
Perhaps our voices being insufficient,
We seek out canvasses to paint on;
Some of us find them,
some of us don’t.
This is mine.

What about?
There is so much to paint,
But there be not enough colours.
Still I sketch and sketch,
Hoping that one day there will be colours
Enough to fill that canvas
Before I am called
From this Emptiness to the Next
Which is His.

What then?
This Journey doesn’t end.
It continues, so they say;
So they tell me, it says.
In the Book, I’m told that
Truth resides there.
But I tell you —
Truth is.
That is Ours.

It’s in your heart,
It’s in mine;
It’s in the Soul,
This Journey.
Thus is Mine.