Be Still, My Beaten Heart

Kindness strips you of your masks & armour and leaves you to the devices of  carrion and highwaymen who harrass and  (b)eat you, then leave you shredded but not dead, till cold wind eats your dessicated bone, all the while your heart still beating. With your last breath, Kindness will grasp your heart in her hands; she will grin as your mind fades and your soul slips. That final mask will fall off and you will see Kindness for all he his – a hooded, cloaked spectre of bone – boney digits of one hand clasped around a shaft of woode bereft of time, tipped by a shiny Scythe, and the other, outstretched, will offer you a blade hilt first.


Lay Him Down

Where does the Ranger go
To lay him down
To lay his head
And Rest forever
Where does he go
To let things slow
Down forever and
Never to go
Out into the world
Save his last Journey
From death to dust
Will he slow
Down in silence
Amidst the cacophony
Of the Wayward Inn
Amongst the Ancient trees
By Heros, Thieves and Travellers
In mystique and miscomprehension
He will go
Tight lipped straight faced and


Journeymen of Night


Journeymen of Night

There are those whose journeys
Are made only in the night,
for their hearts’ dearests;
For that their loves never see the Night
Nor ever need to travel by Night.
They journey ever-West
Never faster nor slower
Than the Sun.


For Love or lack,
For Light they lack,
Even the Night pities them
And grants them Luna’s Light.

Sol’s Twin


Sol’s Twin

From nothingness
there was light
Blinding white &
Pulsing life
A heartbeat
Then two.
Twins they were
As they turned blue
They danced
They played
around and around.
Till energies expended
Their blues faded and
One said
“I’m tired, Brother.
Must we carry on?” and the
Other replied
“Come, Brother.
I will shield thee.”
Then two became one
And he turned yellow.
Alone in space
He wept tears of flame
But noticed his tears
Brought life forth.
So a guardian he became
once again.
Giving his soul and heart
To feed these lives
He brought forth
He grows ever larger still
And still gives yet more.
And more and more
Till yellow fades
Into red
The final scream
When the reaper comes
To suck the life
of the old giant
nothingness returns
Space reclaims the brothers’
Playground and the life
He nurtured.


The IT Tech Infinite loop

Liddat lor, then how?
Can meh? so simper meh?
But den never see leh…
Issit? Check again.
check liao… Got what!
But dis side dun have!
Sure not?
Then liddat how?
The liddat lor!
Cannot be dun have have.
Sure have one!
You wait a while den see.
Kia. Sio hoon… lim kopi
maybe later got
ho-seh la! on!
Wait I take my hoon kee…
Hurry up can? Hot sia!
OK got it! Gia!

Ey… you got ji kee bo?
You say you go take?!
I thought box inside got mah!
Cheekoosai! Na, na, na! *puff*
My lighter bo hong liao
Lau-ey! Take mine lah hor?
Ok kia!
Ke torh-lorh?
Go Back lah…
Wah lau… dum kcs can?
Simisai kcs?
Kangcheong spider lah!
You dunno meh?
Now I know lor. Not I kancheong
I finish liao…
Ha? So fast?? I smoke one more lah…
Orh. Er… got hoonkee jio not?
Nahai! Why you keep taking from me??
You say some one more what!!
Wahlau! I say you kcs, smoke fast
I neh say you smoke another of my ciggrett right? O-kay! Oo-kay! Kia!

Eh looks like the same leh…
[Return to top]

Who Am I?

Who am I
But a Spectre in the Wind
Floating free
But locked in Limbo
Soaring great heights
In Silence
Zooming so fast
That time stands still.

I am that Spectre
That all know so well
Yet ignore and dismiss
In jest.
In Jest – is my form such
Comedic play?
You laugh at me
I laugh with you;
“The Spectre is so funny,
He makes us laugh,” you say
As you walk away.

“Well…Ta-ra now! Be good! Be happy!”
The Spectre waves madly,
His welcome grin replaced slowly
By a forlorn smile…
“Chin up, old chap.
They’ll come again…
When they want a bit of fun…
They almost always do…
Well most times…
Perhaps the odd occasion?”

So the Spectre floats free
High and Wide,
Fast and Slow,
School boy grin on his aged face,
Seeking but not searching
For the next campfire
And maybe perhaps…
The light at the end of the Tunnel.
But see there in his pocket?
He pats it oh so gently
As he hums a joyful tune
To a blue robot cat
Whose magical pocket
Might fulfil his requests and dreams.
He pats his pocket, & pats & pats:
And flies away humming.