july 2021




...a feather is weighed against the heart

and the centuries fall


carrying away the truth

meteors sweep through the void 


shredding the skies

and humankind burns on


its ashen insouciance

no longer enough


no longer a choice

these dust-words


these trapped amber-words

these formulae, odes and axioms


that merely bruise the clouds

and turn the rivers black


for the weight of a single feather is irreparable

yet the truth still sweeps the void


searching for itself

a vagabond, a stray dog


snapping at specks of dust

growling at the strange faces


it thinks it sees

grinning in the dark...






...first came the smoky voice

then the glossy, sequinned skin


flashing its coloured algorithms

in every conceivable direction


then came the borrowed self

the hollowed self


with its wrap-around suffering

its addictive concealment of the soul


for if I am, yet I am not

what then am I really


but a brief criss-cross of shadows

a knot of fibres


that draws insignificance

like a garment over my head


this brief, sequinned consciousness

flashing in every direction its midnight eyes


its smoky costume

its hollow costume


those smiles that are of an unsettling, strange sadness

of a love borrowed, a love denied...







...wounds will always ululate

ballads will always come with swords


but still this music will rise

bringing to all a discordant heaven


an empire of unwavering kitsch

with its passwords to euphoria


its ever-promising, compulsive logins 

at the gates of paradise


to some new type of darkness

this impenetrable banality


these shadows of women

burnt into the walls


but these stairs, these steps are impassable 

there are just too many misconceptions


too many memories to climb over

and wounds cannot  be silenced


verses cannot be stilled

and the truth cannot exist alone


with this music

this indelible banality


this dance macabre

on the last few steps...