Winter Days

I mostly remember you for the winter days,
The streets would freeze as you lit my soul,
If the heart could speak then I’d let you know.
You got me through the winter days.

The snow falls, the wind blows and
Our streets are filled with muddied slush.
Even when I was alone on my way to school,
I’d hear your voice say, ‘don’t run’.

Don’t worry, I were always sure to walk,
Even when you left,
I never felt alone, I felt your step
and for all those journeys in my mind we would talk.

I mostly remember you for my winter days,
But I love you for the days I don’t remember.
That Tuesday morning, you remember right?
September 5th, 1995.

The day you became my goddess and you gave me life.
The day I stole your heart and you gave me mine,
you gave me the most precious gift… time.
Yet I must live without you every single day.

Reminiscing of the early years,
loving you for the latter.
Missing you hereafter,
But mostly…
mostly, I remember you for the winter days.


They say art reflects time, I wonder if I die would my art reflect mine?
If my art reflects pain can my art reflect life?
When my times gone, can my art outlive it’s frame?
will my song soar and ring again?
Supported by pain. A Zimmer frame.
To support and carry what should also be in the grave.
If when it’s done only this remains, then I say let it be.
As I face what’s ahead of me, I just let it be. For if my art is any tale, it’s my own, and until it is retold it’s incomplete.591BCE48-CF89-49C5-AEFA-73BAA396E9D2Ar

Her and her shadow

She saw life as an ocean,
a sea of pain.
1000 emotions yet all she felt was pain.
Drown in that sorrow, pain is abyss,
And all time is borrowed.
If so, endless hurt is the consequence of such loaned treasure, but like all things good, it can not last forever.
For her life was an ocean, a sea of pain; she wondered ‘if I drown in sorrow, in my sea of pain, will this abyss cease and set me free again’

Love Me While I’m Here

It can happen in an instant,

One moment you’re cruising,

The next your sinking.


Those final moments can be so fitting;

life and death, forever besides never,

if deaths eternal then what is living?


I remember the way they saw me,

If only they knew I could see them now,

I flutter in and out of consciousness as they scream and shout.


‘Fight it… fight it’

But I’m done fighting,

I’m fully resigned to leaving now.


They don’t love me really, not even now.


They worry for their loss as they forget about mine.

I’ll be gone forever but they’ll forget that in time.

They should have loved me while I was here;


Before the pink left my lips and my dreams disappeared,

before time took my mind, before age took my frame,

back when we had more time, more memories to make.


They never loved me while I was here.

But as I’m leaving they love me again?

Funny how things change.

Hope – Curtain Call

I still wonder sometimes, I wonder what my vision will grant. 

If my scope is large and I cast my net wide, 

If my dreams remain, if my heart stays clean 

and my conscience stays clear? there are no bounds to what I can be.  

And that’s all from you, 

Empathy and understanding that’s all from you. 

I became a man of principles and that’s all from you. 

Because you gave me love, which made me love,  

so, ultimately that’s on you too. 

I learnt this all from you, 

You are my inspiration, my queen, 

the one who I write both for and about, 

Everything is for you, 

My life, my hope, my curtain call. 

Still Busy In Wonder: Her


She had the sort of stare that pierced,

a look that sent all gaze and attention in her direction.

She was the sort of lady that they erased from history,

yet the strength of her tune still blossomed and grew.

Blessed with power and grace,

Intelligence and beauty, but a delicate heart;

The type that breaks,

yet is somehow still filled with love in that state.

She had the type of spirit that defeats death,

we star-crossed lovers defied such fate;

till death do us part,

but even in death our bond couldn’t break.

So I don’t say rest in peace, I say wait…

In peace till I join someday.

At The End of Every Tunnel… There’s Light.

What if in the end there’s nothing?

If when all is said and done, more was said than done.

If in the end its just empty and cold,

alone, no resurrection or second coming.


We were sold the ideal of happy ever after,

But what is ever?

Is it the 3 scores plus 10 that the bible promised?

Or a seat at the table where God is?


Is it the promise of an eternal heaven,

The perfect utopian paradise?

In that case is life the parasite

That sucks until this endless ending?



A concept that not one of us has seen

But so many believe.

What if we confused what forever could really be.


What if in the end we are left with memories.

If in the end our forever is what’s in our hearts?

If in the end it doesn’t matter what happens in the end?

For death is inevitable, it truly is;

but in the end, memories remain long after we depart.


Still Busy In Wonder: Chasing Perfection… Chapter 17

Perfectionist… I have never quite understood the term, I mean ultimately aren’t we all perfectionist? Id like to think its something etched into the human psyche which shackles us to perfect expectations… but what if it isn’t?

There was a period in my life where I could write for days. I’d find myself reading all sorts of knowledgeable and engaging content, content which would spark this burning desire for me to write. Fluid thought and new creative ideas and worldviews seemed to find me and subsequently I’d find a pen. In a way writing is the ultimate reflection of the writer. During a time when I thought I fully understood the world, at least as it pertains to me, my writing was assured, I believed whole heartedly in my words. Ultimately, when my mind is stable my writing is also stable.

Over the past 2 months I have been writing and re-drafting with no real ambition to publish any of the works I have written. It isn’t that I no longer have the ability to write, its more to do with what reflection I am reflecting onto my writing. As I said writing is a reflection of the writer; currently as a writer, or better yet as a person, I am at a crossroads where I have suddenly begun to realise that I indeed know very little. The less assured I feel about this world, our society, our practices and ideas, the more I feel myself being hung by the imperfections that once seemed so perfect to me.  


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What’s your life worth?
What makes you dream?
If so and so makes you whole and your incomplete…
If you were to replace the words ‘so and so’ what would that be?

If my page could cry it would weep.
Because it’s been years since my thoughts had sleep,
Yet in those years those thoughts made dreams
And in turn those dreams made me?

If so then what’s my life worth?
The idea of a purpose makes me tick.
The idea of reason wills me to live.
Even when life hurts.

To put life first.
Love, people, dreams alike.
Put life first,
Let pain be the shell which carries hope and makes a not so perfect life work.

Because that’s what life’s worth.
The imperfections that make us,
the pain that awaits us
and the dreams that shape us.

Still Busy In Wonder: Decisions? Chapter 16

image.jpegI been thinking about life, in particular decisions and circumstance. How much control do we have over such things? How much of our lives are predetermined by exterior stimuli before we ever making any real meaningful decisions?

Life is the sum total of circumstances and decisions, in the end only one of these variables is controlled. The reality is we are all victims of circumstance. A great portion of our lives are already somewhat decided before our decisions are even factored into the equation. What I have learnt from this is that this makes our decisions that much more important, the half of the equation that we control is the half of the equation we should focus on.

I am in no way diminishing the impact of circumstance on our decisions. I am saying that if circumstance is an immovable object that is it worth even being a considered point when it comes to decision making? They say everyday you learn, if that’s true, everyday I am learning to deal with reality. Reality is everything the world tries to distract you from by presenting you with, thoughts ideas and things that have no necessary function for our lives.

I’ve come to a conclusion, well one that works for me at the very least. If there is a formula for success and happiness, that formula is wonder plus decisions. In the end, when all else is gone all we have is wonder and decisions, two entity’s that are both equally dependant on one another. In the end it’s our decision whether to wonder or not and how much we wonder about our decisions that separates the notion of a successful or a failed life.