Is It Your Own?

When you start to feel it

Taken over by those beyond

Who say it’ll all be fine

And before you know it

You’ll be back home

Familiar, yet dissimilar

Lost track of what’s known

Signs point away

They’re all here to stay

Without reason to go

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Magnum Opus

A themeless tale to speak of truth
On graceless, hallowed ground
Sauntered still, the ambled will
The past tensed future’s found
Drifting through the mirrored halls
I find myself still here
Harkened dreams or so it seems
The watchmen’s eye to leer

Mirages of a long-lost sea shows solace in the sun
Perpetrated by the sovereign state
So seamless it begun
Will they come?
There is but One
He stands amongst the trees
Natures child, hides its smile
Shown falsely, so too we

Fortune strides, the godless fly
To seek such tales beyond
Throw the flames your kindred soul
Baptised by sacred bond
By virtue of the mythic dove
That glides wingless across the plain
Gravitating to the source of all
The beginning of our shame

To summarise and prophesize
I leave you with such truths
That I and you and we and me
Can ponder on our youths
Though we speak with portend rhymes
Pay heed not to our speech
As if you know, “what’s there to know?”
Such treasonous beliefs.

Lotus Collaboration (Part V)

Like emerald eyes, the millpond rise
Soft subtle touch and the brow to calm
By word of tongue, by words to come
And heel and heel the ‘I’ succumbed

So too we, the luckless lynched and ghostly
Strung we hang on toes tipped by pointless pressure pushed
As if the suns settle is to bring forth the new age

Rest not on the whim of wandering stars
But rest on the dreams of the shimmered shores to pass
Only for a while least to the wild hungry ocean starts nipping at your feet

Come forth the dawn, come forth to truth
Speak as if the one true prophet of a god who wasn’t there
Paradise awaits you as only you know it so
But paradise’s lost and kings are cruel
Demonic myths from the throne of lost promises.

Lotus Collaboration (Part IV)

Desolated he stood, with palm empty to match his mind
Selfish feet fall hard on soft sidewalks soaked in night
Secluded by the shadows that watch vigilantly from afar
Weak words wont settle the settled son

Classy cats with crooked hats whisper riddles in his ear
Silver tongues peel back the blinds of bottomless gutter holes
Surrounded by fortunes folly as they falter to and fro
And gather go and go between the children on the street
Dreaming as they wander, as if ignorance was a blessing

Oh praise! Oh praise! What do we see when shivers trick the eye?
Blinded by the past as we’re left to wonder why
What speaks on winds from valley mouths
Language of a tribe where the speechless speak with purpose
Know the voice of age and dust

So sudden does it end, where dawn meets dusk
Bright the field of future gold
Speaks the story of timeless old
New whispers in the wellspring soul
As our spirit leaves this world, worry not, for there are others to fill the role

Deviant masks count slow songs from tapered lips
As if all they know is the script they’re given.

Agra Tales

Majestic as it stood. showcased by the ever-rising sun
Without registering the much desired emotional response, I approached with wide eyes
The kind of smoke-stained eyes you’d see at 6am in the Indian summer
Captured imagery and imagination could not encompass what laid before me
And yet I was left wanting more
As if the thirst of my childlike idealisation had not been quenched
Perhaps my self-composed recluse
Personified by tales of a fallen fabled foe
Where reasons for my anticlimactic rise
Are left to let the alter-ego glow

Surrounded by the symmetry of the shadowed wondrous behold
Where the voices in your head speak in riddle
As the lawless rules of time runs linear as if by will
Before their eyes they’ll see the fallen
The inter-dimensional sphere of solitude.

Lotus Collaboration (Part III)

The idea began to grow
As if divine intervention willed it so
Articulate, immaculate
Such shadows show sand and snow
Lastly comes the twilight hope
Designed to never know.

Ode To Young

Artistic creation hinges on the balance of inspiration
To justify the means
The ends must meet in perfect harmony
I was waiting by the sea-bank station
As the moonlight caught my eye
I looked up to meet its stare
And watched as it did grow

Silhouetted by its haloed crown
It shined out through its seams
Wondering if to run or stand as one
I faltered to my knees
How could this be so
Whilst rivers flow and darkness knows
What’s to come once we have gone

It had seemed to meet its end
As the sunrise masked its glow
Shining on to shroud the sounds
The silence of its foe
I stood in awe as it begun
The changing of the tide
The seamless coincide.