stop talking
the enemy could hear you
radio static
rustling from the woods

the dawn is far
red flare lights up the sky
the battle has just begun

gunshots fade as you pull the trigger
lock on one target after another
everything a blur, flashing images
for eternity
your heartbeat on a race eternal

take cover behind this tree
take a long breath
and close your eyes

stop crying
daddy can hear you
look over the crib
his smile reaches you

hold out your hand
your small, innocent hand

the dawn is here
home is quiet and in peace
touched by the first light
your carefree laugh carries on
on through daddy’s eternal sleep


Dark Days

He walks during dark days. Upon glancing up, falls one feather. And then two. Six. Twenty. A hundred. These dark days are never ending. There is no sky as densely grey as the one above his head. Dead horses. Broken carriages. At the corner he turns. And there they are.

One day, the mad and the powerful meet. They both smile and share a laugh. A joyful, burdenless laugh. At exactly the same time, a man in exile is contemplating. What has he done wrong?

The woman in her sixties picks up a crying baby from inside a cardboard box. She smiles at him and gives him a gentle look. The baby stops crying. The woman then brings him home.

One card, a tap. The gate opens. She waits for the next arrival. Leaning on the dirty wall, she’s humming a folk song. Her home is not where she is going. Her home is too far away. Right now she’s just going to her shelter.

Some strange occurances have been taking place around the city of safety for the past few months. These occurances, some have reported, seem to be quite hostile. Three people were heavily affected by one incident that happened in an apartment where they live.

He keeps walking despite of what he’s seeing in front of him. A little boy, his body unmoving. He was pulled out of the rubble and is being carried by two men. An old woman in a distance is sobbing, her eyes deprived of light. All he can see is surrender. One photographer is taking pictures. She talks with a strong accent.

The strange occurances have stopped. Not because they want to, but because there is nothing left they can touch.

He looks up again. The falling feathers are gone. There is no sky as bright and soft as the one above him. The man in exile is now free. He left the world that has rejected him so many times. He left the world trying to fix itself, with the little help it has remaining. He left the world hanging.

Final Resting Place

Crackling sounds from the burning fireplace
Moonbeam through the dust on the window
Worry is sleeping in this gentle air
Peace settles in, a quiet house where we belong

The earth below is overheating with hate
But we have our ears spoiled by a lullaby

Down there,
thunders are roaring
tired shoulders are carrying buckets of water
blizzard is freezing children’s tears
many people are carrying the weight of the world

We are here laying down
Waiting for the next soul to arrive

The Stream

Can’t sleep
Tonight, the world is expanding
Some would say it’s morning
While the big sphere keeps spinning
new souls being delivered
Trying to make sense of what it is
that we see and what we believe

Time goes by
A mother tucks in her child
in bed dreaming of what might
A night worker heads down a tunnel
sighs and turns on his flashlight

All clocks are ticking in a rhythm
A student grabs her toothbrush
the mirror reflecting a pair of lenses
that have overlooked the little sparks

The wind carries a thousand voices
From all kinds of language
The spoken and the unheard

Tonight, I’m busy arguing with myself
over the right and the wrong
over where I’m supposed to go
over when I can finally write my own song

The systems are growing more complicated
Beliefs shaken
but we have to choose and commit
Born and live in a stream
to die drowning in the sea

With holes in your hearts
dry your tears now
Take care of what you’ve got
Then let me hear your howl
so I can close my eyes
knowing that some things can still be better
and that I can still learn how to swim
through the current of this stream
so I won’t be lost at the sea

Find me if you want to know

Waiting on a decaying boat

Staring at the stars, my home

The sea is one giant darkness

the darkest of mirror,

whispering to my organs

planning my funeral


I’m married to the night

Every constellation marks my skin like a tattoo

I befriend the only light

With blind pale eyes challenging the moon


And I’m bringing with me a treasure

One knowledge, one truth

If you’re brave enough to open your door,

move your weary feet to my anchored boat

lift your dim lantern and light my face

look at me and find the old man that I am

I will give you what you desire

One knowledge in your mind

will frighten you at night