Posted in Poetry

The Pulchritudinous Traveller

– Serpentine Soul

Dawn of the day
Leaves of autumn yellow and brown
Cracking somewhere far away
The traveller moved on

Time turned around
Leaves came back to life
With dreams new found
Waiting for spring to arrive

Oblivious they were still naive
The traveller moved on

A new season had begun
To rejoice under the sun
but love there was none
The traveller moved on

Posted in Poetry

No Being, Just Nothingness


Inside my head, I garble;
But tonight, with you, I’d rather warble.
You words are etched in marble.
Mine just might be etched in sand, for mine sincerely,
Or so my brain tells me.
Music makes not much sense,
Words take me to transcendence.
Without words, you might mean nothing,
With words, you mean everything.
This sounds like sentimental tripe.
I’m a nothingness, with a distinguishing stripe.
Stay away, stay away, if you know what’s good for you;
I can’t promise anything, I can’t promise electric blue.
I’m dulled indigo, or drab navy, or black, black, black, black, black,
Until I succumb to the grey, imperceptibly changing my tack.
I hope you don’t notice; don’t notice the fallacy;
It’s dark, and in the darkness, there is nothing; nothing but me.