“Desert Dance”

This draws its main inspiration from a dream that had occurred to me several times. Each time the details were slightly different, so I had to stitch everything up from memory. The name “Sarahan” (often referred to as “Sarahan of the Deserts”) occurred on a few occasions in those dreams, usually referring to some form of malevolent vengeful titan-like being sent to bring about the world’s end at the behest of some very angry gods. Some very extensive and minute research (literally one single search on Google) has concluded that Sarahan is actually a village in India. The implications of this could be very interesting, but instead of following up on the background of the village, I’ve decided only to share what I have seen.


“Desert Dance”

Sharp winds does the sea provide,
Hopelessly seeking to aid
Barren landscapes left behind
By the gods that we have made.

Our nights are bright as day,
Scorching with a thousand suns,
Bleeding earth forlorn and flayed
By the howling unseen ones.

Sandstorms scalp the golden domes
In a war-born savage trance,
Covering the marble thrones –
A sadistic Desert Dance.

Feathers grace the searing sky,
Falling from the heavens red,
Gliding fearfully awry
‘Bove the laughing lion head.

Towering above the sands,
Tremoring with every step,
Four blades grasped in shaking hands
Which for aeons lied and slept.

Dust engulfs the sacred signs
Adorning the ancient walls –
Mockery in sinful rhymes
Which for aeons us enthralled.

I hear now the serpent song
Slithering inside the sand;
I see the temples we have wronged
Festering on rotten land.

The desert dance cuts ever-deeper
At the eyes of this mere pawn;
I behold the Harbinger –
Sarahan – the breaking dawn;

…Spelling doom with every yawn.

“The Fall of Mankind”

I had always wanted to have a go at writing in limerick format. With some minor exceptions, I believe I have hit the figurative nail on the figurative head on a technical level. On a thematic scale, this takes inspiration from the world’s most famous book, albeit smothered in a great deal of interpretation.

Have a read and let me know what you think!

“The Fall of Mankind”

Who could have foreseen such a ruse?
Even saints rabble down and accuse.
Certainly not
The slobbering lot,
Nor the sorrowful demons obtuse.

I was slithering my own affairs
And skulking around everywhere,
Until that I met
The aphonic duet
And they didn’t know I was there.

Had he a name, so did she,
But then who doesn’t, honestly?
I only recall
The tale of the fall,
The falling that brought them to me.

One evening I saw her depart,
Running away, breathing hard,
Through to the edge
Of the heavenly hedge,
With only despair in her heart.

She had tasted my poison before
And she’d felt of my fangs to the core,
She’s seen the grin
Of a devilish sin,
Yet she never dared open the door.

I burried my scales in the sand,
As I heard the footsteps of a man.
He could not see
Through the shadows and trees,
So I guided his hungering hand.

Just as he neared her retreat,
Thought I’d save myself a little treat,
So I coiled like shackles
Around his ankles
And he toppled forth in defeat.

Scarlet was his dim-wit face
And so was the prize of his chase,
They burned so bright
The forest caught light
And the dirt collapsed without trace.

“I’m falling!” is all that I’ve heard,
As he tightly held onto her.
For her he fell
In love and in Hell;
They both fell for each other.

A thundering voice did demand
That the offspring I’d swiftly unhand,
Yet that was for naught,
As they paid it no thought,
For only each other they had.

To myself I had proven my worth,
Perverting the world before birth;
With only a jest
I had shepherd the best
Thing that could happen on earth.


This is the outcome of a relatively darker phase that has been plaguing me for the past month or so and which recently reached an apex of sorts. I am not proud of these thoughts, but that hasn’t kept me from sharing them before!

Here they are.


I see the cold and shaking hands
Reaching out from your despair,
Slithering with shifting sands,
Longing for a gasp of air.

I hear the thundering pursuit
Beating in your lonely heart,
Marching with a sound uncouth
Towards faith broken apart.

I feel the flames that scream alight
And circles of ash and smoke
Drawing closer, choking tight
Sacred promises they spoke,

Sacred promises they broke,
Widening the violet voids,
Suffering this endless joke,
Whitening the violent noise,

Leaving nothing but a voice…

Do you see me when I reach
Out of my glacier shell,
When I hatefully beseech
Haven in my frigid hell?

Do you hear me when I hum
To the beat of your descent,
Beckoning closer as one
With all the words that I have spent?

Do you feel the way I glare
Scorching as a thousand suns,
Ruing the moment I dared
Shine before the cold and numb?

Why would you… or anyone?

“A Better Man”

This is a simple concept, but it is something that has been gnawing at me for the past few days. I decided to take some time to put it on paper.

Here it is.

“A Better Man”

I was nothing when I was
And much worse when I began
Breathing tragically, because
…I could not be a better man.

Should I dull my longing fangs?
Should I stay my grasping hand?
I would rather swing and hang,
Than become a better man!

They did not see when I was there;
I watched as they turned and ran
In a spiraling despair;
…I want to be a better man.

But they scream inside my head,
Clawing again and again,
And I wish that I was dead!
…Or at least a better man.

So I lock away my thirst,
Making due with what I can.
I will be myself, but first,
I will be a better man!

Leave me now, sweet war of mine,
Take with you only my hand,
For tomorrow you will find
A brighter bolder better man!

…Better than the one I am.



Nothing humorous about this – unless you count how humorously atrocious it was written.

Enjoy – I dare you!


Humour before all the gods –
Oh, I have been made a fool,
Bowing under haughty nods
Like a drooling dancing ghoul.

It is they who hurled me forth,
Broken from the very start,
Leaving me alone on earth,
Leaving you inside my heart.

Humour before all the gods –
I am but a starving joke,
Hungry for the bright facades,
Laughing in the choking smoke.

In my eye, the world seems cruel
To allow this morbid farce
To curse this shadow of a fool
With the famine of a thousand hearts.


“Gerard and The Mourning Sea”

I found some old notes I had made almost a year ago. I had plans to write something like this but I had neither the plot, nor the style to do anything. Today I was simply thinking random rhymes and verses when it struck me – they weren’t random at all. I told to myself “That’s it! I found it!”, rushed home and started writing for five hours straight. This is the result of that.

Do enjoy and let me know what you think!

“Gerard and The Mourning Sea”

The Mourning Sea does gleam tonight
Under stars aflame;
Though sated she is, she might
Let us hear the name,

Whispered in a thousand screams
Fierce across the shore,
Wild beyond the wildest dreams
That we have dreamt before;

A name which no one dares recall –
The folly of a bard –
Carved onto a sunken hull,
The fisherman Gerard.

Poor gutter, our lowly drudge
With the stench of death,
Grinning wide, bearing no grudge
Towards those of wealth.

Carried by a summer breath,
Dearest Lorelei* –
Muffled echoes of a depth,
Hiding a sweet lie.

The tale sings of a sun-up
One star-crossed July,
Of Gerard, luckless young pup
And dearest Lorelei.

A blemish on her milk-white skin
And silver in her hair
Found-she in her mirror slim
And salty was the air;

And the sea was suffering
With the sighing maid;
Wailing waves were smothering,
Unweaving woven braids.

Gerard knew of her distress,
For he loved her well
And swore-he to his mistress,
His own blood he’d sell

To hear her laugh, savour again
The cyan of her eye,
For no song was sweeter than
Dearest Lorelei.

And her smile tasted of sorrow,
Caressing his tear,
For she knew that her tomorrow
Would usher no cheer.

And her words to silence fell,
Drowning in a kiss
Made of long and dark farewells
Reflecting the abyss.

Tranquil were the fetid docks,
Lined and trimmed with chum
Thrown along the battered rocks
To the briny hum.

Serene was The Mourning Sea
That scorching July,
When Gerard set sail to the*
Despair of Lorelei.

“Do not wait for me, my love;
Gaze towards the sky
That I may see the blue of
My sweet Lorelei.

Midnight’s veil shall be my cloak
And thousands, my eyes
Recalling the day I spoke
‘Farewell, Lorelei…'”

…As the boat left the embrace
Of the grasping shore,
Lorelei endured in ways
She’d never felt before;

To this day she haunts and seeks
Any ship or raft;
And sailors who refuse to speak
Suffer with her wrath.

She still yearns for stars above,
The fisherman Gerard,
Now so far from his lost love
…And farther from his very heart.

“Sing the cyan of your eye –
Cry for me, my Lorelei!”

1 – pronounced /lɔ:rəlaɪ/;
2 – pronounced /ðiː/.

“Château de Cœur”

I have been actively thinking about this piece for a few days. I had already finished writing this in my mind long before actually putting it on paper, so not much has changed from the original concept. As for what it means – let’s just say I have foreseen things that managed to take place despite my wildest dreams and foolish hoping.

No matter the cost, as long as it keeps me writing.

Château de Cœur

Atop the damp forgotten teeth
Of the ever-hungry shore
Lies my forlorn golden seat –
The halls of Château de Cœur.

And the savage salty serpents
Coil around my sneering fangs
Every night, with every fervent
Tide of self-imposed harangue.

In my sweet Château de Cœur,
The cold stairs of marble white
Speak memories of red horreur
And lies of a flawless sight.

A marvel, my lovely home,
Where the willow does not age,
Where the gold etches the bone
With the eros of a gilded cage.

Many have toppled the walls
Of my dear Château de Cœur,
Yet the shrieking brackish squalls
Still sing their “Encore, encore!

Under no vigil of god,
The tide knocks upon my door,
Shattering the sweet façade
That is my Château de Cœur.