The Continuity of Death

The continuity of death
Mistaken for eternal question.|
An act of mercy – robbery of one more breath?
Or cruel manifestation of oppression?

With pendulous and oscillating cadence
The end’s assured calculated steps
Humanity held in abeyance;
Time is no money. Time is death.


scavenger poetry hunt

Gems Gemini Germs
Castrated hope
Hopeless Casper
The friendly ghost,
"Love may be forever
but our tattoos
last 6 months longer"
Abortion of reality = creation
Chocolate covered goosebumps
West End & Downtown
Trum pah pah pah pah pah pah pah
The friendly ghost
For your safety please hold on
Aritizia Policia H&M
Chocolate covered goosebumps
Esso Nespresso Nescafe
Longer than forever
Pah pah pah pah pah pah pah


memorable kindness

Kindness can often be mistaken for weakness; one’s gentle disposition taken for insecurity, in today’s loud world of proclamations, promotions and self-advancement. The need to be noticed becomes compulsive, the thirst for attention – deafening.

What if one would rather be remembered for his or her elegance, grace, politeness or modesty? Are these qualities so out of fashion nowadays that the crowd can’t recognize or identify with them and, hence, feels threatened?

One doesn’t have to get noticed in order to be remembered. A memorable presence is often subtle, such that leaves us with a feeling, a sensation, an effect.

May you be blessed this season with an unforgettable experience. May you be in peace and quiet of the mind and remember someone gentle and special in your life. May you be an act of kindness and may you be remembered.

Happy holidays!



You disturbed my peace,
yet brought me harmony.
You challenge my spirit,
yet nourish it.
Your presence speaks volumes -
through your respect
and unabated kindness.

The awe-inspiring act of giving life
comes easy for you -
because you do it through love.
You gave the entirety of your being
to love,
so that you may offer this last
ultimate sacrifice of selflessness
to me.
So that we may join together
to fulfill a prophecy,
to complete the alignment of stars,
to shift the tide of time.

When our eyes meet -
our souls brush against each other
ever so lightly,
slowing the breath of the world
to a mere whisper.
Time exhales.
Angels take respite in its folds.

Our eyes meet -
silencing the shrill of morality.

You bring me peace.
Nourish my spirit.
You breathe life into me...
yet leave me breathless...



Teo's picture makes me think of my son. Kissing his hair leaves different aftertaste every time. Mostly, he smells of a boy, sun-kissed and sweaty; his hair the colour of wheat in July. My lips pick up a whiff of the wind and some dust. Sheer and unknown boyhood, so mysterious to me.