Foul Heart

Look to thy ways heart,
For the crowd on negative, looks
Thy ways, and hate.
Throw not lots
For my siren is sincere
Of thy fidelity’s breech
On thy bosom, shall many censor
Thy breath.

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'Shadows'

In aerial view,
Shadows are but real
And we the real are but shadows.
For what our shadow is but a reflection
And we ‘deformed’ thou
Reflect as perfect
Mirrors, of ourselves.
In an aerial view
Where we reflect not.

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The Alien

Unto this alien kingdom I return

Deformed I find the alien generation
Modernity diseases it
A new kind of civilisations they say
That but poisoned mine
Yet with all might have they clung to it!
And I
Should be glad of another death!

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