the man on TV

that song he sang from long ago,
came back to haunt my living room.
the dead man kept singing on, smiling.
oh yes, he was that man on TV from the 60s.

- puka the couch

the chronicles of le rouge

i stood there hammering tenderloins
while she shoved a lager in his face
and merry men sang songs of mule coins
and silly rhymes of horrible tastes.

when she came, staggered and smiling,
i knew she needs a shoulder to cry.
she ordered chocolates and other things,
but i heard a heart waiting to die.

hey sally, your day is just half as bad as mine.
i'd tell you tales of sorrow but with a smile.
hey baby, don't fret because we are all not doing fine.
this world is a beautiful place, served with roses and bile.

and i gave her coffee on the house, waiting for some tips.
but she kept smiling and smiling amidst her bleeding lips.
with an empty hand, i coughed a story from two days ago,
about how i swam in sands, while i was having some blow.

her lips kept bleeding i thought i was rose syrup.
i knew she has to get a grip before i chased her out.
i don't need a tragic lady, to spoil my get up.
so i'm telling you once, you have to go out and about.

forget what happened already, just move on.
this life is just a cuppa with a little smooch.
it's time for you to hastily be gone,
so i can continue the chronicles of le rouge.


- the seventh chef of the angry salmon

home

i am home
with my cats
and smelly toilets

my bed calls
me to sleep again
so i dream

i was a car
speeding fast
never crashed

the traffic light
smiled back
to scold me

so i swear
to go faster
then before

my home
is my journey
to my heart

my home
is the stinky cave
that i love

my soul feels
that i am home
when i cry

well, my home
is the same as yours
when we die.



- hantaryu the lone virtual swordsman

i am your phantom

you sang to my ears when my heart was broken.
you were there when the world did not listen.

your songs of love and broken dreams,
was near to my heart or so it seems.

he sat down closer and breathe a speck of my spirit,
for when i realized, he was just a phantom under the shadow lit.

i abandoned you, when you heard me and you came,
i need my freedom from your treacherous promises of fame.

i am the wandering dream for your night to fall asleep,
i used to be the pillow for your soul to keep.

begone, o ye useless thoughts of shameless women,
begone, o ye hateful romance from the omen.

my phantom lies inside your insanity,
as i creep your soul through this reality.


- hasbath the reckoner

confessions

i am the shimmering glass in your false existence.
i am the believer of foreign gospels.
i am the omen of your neglected premonitions.
i am the shaman that craft your spells

i feel i need to diminish the love in my heart.
i feel i need to feel the love for my faith once again.
i feel i need to tear these worlds apart.
i feel i need to destroy everything before it even begin.

i want to be the white wizard for your soul.
i want to be the paladin your world needs so bad.
i want to be appreciated and respected for my role.
i want to not feel the miserable void whenever i am sad.

i cant help it if the world crumbles before my feet.
i cant help it if you harbor much hatred for me.
i cant help it if you wished that we could have never meet.
i cant help it that only sadness and misery are all you can see.

i need you to show me how to slay a heart.
i need you to stab me a million times in my chest.
i need you to believe that we are a trillion worlds apart.
i need you to be eternally with me when we finally come to rest.

no words can ever explain how madly in love i am with you.

- the fool in the photograph

the five finger rumble

i swung my fingers to the calling,
that i forget i am slapping a heart.

my fingers fall into the rumble of hatred,
that it wildly made its way.

and it landed on the yearn of a lover,
such omen of ill fated truth.

this perception of life as it lingers,
this harbinger of a lesson told.

the forward march of the five fingers,
the silent rhythm of its fold.

and before i realized the dance is over,
the horror had the winning shot.

- benard the jerryboy

ishida

a vengeance, the lord of mercy, a sheperd of lost brothers.
my face smothered with tyranny of all evil of the others.
so i smile upon thee with furious anger and undying laughter,
shall i strike your heart with guilt that will last till hereafter.
the weak shall perish and seek salvage from the shadows in sin,
apart from their swelling empathies that kept them within.
the courageous and the righteous, will then be crying and bleed,
their false idols brazen and dismembered by the children of their seed.
destroyer oh mighty destroyer of lands and forsaken souls,
you are the force that our forefathers had told.
save yourself, the change has come to an end before you.
save yourself, the tide will stop and then nothing will be ever true.

- xavi the warrior priest

serenade 2.0

the sleep that does not depend, then day was not that it was spent.
so night then was the day of sleep, despite the hustle of the street.
i asked you once that you feel fine, and said yes because you were mine.
so we slept and dance the whole night through, and paint the colours of pink and blue.

until the fire in our hearts just fade, i woke up to find the open gate.
i was told that my love was fine, and not just that she was mine.
alas she left me by the bed, she left me nothing but what she said.
our dance was more than once, but i guess it was something she does not want.

and i asked myself do i feel fine, and not just that she was mine.
this music that our dreams had spun, so finally it fades out in the sun.

- munando the electric disbeliever