sketch pad

meine umwelt

avec moi, sans moi,

par moi

Ahh… and the tales I shall unfold

May blast comprehension if the truth be told

An ode to the masters, martyrs and whims

A satyr on life and sullied daydreams


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Dear Heart


Silence as cold as death.

A barren plain,

Once torn by love and pain,

Baptised in tears and blood,

Left bereft of life,

Of growth, of change:


By friend and foe alike.

Land burnt and broken:

Cracks, ravines,

Blasted gullies

Further than the eye can see.

Stone distorted,

Earth destroyed,

Wasted, disfigured,

Child of Man.

(Apr ‘94)

Can you forgive me, Dear Heart,

My life, my love, my sweet,

The wrong I have done you

In turning my back?

For I feel your tears,

Scorching and blistering

Down my core

And I carry your weight upon me.

But I cannot bear to see your pain,

Your streaked face,

Your accusing eyes,

As they burn into mine.

Know you not

What you are to me?

(7-8th May ‘94)



I want to be held by you,

Kissed by you,

Known by you,

Loved by you.

I want you to feel my love,

To see it in my eyes,

To know it through

The caress of lips and tongue,

As my hands explore,

As my body teases,

In expression of desire.

I want to know your mind,

To traverse your thoughts,

To know your being

As my own.

Can you say the same?

(Mar ‘94)

One Day

Roving, roaming,

Loathing sight,

Round and round

With all my might.

I’ll find a path,

A path one day,

Out of darkness,

Into light.

(Mar ‘94)