The face of transition.

Take note that when i look at you
all I see are broken dreams,
tattered remnants of the hell you put me through,
with split ends and open seams.

Your bitterness has left you deformed,
I get sick just being in your presence,
like all the self-pity within me is reborn
along with everything else unpleasant.

What happened to who you hoped to be?
I dont believe you were always this impaired;
I get nauseous knowing that you're close to me,
thinking of the past we shared.

In fact, I think you're the devil
envelopping all around you in tragedy,
my hatred has never reached this level;
I wonder what relationship you ever had with me.

It disgusts me for us to occupy the same space
and I would heave if you got any nearer;
Oh! how I've come to truly despise your face
yet I can't look away from this mirror.


*So, a little dose of self deprecation. In truth, this heat made me feel really crappy and it distorted my reflection in the mirror summoning the memory of one of my favourite passages that i found when i googled "the saddest poem in the world.":

"I, Lais,
dedicate this mirror to Aphrodite.
For it will not show me as I was,
and I will not look upon myself as I am."
-Plato.

Merci, Zizou.

We will never be here again
time is no longer your friend
from here on out, we see things through
victory depends on you
So play with all you've got
this is your one and only shot
in 4 years you'll have gone rotten
life's too short to die forgotten.

Here is where men become kings
so forget about everything
you and the ball are perfect
show them one last time you're worth it
Show them Zizou is the champ
no more room for aches or cramps
in 4 years you'll have gone rotten
life's too short to die forgotten.

Let go of your numbing fears
give them blood and sweat and tears
let glory carry you unto the skies
the legend is born, the hero dies
Make their women throw you bizous
the only name they'll chant is Zizou's
in 4 years you'll have gone rotten
life's too short to die forgotten.

No one knows what history remembers
will you burn away and be lost to the embers
or will your name last an eternity
through this game of universal fraternity
They will say Zizou blessed this sport
this is my love, my thanks and support
for all the dreams that you've begotten
gone, retired but never forgotten.

Coat of Ash

He finds the silly old photograph in the fire place,
lost and buried in painful ashes;
something about the coat in the picture-
what is it that he can't understand?

He catches a glimpse of who he was
and starts to recognise
familiarity in the eyes
but he can not trust what he sees.

All he believes is the coat.

He can not take his eyes off it,
this old friend from another life;
the ivory buttons, the suede leather,
his history starts to come together.

Why does this strange coat warm his heart
with emotion that is no stranger?
A warmth that spreads across his existance,
melting away chains of conditioning
until he can not hold back any longer-

he lets himself remember.

This used to be his drinking coat,
then too-short blanket, then sinking float;
this very same coat that he wears today,
in ghostly tatters, weathered away.

Together, they've lived through each incarnation
if only so he should never forget this incantation:

Simply to give a man his coat back
does not rid him of his pains
for no matter how empty the coat rack,
the man inside forever remains.


A more fitting tribute to the late great Mr. Levi.