Harlequin WIP

“Is that a light at the end of the tunnel?” He inquired

“No!” Replied the Jester, “You are just being born.”

The Mysteries

Symbolism, masks and verses dedicated to the theme of creation are all in the make up of The Mysteries. A face and a poem representing a journey through the realms of conception. Both the physical and the spiritual are presented as the idea formulates in the flesh to create a new being with its own journey to embark upon.

The Mysteries are the second step in workings of Mirrors and Black magic. More defined and refined than 22 Secrets but still abstract and open enough to leave air for the third and final step to breathe creatively.

At One

A child in the wild
A taste of salt and wet sand
He wanders alone
As a storm sweeps the land
A Western wind
Waves foaming at their peak
In the greys and dark blue
A soul he soon seeks
A trident, leviathan
From the stories of old
A glimmer of reason
In the violence and cold

A voice from an elder
Harks through crashing waves
He pays it no heed
Not wishing to be saved
For the elements
Are savage, hypnotic
A bustling embrace
His mind starts to wander
beyond time and through Space
The inside comes out
The self disappears
As he feels the source
Of the Great ocean’s tears

HKH Flyer V.1

Along with a young lady called Carolyn Siu, I have been gearing up to help people discover the darker side of Hong Kong and document our ventures.

From haunted buildings to crimes scenes, we have been researching the history and urban myths of the city with the dual purpose of taking people on a different kind of journey around HK and recording our adventures. We shall be both on the ground and on the net, posting pictures, write ups and streaming live.

The main website shall serve as a place to conserve research and as one of the means for the general public to contact us. We shall also be present through social media for live and other social interaction.

Control

I lost a child along this way
All too fast, too soon
I’m still haunted to this day
But there was no other way
The choice was not in my hands
My pleas were ignored
My word discredited
And the killer did not live to regret it
Yet she lived

I’ve walked this Earth with a broken heart
Before I got the chance to become a man
I don’t expect you to understand
And I won’t let you care
It’s been too long
And I’m too far gone
I’ll just dance with the devil
Until he cries out in despair
And begs me to forgive.

White

It was some time around the year of 5 when I walked in to the shower room and looked in to the mirror. At first I saw my face but the more intently I looked the more I could see my skull. To the point that all flesh was gone showing me nothing more than bone and teeth. I didn’t know that I was tripping out at that point as I hadn’t, to my knowledge taken anything but I was tripping none the less. I took a step back, closed my eyes, shook my head then opened my eyes to see everything back to nearly normal.
I walked through to the living room alone and called someone on the phone. Maybe a few people. Then I saw her: Eyes of gold staring at me and lifting a fear I had never felt before or after that short part of my life, a fear that had seeped in to my everything and was holding me petrified. She made the pain go and filled me with a warmth that lifted me gently. Taking my hand with a firm grip, she started to cry as the word: Finally went through my mind. Then a great flash of white took me away.

Decay

A dream
Maybe more of a premonition
A slow dance of hands
Maybe symbolic
In some distant land

Fingers painting the air
Like pigment to paper
A message
Maybe four words
I have yet to understand

Presented before me
Some mistress of mystery
Silent
She makes me disappear
With one stroke of her hand