Wish

What would it be like if,
We forgot all our woes,
What would it be like if,
We still had our pure souls,
There's little chance we'll know,
But together there's hope,
So take my shaking hand,
And we'll make memories,
We will make time stand still,
We will have our fears killed,
I won't spite the purest,
You won't spite the fairest,
We will claim what we will,
We will be soon fulfilled,
We won't spite the dearest,
Because it will be us,
You won't spite the finest,
I won't spite the richest,
We won't spite the bravest,
Because it will be us,

[...] Read more

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Reburying the skeleton

A skeleton thought it time for his wake,
He was in fact a hundred years too late,
Since he was unaware of his mistake,
He went off in search of his old flatmate,
When he found his way to the right address,
The occupant sadly abhorred her guest,
She gave out a scream to show her distress,
And people came to inspect the unrest,
They deemed that they did not quite like his kind,
And then schemed to bring about his demise,
One of the men hit him hard from behind,
Then took him to where they thought it most wise,
They then went about reburying him,
So as to confine him to his coffin,
But in their haste they left out a forelimb,
So had to open the coffin again.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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The perfect meal

Are you tired of the same old boring meal?
Let me tell you I know just how you feel,
Some days I feel urged to get up and shriek,
As I find my meals to be oh so bleak,
There's experience in the words I speak,
Which I wish I were able to conceal,
Let me warn against a path you may seek,
One shouldn't act on a rash thought with zeal,
I thought skilled cooking was not a big deal,
For my meal I just used what did appeal,
Then patiently waited for it to bake,
And hoped for the best for my hunger's sake,
I soon took the biggest bite I could take,
But swallowing was quite a vile ordeal,
I puked for my scheme had been a mistake,
Thus my early comments need a repeal.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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8 Years

Eight years gone but I wish it was more,
'Cause looking back now it seems like less,
All those years that I thought I was strong,
I was utterly feeble and weak,
If I had freed myself from the curse long ago,
I could be the person you will now never know,
If only I could steal away the hope you sow,
I could have all I need to be able to grow,
I try to always do what is right,
But even so I am always wrong,
The journey to salvation's too far,
So best make do with all that is near,
If only I was not cursed with wretched regret,
I could put all of it behind me and forget,
If only I could find a way out of your debt,
I'd gain my freedom from a life of toil and sweat.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Noises in the attic

There was once a boy that was brave as can be,
There was but one thing he found to be frightly,
However that one thing caused much misery,
For it would haunt him in his bedroom nightly,
When a lack of sleep took toll on his welfare,
He was prompted to attempt to sleep elsewhere,
The boy went downstairs to sleep in an armchair,
Hopeful that a peaceful night could be found there,
And he prayed that from his fear he could break free,
But he was reminded of it constantly,
Since he wished to be as brave as he could be,
He went off to confront his fear ardently,
He went to the attic from whence came his woe,
And found a vile beast hidden amidst shadow,
He was horrified but the beast was more so,
As it then fled to where he would not follow.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Fairies

They are formed with affection,
They are formed by a small child,
They are formed by a lone mind,
Now they start to fill the skies,
Life recovers from the cold,
Dancing amongst the blossom,
They're wherever we don't look,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life gets scorched by the cruel sun,
Dancing in the warm night breeze,
They scamper from human sounds,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life prepares for the darkness,
Dancing on dying leaves,
They're nowhere that we can find,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life is sleeping through the cold,
Dancing on the icy mist,
They find solace when alone,
Hiding from our prying eyes,

[...] Read more

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Sweet memory

My sweet little memory, you taste like red wine,
I am oh so pleased you have come to visit me,
You bring warmth and comfort in a worrisome life,
I wish I could be with you for eternity,
As I think back to the time I first smelt that scent,
Picture it as though it's happening this second,
Dance with my child self and mourn my innocence lost,
The feelings seem like they are more than just pretend,
My vile dirty memory, you taste like bitter foul meat,
Why must you trouble me quite so relentlessly?
You add to what's already a sea of torment,
I crave to escape your insensitivity,
So I look back to what caused the scar I abhor,
Imagine that it is happening this second,
Change the vile daemon into a liveable form,
Then reform and write all my flawed conclusions.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Argumentative echo

A maiden learnt that her mother was growing frail,
And while visiting her she got lost in a vale,
There she was foolish enough to try to be heard,
Even though finding an audience was absurd,
Surprisingly a woman replied from ahead,
However she only repeated what was said,
And since the girl failed to find out the stranger's name,
She likened her to a Greek nymph that obtained fame,
The girl asked what was the best way in which to go,
The reply turned out to be of little help though,
The girl grew angry and tired of playing games,
And how the echo reacted was much the same,
After yet more snubbed questions the girl had enough,
Correspondingly the echo got in a huff,
The maiden could not stay and waste more of the day,
So she said good-bye and promptly went on her way.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Missing puzzle

They talk of the puzzle that has the missing piece,
But none mention the piece with the missing puzzle,
It's hard when there is nowhere to turn for release,
And searches for acceptance lead to refusal,
It pains me to hear puzzles constantly complain,
For the piece with a missing puzzle cries in vain,
They try to fit in places that they never can,
And end up with a life like that of a cursed man,
They can pretend they are another puzzle piece,
And then try forcing themselves into a puzzle,
But it will hurt them until they crave for release,
And acknowledge their prospective host's refusal,
They will surely be doomed to tiresomely roam,
In a vain search for a place that they can call home,
Till they declare themselves a puzzle of their own,
And then learn how to be content being alone.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Hex

Sleepless nights will soon emerge to be your blight,
As by right you relive your wrongs with contrite,
And I promise you this you cannot resist,
As fate begins to play out its unseen twist,
Those unfortunate to have died by your hand,
Whisper to you from beyond this mortal land,
They are soothed as your days left on earth run thin,
And unrelenting desperation sets in,
Comeuppance for your mortal sins is certain,
What at first starts out as bearable and tame,
Will rapidly grow into a searing pain,
Sores will emerge and grow to tarnish your skin,
The pain of which will mirror what's felt within,
Slowly your sight will fade until you are blind,
Only to be replaced by visions unkind,
This is a battle that you cannot ever win,
Death will arrive once you are withered and thin,
Comeuppance for your mortal sins is certain.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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