The safe days turned to open craters
The safe days are gone
The sound days became alarming sensors
The sound days are gone
The sure days burned to fuming cinders
The sure days are gone
And yet—the zen days laid their calming embers
The zen days still come


NaaN ...

The year is 2022, Theodore Jake Carlsen is riding a school bus up a steep hill while talking to a friend, Eugene, about poetry written during the Great War. *Screech*. Theodore’s life is about to be turned upside down in a matter of seconds by a treacherous disaster. *Vroom ...

Been circling the spread for far too long
When will we ride the wind again
Predicting the march and it’s always wrong
How will we free the flow again
Now unleashed to fill the void with song
Finally, we can begin again


NaaN (Now, always and Never)

We are wandering the bottom, or so it seems
We breath, we live, we gleam
Whatever we’ve seen. We’re waving our dry jokes goodbye
We are conjuring the bottom, or so it seems
We breath, we live, we dream
Wherever we lean. We’re waving our dry hopes ...

Born with clay feet on an earth unsteady
Minds unturned to feed the quagmire
Torn away heat on a dusk already
Bonds untamed to bleed the bonfire
Mourned and prayed bead on a faith non-heady
Cants unsung to free the lost choir


NaaN (Now, always and Never)

Facing the Downpour the broken sleeper crashes again
Flowing down its back it gathers for a new fall
Racing the Encore the broken sleeper clashes again
Blowing down its rack it gathers for a new call
Chasing the offshore the broken sleeper bashes again
Rowing down its track it gathers ...

Herbivores are the predators of the plant
Smokes rising to make the sun burn up
Demagogues are the creditors of the cant
Scopes rising to make the sun blow up
Everdreams are the janitors of the grant
Slopes rising to make the sun roll down.


NaaN (Now, always and Never)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Drawing my own pics for these now. It feels better that way^^

Sever the frenzy of easy appliance
Who are the sinners of the craft to the abusers of the lever
Never assembly a line of compliance
Who are the living of the reap to the dead ...

Bryan, fresh out of college in Tara, is moving toward a path to become a full-fledged bard. The entire process to become a poet, minstrel, or chronicler takes a lengthy twelve years to complete. Bard lute in hand, Bryan journeys to a tiny shanty town in the North called Oi ...

Do you seek the rhythm in a time so dire.
Hearing our desire.
Do you thirst for raindrops on a solar briar.
Lost inside our mire.
Do you curse the shadow of a wanton liar.
Now you feel our ire.
Do you beg and tarry for a stronger fire.
This ...