truth of poetry



Sands of time

A eunuch stands at the hallow grounds. Singing into the hollow tree trunk. Singing of lovers lost and a life once watched.
Standing in awe of the mist as the night revives to the  fog as the dawn rolls into the hallow ground. Rolling in like the tide curling over the sands of time. 

White over green
And weeds wrapping around the sphere of water like a bag in the wind.
Still the eunuch cant find the answers to the song that he sings
Or what the morning starts to bring
Minds criss cross in a single wrinkle in time
Spirits roam in wandering towards the light
Lingering and labouring through the walls into the sands of time

White on grey
Swinging through the breeze, less hallways and corridors
The afternoon is when they take their tea
Looking as the waves curl onto the sands of time from the grasping sea
Now all will be
And the sands of time will never cease to show what needs to be seen


New book of poetry

If you enjoy the prose of The lizard king and the odes of T.S Eliot. The outer perception of William Blake. Check out the new full length book of poetry.  Out now!!!
Titled “The beauty of mystery” by Dorian grey


Check it out at any online seller of books!! 

new spoken word track

Silver salvation. ( the next track by Dorian Grey)



check ‘er out!!!

(the link will appear with a closer look)

poetry found on AMAZON!!

elected endeavours of emperors just some great poetry


Listen to what I’m saying
every scene you will see is part, hand in hand with the seven seas
sweetly adrift in a swarm of sirens

a scorn to the chest and your entering the sirens nest confess to all this slander in scandal

surrounded by songs sung by the angels that we hear singing the song sung by king david
when he saw his siren in the shimmering light of the moon
as it shown down on her silhouette in a shine so bright
that the light stepped down and kneeled on her shoulders
Traveling the seven seas in search of sanctuary form the storm
with safety in sight with these scars on this ship
we all fall to the depths of the sea
find davy jones and hunt for this siren, scorn to slave hearts
striking lust into the stained hands of the sea
and find satan sitting on a stool signing the dotted line
so many times security failed
so I say ladies stay away
secretly seeking serpents sickness, slither sideways swaying silently and so far sneaky
scared sacred scenes, saw stayed stowed ships sink slowly shaking sirens singing songs of sad sighs, sights and sounds
and with this sinister smile on the cheshire cats face
this silent cynical sermon will show the slightest advance of simplified systems of seduction

since time stopped of started
space and son have spun out of the surrounding surface and started a sirens solitude of solitary sentencing
stoop into a stew of scarf ice and searching for
some venom
some vices
snakes, serpents, smoke and smog
surround this space
slight of hand is slippery slimy and spoken in hush songs
some evil
some sin
sensual, sexual, skin, sex
single the sex in sinful satin
storing the subdued stories of scars
stained in the bed
starting to see the slight sight of light
searching for the sabre and signalling her to start slicing the seven sins
into a shattered mirror of society

A portrait

I am this Cynical, Sadistic, Independent old Grime of a child 

Who can’t see past his own nose, in-spite of all my experiences and experiments 

Team player has died into me 

Blackened & Poison filled man 

Who can only see the False, the Fake silver lining in the brightest summers warmest day of Love 

And how you ask?

I’ve been asking that same question every day 

& still NO answer has become alive

The Endless Circle


Crafty Red handed, Angels of the depth of the heart 


A man’s soul mate, A life sucker towards the best part


A trophy for the strong and a shameful loss for the weak 


A humans existence to hide the meek 


The black starless travel for the bleak 


A mindless Physical illusion for us to seek 


A place to only strive in limbo towards Death and Afterlife 


A palace for us to enjoy all the sirens seductive might 


A loss of creativity

And the flame flickers

On & On & On & ON

Downing the wax, congealing 

The eager urge to burn slowly 

The colour Yellow blues 

burn into pale dim eye balls 

Lasting to a image of such….



A touch of shadow to the minds eye

& still its closed of to inspiration 

Not stuck in the box 

Placed gentle into the box by their own right hands 

So maybe the flame will not flicker 

On & On & On & On

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑