Heathen’s Hand

I am no son of god
No devil’s spawn
I am a symbol of your world
And all that is wrong
Within your broken cult
A cultural crime
You want what is yours
Yet take what is mine

It is the nature of belief
To refuse the real
To take it all in good faith
But what you have you steal
You are murder, you are pain
An illusion’s fool
Chosen by a doctrine’s way
To be that doctrine’s tool

My nature’s natures way
I have the upper hand
You can keep your fantasies
When nature takes a stand
Strips the flesh from corrupt bones
Foundations of your faith
I shall not pray, nor forgive
When all is laid to waste

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She Played Solitaire

It took about sixteen hours to fly from Edinburgh to Hong Kong. Hours spent reading a personal diary that spoke of who he was during his past years in Scotland. The adventures that bordered legality and those that could threaten his freedom, all written by hand and bound in black leather. For him it was a keepsake but it could have been viewed by others as evidence. He knew that it was in his best interest to destroy it but there was an old sense of justice that lurked in the back of his mind. A voice from a younger self saying that everyone should be held accountable for their actions without exception. His time would come and that day the whole truth should be set free and so he kept the diary as it was the only record of that period of his life.
Upon arrival in Kong, a smartly lady dressed in white met him at the airport. She was expecting him but she was not expected. As she stepped out in front of him to announce her presence he side stepped her to meet his scheduled rendez-vous while mentally noting the face for future reference. She did of course resurface at several points during the making of his new life asking him to get in to a taxi. One day, after she had ceased appearing for three years, she turned up once more. He got in to the taxi and was never heard of again but the diary. The diary was in different hands.

Same Old Song

The manipulator dropped one pace behind the hymn while announcing the enemy ahead. The hymn inquired who this enemy may be, seeing nothing more than a startled old couple under a neon glare. “Your family” came the reply and yet the people before  hymn were complete strangers.

Under A Pale Horse

Looking back
Walking back
Is not a way
To get ahead

Bye! Gone!
Be gone
Take the way
That once was set

You know the rules
The principles
That always held you fast
Any deviation from the path
Will just start digging up the past

You made too many enemies
And lost too many friends
To let the shallows that surround you
Bring you to your end

So turn around
And break the sound
Of childish
Little cunts

They are the plague
Bringers of rage
The scum
Of all the runts

Disdain is their destiny
Dish it to them cold
With intellect
The retrospect
Will have them bought and sold

Leave them with a silence
That shows what they deserve
As the future of humanity
Is the only thing you serve

Be

Internalise
A conflictual nature
With burning eyes
Burning a hole
Through the lies
The deceit
The multiple tries
That squirm
Away from truth

You are weak
You are broken
You are choking
On the failures
That make you
Who you are

I am strong
I am fearless
I will never digress
To the low life levels
That make you
Who you are

Externalise
The throb of the sting
That is felt inside
Share the pain
Force them to decide
To retreat
Or set aside
The fiction
From the truth

Eye Of The Storm

This body is a machine
Raw nerves, sinew
Blood and bone
Broken then mended
Until it’s carved out of stone

This mind has you counted
As a friend or as foe
Memories, experience
Calculate the outcome
Then Go, Go, Go

I am the calm
In your chaos

If you are burdened
I will take the weight
A steady hand
A cool eye
You can’t deviate

This mind has you counted
As friend and as foe
Haunted, tormented
Broken by outcomes
You refuse to let go

I am the calm
In your chaos

Six Kings

Another sacrifice
For the Temple Of Why?
Lost a fight
Then chose to die

Don’t tow the line
Don’t be the crime
Don’t look at yourself
And say they’ll be fine

A dying breed
Set these foundations
From the art of the Way
To your glorious nations
The trailblazers
Without compromise
Gave you their all
Until their demise
No word of thanks
Was ever asked
Will you pick up the mantle
Get to the task?
Or be another wish
I had the power
To be the one
In that desperate hour

Don’t tow the line
Walk with the blind
Just look at yourself
And get there on time