Between The Rocks

He sang for a crow

Yet married a vulture

Picking at his bones

Even once they’d turned to ash

Not the scavenger

He had predicted

Not the murder

He had seen

He tied the knot

She strung the noose

We lost the legend

And she hopped away

Gilded

Under The Spell

*

A time to remember

Came to an end

As a stream of noise

Became a torrent

Constant frequencies

Moronic undertones

Outraged overlords

Taking mediocrity

And turning it insane

**

Be the mirror

Force them to reflect

On the mindless whores

That they’ve become

Publicize

Don’t demonize

And the truth

Will change

Their game

***

See this world

For what it is

And save what can be saved

From the fashioning of life

Dictating thought

With forced agenda

Killing acts

To Make the numbers

And feigning passion

To kill the flame

Night Vision

Just because you cannot see it

Does not mean it is not there

Although the masters of illusion

Would tell you otherwise

While pulling the strings

Of tyrant kings

And demented clowns

A verdant view

The reaper’s hue

Stalks the shadows

With purpose in its orders

Four stars

Accidents

Suicide

Burning flags

An uneasy uprising

I close my eyes

And hear it all

Whispers in the dark

Time to act

Like clowns

React

Like chemistry

Silence

Those with open eyes

Held in the sights

They embrace the void

Before the sword ascends

Words As A Texture (Smoke Screen)

The Sixth Layer

The Arrested Hearts

A black ram on the field of battle

Stands out from the herd

While the herder stands

With stick and fence

And profits on his mind

From the market

Just beyond the gates

Where slaughter makes the prophet

Of outcomes so predictable

And transactions quite obscure

All their actions vowed to silence

As their word is titled pure

Until the ram stares at the herd

Before glaring at the herder’s face

With an eye for an eye

And death before dishonour

Comes a sudden change of pace

Before all hearts

Skip a beat

Foundations

When the lights go out

I’m on your side

Sculpting the dark

In our favour

For I am the one

The monsters fear

I am the one

Who will not waver

The Signs

“…you did more damage than that broken little mind of yours could even start to comprehend…’

‘…It was late one night when I heard this argument going on outside. Some lover’s tiff that sounded like it was amplified by alcohol. I was down to counting cigarettes as I didn’t have enough money to buy more and that sort of situation always puts me on edge. The noise outside was pushing me over that edge, especially as I was trying to compose music and to find the words to fit the mood…’

‘…I’d gone out for a smoke a few nights before. I’d stepped outside, pulled my hood over my head and lit up as was my routine on cold nights. I took a long drag then titled back my head to look at the night sky. The moon was crimson in colour. I’d never seen it that shade before and for some reason it sent a shiver down my spine…’

‘…I went outside to witness the spectacle. A drunk guy in the fits of jealousy, going on about how he was going to find the guy, that he didn’t care who he was while his girlfriend kept repeating that nothing happened. That she hadn’t even spoken to him. There were other people there trying to coerce him in to a car but he kept shrugging them off. That was until he saw me, standing on the other side of the parking area, watching and ready. His tone of voice changed this time as he asked his girlfriend if I was the him they’d been arguing about. She turned to look at me then paused a few seconds before saying yes…’

‘…They all left in silence.”

Redux

With numerous places to go but with no reasonable ways to get to them, the old mercenary brought the old ways from the old worlds to him and studied. Within the pages written by those who came before him he realised that he needed a bright star to illuminate his way. So he searched for faces among the millions until he reached the number 12. The beautiful, the talented, the intellectuals, the gifted and those who embraced life in all of its glory. Beacons of light for his nights in solitude and reasons to not let darkness invade every part of his psyche.

For the outside world they would be the masks to shield the few soft parts left in him and a definition of the feminine. Memory fragments of what he would have longed to have touched before the battles and the scars.

A Letter

Dear Stranger,

It was the curse of a not so perfect stranger that put me in this situation. A promise founded on lies, deceit and a manipulation of the truth. I survived because I always do but found nothing but pain and sorrow in this place along with the echo of one word: Sorry.

After destroying all that was important to me she said she was sorry. She cried my tears, became the physical representation of what I felt deep down inside and said sorry. It felt like another dagger to the heart and for the first time in my life I felt pure unadulterated hatred.

Now I sit alone surrounded by imported culture to help maintain a sense of purpose but the truth is that all is lost for me on a personal level. There are no exit signs or brighter days, just my mind, my will and a planet that will keep spinning well after all of this is over. This situation, that she created, was her greatest mistake, for I was a child of the wilderness and like all wild creatures: backing them in to a corner is at your own peril.

Yours sincerely

XIII

P.S.: You are the root of my pain.

XIII Redux

A choice of three faces

In a virtual space

As a mask for a man

At his dark sister’s door

Where the faintest of knocking

Can be heard through the screams

As he wonders if the nightmare

Can evolve into a dream

Where time moves so slowly

As the days race on by

And the touch becomes love

Never willing to die