Little Devil

Her eyes

A glance from the void

A taste of infinity

Hypnotically deep

Holding within

A hint of divination

A memory to keep

Within the hidden arenas

Of the subconscious

The Disciple

Within the Sin Bowl

Our misgivings burn

And the karmic dust

Will settle in turn

And from these ashes

A promise is made

That never again

Shall we be swayed

From the path we know

As just and right

For we are the flame

In the cold silent night

Pawn

A melancholic gaze

Caught in a cold embrace

And a face, so close

But just not close enough

There is beauty in this sadness

As this is how you feel

And it is real

When the warmth is not

A Fool’s Moon

Overused and so often confused with varying emotions, love is both elusive and a certitude. You will know if it is in your life without question. It is a sacred bond beyond the realms of cult and its religious dictate. A bond that few will experience and thus the masses will use the word to describe their euphoria, desire, lust, longing and hurt. Demonstrating in the process the absence of love in their lives.

The Guardian Of Secrets

“From association to derivation to the spark of life granting creation, you were born and have the time to dwell. So swallow the pill and join me in Hell. Where you are blinded by faith and I am blinded by fury and our love refuses to let us see. That there is no future for you and me. You are life and I am death and if we sealed the deal with a kiss then I would forever be bereft.
So I feel you from a distance. Just out of touch. For my touch is reserved for those who have nothing left.”

Love For The Lost

Broken little boy
I don’t know how to fix you
But I can make you
A better man

I understand
The hardship
The strife
The misgivings
All too human
That darken our lives

I can’t give you joy
I’ll just soften the blows
And replace the fist
With a hand
As this world can be forbidding
And life so unforgiving
I’ll forge that little boy
Into a man

Harlequin WIP

“Is that a light at the end of the tunnel?” He inquired

“No!” Replied the Jester, “You are just being born.”

The Fool

Do what you’re told

And learn all the codes

Assimilate

Regurgitate

And worship the old

Ways of escape

Will come with age

Overcoming

Becoming

A fighter and sage

Left by the wayside

To fend for yourself

Where bloodshed

And mind games

Bring power and wealth

You went off the path

Left love behind

For vengeance?

For Justice?

Or for the healing of time?

Ingest

In Jest (Draft 1)

He was born and named Innocent on the first day of a new moon.

Conceived one cool spring evening, he had grown in to the fruit of a loving relationship over the nine following months. Now the time had come for the umbilical chord to be cut in the warmth of a small country home on a cold winter’s night.

His first minutes in this world were spent clutching his mother’s breast as she held him close and smiled through her exhaustion. His father stood by with a damp cloth, dabbing his wife’s brow and beaming a mystified air of joy. A log fire cackled and added light to the candle lit room. A stray black cat peered in through one of the windows. Its eyes glinting with the flicker of the flames. Portraits of mythical beings hung on the walls and seemed to be watching and blessing the scene as the father bent over and said: “Welcome to your first day on Earth little one.”