The Human Touch

They vacillate

From one vassal state

To another

Enigmatic Twist

I can feed your illusions

Alleviate the confusion

With a sweet taste of fantasy

*

I can shroud you in darkness

Force you to cry and confess

With a promise of ecstasy

*

I can make you wish

I can make you believe

I can make you steal

I can make you deceive

But that’s not the way

I love

A Map Of The Mind

As years turn into decades

Look back and find the patterns

The points upon which life pivots

The lines that were crossed

The success, the defeat

The moments where life

Rinses then repeats

And over time you shall see

Far in to the future

Into The Flesh – Day 06

“The artist is forever dedicated to their muse. Those ethereal beings from ancient times omnipresent in the physical and the abstract yet only perceived by the few. The few who can bridge the gaps between the limitations of the senses and the cold hard reality of existence.’

‘Would you consider yourself to be an artist?’

‘That’s what people call me although they usually add the word real before the title.’

‘Do you agree with this distinction?’

‘Let me put it this way: I really don’t give a shit about labels or whatever little box people feel comfortable with putting you in but I do care about the meaning of words. You’re either an artist or you aren’t and all artists are real. The distinction is made because most of what is called art is either branding, advertising or mental masturbation. I really don’t have the time for any of it because at the end of the day I’m just a guy looking for answers and when I find some I do my best to share them in a universal way.’

‘What is this way?’

‘The pursuit of truth and the markers you leave behind so that others can find it.’

‘That reminds me of Hansel and Gretel for some reason.’

‘Ha! Just make sure you know who the witch is.’

‘I’ll take note. Have you met many witches?’

‘Metaphorically speaking, I’ve met a few, both good and bad. The good ones gave me guidance while the bad ones made me need guidance.’

‘So, who are the ones I should look out for?’

‘The ones who give you doubt. The ones who mislead you or others. The ones who make you promise while avoiding such a commitment themselves.’

‘I gather you have learned this from experience?’

‘Oh, I’ve been led down the garden path more than a few times. Although, to be honest, my sense of adventure tends to lead me along just to see what the con is but I have been burnt on occasion.’

‘Care to share?’

‘Mmm, I’m a creative type. Inspiration and motivation are key to my creations. Mother nature gave me my first sparks as I’ve watched her be gentle and peaceful as well as be brutal and unforgiving. She is as real as it gets but human nature is a tricky beast. It will sweet talk you in to places you do not want to be. It will learn what is important to you so that you can be lured in to a cage of its making and then it will kill everything you love while you watch. Imprisoned and helpless.’

‘This tricky beast was a person right?’

‘Oh, she was.’

‘What of the love?’

‘Dead as the flame that turned it to ash.’

Your Move

“You do not win a game of chess by being a chess piece but without them there is no game to play.”

The Meditation

Still

Looking for finality
A satisfying conclusion
To the battles and struggles
Made by man and his illusions

All these years
Decades
Centuries
I have waited for the day

Still

Silence is my appeaser
Where the thought finds a way
To circumvent the conflict
And live another day

Another day of waiting
As decades pass
Centuries
And still I wait

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 the hymn were complete strangers.

Blunt

The edge dulled
Too many battles
That last conversation
Proved fatal
The end bypassed
By some strange
Twist of fate
We had a moment
That no longer relates
And I dive
In to this hopelessness
Hoping it concludes

Never mind
It doesn’t matter
It’s past
It’s gone
But not as gone
As I am

Ethereal

A ring in the dark
Turns to a whisper
Seeping in to a slumbering soul
The message is clear
But will he remember
Which path to take
To once more feel whole

Shemanism

Read what is written
Not what you think has been said
For the ink is my blood
Running blue
In to red
The author of authority
The law you obey
For I am the predator
And you are my prey

Kneel down before me
And open your soul
I’ll reach deep inside you
And give you a goal
My purpose
Your purpose
I am all you need
But the ink well is dry
So for me you shall bleed

Now read what is written
It is not what you think
For I am the author
And you are the ink
That I spill with abundance
In glory to me
And once you run dry
I’ll declare that you’re free

And worship they will
The one who gave all
In the name of a father
Who let his child fall
In to the pit
Of delusion and hate
In order to live
On the back of your fate