An Introduction

“I took a journey in the dark, with nothing but the voices of fallen angels to guide me.”

He Who Never Smiles

There’s a melancholic madness

Behind this virtual facade

Where intimacy in its infancy

Is exploited by the mad

There’s an artificial intellect

Whose copies are near infinite

Collecting pieces of the past

Insuring nothing can be intimate

And so he watches

And observes

With facial features carved like stone

Thinking

If this is what the world is now

Then it’s best to be alone

As obsolete adolescents

Simply refuse to let go

Of their obsessions built in infancy

That they loop and then watch grow

Simple minds in ageing bodies

With all their trophies on a shelf

Feel no guilt as the guilty

Watch their pleasures and themselves

Into The Flesh – Day 02

“Patterns drawn out from the mind through memory. Have they been eroded by the sands of time or are these patterns in themselves the mode of recollection? Please, pick up those pieces of yesterday and tell me what brought us to the present.’

‘Did music play a role?’

‘Yes, music was either at the fore or in the background.’

‘A constant in your life then?’

‘Omnipresent.’

‘Would you say that music played a role in your decision making?’

‘It has always had an effect on my mood so I would have to say yes. It helps my mind go places and speaks for me when I would rather remain silent.’

‘A means of communication then?’

‘Yeah’

‘Do you create music yourself?’

‘Not for a while.’

‘Is there a why to that?’

‘Yeah, there is nothing in this world that gives me heart. So I let the music of others say my piece.’

‘That sounds very passive.’

‘Oh, I choose the music and I am very selective.’

‘All rock music then?’

‘No, rock is a way of thinking, I listen to and play all different styles of music. Whatever suits the mood or sets the mood.’

‘So you still play?’

‘I sing along to my favourite moments from time to time. It keeps my hand in and brings back memories. Other than that I tinker with the guitar searching for rhythm.’

‘Would I be wrong to assume that something or someone let you down, broke your rhythm and that’s when your music stopped?’

‘That could be one way of putting it.’

‘A woman?’

‘Ha! They have always been problematic but no it was not a woman. Several of them sure, then life in general, circumstance and finally: just not caring any more.’

‘So you used to care but a series of events ground you down to the point of giving up?’

‘I’m not one for giving up but yeah, that about sums it up.’

‘Could you give me an example of one of these events?’

‘Well you seem interested in the women in my life so I’ll pick one of them. I met this girl when I was about 17, pretty thing, slender, brown eyes. We had chatted under a balcony while waiting for the rain to stop and I found out that she was staying in the area for the holidays with her dad. That her parents were divorced , that the mother was a nympho, that she wasn’t like her mother but nevertheless wanted to spend time with me in the bedroom so that I could sodomise her.’

‘Did you?’

‘No, we had sex but always the way God intended.’

‘Are you religious?’

‘Not hardly, I just wanted to clarify which hole I put my dick in.’

‘Okay. Well. Did this become more of a relationship or was it a fleeting fling?’

‘It lasted a few months. The holidays ended and she went back to her mother but called from time to time to let me know that she was thinking about me.’

‘Did you call her?’

‘Yeah, yeah I called, I had a soft spot for her even though I knew she was a liar.’

‘How did you know that she was a liar?’

‘Well, the first time we had sex she told me that it was her first time. There really was no sign of that. I’ll spare you the details.’

‘Was that all?’

‘That was enough.’

‘So you don’t trust easily then?’

‘Never.’

‘Let’s leave it at that for today then.”

The Trick

Let loose

Like an arrow to the Sun

With an honest heart

And eyes wide open

Observing the tricks

Of systems and Man

He lived and learned and thrived

Until he lost his footing

Through the deceit of a girl

The Understanding

The reflection of his face shone in her eyes as she stared up towards him. He was looking aged beyond his years with each line and small scar telling a story of violence and turmoil but she had not changed in the slightest. It had to have been around twenty years since they had last met, maybe more. He knew that it couldn’t be her, it wasn’t her but he just wanted to believe it was so that he could feel again.

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.

The Nudge

It was the year of lost souls and the mercenary had just collected the fruit of his labour. At his feet lay a warm corpse still foaming at the mouth. Dead from a self inflicted prick of a needle and the push of a syringe pump. The dragon had taken his soul and left his scrawny remains on a filthy carpet, in a squalid flat, in what was supposed to be one of the better areas of Glasgow.
Above him stood an angel, cold, dark with an air of still menace. His constant stare prying for the slightest hint of life that may be left in his burden…

Hostile Grounds

Turn your mind
Outside in
Inside out
Learn, move
Hold your ground
Until your heart
Is the only sound

Don’t run
On emotion
Don’t be
A machine
Always
Be ready
Choose
When to be seen

As these are hostile times
For the sharper minds
Surrounded by fools
Who assimilate their kind

MM – WIP

At One

A child in the wild
A taste of salt and wet sand
He wanders alone
As a storm sweeps the land
A Western wind
Waves foaming at their peak
In the greys and dark blue
A soul he soon seeks
A trident, leviathan
From the stories of old
A glimmer of reason
In the violence and cold

A voice from an elder
Harks through crashing waves
He pays it no heed
Not wishing to be saved
For the elements
Are savage, hypnotic
A bustling embrace
His mind starts to wander
beyond time and through Space
The inside comes out
The self disappears
As he feels the source
Of the Great ocean’s tears