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

Winter Bloom

A hint of hostility

Sad, disappointed

Still

The one whom I would embrace

With what little warmth I have left

The Burn

Fire or water

One in the same

From the scars on the mountain

To the warmth of the flame

Star

A treacherous trickster
A lie on every breath
Using light
To hide in shadows
The nature of her game

She knows no shame
And keeps the prices high
Of every part of soul
She steals
An act quickly denied

Angelic vampire
Sucking life out of the real
Infatuated
Over rated
But Oh
She does have such appeal

Spirit Chaser

Make a wish star gazer
The air is clear tonight
An eye to glass
Perception focused
On the glints
That fill the night

A sky full of mystery
The great unknown beyond
That’s where the mind
Is reaching
That’s where the thoughts
Abscond

Shooting Star

Counting the rounds
From her ivory tower
Watching the silhouettes
Scurry below
A well oiled bolt
Slides back from the chamber
With a ten mile smile
And a nose full of blow

Brass necking
Brass Cases
Ding on the floor
Breathe
Hold
Squeeze
All that abhors

Hatred
On the hair pin
Lawyers
In the ranks
The brass
In the pocket
Pumping rounds
In to the banks

Old ghosts are in the shadows
Blades drawn under cloaks
With merchants of suicide
And media smoke
The silhouettes fall
Each round counting down
And the survivors are left
To polish her crown

Shooting Star

Stage I – The Void

The most of everything is nothing. Charges and cores spin in the void to make all that matters. The rest has neither light, nor sound nor meaning. Yet this big empty makes up the majority of all we will ever know. It is omnipresent and the canvas upon which all that exists is painted.

Messiah Complex

A reversal of roles?

A trading of places?

The system remains

With the changing of faces

They tear down old idols

Then sit in their place

A swift change of colour

For the same fall from Grace.

Just 17