Grim Greetings of Relief Long Sought.

Hello old friend,
It’s been a while.
A while as we know it,
A while it has been.

The cracks and sinews bare on your hands
Give testament to your life, so bright and braw.
Sun-browned and labor-calloused,
Gripping mine in a clasp firm.

You have aged, old friend,
While it seems I have lain in the bed chamber of Time.
‘While’-ing away the years,
Watching countless Suns set and rise.

Your back is bent, old friend
Your limbs trembling gentle from hard use.
Your feet have seen the mounts and tops of the Earth,
And your arms have turned goodly soil with payment of blood.

Your children, living bits of your soul and being,
Wander this Earth and prosper.
Your blood shall live eternal,
Without the sallow weight of ragged flesh.

Come with me now. Let me hold you up.
Your time of rest has come.
Join me now in these dim-lit halls,
Where rest shall be your bed, and sleep your feather’d down.

A new forever.

I Woke

Rich amber rays that rise;
A touch, a gentle caress,
As fingers would across a beloved’s skin
Running light and supple soft,
Setting flame to a blue expanse.

The shadow-wraiths long dissolved
From slumber deep and restful.
Dreams of naught; And the silent Void
Lingering past conscious consideration.
All thoughts are bent now, awakened but unresponsive.

Cauldron

Broiling impatience,
Bubbling, bubbling, a witch’s brew
‘Neath the miasma thick and roiling
Boiling, bubbling potion stew.

Rolling dreams, fleeting swift.
Vivid color bright and yielding;
Shapes that morph and twist and shift,
Attention, focus, tunnel vision’d.

Lost.

CHEW ON THIS.

I AM ECCENTRIC. I AM WEIRD. I AM REJECTED IN MOST SOCIAL GROUPS. MOST PEOPLE WHO LOOK AT ME EITHER THINK OF ASSERTING THEMSELVES AND STAND BEFORE ME AS A BULLY, TO TRY AND DEMEAN ME, TO REDUCE ME, OR ACT AS AN AGGRESSOR, TO ATTEMPT TO PUT ME IN MY RIGHTFUL PLACE AS A LESSER BEING.

I LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE WE HURT ONE ANOTHER FOR GAIN. HEY, DON’T GET ME WRONG, I’M GOOD WITH PUNISHMENT. CAUSE THERE’S A LESSON IN IT. BUT WHEN SOMEONE GAINS FROM IT?

HAHAHAHA.

FUCK THAT SHIT.

SO WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT BULLYING, ABOUT PUTTING ANOTHER INDIVIDUAL DOWN.

DON’T PONDER ABOUT WHETHER HE’S GOING TO BE YOUR BOSS. OR IF HIS EXISTENCE MIGHT BENEFIT YOU IN SOME WAY. THINK ABOUT WHAT IT’D FEEL LIKE TO BE IN HIS SHOES. HONEST TO GOD, GO THINK ABOUT IT.

WHAT HAPPENED TO SELF-SACRIFICE? WHAT ABOUT DOING THINGS THAT’S GOOD, THAT’S NICE, THAT’S DECENT, THAT’S KIND. SURE WE’D HAVE TO WANT IT.

WHEN MOTHERFUCKERS GET RILED, THAT’S WHEN MOTHERFUCKERS GET HURT.

Another for My Love.

When night falls dark and gloomy,
The gates are shut for sleep.
Into a field of sable cloud,
The moon; Her harvest; She silently reaps.

Beneath my furrowed brow and tangled mind,
Struggles my distressed spirit.
Running, bounding, flying, fleeing;
The hounds of Torment in the darkness rising.

But oh angel sweet, you come for me.
Easing the burn, the pain
With the cool touch of your gently hand.
Waving back these wretched hounds; Back into unholy lands.

Your eyes, oaken blessed;
Whisper quiet and shields held at my defence.
Your lips upon mine whisper love,
And arms that will never drop me.

The dream slows as daylight breaks,
But I wake with your love in my breast,
In my heart; Slow a-beating.
In my heart.

Man.

Innocence cannot be bought. Knowledge floods the minds and hearts of Man in life, taking away virgin innocence and ignorance. Seeing innocence in the guise of ignorance in others, we cannot help but attempt to eliminate it by educating. By positioning ourselves as “The Betters”, the holders of knowledge and fact that we deem correct and right.

However, in all our definitions and lessons, innocence cannot be wholly destroyed. There is no number to innocence, or to ignorance for that matter. Like all human beings, we are bridges between knowledge and ignorance, between darkness and light, courage and cowardice, the physical and the ethereal. We have a hand in both cookie jars. Our potential, until realized, is limitless.

Much as we’d like to try, we cannot be defined.

Much as we’d like to try, we cannot know all.

Much as we’d like to try, we cannot know nothing.

We are elemental beings. Sane, and being sane, are Insane at the same time. We exist between Order and Chaos, thriving in both peace and conflict at the same time.

Limitless.

Damned

Storms abound; Drums that thunder, resound
For miles all around; Through sheets of water falling,
Hammering, and stammering, lightning yelling;
Screaming indignance, injustice, impotence.

Ships and sailors,
Men and their flapping sails,
Quailing in the trembling face of Poseidon,
His trident shimmering; Terribly crowned with the shimmering of souls.

The stories come alive; Rising from the parchment yellow.
Breathing with the vapors of imagination,
Lit up with the brand of passion and human desire;
A desire for glory immortal, for awe, and for eternal fear.

Waters rise beyond the sky; Soaring higher, higher,
Swallowing the very stars that dot the sky; Celestial beams of hope,
Tarnished, vanquished, consumed, marred,
Banned from the eyes of men’s stranded hearts.

Two Nights

A stain on my soul
That can’t seemed to be scrubbed off.
It lies atop this new sheen,
A fault in the armor seeming strong.

This scar on my soul
Twitches and burns a little tonight.
It’s small now, no more the disfiguring ugliness.
But the pain hasn’t seemed to shrunk.

The wolves of insanity lie just beyond the gate,
Deep in forests forgotten that they have claimed.
Masterless and filled with a cold dread, a deathly malice,
A void of reason or emotion.

They howl tonight. Screeching and yowling,
Calling, tempting, demanding
Flesh. Sacrifice. Death. Blood. Union.
But peace is not theirs to give.

Welcome to my night.

A Tribute (Based on events and descriptions from J.R.R Tolkien’s “The Silmarilion”)

I dreamt of a tree
Snow-white boughs and silver leaf’d.
Gentle breezes that play in it’s branches,
Teasing and dancing amidst
The glowing flowers in the proud Sun’s gaze.

I dreamt of flames that rise and rise,
Burning high on flesh and blood.
Tongues of fire that lick the tree,
Scouring, scorching, reducing, into nothing.

Of high white towers, stone and mortar.
Age and dust that lie upon the tombs.
The lonely seat in the highest chamber,
The sun setting, the darkness claiming eternal.

The sea that rose in protest,
Clamoring, denying, rejecting.
An ending, a closure, finality in a chapter.
A high doom, at the setting of the evening star.

Fear Gone Awry

A dark, unyielding,
Of mist and dire fog.
Cloying, omniscient,
Like the haze of a fleshy bonfire.

This is no night, no gentle twilight,
No stars to guide the lost,
No moon for those who despair.
Hope has no business here.

Can you hear the beasts a-hunting?
Shuffling silently, snuffling
Loudly in the dank and the cold.
The heat of bloodlust that makes your skin tingle.

Your feet upon the land,
Clambering over what seems to be dead dust,
Or perhaps the powdered remains of those long dead.
That’s someone’s grandpa you’re stepping on.

Sight is as nothing.
You are blind to all. Your eyes have betrayed you,
They have left you in cowardly flight.
You forget what you look like, after a while.

There is comic relief here, if you can find it.
Though you might just laugh for the sake of it,
If only to drown out the howling wind,
And the constant sound of things that hunt you.

What was all this before the darkness?
Light, warmth and change.
No more. Like some vast war has vanquished all,
Drowned the dream into a well of unknown depth.

Locking the chest of imagining into a cage of nightmare.