Me, As The Written Word

What follows is a body of work composed between 1995 and roughly 2006.  It was what I lived and breathed for those years, starting when I was 15 and was first inspired to write by my grade 9 English teacher Mrs. Crossen.  I poured so much of my passion and my angst and my dislocation into these poems, growing along with them, growing up, changing perspectives and finding new words for the world as I understood it then and the world as I grew to understand it.  It is a very complicated thing describing what this work is because in a very real way these poems, more so than any of my more recent work are me, a kind of free verse autobiography.  They are in rough chronological order, starting with the pieces I wrote as a teenager and going into those I wrote as a young man and there does seem to be a strong progression moving from childish pretentiousness into something I hope was a more mature voice.  I am not sure how much of this is good, and how much is absolute drivel, but it is mine as much as my arm, or my heart, or my breath.  I put it out here for any interested in reading it and I have tried to break it up so that you can read as much or as little as you like, just as long as you’re willing to click “next”.

I must also add that over the years I have shared this document in greater or lesser form with many people and because of this and my rather lax attitude to protecting my own work there is a very good chance that some of this might have appeared under someone else’s name at one point or another, perhaps handed in as a school assignment or passed off as an original work on someone’s MySpace page.  All I can say to that is that I know what I have written and all of these words are mine except when expressly I have noted they are someone else’s by citing the original author.  Now, that’s not to say there are not some passages that draw heavily from other’s work, especially in the earlier pieces as I struggled to find my own voice there are echoes of those I was reading or listening to at the time which may come through quite obviously in places.  However, at this time I will say that this is my work and as such is not to be used without my express permission from this point forward.  Consider that a sort of very informal copyright.

So, at long last, and without further ado, I present the longest piece of roughly continuous work I have ever produced.  I do hope you like it, or at least find something within it that may speak to you, if only in that quite voice that tugs gently at your shirtsleeve and says “umm, erm, yes, well, I think this is rather quite, um good really…”

DELUSIONS and NIGHTMARES

(A DARK JOURNEY)

INTRODUCTION

I am Life

I am Death

I am everything

And yet nothing at all.

I am Midnight’s Messenger

I am the Walker of the Grey

I am the Magic Man

And the Revenant awakened.

I am the singer of Night’s Song

I am the wanderer of the Dreamscape,

Time’s immortal sage.

Matthew Brewes

GREYWALKER

I walk

Walk forever through shadow

Along the outskirts of humanity,

A silent ghost among the twilight.

Heard but not seen,

Felt but not touched,

I long for solid flesh.

So long I have wandered

Looking through the fog

A mere shade without substance.

Unobtrusive, I walk on

Moving through crowds,

That I will never be a part of.

I leave

No one acknowledges my absence

As I stride through the Never.

I vanish into the night

Forever moving on

Forever walking in silence

A true Walker of the Grey.


MAGIC MAN

I am the Magic Man.

Controller of Man,

And his destinies.

I am the mad Prophet.

Screaming into the Void,

Prophecies of the Apocalypse

That is to come.

I am the Beggar.

Looking bitterly at the world

Through life tinted glasses.

I am the God.

Molding the world to my will

Using mortal men

As pawns in my cosmic games.

Prophet, Beggar, God

I am all of these and more

For I am the Magic Man.

HUNTER

The forest is dark and cool.

The Hunter turns into the wind,

Catching the faint scent of prey.

Slowly the Hunter begins to move

Following the Wind.

More swiftly now the Hunter stalks,

On nimble feet.

The scent grows stronger,

With each heartbeat this killing machine

Grows closer to his prey.

Body, mind and spirit bent fully to the Hunt

The Hunter runs faster.

The rush and pound of blood in his veins

Blinds him to his surroundings.

The air around him is thick

With the scent of blood, sweat and fear.

The prey has been found.

A cold scream pierces the night.

The Hunter moves on

To begin the game anew

As always….

REVENANT

I awake.

I arise from the Earth who was my mother

But is now the focus of my wrath.

I walk her roads,

An entity of seething rage

Bent upon total annihilation

Of myself and my surroundings.

With strength born of malice

The power found in evil

I rend and destroy the Earth,

Exacting revenge on the one who created me.

I rage on, filled with the bitter venom of life

Refusing to relent on my battles

Against myself and my creator.

With a soul full of poison

With mind, body and spirit

Bent fully towards my own Armageddon

I am truly The Revenant

I am the walking dead

I am Human.

DEATH RIDES ON BLACK WINGS

Death rides on black wings

Gliding in and out of shadow

The cold touch of the Damned it brings

To those who have fallen it does endow

A blank pall of oblivion.

They welcome it,

Those who are damned to live on

For they do not yet feel the Hell after

Life ends.

The cold touch of the damned it brings

Death rides on black wings.

MY HERO

No man is my hero.

Man, with all of his shallowness

And destructiveness, can never be a hero.

No god is my hero.

Forcing its beliefs and prejudices

On the world,

Using man for its own purposes.

I am my hero.

With all of my qualities and faults,

Combining to form someone I can admire.

Becoming what I was, what I am and what I will be.

OF WOLF AND MAN

Of Wolf:

Cunning surpassed by no other

Strong, even Death fears him

Stealthily, deadly and efficient killers.

Of Man:

Cunning surpassed by no other

Powerful, bending others to his will

Cruel beyond imagination

Deadly and efficient.

Of Wolf and Man:

Two different creatures

But creatures who share similarities.

If not a thousand years more evolved

Who would control; Wolf or Man.

SONG OF THE NIGHT

The sun sets,

Casting dark reds and purples deep and rich

These are just a prelude for the Night.

The shadows rise, bringing with them

Subtle colors, delicate and gentle.

They begin to dance.

Graceful in their lithe movement

The moon rises round and full

Casting soft silver light over the revels below.

A soft breeze begins to blow

Moving the leaves on the trees,

Striking up midnight’s orchestra.

All combine into a song with notes so sublime

Pulsing and reverberating through all the world

With silent beauty.

This is Night’s sweet song.

The Song of the Night.

DREAMSCAPE

You begin to fall

Deeper and faster,

Spiraling down

Into a maelstrom of light and colour.

Before your eyes thoughts fly past

Each one you try to grasp but it slips away.

Your senses are bombarded

You are surrounded by wild imaginings

And personal fancies.

Suddenly you feel a slight tug

You try to resist but it still pulls

Stronger and stronger it becomes

Violently tearing you away.

You try to struggle but it is futile

You awaken, pulled fully into reality.

You close your eyes, trying to reach

The inner realm of fantasy

But you realize it is hopeless

It is beyond your grasp till sleep claims you.

Dreamscape.

SLIPSTREAM

Let your life slip away.

Let your soul slide

Down dark and untrodden paths,

Let your mind fall to darkness.

Can you feel your body go numb

As everything falls free?

Then you’re not trying hard enough

To enter the smooth flow

Of eternity.

Light falls free to Darkness

Day slips quietly to Night.

Life spirals down to Death.

Just let it ride.

Let your life slip away

Let your soul slide

Down dark untrodden paths,

Let your mind fall to darkness.

Enter the Slipstream.

Enter the flow of time.

BIRTHDAY

The years seem to slip by.

You don’t even notice

Age creeps up on you,

Seeming to happen so quickly

Yet taking an eternity.

People think they are immortal.

Cloaking themselves in ignorance

Until Death is upon them.

They forget the universal truth

Death is inevitable.

I watch the years slip by.

I’m only fifteen, yet I feel old,

Watching the pain and sorrow

That surround my world.

People around me walking paranoid

But they say to cheer up.

It’s my birthday.

WIND

Wind.

Whispering softly across the universe.

Telling tale upon tale.

Bearing with it Man’s darkest secrets

And deepest desires.

On and On eternal

Through age after age

The Wind blows

Time’s immortal sage.

I listen to the Wind

Telling stories of Life and Death

Of happiness and sorrow.

But still on the Wind blows

To forever and eternity

Carrying on featherless wings

Life, Death and all things immortal.

BLUR

Everything moves so fast.

You’re born and ten seconds later

You’re dead.

Then you ask “Where did life go?”

To quickly time passes.

“Oops, I blinked”

Youth passes to age

Like sand through a sieve.

Even with eyes wide open

The world turns at an incredible pace.

Images fade to one,

Each turn adds five years.

Life moves so fast.

It’s all a blur.

DEMENTIA

I remember the fall.

It was yesterday.

When madness claimed,

What was left of my mind

I remember staring

At the TV screen,

Watching the world slowly be annihilated

For only $19.95

That’s all I can remember.

They say the mind is a terrible thing to waste.

I just had mine vaporized

By social conformities

And the O.J. Simpson trial.

I like dementia.

You don’t have to think.

That’s what the government’s for.

Some call it madness

Most call it living in the 90’s.

 ELECTRIC MINDSLIDE

It’s like being fired from a canon.

Burning down through lightning blue corridors,

From the waking mind

To  the dark mental vortex of the subconscious

And the flaming white of your soul.

Once at your destination

Your flying,

Soaring over fields of multicoloured emotion

And silver-gold thought.

The scope and dimensions of the mindscape

Become unfathomable.

Limits cease to exist as you burst

Through the barrier that defines time,

Transcending space.

The sheer power of the mind

Transcends everything you have ever known.

Reality is a pitiful thing compared

To the rush you experience

As you boldly go where no man has

Gone before, Faster than the speed of light.

Welcome to the Electric Mindslide.

GATE

 

 

I stand before a door.

Surrounded by dim grey nothingness.

The door opens.

A blinding white light washes over me

Stealing my senses, making me reel.

My mind returns slowly,

As I step up to the threshold.

My eyes are blinded,

As I gaze into Eternity.

I step through and fall,

Falling into my mind,

Stepping beyond physical being

Into a reality that transcends

Mortal belief.

I have come home.

I have found the doorway leading me

To my paradise.

When your time comes

Open the door.

Step through the Gate.

JAMMIN’ IN ZEROSPACE

Sitting alone

In a crowded room

Steppin’ sideways into nothing.

Floating free.

All you can feel is numb,

As sensations of blinding reality

Bombard your mind.

Too much is not enough.

Drunk on dreams

Flying high on acid adrenaline,

You follow yourself into

Your mind’s eye.

Nothing around you.

No people noise,

Dancing on colourful fantasies

Your nowhere.

Your jammin’ in Zerospace.

NATURE IN C MINOR

 

I walk through perfect silence.

Through a world of green.

Surrounded by the instruments of

Nature’s orchestra.

The silence is broken

As the music begins.

The strings pick up the tune

Played on stick thin hands,

With a bow of wind.

The flutes are next,

Carried on feather wings

Through the humming air.

The chorus is last,

Vibrating up from the very stones

Pulsing through me in perfect

Harmony.

The music rises to a crescendo

And I am swept away by the

Simple beauty of the delicate chords.

This is the symphony of the wild.

Nature in C minor.

PRIMAL RAGE

 

The sky is calm

The earth below, still and quiet

This is but a prelude

Gaze skyward,

Standing on a granite peak

Surrounded by a limitless ocean.

Feel the tingle in your bones

As the wind begins to blow and swirl

About you.

The wind begins a plaintive call

As it gains strength,

Stirring the clouds above.

In answer, the earth below

Rumbles with growing ire

As the might of nature builds.

Soon the wind is howling about you

At fever pitch,

Screaming with ecstasy.

Feel the raw power gather,

Crackling in the electric air,

Waiting for release.

Lightning explodes in the sky,

Raking the now mad earth

Like the claws of some celestial beast.

In answer the earth screams

The pinnacle on which you stand

Shakes in anger at the raging sky.

The seas far below

Boil and froth

Sending arms of liquid silver

Groping for the raging winds.

Thunder cracks and rolls,

A tremendous hammer

Crashing all around you.

The storm reaches its peak.

The sky tears asunder

Sending forth a deluge of godly tears.

Something in your chest explodes

Suffusing your body with a terrible heat

As your very soul is consumed in fire.

The extraordinary force of nature

Flows through you,

Burning in your veins.

A scream tears from your lips.

Your body feels as if it will be consumed,

In the heat of the earth’s soul released.

You are filled with a primal fear,

Primal ecstasy

A Primal Rage.


PERSPECTIVE

 

Perspective.

That’s what it’s all about.

Finding a view.

Achieving a unique and personal angle

From which you view life.

It’s that simple

It doesn’t matter what other people think.

That’s all bullshit.

If you cannot see without somebody else’s eye’s,

All you see is illusion.

The world is what you make of it.

Reality exists in your mind’s eye.

How big or small the world is

Depends on your abilities of perception.

Anything is possible,

In perspective.


MIDNIGHT LADY

 

Passion cloaked in shadow

Beauty in an ebony mantle,

Laced with crystal tears

Perfumed in wind.

Thou art my lover.

I long to be held by

Your delicate arms.

To be enfolded into your

Soft velvet soul.

My pain is so vast when we are apart,

My heart feels as though it has been rent and torn

By the red hot fires of passion,

Blazing within.

When we are together,

When we are one, my soul

Is set free from its earthly bonds and soars,

For there is no greater joy to me than you.

You are my love, my life, my soul, my very being.

My mortal flesh would wither and die

Without you.

My shadow, my Midnight Lady.


NOW and FOREVER

 

Into a void

Without sight or sound

With you.

The only vision I have

Is that of your perfect form,

Free falling through a backdrop

Of black velvet.

The only sensation I have is

The heat of your body

Pressed against me, lighting the

Fires of my mind and soul.

Nothing else matters,

As we float through the never.

You were my forgotten half,

Now as one

For always

Now and Forever.

THE PRISON of BEING

 

The body riveted to a cross

Of steel and fire

The soul bound to earth

In chains of anguish

The mind screaming to be released

From its prison of ignorance.

Have you ever felt trapped.

Society is the worst prison.

There are no bars, no guards.

There doesn’t have to be.

If you conform to “civilization.”

Your free, but still being controlled

If you choose to think for yourself.

You will be condemned.

Isn’t our society wonderful.

OBLIVION

 

Darkness

A living nothingness

Oblivion,

It hungers.

From the depths of the human soul,

With tendrils of pain, hatred and sorrow

It reaches

Wanting only to destroy,

To envelope,

To bring all creation back

Into the dark folds of its being.

There is no fighting,

No struggle.

“Ashes to Ashes,

Dust to Dust”

Eventually all returns to nothing.

And as you are dragged down

Kicking and screaming.

You hear the voice of Oblivion

Whisper the words you dread and long to hear.

“Welcome home.”

THE SORROW of ETERNITY

 

Flying through fields,

Of flame and heather

On wings of blackened steel

Cloaked in a wind

Bearing the screams of pain and terror

Issued from the mouths of innocents

Who have died.

Riding a horse

Enshrouded in grave cold fire,

Through a wasteland.

Where the souls of the damned

Walk eternal,

Seeking redemption.

Falling into an ocean

Of bitter tears

Plunging into darkness,

Your bloodstained hands

Clutching a blade forged from midnight.

It never ends

The pain and misery.

You see him,

The one putting you through

This obscene eternal torture

He sees you and laughs at your sorrow.

With a wave of his hand

It begins again.

Flying through fields

Of flame and heather. . .

TAKE ME

 

Take me down

To a river of innocence

Wash my pain away.

Immerse me in life and I will live.

Take me

To the mountain of truth

Let the wind strip me of lies.

Open my eyes and I will see.

Take me

Into you

Kiss me until

I am blinded by your light.

Hold me close,

Teach me love and I will love.

JOHN & JANE DOE

 

White flesh,

Now stained red with virgin blood

A life ends

In a flash of cold steel

And equally cold laughter.

Thunder cracks.

A man’s fist slams into a child’s face

Crystal tears fall

Across purple and black cheeks.

Tears of pain and anguish and. . .

A cry, primal vow of vengeance.

A rich man’s son

In a school yard smoking crack.

The crystal venom surges

Through his veins,

As he falls into a hungry void.

He dies without a word.

Read these words

And remember.

For this is their only testimony to life

Remember them

Warriors, fallen in a useless war

The children of a damned age.

John and Jane Doe.

PASSION’S BRIGHT FLAME

 

 

My soul is aflame.

My body consumed with a fire

That all the oceans in the world

Could not quench.

My heart beats

With an emotion so pure

It defies the words poured forth

From the lips of every lover, every dreamer

That has ever lived,

Or ever will.

I tremble as its power surges

Within my frail mortal shell.

It cleanses me of all taint,

All concern, it purifies me

As if it was the first pristine tears

That  fell from the virgin sky.

In ecstasy I rise

Above mortality,

Beyond eternity

To a realm of passion

And pleasure that devours

Even the immortal soul.

I weep, for I know

Now that I have truly lived

I must die.

DARKNESS

Come my child,

Witness the evil within and without.

I am the darkness in the depths of your soul

I am the darkness

That will consume you.

It is inevitable,

For I am everywhere.

I am the whispers of despair and sorrow

Carried on midnight winds.

I am the terror lurking in the shadows

I am the direst hopes locked

In the breast of all humanity.

I am all that is to be despised.

You cannot defeat me.

For as long as there is doubt

And common fear in the vaulted halls

Of your soul, I will be waiting.

You will fall before my might,

For I am absolute.

There is no one else in this world

That can give what I offer.

Immortality.

I can make your name one to be feared

Throughout the ages.

Come, embrace me and the indomitable shadow.

Yes my child, reach out your hand

Follow me, your dark father

Into the sweet realm of the Damned.

PANDEMONIUM

The plain of your mind

Smooth and shimmering,

Like the surface of the storm before a storm.

Suddenly, a speeding projectile

Flaring through the surrounding darkness

Striking the quicksilver surface of your mindscape

Sending a ripple through your thoughts.

Soon the darkness is split completely

By a furious barrage of shards

Piercing your sanity with a maelstrom

Of burning chaos.

The mirror of your mind begins to buckle inward

The strain peaks

Your body screams

Your mind explodes into a million fragments,

Sinking into a blank void.

You scream a silent plea

As your conscious and your subconscious

Are drawn inevitably to a darkness so absolute

That terror is redefined in the split second

That remains of your sanity.

Blasted and broken, your mind’s eye blinks out

Forever silencing your pitiful screams.

REGRET

As the cold, passionless stars

Send pale and fragile shafts of light

Upon a still and dark earth,

I gaze out through a frost rimmed window

And weep for my loss.

From the other side of a mirror

I gaze at her pale beauty,

Thinking how I will never again caress her,

Hold her in love and become lost in her warmth,

Her passion.

I am dead.

Never again will I know but a shadow of life,

Always and forever drowning

In a frigid sea of utter midnight,

Feeling nothing but a pain so wickedly sharp

That it threatens to rend in two

My already tattered soul.

My life, my death, and all in between

Were rendered meaningless

In a blinding flash,

And for what?

The guy just asked for my wallet.

BALLAD FOR a REAPER

Walking through a pale crowd

A whisper on the wind.

The mindless shuffle away

As I walk, invisible

In their midst.

I see my quarry across the square

The picture of youth and innocence

How senseless is the act

I have to perform,

But I am allowed no remorse.

I reach out to my “victim”

Just as a hail of hot lead

Tears through the mortal wall

Filling the air

With a fine mist of blood.

I reach out

Touching the young soul as it flies by

And for a brief instant

Feel what it is like to be human

As I guide it onward.

In a flash it is over.

I walk away,

Moving on to the next.

As inevitable as the tide

I will always come.

All must die.

THREE SHADES of DEATH

Three shades of death

Wear them like a cloak

Hoping it will protect you.

Walking through a

Crowd of faceless zombies

Knowing they reject you.

All you feel is pain

It hits you again

Spinning you down.

Fighting for your soul

In their arena of madness

Playing their clown.

Plunging off a cliff

Into an ocean of pain

Don’t know weather to struggle or drown

All you feel is pain

It hits you again

Spinning you down.

It never ends

Their swords of fear and hate

Attacking from all sides.

You wear it all

Like three shades of death

Hoping you will survive.

All you feel is pain

It hits you again

Spinning you down.

NIGHT is a WOMAN

The Night is a woman.

In the barren winter

She is harsh and cold,

The bright jewels of her mantel

Glowing  with a pale blue flame.

In the summer, she is the forgotten lover

Beckoning you to her bed

With the soft, irresistible kiss

Of the warm twilight breeze.

Night is beauty

Night is eternal

Stirring my blood with a passion,

A yearning so great

That it cuts my soul like a razor

So that I may bleed my life essence

Into her, consummating a love that is futile

Yet cannot be denied.

Night is my true love

Night is a woman.

EYES of an ANCIENT

I look out to the grey on grey world

That used to be my own,

With the eyes of an ancient

Residing in the sockets

Of  one who is all two young.

Ghosts of the past

Slip among the shuffling forms

Of the living dead

Who dominate the present

Not acknowledging their own decay.

The press of the millennia past,

The lead weight of the withered present,

And the oppression of a failing future

Bow my shoulders, threatening to crush my spirit

And break my mind.

I feel older than the universe

The voices of millions echoing through my soul

Crying out in fear, pain, joy, love, and raw need

But all are silenced by the walls

Of my impotent flesh.

I can see through time

To the heart of the universe

And it robs me of innocence

To bear witness

To the futility of the flesh

And the shear, indomitable power

Of the collective soul.

I have been forced to see

That all we do and believe

Is meaningless

When all is said and done

And I see it all

With the eyes of an ancient.

LOVE’S LAST KISS

 

 

Walkin’ with the fires of my rage

Burnin’ inside my head.

Moving towards your cool ocean.

Can you save me from myself ?

I need your strength

To keep me from drowning.

Will you let me enter ?

Will you let me touch your soul ?

I need your love to heal my wounds.

Save me.

Carry me to heaven

On your angel’s wings.

I want to know your love before I die.

FALLING INTO NIGHT

 

 

I walk through the night

Until I reach the darkling shores

Of a forgotten sea.

I stand upon the beach

Washed by the moon’s pale fire,

Listening as night’s song

Is played upon the chords of my heart.

I wade out into the fluid reflection

Of the midnight sky above

Letting the ancient waters

Wash the sorrow from my weary bones.

I lay back and float among the stars

That are but reflections of those above.

The waves carry me away from mortal shores.

Out into the blackness beyond.

I begin to sink slowly

The waters of time rolling gently

Over my body

The light of the moon and stars above

Never fades

As I fall into night

IN THIS THERE IS MAGIC

 

The heart beats

Its timeless cadence

Giving rhythm to my steps.

Breath swirls within my lungs

Bringing with it the rush of life

To the mortal shell.

In this there is magic.

The silver moon pulls with ethereal strands

Upon the breast of the ocean,

The ebb and flow of the Earth’s life blood.

The seasons turn with impunity,

In unbreakable cycle

Death and Rebirth in all their splendor.

In this there is magic.

A child wails for its mother

Fresh from the womb

In innocence beckoning.

A soul slips its earthly bonds

Reaching forth in burning flame

For the heart of all.

In this there is magic.

Magic is not an abstract force.

Magic is found in the cycle.

In the beauty of love,

The evil of hate.

Magic is life and death,

It is ageless and unending,

An eternal power

For those who see it as it is.

In all there is magic.

BALLAD of THE RINGWAR

Upon the tower of Minas Tirith

The light of hope blazed

In defiance of the encroaching night.

The nine under the power of the one

Were summoned to the red eye

To crush the hope that was his bane.

The white had fallen to black

The hoards of darkness arose

To besiege the light

Howling at the walls of the tower of guard

To bring death to the single pale flame

Which was the last stand

Of men and the elder races.

All was despairing.

The light began to fail,

Until the white rider who was grey

Blazed across the plain

As a star earthbound

Bringing in his  wake

The charge of the riders

Whose hooves rang upon the earth

As a mighty hammer upon the anvil,

With a forest of spears

Blazing with the fires of cruel war.

With this hope was kindled anew.

From the city poured forth,

As liquid silver and gold

The final charge of the light.

The battle was truly met

But the dark had been blinded

By the arrogance of fools

And the armies of night

Were broken and slain

By the righteous sword of good,

Forged in the white hot fires

Of the undying Hope.

In honour of J.R.R Tolkien

HE WHO WAS WAR

 

 

Upon the blasted plain

Strode a dark man,

And where he trod

The earth screamed.

In a shroud of darkness he was cloaked

Upon his brow was a crown of black thorns.

His eyes burned with the purest hatred

And wherever his gaze fell,

The earth trembled.

His right hand was pain,

His left, sorrow.

The sword he bore aloft was chaos

And it pieced the sky

Causing the heavens to shriek in rage.

Behind this figure of darkness

Followed his minions,

Four winds howling the names

Of Fear, Despair, Corruption, and Death

And they tore about their lord,

Blinding the heavens.

From within the tumult

He spoke, and his words were cold steel

“Hearken unto my words,

For I am War.

Worship at my feet,

Drink deep of the bitter chalice,

Then shalt thou exult in the glories

Of battle.”

Then, in a rush

The multitudes flocked to his banner,

Seizing his fallen words,

Which had become swords,

Brandishing wicked destruction.

And the world was consumed in fire

And the heavens wept tears of blood.

SATELLITE T.V.

 

 

My buddy just got a new T.V.

Its big screen

With a satellite dish

And surround sound.

My bud invites me over

Says “Hey man, I’ve got 2000 channels,

“Let’s watch Ricki Lake.”

I say, “Didn’t you already get that show ?”

“Yeah” he replies, “but now I can get

“it in Spanish.”

So I come over, sit down

And stare at 24,000 inches of

Metal, Plastic and glass

With that bloated cow standing in the audience

Looking sympathetic

While two rednecks

Attack each other with tire irons,

Screaming about how their mothers

Never loved them.

“Quality entertainment” says my friend.

“Yeah, Whatever” I mumble incoherently,

Pondering weather or not

To pound the living shit out of the little pimple.

As the night passed

The cathode rays

Slowly and surely melting our brains,

My friend turns to my and asks

“ Well, how do you like it ?”

I smile as I leap form the coach

Putting my fist through the screen

My friend stares stupidly

As I cackle maniacally and say

“It was either it or me.”

UNTITLED SERIES I

 

I.

Scream !

Now, doesn’t that feel better ?

Release.

Let it all go.

Fly away from pain,

Take the nails out of your wrists.

The flesh falls limply to the ground,

While the spirit dances with midnight.

We are bound by a million chains

Our bodies and minds

Imprisoned by our own thoughts and deeds,

Bound so tightly

That our souls begin to wither.

“Do not go gently

Into that good night.”

There is a way out.

Let the hatred and rage boil forth,

Searing your throat and blistering your lips,

So that the world will ring with you defiance.

Scream !

II.

Pale blue sky set aflame

Earth below drowned in seas of blood

This is the dying season.

A broken grey plain

Under a blood red sky

A lone twisted tree, crooked cross

This is the season of penance.

Pale blue sky made gold

Verdant new earth cloaked in a green mantle,

This is the season of birth.

Cycle rejoined,

Ashes to living flame,

The mystery of life unmasked

By the spinning of time,

These are the seasons of eternity.

III.

Shadowdance

Walking the hard edge between dawn and dusk

Making love to death

On the brink of darkness and light.

In the blur of grey on grey

A raging battle between reason and desire,

Soul screaming for the heated shadows of night

Mind racing for the cold, unfeeling light,

Body torn asunder.

Firewalking

Death on either side

Walking a tightrope of sanity

between absolute chaos and order.

How much longer until you break ?

How strong is the flesh

Compared to the mind and the soul ?

Forever balanced.

An impossible state of being.

Pray you don’t fall,

While you shadowdance.

IV.

Dreaming beneath a liquid sky

Upon a pinnacle of fire and steel

Mouthing the names

Of the holy and the fallen.

Quill in hand

Using my blood, shining black

From the moonlight cast,

I put my soul into words

On the parchment of my skin.

My blinded eyes gaze out

Into the molten sky,

I carve my name in a rune

Upon the heavens.

In a shimmering grey mantle

I arise from my blazing perch

To walk across the waters of time,

Leaving my flesh as my testament

To those who will read it.

This world is not mine

For a pilgrim has no home.

On though I walk,

Into death’s sweet embrace and beyond.

This world shall bear my mark

To remember my passing.

V.

Whispers

Dark whispers

Sweet whispers,

In my heart,

In my soul,

Secrets carved upon the vault of heaven

Bound into the bones of the earth

In sibilant voices

Call to me from the dawn and death

Of time.

On the parchment of my flesh

In blood and ashes

God’s name

Sending whispers through my veins

The secrets of life and death.

In the smoke of incense burning

Whispers, words carved on air

In every strand

Whispers of spirits long gone

Or of those still to come.

VI.

I’m in a crowd

Discordant voices

Become a single rumble

Of white noise.

So many faces

They’re all the same,

Blank with dead eyes.

I talk to a woman

She would be beautiful in another’s eyes

We make love in the crowded square

Nobody cares, it doesn’t matter.

The people are silent now.

There is nothing left to say.

With failing eyes, I see nothing but silent corpses

Stumbling toward an even greater death.

Suddenly I miss the woman.

She is as dead to me as the rest

I need to break the silence

It’s deafening, slowly killing.

I scream, but no one hears

No one answers, to comfort or chastise.

The dead cannot hear the dying.

CONTEMPLATION OF SILENCE and SOLITUDE

 

The wind dances with the leaves

In a grove by the shore

Where I sit on a rock

Watching the world go by

Listening to the water

Lapping gently against the feet of the earth.

Sun sets

Lighting the sky on fire

As the air around my sanctuary

Turns to gold,

Warm honey lightly perfumed

With night’s first kiss,

A soothing balm.

Darkness spreads

Like a velvet canopy

Laced with shimmering diamonds

Casting down pale threads

Of spun silver,

Which weave around me

In the splendor of my solitude

As the moon rises

Singing a sweet lullaby

Of silence.

SILENCE

 

Sitting at a table

Alone with my thoughts

In a room with no door,

Prey for the demons within.

I find my mind wanders

Down empty corridors

So empty, footsteps echoing like thunder

Eyes turned inward on nothing.

I feel numb.

When you have nothing, there is no pain

All I can see is black

I can feel my soul slowly drowning

In an ocean of tears so long held within.

I remember dancing

Under the mantle of night

When did the rose slip from my hands,

Leaving only thorns ?

Death would be a mercy

I’ve lost all such luxury

I can’t even scream,

There is only silence.

COLD LOVE

 

I am cold, love

Please warm me with your kiss,

My crown of thorns has fallen.

Where did you go, love

When the spear pierced my side

Why were you not there

To catch my bloody tears ?

Lay me down, love

Weep not for my passing

Your sweet rose shall not be forgotten.

Just on last kiss, love

My journey has just begun

And I am so very cold.

THE ANSWERS FOUND in COFFEE

 

Drinking coffee on a Friday night,

Staring into my cup

Meditating on social conflicts

And why I can’t get a date.

All of the answers to life’s great mysteries

Can be found in a coffee house

On Friday nights

Swirling in the black dregs

In the bottom of a paper cup.

BABBLE

 

Laying in my bed

Trying to write the worlds greatest poem

While thinking about having sex

With the many attractive girls at school.

This is a nearly impossible task.

My gaze wanders

Over to the tacky pink velvet sofa

On the far wall.

I think I want to burn it.

This poem sucks, big time

So I think I’ll stop writing now.

ENLIGHTENMENT

or A ROSE FOR MY EFFORTS

 

City on an open plain

Walking through rainwashed streets

Smoking a cigarette

Looking in darkness

For enlightenment.

I find her ,

Shining on a street corner

Dancing with naked flame,

Holding a rose in her hand

And my name in her eyes.

Then she’s gone

Laughter on the breeze,

A soft kiss on my cheek,

Tears of frustration blinding me.

I see her every now and then

Dancing on rooftops

Or in cups of coffee.

I still chase her, knowing I can never hold her,

My arms aren’t big enough.

Even though,

She leaves me a rose on occasion

For my efforts.

IN A ROOM IN CHICAGO

 

12:30 a.m. in Chicago.

I can hear a guitar play

Notes torn from bleeding fingers,

An old blues man playing the tune of his soul.

The music is everywhere

I’m two bars away from weeping

My pen scratches out a counterpoint

Lyrics to a wordless song.

Fire licks the tails of the notes,

Quick slide, down then up

Like blood in the veins

Or lovers dancing flesh on flesh.

The music slowly dies,

Song lingering in the silence

Last riff climbing to the stars.

I sit in a room

Trying to name the chords of my life.

MY WINDOW

 

I look out through a window

All the time

On the outside looking in.

Everything seems so much more clear

When seen through a pane of glass.

It’s cold on the outside,

All alone

In a prison of my own divising

With see through walls.

What I wouldn’t give

To have touch instead of sight,

To feel the heat

Instead of just watching the fire.

Sacrifice for the gift.

TRUTH of MY FLESH

 

Angels flying ‘round my head

Walking in a daze

Rhythms of the street

Pounded out in my veins.

The streets are washed in ink,

Air swimming with guitar blues,

So thick you can’t breathe

Just flow.

Virgins and demons dance together

Poets are martyred

The minstrels bleed for their art

The city begins to rise.

The sound builds,

Vibrating allegro chaos

The street lamps sing,

Prophets are stricken dumb

In the agony and the ecstasy.

The streets speak

Turn away lest thou art blinded

By the truth of my flesh.

Welcome to the new art of revolution

A new religion

Carved upon the skin of a generation.

LIQUID BLACK

 

Dawn at dusk

Sky painted in the dying hues of liquid fire.

My day begins with the night

Darkness the only light.

I can feel the call

Soft whispers from the shadows

Sweet cries of dark angels

One more soul for midnight’s choir.

Chill breeze across my flesh

Mind embraces shadow

Cool solace

From the jarring realities of light.

Losing myself in the lost world

Free fall spin

Liquid black, finding the flow

Slip away into night’s sweet embrace,

Running with the wind

Into the dark sun rising.

WASH

 

Wash.

Rain pouring down

Take away the stain

River flowing through my soul

There’s no pain when you’re drowning.

Water runs red

Cleans away the black

Drinking down the bitter truth of my sins

Like a man too long in the desert.

I let go in the flood

Blood on the tides

Flow to the future

Soul scoured of the taint of the flesh

Wash.

WOUNDED GENERATION

 

Can you feel it

Ultrasonic hum

In the air so thick,

Like a storm before it breaks.

Raw power

Mystic street chant

Runes of spray paint

On monoliths of concrete and steel.

The street sings

A million voices

Thunder with a beat

Call to arms

Of the wounded generation.

Rise up

Make love to life

This world is ours

Rally to the banner

Of the army of the night.

RAPTURE

 

Blue sky

Dancing with the wind

Free falling

Soul free among the clouds.

Blinded by the light

Touch of the perfect form

Divinity with raven’s wings

Walking on the breath of God.

World so small and dark

Beneath the celestial dome

Can’t go back

After tasting the purer reality.

Cutting like a bullet

Kiss the flesh farewell

From mortal bonds released

Into the Rapture.

LAST WORDS

Last words

I can’t speak anymore

My silence shall be my new voice

Louder than any scream.

The ink in my veins has dried

The flames of my passion

Have become embers

Burning to warm my soul

In these, my last days.

Do not mourn the passing of my words.

They do not mourn for you

And they have served their purpose

Giving absolution

For that last great journey

Into that final night

I have longed for.

 

UNTITLED

 

Waves crashing,

A winter sea

Cold grey water churning

Before the prow of a lone ship

Riding the backs of the swells,

A raven flying across a liquid sky.

A lone figure stands

Upon the bow,

Gazing into the gaping maw

Of an approaching storm

Holding his ground defiantly,

He had weathered storms before

He would weather this one.

Winds howling

Teeth of ice biting his flesh,

Claws of lightning ravaging his sails,

The Sailor stands through it all

Unblinking, a pillar of stone

Surrounded by the pitching maelstrom.

Out of the blackened gyre

A figure swoops down to the deck

A greater darkness

In the midnight tempest.

Death offers a frozen grin

Beckoning the Sailor:

“ Come with me, valiant friend

It is cold here,

Come with me and your suffering

Shall be eased.”

The Sailor laughs

At the Reaper’s soft words

Knowing his embrace

To be colder

Than the raging wind’s

“I shall not go dancing with thee

Across the waves my friend.

I shall not give in

To the will of the sea,

Nor your false offers.

Begone foul shade,

I stand my post

Until all the world is dust.”

Death howls at the denial

Vanishing back into the tempest

Vowing:

“ I shall not be denied forever

All must feel my icy touch

Pride will not save thee from the grave,

For when all the world is dust

So shall yea become.”

The Sailor knew the words to be true

Still he could not relent

Through the tempest or calm

On through the leagues

Until the stars fell from the heavens

And the earth ceased its revolution,

He would cling to life

Until his last breath

He would sail on.

Turning back

To the maddened heavens

He began to pray

“God forgive me, I beg

Show me the path

Let me see

That which all pilgrim’s

Long to see again !

Please God, guide this ship

Through this cursed sea

I know now the value

Of that which I had forsaken

In my pride.

God forgive me,

Show this poor blind fool the way,

Please God,

Lead me home !”

His cries unanswered

The Sailor once more gazes out

Across the roiling waters.

His will would not be broken.

Over the horizon

Beyond sight, yet not beyond hope

Lay his long rest,

Across the waves

Through the gates of Hell if need be

He would sail on

To peace,

To a place

Where pain and deprivation

Were only a memory,

To Home.

 


VOICES: A Work Inspired by Peter Gabriel’s Passion (Music for The Last Temptation of Christ)

 

Voices

There are voices that echo

Speaking to me

Down from the vaults of the past

Thousands of voices

Raised in song,

The rhythms of the hunt

Reverberating out of the mouths of caves,

Blood calling to blood

Primal magic of connections,

Each to each.

Orpheus sings to me

Calling to my soul

He who made the stony face of Death

Shed tears of pity.

The voices too of heroes

Through Homer and Virgil

Cry out of the depths

To take up arms

To make my own name legend.

From the desert

The voices are raised

Flowing from the mouth of Love

To raise the spirit

The voices of men and angels alike

Whisper to me,

Leading, pulling my soul

Towards Faith.

There are voices of others

Songs sung of valour

Notes of discord

As the music of Love is played

Upon steel and fire,

Conducted by the hands of men

Who have exchanged Faith for power,

Screaming “Infidel”

The blaspheme ringing

From the houses of the holy.

Still more voices

My ears ring with the repeated cry

“Justice,” whilst other voices

Weep and howl

“Only for the privileged few !”

As the world is set ablaze

Overcome by the new hymn

Of Revolution.

So many voices

Poets and priests

Martyrs and tyrants

Filling my mind

Screaming in my soul

Falling through the maelstrom

The voices of generations

Singing of Passion, of Mercy,

Singing of War, of Death,

Singing of all that is life,

Crying, laughing, lifting me

Raising all who would listen

Towards the final voice

Towards the first note

The voices of all eternity

Struggling to form the perfect chords

Of the Voice of Grace.

A LITTLE

 

It’s a cool night

A little lonely, a little dead

But it’s a Sunday

So I don’t have any great expectations.

A few people,

Talking nothing

A little stoned, a little jaded

Already seeing the dawn

At 7:00 p.m.

Eyes wander

A shallow sight

The Girl across the way

All I can see is the green bra strap

Hanging off her shoulder,

Bizarre fixation.

Soft melody,

Harsh light

A little to bright

For illuminating to little.

SHIMMER BLUE

 

Neon light

Cold blue shimmer over white heat

Dry lips on wet flesh

Fingertips slowly drawing a body.

Heavy breath

For a light motion

Skin cringing for a caress

Such a simple dance,

End result of complex equation.

Can you ever understand, in the end

Why so much ends in so little

How love can speak so clearly

In a moan and a shudder.

A SWEET DEATH

 

Mellow gold on the walls

Fire flash in her naked eyes

Why can’t I stop shaking ?

She laughs pure silver,

Asks me to dance with her body

But I am frozen by such simple beauty.

She says “I love you”

She kisses my eyes closed

My heart explodes

God, but isn’t death sweet…

ONE MORE SCAR

 

Lit a cigarette

Let it burn

Watching her body

Through the coils of smoke,

Both so hard to hold.

I try anyway,

Get burned for the effort

Another scar

On my patchwork flesh.

Sometimes I want to give up

I’m tired of fighting this impossible war.

Just as I bind my heart once again

She pulls me back to her

With the silken steel of her kiss.

Oh well,

One more scar wont hurt.

TURN of the CLOCK

 

Riding the crest of a tidal wave

Towards the razorblade slash of dawn,

Flying through the curtain

Of bloodstained blue.

Moving so fast

No turning the tide

Rushing through today

To meet tomorrow.

I’ve gone to far

In the mirror a strangers face

Mind so numb

Can’t remember what I was before.

Drowning in the waters of time

Losing hold of reality

In the turn of the clock

So very fast.

WRITING to SAVE MYSELF

 

Grey sky

Restless heart

Resonant pulse

Ripples in the soul.

Black ink

Staining the page

Writing to save myself

From me.

Slave to the words

They torture my mind

By eluding my pen

To many words

Makes so little of me.

THE LORD of MONDAY NIGHT

 

I’m bleeding

From the tip of a pen

Alone in a coffee shop

On a Monday night.

Watching the night slide by

Behind the lids of my eyes

On raven wings

Sweet midnight lady

Smiling down from a street lamp.

Love in the dark

Fearing my death in the daylight

I’m so much more

When I’m King of the Coffee House,

The Lord of Monday Night.

THROUGH the MIRROR DARKLY

 

Black coffee

Little pool of midnight

In a paper cup

I’ve named my poison.

Feeling worn, faded and grey

Hiding my gaze from a sordid reality

In a cup of black coffee

Like looking through a mirror darkly.

I’ve always wondered

In the knife edged daylight,

Which reveals so much,

Why do we remain so blind ?

I want to lose myself

In a cloak of shadows and romance

To step forever

Through the mirror darkly.

LIES of the LIGHT

 

Sitting numbly

In a room sterile of thought

Listening helplessly

As they softly slay the songs.

Throw another hymn on the fire

To hear the words scream

To watch the light die

On lyric’s funeral pyre.

There must be silence,

Dreams are the Devil’s work

If this is true

Then come, worship Satan in me.

If life is darkness

Then strike me blind

I tire of the light

In your lies.

THE MIRACLE of YOUR SMILE

 

Dancing in the rain

Washing grey in the night

Waltz with the moon

Across the streams of incense burning.

Swimming through fields

Of rich golden flame

Drowning in a sea

Of sweet wine and roses.

Upon my flesh

You write such sweet pleasures,

Cutting to my soul

With the scalpel of your kiss.

So much I just can’t say

All of my words fail

In the miracle of your smile

And you wonder why I weep

When I say “I love you”.

CRUCIFYING SHAKESPEARE

 

There’s a sharpness to the air tonight,

Cold hard steel

Laced behind the stars

Doing a slow two-step

Across the razor’s edge.

I can hear a poet dying tonight

Blazing words

Tearing away weak flesh,

Lyric blade

Cutting away a world of pain.

Bards revolt !

They’re crucifying Shakespeare,

Impaling Byron

On spears of burning reason

Stand no longer idle

Upon the death of the dreams.

ONE MORE WALTZ

 

End of a long day

Let everything come crashing down

Take off my mask

Getting tired of this endless masquerade.

Light up a smoke

Nursing the wounds on my soul

As I nurse a beer

Beginning to think I ‘m paying to much

For way to little.

So very tired

Feeling old before I’m done being young

Winds of time

Wearing away my stone

Maybe I still have the strength

For one more slow, sad waltz.

PARADIGM SHIFT

 

Mind twist

A little fold of reality

Grey shimmer in the night

Vanish like mist before the sun.

I’ve learned to use my illusion

Throwing up a wall

Of vague metaphor

Dazzle the mind with sweet lyric

Then slip the soul free.

Moonlight rogue

Laughing behind my mirror

Bending by degrees

Your bitter paradigm,

Your precious reality

Becomes nothing more

Than what I want you to see.

SILENT VOICES

 

Pale mist falling

Makes the colours run before my eyes

Washes me raw

Shedding my coat of blood and ashes.

The night sky above

Dead grey picture tube

Glowing sickly purple

In a nimbus of halogen leftovers.

Naked on a cross

Of glass and steel

Open and empty

With a crown of roses and opium smoke.

The world burns

I can feel its pain

As I’m stripped of my flesh,

Crucified for my voice…

Why is it always the last silent scream

That’s heard the loudest ?

THE SPEARS of LOVE’S ARMY

 

Walking through the night

Numb and blind

Stumbling towards a deeper shadow

Fumbling for your unseen body.

I touch your mind instead,

Your love burns my soul

I find your brand of pain so sweet

What a grand death it would be.

Kiss my eyes

So that I may see again

Only to be blinded once more

In the presence of such radiant, simple beauty.

Lay me softly down

Slowly remove my flesh

I could bleed for you,

Cast myself on the spears of Love’s army

If only you would speak

The words carved upon my soul.

PROPHECY of APOCALYPSE

Burning skies

Liquid blue, electric flame

Kindled by the rising

Of a nuclear dawn.

Withered land

Resting in the withered palm

Of a decaying god

Forgotten and left to burn.

Christ died for our salvation

I wish I could tell him

Not to waste his life,

We will not allow ourselves

To be saved.

I am tired of our twisted religion

Money the only sacrament

Pain the only prayer

Power our merciless god.

It never stops

Blood is the price we pay

Call me brother while slashing my wrists,

Praising the Lord for your work.

Your madness offends my insanity

I will say it once,

It will be prophecy,

All will burn

On the pyres of your vanity.

WHILE ORPHEUS PLAYS

 

A garden in Jerusalem

Surrounded by cypress and cedar

Drawing words

On perfumed air

While Orpheus plays a hymn

Of love and midnight.

I am bleeding

They wont let the holes

In  my wrists heal

My blood burns the roses

The bows above weep

While Orpheus plays a dirge

Upon his wooden tower.

I am lain upon a funeral bed

Of nails and frankincense

Dying the sweet death of martyrs and bards

Laying in a stone garden

While Orpheus plays Hallelujah.

ONE MORE POEM FOR THE NIGHT

 

Sun setting

I always love this part

Gold and red

That’s all that matters.

Cool breeze across the lake

Wind ruffled water

Laced with liquid silver

I’ve never wanted any more.

Heron dancing across the shore

Grey wing under black sky

Stately earth harmony

All I am is here.

Lifted up on raven wings

Body woven from starlight

Glittering in the hidden colours

I’ve found myself in the night.

BONES of the EARTH

 

Night in deep woods

Incense of cedar and pine

Heavy on the light air.

Thick, cool shadows

Under ancient arms

Supporting the sable dome,

Caressing the moon

As her long journey begins.

The dance is eternity

Naked in the temple

Come, join the midnight revels

Move to the tune in your veins

Feel the sacred life

In the bones of the earth

Rejoice in the cradle of all.

AMONG the TOMBS of DEAD POETS

Sitting alone

In a nameless cafe

Among the tombs and sepulchers

Of dead poets.

Byron sits upon the stage

Singing with Hendrix

Of beauty in the night

And purple haze.

Blake and Morrison

Writing new hymns

In a darkened corner

With Poe playing a delta blues,

Chords on raven’s wings

Lamenting “Nevermore”.

The words will never die

They swim before my eyes,

Living forever in silver and gold,

Burning in my hand

All part of the same perfect song.

PRAISE the FALLEN ANGELS

 

Night falls

Over the city of angels

City of fallen Gods

Glittering Babylon

On the west coast.

A chorus of screams in the dark

Twentieth century choir

The streets are bleeding

Shimmering tide of black

In a halo of halogen fire.

Whores preach the gospel

From darkened doorways

To their crimson washed congregation

Crucifying themselves

On needles of liquid apathy.

The future is burning

Praise to the cathode grail,

Praise to the sacraments

Of sex, drugs and money,

Praise to the generation

Of fallen angels.

YOUR SUFFERING HAS NOT GONE UNNOTICED

 

A light in the darkness

Your light, beacon in directionless night

A thousand suns in your soul.

Shining for my salvation.

Your love lifts me

So very high

Body a burning star

Illuminating the softly glowing heaven

Of your body.

Your beauty mocks my ugliness

Your strength nurses

My battle torn soul

You bear my pain,

You bear my cross,

You give so much

Asking only that I love you.

I write this now

To tell you that I do.

Your suffering has not gone unnoticed.

WORDS

 

Words

Slave to the words

Write for power,

Write for love,

Writing for your salvation.

Words

They blaze in the shadows of the mind

Echo in the inner vaulted chambers

Resonant in the soul

Burning in the blood.

Vomit forth the words !

Bleed from the mouth and the pen !

The air shall tremble

The pillars of the earth will shatter

With the power

Of your words.

FAILED INTROSPECTION

 

Standing in worship

Under cold moonlight

Mind extending the vision

To the timeless darkness

Behind the stars.

So pure the light

Within the folds of shadow

Threads of reality

Woven upon the loom

Of a blind weaver

With an interesting sense of humour.

Everything is still upon the earth,

A moment of perfect peace

Balancing on the head of a pin

To be painfully broken

By the crunch of boots on snow.

A CONVERSATION with a PIOUS MAN

He wasn’t much to look at,

Another weary traveler

With a cross flamboyantly worn about his neck,

A faint patina of tarnish

Bruising its luster

As it did to his boots, his coat

And the golden heart pinned to the sleeve of his shirt,

But he claimed to be a pious man.

I had no reason to doubt him.

He said to me

“My son, I have lived a good life,

With a good job, a plain and sturdy wife,

Never having committed sin,

Dreaming only of God.

I have never felt anything but contentment.”

The words sounded as rusty as his eyes

But they were simply spoken.

I had no reason to doubt them.

I answered the man,

“I am not your son, I have no job

I have lain with many women,

I have committed sin and sinned against,

I dream of many things dark and fair,

But never of God.

Although you say you have lead a good life

I will say I’m living a better one.”

My words brought disdain from the man

Who turned from me

Upon his hands and knees,

Continuing down the road

With his back bent by the celestial host.

I raised my voice in praise to the Lord

That I was not a pious man.

I continued down the road

Back unbent

My heart untarnished in my breast, not upon my sleeve,

With no cross around my neck

Nor upon my back,

Slave to no god

But master of myself.

FROM the MOUTHS of STONE ANGELS

 

Wine coloured blood

Flowing like water

From the mouths of stone angels

In the rotting garden,

A fallen city

In a forsaken land.

Upon a finger of rock

Pointing out the flaws

In the vaults of heaven

Sits a man

Caked in ash and tears

Staring out into the festering wound

Of an inverted dawn.

To all travelers he will speak

In the voice like that of the purest innocent

Or the blackest sinner.

“Do not slay the songs,

For before you lies the death of music”.

My cup is filled with blood coloured wine,

Such a bitter drink

The notes are beginning to fade

Throw one more bard on my pyre,

The cries of dying dreams

Revive the melody of our old vanity.

We do not remember

Songs fall silently from tumorous lungs

As the music fails

So do we fall

As blood from the mouths of stone angels.

STORM is COMING

 

Air tastes like fire today

A storm is coming,

Black and terrible

Riding in on the night

From the open gates of hell.

The wind sounds like a scream

Howling like a beaten dog

Before mountains of charred cloud,

Carrying the scent of blood and ashes,

Incense of war.

Feels like the world is dying,

Ravished by the maelstrom of greed,

The burning winds of desolation

Bent to the will of fat men

In castles of glass and steel.

The storm is coming.

There is no shelter.

SHE is a RAZORBLADE

 

She is a razorblade

Cold and hard

Cutting swift and bright

Through rivers of neon and halogen

Looking for another throat to cut.

Men slide off her

Like blood over glass

Groping like children,

Hoping to catch her eye.

No one can enter

Just pass through

Fallen angel on the streets

Fire flash

Dancing on the knife edge

Caught in the downward spiral.

She won’t cry

Their victory will never be that easy

Her silence speaks louder than tears

Screaming defiance

Letting them know she lives still.

DOWN the BRIMSTONE PATH

 

I feel like half of a person

It seems that I can’t be whole

Without another body

Growing out of my side.

Call it love if you want

I call it sycophantic codependency,

Two broken souls

Filling in the gaps

With pieces from the other.

When did a couple become one ?

Why should I use a girl

As a representative of my worth

Like a crutch to support my existence  ?

This is plastic love

A polymer mating of souls

To weak to stand on their own

Limping together

Down the brimstone path.

SNOW FALLING (an overly long haiku)

 

Snow falling

Silently through the cool morning,

Each flake a meditation

Of solitude

Tracing perfect lines before my eyes

To fall upon upturned, smiling faces.

I LOVE the WAY…

 

I love the way you smile

Laying beside me

Soft and warm

In my arms.

I love the way you kiss me

So hard

It drives everything else away

So all that’s left

Is your heart and mine

Beating to the rhythms of love.

I love the way you shine in my eyes

Burning angel,

Taking away my pain

To be replaced by the love

In your embrace.

I love the way you can love me

In all my imperfect glory.

SAY

 

You say you have rejected society

Wearing your store bought

Grunge uniform

Forgetting that deviants

Don’t wear Calvin Klien.

You say that you’re a rebel

Standing in your crowd

Preaching the same shit

The previous generation

Had the courage to believe in

You forget that prophets stand alone.

You say that you’re an artist

Playing the same three chords

Nirvana made famous

You forget that passion cannot be bought

As cheaply as a used Fender,

You forget that you have no soul of your own.

I say you are society

I say your rebellion

Began and ended thirty years ago

I say your art is only ambition

I say you are all a bunch of mother fuckers.

Knee deep in your own pretentious bullshit,

Wallowing in your collective illusions of individuality,

Wearing someone else’s style

Like a cheap suit

Calling yourselves the future,

While the past creeps up

Swallowing you whole

And history forgets you.

You say “I am the way.”

I say sell your shit to someone else

And I watch you burn.

GOING DOWN(Feeding the Chrome Beast)

 

Flesh wall

I wanna tear through

I wanna be inside

Hit the peak before you fall

Yeah, enjoy the ride.

Burn the rubber

Creature of the wheel

Skin and chrome

Burn the motherfucker

Going down through hell

On the way back home.

Tear the soul apart

Eat the flesh raw

Steel thorn rose pin you to the beast

Tear it all down and call it art

Carve yourself a lover

Drag her to the feast.

Dark ride

Laugh as you drown

Rust and blood are all that’s left

On the other side

Laugh as you go down.

BREATHING

Breathe in, breathe out

Simple action

The symmetry of life

Point of origin

Each breath fuel for the next

Flowing one into the other

Slowly, inexorably growing

Building life

Breath by breath

Action, reaction, action

To write,

To build,

To love,

To create,

To live,

Is simply to

Breathe in, breathe out.

SUDDEN TWIST(Confession of not Being a Manic Depressive Artist)

 

Lost in a grey mourning

Mind wandering in vaulted halls of despair

To the garden of weeping ravens

Singing slow and soft

One more song for my undoing.

The angels here have fangs

One more burden of destruction

Wrought upon my flesh

Enfolding me in condor wings

To be in solitude with my pain.

These words are not a prophecy of despair

Or a damning of myself

In my own eyes.

They are simply the exercise

Of a diseased and troubled mind

And are to be paid no heed.

WORLD FALLS DOWN

 

The world falls down

While you sit and watch T.V.

Fire runs across the sky

As you change the channel.

Society crumbles

While your in church,

People are killing each other

As you hear about the birth of Christ.

It never stops

Just because you don’t pay attention.

It just grows bigger

Rust never sleeps,

While your on your lunch break

It continues to eat at your soul

Until you crumble.

The world falls down

While somebody else watches T.V.

Oblivious to your screams

As he turns the channel.

WHY

 

Why do we call each other nigger or spic ?

Why do we hide behind masks of religion

To destroy God’s children ?

Why do we yell faggot to thin young men

Who have in no way hurt us ?

Where do we achieve this moral superiority ?

What invests us with the ability to judge ?

Why is this power reserved solely

For the popular majority ?

We are all human

The same flesh

The same blood

The same heart

The same soul.

We hate each other with such passion

Wondering why God

No longer answers our prayers.

OCEAN

 

Ocean

Pull me out

Stretch across

Flowing soul

Reach down

Fire in the depths

Perfect form burn

Fluid mind slide

Thread on the loom

Earth and wind

Pull me up

Pull me in

World’s breath

Through me

Tidal blood

All returning

Pull me out

Ocean.

THE MYSTICAL PROPERTIES of WORDS

 

The words

In my mind

Something powerful there

Swirling across the mindscape

Voices chanting,

Resonant in my blood

Echoes, sibilant whispers

Thunder crashing

From the rhythm stick

Held in ancient hands.

The words have life

Each syllable an incantation,

A ceremony, a song

Music in the mind,

Spirals of mystic chaos

Unraveling since the dawn of time

Tumbling over and over

Endlessly spinning

Weaving the world

From silence to words

To silence.

WINTER EYES

 

My eyes are frozen

Everything is cold

Sharp edges

Perfect straight line clarity

Locked in the standard form.

So cold

Caught in banality’s blizzard,

Emotions numb and withered,

Dead for all intents and purposes

Death however, implies movement.

I can no longer move

Watching helpless

As my passion is silenced.

I have become part of the frozen landscape

Caught in the winter of our apathetic content.

FUGUE

 

Blur the image

Fuzz around the edges

Colours run together

Swirling in the mind

Technicolour dreamscape palate

Painting worlds

In the universal colour-by-number

A masterpiece with every blink of the eye

Shifting reality

Fluid perceptions governed

By the particular fictions

Of my dementia.

The world is my canvas,

I think I want to paint in red today…

Muscle spasms

            “Why do you insist on screaming

            when I cut you ?”

I like flesh wet and red

So very pretty.

I think my brush is getting dull

Hold on, dear canvas

I know your anticipation

But the masterpiece has only just begun.

I see you already weep

As you envision the beauty I create

In your destruction.

 

ON the ART of OBSCURITY

I watch them

From the shores of my obscurity

Silent and grey

There is a certain artistry

To remaining anonymous

Blurring at the edges

I n order to slide past corners of eyes

Or melting back into the world

So that people slide past you

Like water off the scales of a fish.

Unobtrusive, I stand watching

Knowing I am unseen,

I pass away

Taking with me all of their secrets.

UNTITLED SERIES II

 

VII.

Blond in the river.

Early teens, maybe twelve.

Nude.

Face down, slightly bloated.

Dead for maybe twenty four hours.

Closer examination reveals track marks,

Two bruises on the throat,

And an eightball hemorrhage

Caused by severe trauma to the right temple.

Write it up.

One more Jane Doe.

Voices on the squawk box.

Looks like they found another one.

VIII.

Yellow feather

Wind ruffled

Bird fallen

Sky tossed.

Where have you been,

Little feather,

Riding the back of the breeze ?

What have you seen

With your soft yellow eyes ?

You are a mystery,

Little feather,

A mute prophet

Silent wanderer

Taking with you into the skies

A thousand tales

Of sorrow and joy.

Destiny has lent you great honour,

Little feather,

How I wish I could join you

In your journey upon the back of the wind.

IX.

The night falls

Like a somber curtain

Over the final scene in a tragedy

Caressing the slopes and plains

Like a lover’s smooth hands

Over love’s smooth flesh,

Drawing down

Like a beast

Upon pale, naked, quivering prey,

Silently

Like a scream in a vacuum,

The night falls.

X.

The sky is made of blue and white ribbons

Tied to the brown and green ribbons of the earth

Woven together by cosmic loom

Spinning the dreams of a forgotten unconscious

Between the warp and weft eternal

Tapestry of starlight and space gleaming

In the mind’s eye, a fathomless equation

Woven in the mind and heart.

XI.

the word

burns in

my mind

blazing

holy

consuming

pathetic flesh

rotting around my soul

corpses

all i see are corpses

dead eyes

that do not see the word

stop

it hurts

can’t

live

must

suffer

why

can’t cry

 

make it stop

too much death

listen to me

stupid motherfuckers

i’m not insane

i’m alive

help me

            i want to die.

 

“Can humans do what prophets say”

Primitive Radio Gods

XII.

Standing blind in sunshine

Wrestling with the demons within

Making love to the demons without

Clutching at dreams

Trying to find one reason to live.

Drowning in my own failures

Screaming frustration

I could give lessons in apathy

Why is everything

Worth so little in the end.

I never give up

Give me credit for that

I hang on

To the crumbling ledge

But really,

Is there any point to it anymore.

Of course there is you stupid fuck,

Get off your ass

And stop feeling sorry

For having a perfectly adequate life.”

 


XIII.

Draw my body

In crimson lines

With glittering blade

cut me a life

Out of your flesh.

Crucifixion

Is such an angular curve

Body arc, graceful death

Iron violation

Steal your flesh away.

Follow the path of the martyrs

Suffer for my cause,

I don’t care

Your an expendable asset

Follow me,

Die for my profit.

Don’t worry

I will reward your death

But really,

Is heaven worth it.

XIV.

At night

As the first chords play

Echoing between moon and stars,

Reverberating in mountain valleys

And the depths of the ocean,

I fall back

Into the shadows

To dream in the darkness,

Making love to the dark lady.

Solace in a dark world

Lit by strands of cool memory

Woven across the heavens

To form the name

Of God in all its magnificent splendor

To be worshipped

In the hallowed souls

Of small children

And the words of dead poets.

“you could have it all,

my empire of dirt

i will let you down

i will make you hurt. ‘

Trent Reznor “Hurt”

XV.

I am empty

Hollow shell

I gave everything

I t still wasn’t enough

To please you

To please God

So now I die

Futile destruction

Deresolution of the derelict body

I am eating my soul

So that my annihilation

Will be complete

In the eyes of eternity.

Welcome to my despair.

XVI.

Black coat

Dusty boots

Wandering warrior

Guitar the weapon of choice

Slung across his back like a sword.

Further on down the road

On more time

Driven by the fires of passion

Hounded by the demons in his mind

Nipping at his heels

Like rabid wolves.

Eloquently savage

A beast of sublime inspiration

Cursed to have no home

Instrumental bandit

Singing a twelve bar blues

All the more beautiful

For the ugly truth in the words

That burn his lips

That make the people weep.

XVII.

Blood on the moon

The night bleeds

Softly, cool red across the black

Crimson flame

On the cold knife

Of the horizon.

The night bleeds through you

The poet companion,

Veteran of lyric battles,

Bearer of the sympathetic wound,

Your life ebbs

In a flow of blood and India Ink.

It’s a little death every time

A piece of sweet oblivion

Torn out of your soul,

Shimmering in the air

Burning on the page

Every time,

Poetic crucifixion.

XVIII.

Cold wind blowing

Over the plains of time

Whispering voices in the air,

Messengers of memory

Riding their chariots of dreams.

The wind rises

To the mountain

That bears the names of men

Who lived and died in mighty silence

To the high courts and spires

Of the palace of thought.

Within the wind caresses the face

Of a dying man

As he lays upon an unlit pyre

Of roses, opium, and myrrh,

Weeping for the death of his voice.

The wind travels on

Beyond the cares of men

Weeping not for death or sorrow

Remembering everything great and small

In eternal solemnity.

XIX.

Sun sets over clear water

Heavenly armies clash among the clouds

Staining crimson Apollo’s chariot

Setting the waters on fire

Red over blue.

The liquid sky

Changes perspective

Preventing the formation

Of human preconceptions

Roiling through time

Carrying armies of poets

Between cloud borne citadels.

All of this can be seen

If you lay naked on the shores of a lake

Your armour of logic cast aside,

Without the tragic flaws of the human soul

And believe in the power of love,

The fires of passion

And the purity of innocence

Still have the strength

To turn the universe.

XX.

Screaming wide sepulchers

Bleeding phantom orchid

Halo fire

Crown of thorn

Piercing pale flesh

Tearing bitter sweet soul.

Bend and bow

Master of puppets

Pull the strings

Driving nine inch nails

Swing the hammer

Ringing guilt

The tears burn away

Innocence.

Bend and bow

One more puppet for the master

Blood black hands

Hold the razor

Drawn across the curtains of night

Bleeding light

Remember the deed

And the hell that followed after.

XXI.

Wash cool

Blood

On your face

On my hands

Soul

Crucifixion burn

Down God

Can’t see in

Darkness embraces

My wounded

Mind reeling from

The pain

In the eyes

Of the martyrs

Bed of roses

Bed of nails

Pierce the eyes

I want to die

I want to burn

I drown

In your sex

Denied love

In the shattered

Mirror

Reflects

Broken me.

XXII.

Walking in the space

Between Heaven and Hell

Left by the form

Of a stolen God.

The world is hollow

We sucked it dry

Withered husk

Between life and death

Rotting in stagnation.

We are all dead

Life cannot come

From a barren womb

We threw our souls on the fire

As we watched our mother burn

For fun and profit.

All was created

With the passion of a single mind

Yet still we throw away passion

For the illusion of temporal power

We gave to much

For absolutely nothing,

No trade backs.


THE PRICE YOU PAY

 

Looking inward

Nothing makes sense anymore

Everything that held me up

Crumbles into dust.

My mind is a broken mirror,

Shards of my soul

Swirl and glimmer

Silver sharp

In the electron afterglow.

Disconnected, floating

No up or down

Just grey

Thick fog blanket

Wrapped in the choking haze

Of our collective apathy.

Can’t find the center

There used to be a strong place

Refuge within the walls

My castle of belief

Now the walls are cast down

Now the king

Wears the fool’s motley.

“We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men”

The words scream in my mind

There is always a price

We no longer make the rules

We just obey them

We have sold our souls

For civilization.

FADE

 

Twilight time

Long slow fade to black

Velvet curtains running down,

Funeral shroud embracing the players

Faces locked in a tableau of anguish and horror.

You can feel it,

Sub-sonic hum

The apocalypse riff

Humming in the dead air

The drone of flies

Feeding on the corpses

Shuffling through the sad final acts

Of their death scene.

Still the tragedy marches on,

The mummers dance

In their three-piece suits

Hoping their gilded god

Can hold back the doom,

They simply feed the beast.

We’re burning out

Like a cigarette discarded

Each breath we take

Consumes a little more

Until there is nothing left

Save smoke on the wind

Wiped away

As night falls over our graves.

BETRAYAL

 

Lost

Can’t find the exit

Every corner turned

Leads further into the heart

Twists and turns

Mirrored hallways

Images reflected

Constant reminders of my mistakes

Laughing as I stumble blindly.

There is no release

The trail is baited with answers

To unanswerable questions

That my pride seeks to answer

Until the only utterance

Is a desperate “why” ?

Trapped, my passion dies

My spirit withers

I can no longer meet my own gaze

In the mirrors of my mind

I cannot bear

To look upon my failure

Knowing what I was

Knowing how I betrayed myself.

THE GRAND ILLUSION

 

Cutting away the flesh

Slicing down to the bone

The memories, like razor blades

Slowly carve your body

Into the shape of your nightmares.

But then again, you never were human

Wearing your suit of skin

You could fool everyone except yourself

You sat on the outside

Elegantly dressed in mortal attire

Like a wealthy opera patron

Content to watch the grand illusion.

You watched the mummer’s dance

Thinking yourself so removed

Until you found yourself

Capering on the stage of life

Clothed in the glittering rags

Of a society in which you wanted no part

Your steps moved by the same tune

You had decried as a blaspheme

Yet for all your contempt

You watched, fascinated

Not realizing, you were always part of the dance.

Now here you stand

Alone upon the stage

A spectacle for the other dancers

Naked and twisted

In the spotlight

You stumble through the motions

Weeping at the knowledge

That of all the monsters you had watched

You are the ugliest of them all.

LOVE

 

The secret to survival

The secret to life

Is love

It’s that simple.

The capacity to love

Is what makes life worth living

Whether you love another

Whether you love the way the sun sets

Or the way roses look after spring rain

Or the feeling from that first drag

To love something will keep you alive.

It’s something to cling to

A chink in the walls

That lets the light in,

A single flame that warms the heart

Of the prisoner,

For as long as there is love

Despair is stayed

For one more day.

Love is life

For love is hope

And hope is the only protection

From the blood and grime and tears

That threaten to drown us

Without love, on does not live

Without love

We are only walking corpses

Looking for a place to die.

AN URBAN GHOST STORY

 

Washed out

Lost in the faded grey

Between the night and the day

Stumbling out onto the street

Lost in the fog caused by an evening

Spent in conversation with Johnnie Walker.

Another ghost in the city

An urban specter

Sad eyes set in a face

Of sharp lines and deep scars

Like mirrors

Reflecting a lifetime of too much

Or not enough.

We walk through them

Everyday we walk the haunted streets

Animated corpses

Among a sea of living ghosts

Those who have passed beyond

Society’s curtain of acceptability,

To us they are dead.

We should pay more attention

To those who have fallen

In the bitter war of life

For they fought no less savagely for losing

We could always use the reminder

That what we have

Is so easy to lose.

BOUND

 

A lone stranger

Blew in on the heels

Of a summer storm

Thunder announcing his entrance

One more wanderer

Looking for the answers.

In that first moment

I thought of the freedom he must have

Tied down to nothing

No ghosts gathered over his head,

He’s left them all behind.

It was then that I noticed his feet,

Ankles shackled to the road

Binding him to his journey

And in the distance

The spectral howl,

Voices of the past pushing him onward.

I realized then

That in some way we are all bound

Chains of flesh

Wrapped tight around the soul

Prisoners of sorts

Life our prison.

The only people who are truly free

Are those who have solved the riddle,

This mystery of existence.

Unfortunately,

They aren’t talking.

THE GAME

 

One more Thursday night

Sitting alone

Trying to figure out

The rules of the game.

I can’t play anymore

Never was good enough

Always walked away from the table

With a little less,

Never coming out on top.

Everybody’s a player

If you pay attention

You can see them

Hands close to the chest

Their best poker faces on.

They say the play is the thing

Until you start to lose

But you still step up

Get dealt in

Hoping for the hand

That’s never going to come.

LIVING DREAMS

 

 

Dawn drifting

Into smoking skies

Stretching across the horizon

Like the setting sun

Swimming in an ocean of reds and purples

Soul floating free

Through space

Infinite and incomprehensible

Leaving the world behind

It becomes the dream

A mere phantasm

As blurred as an old photograph

Flying

Sailing on ethereal winds

Created by the memories

Of countless dreamers

Soaring beside you

Looking for themselves,

Looking for their names

Spelled out across the night sky

Dreams are the question and the answer

One world needed

To explain another

Where do they end

One dream leading to another

I have always wondered

Whose dream are we?

FROZEN

 

Frozen

Cold and alone

Inches away from the fire

Refusing the warmth

Because you might get burned.

The flames look so inviting

Yet still you tremble in the shadows

The longing and regret

Consuming you as readily as the fire

Burning from the inside out.

Is this the way you want it ?

Alone in the cold,

Dying with your salvation

Within hands reach

How long will it be

Before you discover

That even the pain

Is better than a frozen heart ?

Regret is cold

A never-ending winter

Within the soul

Once it settles it will never thaw

Reach out, take the risk

The heart is burnt for a moment,

The soul stays frozen forever.

THE PROBLEMS THAT ARISE

WHEN YOU QUESTION EVERYTHING

 

The thought

Conception

Why do I think ?

Where does it begin ?

I’m missing something

But what ?

Something beneath the surface

A piece, a part of the equation

Lying just beneath

Something I can almost touch

Something just next to feeling

Intuition, gut feeling

What makes us tick ?

What makes us breathe, think, feel ?

What keeps us from simple survival ?

Go beyond fucking, eating, sleeping, shitting

What makes us ?

I don’t get it

I’m so close I’m breathing the answer

What if there is no explanation ?

I can’t understand,

I won’t except

So I question the answer.

FREEDOM

 

Numb

Without feeling

Tied down

Broken, bruised

Sightless in the darkness

No sound

Silence roars

Alone, empty

Used it all up

Lost the war

Lost yourself in the fighting.

They can’t hurt you now

Beyond pain

Beyond the flesh

No more chains

Slip free and away

Out of the dungeon

Into the light

They can’t hurt you here

Their arms can’t reach.

Free at last

Under the sun

Through the sky

Through the final curtain

The pain is over

The sadists have lost their art

Finally defeated

They turn their instruments

Upon themselves.

DIVINITY

 

She reaches out

To heal your wounds

You turn her away

Her beauty mocking

Your ugliness.

She holds you

Against the cold in the night

You cast her aside

Freezing rather than tainting her purity

With the stain of your sin.

She loves you

Despite your hatred,

Despite your cruelty

She will wait for you

While you cross the desert of your penance

While you cut away impure flesh

Upon the razorblade horizon.

She will wait

With her love

With the mercy of her kiss,

Proving once and for all

The divinity of women.

 UNTITLED SERIES III

 

XXIII.

9:30 on a Friday evening

Cool breeze

Setting sun defining the skyline

Making the glass towers burn

In bright flashes of silver and gold.

I watch the people

A couple hundred lives

Weaving in and out among each other,

A most complex dance

With steps as simple

As eating or talking.

Couples walk hand in hand,

Children run in and out

Between the tables in a little cafe

While their parents talk and laugh

Over cups of after dinner coffee.

So much can be learned

By watching how someone eats, or laughs,

Or draws a lover close,

Or plays with a child.

The deepest secrets of life

Are revealed everyday

Described in the subtle gestures

Of living.

I often wonder

If God watches us

From the patio

Of some celestial coffee house

Enjoying the play He wrote.

Does He know the ending ?

Does He enjoy the dance

For knowing the steps ?

I have often thought

That we were created

So that God could learn

What it’s like to be human

He knows what it is to be God,

It’s easy to know yourself

But it is impossible to explain

Being Human.

XXIV.

Alone in the night

Strung out

Lost in the melodramatic swirl

Of life,

Falling free through the sidewalk

Staggering over my dreams

Lost in my mind

Spinning, flying, flowing

In and out

Body ocean

Drift down, drift out

Expanding, encompassing everything

Mind stretching, growing

Reality distorting

Time blurring around the edges

Infinite moment

Split second eternity

Growing old, growing bigger

Becoming one with dynamic rhythm

Becoming the reality

By becoming the ultimate illusion.

XXV.

Coils of smoke

Rising from a cigarette

Held between slim fingers

Something decidedly sensuous

In the way a woman smokes.

She doesn’t notice me

They never do

Until they need me to listen,

Until they need my shoulder to cry on,

Until they need some compassion to ease the pain.

They always take pieces of me

They always leave my heart behind.

I don’t really mind I guess

If I became what they wanted

I would only hate myself more

I already hate myself too much

Yet I don’t hate them

Constantly I am drawn to their beauty,

Throwing myself into their flame,

Letting my wings burn away.

I think I drive them away,

Not wanting them to get to get close enough

To see the ugliness beneath my skin

So I give them my kindness

Making them see a friend

Instead of a lover

Because I know

I can never hurt my friends.

XXVI.

Sunlight on cold water

Liquid gold flowing across

Smooth silver mirror

Ruffled slightly

By the perfumed breeze.

Tranquillity

Solace

Nature’s perfect portrait of peace

Stills the raging soul

Cool’s passion’s fire

Soothing the weary pilgrim

After life’s long journey.

This is the road we travel

From silver to gold

Through the forges

Under hammers ringing fall

To be finally tempered

By the long shores

Of a golden sea.

XXVII.

Thousands of miles away

Lone heart in the night

Tiny flame in the window

Warming the heart

Of the weary traveler

Who knows his feet

Are on the path home.

So far away

Enthroned in my coffee shop

Holding court with yesterday’s ghosts

Dressed in ragged courtier splendor.

I wonder if she thinks of me

For a moment in her life.

Alone, sometimes

I can feel her

Momentary pressure

Of lips brushing against skin

An instant, then she’s gone

Leaving only memories and open wounds.

Thousands of miles away,

So close I can almost reach

Standing behind her

She sees a friend,

A big brother

I just smile,

Hiding the tears,

Binding my heart

And tell her “Always”

XXVIII.

lying

still

no motion

melting down through

the floor…drip, drip, drip

liquid flow

technicoulour

flying

space

going three dimensional

(then a fourth, then a fifth)

mind slide

fusion

screaming bloody winged ANGELS

tear away the flesh

e          x          t           e          n          d          i           n          g

into, through, beyond

encompass it all

BURNING

moment forever

spinning

down, up

rushing, speeding

broken

shards of mirror

through

out

“it’s so pretty beyond…”

beyond what ?

TORONTO

 

The city sleeps

Rumbling concrete beast

Alive in slumber

Shimmering, shifting

Dreaming beneath our feet.

You know it’s alive,

You can feel it’s pulse

Humming in the highwires,

You can feel its monstrous breath

While waiting for the subway.

That presence you feel

Alone on the street at night

Is the city walking with you.

On its back we crawl

Symbiotic, for we feed it

As much as it feeds us,

It moves with us

Follows us into the clubs,

Sleeps with us at night in our beds.

Unseperable

One entity

City and man

Moving, growing, dreaming

Together

Alive in everyone

It’s not where you live,

It’s who you are.

MEMORY(The Bittersweet Love Song of the Heart and soul)

 

Standing still

For a moment in time

Out on The Point

Staring up at the stars,

Keeping company with my ghosts.

Overwhelming nostalgia

Reliving ten years

Second by second

In an instant

Waves of memory washing over

Sparkling clear

While the waves of Lake Nipissing

Sing the song of the night,

Notes I carry in my heart

Spanning distance and time.

But in the end,

It’s only a moment

The home I knew

Becomes one more memory,

One more faded photograph

In an album that grows smaller

With every season.

Still, I will always have the moment

And places will change

And friends will grow miles apart

But it all holds

Perfect and golden

In that one sublime instant

Forever, for as long as I hold breath

And my heart can keep a tune.

ANGEL of MERCY

 

She stood in the court

O f the Sun and the Moon

Shining in her cloak of simple flesh

With a radiance so pure

The Sun went dark in rage

And the Moon hid her face in shame

So the girl was named

An angel of Grace and Beauty.

She stood in the court

Of Sorrow and Pain

Walking over the thorns of adversity

Her feet bare

To their burning spines

And in the face of such perseverance

Sorrow was defeated

And Pain was no more

So the girl was named

An angel of Strength.

She stood before a man

Who had been broken and blinded

By pain and despair,

Whose evil was writ large

Upon his withered flesh

And upon seeing his evil

And knowing all of his sins

She stood in forgiveness

Even though he strike her down

So the girl was named

Forever after

An angel of Mercy.

WINTER

 

Clear winters day

White flesh, white snow

Dreaming of becoming

A ray of light

Floating high over twig fingers

The wind blowing through me

Gleaming and pure.

And I can’t remember

The days of wine and roses

Anymore

They were lost

When I took a walk in my life,

Now I’m left with an empty bottle

And a handful of withered petals

And the faded memory

Of her body drawn

In the darkness.

Once,

I wrote every line

Of her perfect body

Once,

I breathed her form

In perfect detail

Once,

Every beat of her heart

Sounded within my breast.

But now she is gone

I looked away for a second,

I can’t even recall

What for

When I turned back

The winter snows

Had settled behind her eyes

So little time.

So now I stand

In the middle of unending winter

Wishing to be light

In the darkness,

Wishing to be fire

In the cold

But being neither,

I give all I have left

To regain spring.

And below

Blood roses

Bloom on the white breast

Of Winter.

Weeping Trees and God’s Breath

 

 

Sitting at my window

Watching The bare bone trees weeping

Black crooked fingers framing

The pale grey shrouded skies.

The back of winter

Has finally been broken

Yet feeble icy hands still cling

Etching faint blue-white frost roses

Upon the corners of the window pane.

Life is quickening again

Still just  a soft whisper

Not yet that urgent rushing roar

Of burgeoning new growth

But a sigh as of the tide

Once more turning.

These moments, brief as the seasons

Mere instants of clarity and calm

Are to be found

Only in the spaces between

Not yet begun and not quite ended

The stillness found

In these small pauses between the breathing of God.

Live Saturday Night

 

The night sky unfolding

Tattooed with stars

Spinning above my head

Slow solemn spirals

Silver and sable.

Step to the street

Cool wind sliding over

Like a needle in the vein

The night is calling

A drug, an embrace

An invitation that can’t be refused.

Boots scrape pavement

Echoing pulse beat rhythm

There’s possibility in the air

Like an electric charge,

The music of a million other nights

Ringing in my blood.

It’s in the blood

It’s of the blood

Visceral and urgent

Life and everything in between

Unfolding like a velvet curtain

After the sun goes down.

Sing me a love song,

Sing me a blues

It all goes down the same

The ebb and flow

Tidal force

Out and alive

And it’s Saturday night.

Player Piano

 

The piano player’s fingers are broken

But he can still carry a tune

A limping waltz, graceless lurching

But the dancer’s only got one foot

So it doesn’t really matter.

Old men sit at the bar

Faces seamed and wrinkled like old raincoats

Men made of straw and dust

Barstool prophets and whiskey oracles

Swallowing grief, passions, and pride

One shot at a time.

So it goes on, night after night

Lost because nobody wants to be found

Broken glasses, broken voices and broken hearts

Staggering to the open wound song

Of a broken fingered waltz.

Nothing Left to Bleed

 

She’s lost and doesn’t want to be found

Running from the voices

That always seem to find her

The screams echo from the pain

She thought she drowned

In those dark and secret places,

Heart straining to break the chains that bind her.

Her eyes won’t see past the tears

Hands outstretched to catch the rain

Drowning in a sea of needles and spoons

Biting back her fears

Praying that the blood leaves no stain

Learning to forget what will be remembered

All too soon.

She’s spinning now, on a nightmare carousel

Pictures of who she was will soon be ashes

Her life falling away like clothes she doesn’t need

If heaven won’t have her, then she’ll take hell

Sad, tired eyes close under the weight

Of coal black lashes

They can cut her all they want,

She has nothing left to bleed.

Laughing now, behind clenched teeth

She will stare the nothing in the face

The dust that hope was leaves a bitter taste

Once her heart breaks maybe she’ll find relief

From this million mile fall from grace

Leaving behind a life lived out of place.

Untold

 

The sky is heartache blue

The sunlight a benediction

Colours I can’t reach, in a world of grey on grey

A life with everything but you

The memory of your body is an addiction

Letting you go took away all of my beautiful days.

So many things we were never told

Let out into this life of roses and thorns

We never though we were the ones to bleed

But there were bitter tears and dreams you can’t hold

So many compromises leave the soul faded and torn

The one that you loved is never the one you leave.

You wonder how you could have been so naive

How I never could have seen

All my failures dance before my eyes with clarity

Somehow something died inside and all I can do is grieve

For all the days that could have been,

All the blue skies my fading eyes will never see.

Passion Play

 

 

Dropping down

Into the fluid underground

Diving stiff

Need found and answered

In velvet furnace heat.

Flesh will twist

Bodies dance in tangles

Arcs and curves

Cool silver sheen

Sweat and moonlight.

Falling, falling, falling

Endless spinning vertigo

Clutching, grasping, pounding

Teeth, nails, flesh and blood

Hearts that drip pure honey.

Crashing waves

Drowning animal cries

Floating free and lost in somebody else

Fingers knotted, breathing the same breath

Complete and empty in a warm, dark silence.

Dead Man Walking

 

 

Talking to dead eyes

Lusterless flat grey

Mirrors only to a world

Lost save to the mind

That remembers it.

Sounds, it all comes down to sounds

Scrapes of boot heel

Hinges, bolts and bars

Cage sounds, grave sounds

Swallowed by the pulse beat of the clock

Bleeding time away.

A life once measured in years

Comes down to days, minutes, seconds

Midnight April 12

Life is always uncertain

Death should be too.

Nothing left to say

The clock is running down

Old bald cheater

Stealing what is all too precious

Time to go, open the door

Words that will ring in deaf ears

Forever and forever, Amen

“Dead man walking.”

Long Road

 

 

It’s been a long day

Blur of bus station corridors

Coffee and cigarettes

Burning eyes and sore back,

An artist’s pallet of aromas

Best quickly forgotten.

Still, there’s something there

Traveling, landscapes sliding past

Highway stretching out

Limitless to the horizon

Inviting you to just keep moving

Until the road ends.

But it never really ends

There’s always a road

A new town, a new view

Over land or over sea

The whole world over

Tugging at your feet.

The bus is pulling in

Take that last pull on my smoke

Time to move on

Maybe this time

I’ll just keep going…

Mass Consumption

 

 

Countertop flat white light

Surgically sterile harsh

Jagged in the mind’s eye

All thoughts and forms

Colour and shape

Straight-jacket arm bound.

If flesh this white

Were cut with a razor

No blood would be in the wound

Muscle beneath skin

Withered and juiceless

Replaced with something chemical and antiseptic.

An appealing package

Form without function

Paper doll, ragged and tattered

Ready for mass consumption

Lost in the aisles of the sanitorium

Echoing the cold, harsh rattle

Of tuberculin cough.

It’s a clean illness

Pretty picture perfect

Skin and bones

Taxidermist surgically stuffed

Silicone collagen high gloss

Available at newsstands everywhere.

Pay to put your face on

You can always cut it off

Replaceable, expendable, with multiple attachments

Digitally cropping away all imperfections

Trying desperately to remove the human stink

Of sweat and shit

Perfection by purgation.

Its holy war

Against the multitude of form and hue

Order, symmetry

Cookie cutter mass production

Industrial revolution, individual dissolution

The ultimate sacrifice

Ecstatic masochism

A pile of noses and spiteful faces.

In the checkout lane

Stretching off into the end

Grey plastic people

Price check on humanity

Register 7.

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4 Responses to “Me, As The Written Word”

  1. Fantastic. Passionate. You.

  2. emisformaker Says:

    What about the part where you actually have to click “Next”? If you need technical assistance, you know where to find me.

    • I tried putting page breaks in, but they never showed up when I published the document so it just came out as one long piece. If you do have any suggestions, I am all ears.

  3. one of the tatters Says:

    Haven’t wandered through this wing in a long time. Almost forgot the door was even there. What an interesting challenge to be motivated to create in a medium that has no dust, chips or paint splatters to indicate the things created. This visit has been comfortably long. I have loved every minute and now am drained.

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