Thursday, July 30, 2015

Abyss hopping

In the heart
Of the silence
Of the darkness
 When allowed to stare
Into my abyss
 I confessed
Uncertain inside
I existed in a world
Where I am struggling seeing
My mind's eye gone blind

My body is broken
My mind is shattered
But still I am human
And I feel
Sorrow and joy together
Anger and anguish
In single body
One flesh
Confluence of many minds
Many feelings
Striking different emotions
Languish in the depths
Of a soul
Never to vanish
Until exorcised

 By death

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Songs From the Lunatic Choir

  They mean to steal
The fire inside my soul
The pain inside me
Bites, it is so cold
The rains are not forgiving
A January thaw warms nothing
Clouds burst, thunder crashes
Showering down ice
Cloaking my wings
With frozen pain
I’ll never fly
My life is ashes
Going insane
The asylum’s choir
Will sing
No second chances
Life is not sacred
No truth, no beliefs
No redemption
Scarlet colors
An empty canvas
But now
We are cast
As members
Of the final mass
No ransom
No promises granted
Cursed existence
Beneath the weight
Of the soul stained
Crimson covered glass

“And, drunk with my own madness, I shouted at him furiously, 
"Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful!”   
Charles Baudelaire

Monday, July 27, 2015


Fall the final curtain 
I am frozen in pose
My life was choked
Air drawn out
In every breath
Kept my head 
Beneath the surface
Again your words 
Leave me worthless
I float there
Without air in my lungs
Or life in my heart
Hover in utero
Waiting to birth
After one of my deaths
You can kill my soul
Leave me unwhole
But I will not die
Nor relinquish my flesh
My soul floats in ether
Shelter inside
Asylum's chimes
My mind
Nothing in me
Ready to survive
 What is left
But dying
When our lives 
Are toys for the masters

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Ares and his children

“A good trumpeter has the power to rouse fools into making slaughter”

“To plunder, to slaughter, to steal, these things they misname empire; and where they make a wilderness, they call it peace.” 

Publius Cornelius Tacitus

His children Phobos and Deimos follow his lead
Ares is impatient but enjoys their company
The acts of war involve fear, terror and bloodlust
And they act in unison
Father Ares, lusting of blood, desirous of hate
Slaughters his enemies, rouses his allies
His actions bring a conclusion
The bodies lay dead in a pile
In a ruddy confluence
A red pond of entrails
And viscera
Soon the dead are forgotten
By all but family
All but those who shared their lives
But now they lay bloating with their flesh rotten
And the morning after 
Sees the crows circle
Screaming at the humans
For their folly
And the souls of the departed

“Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold;
Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old
When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones.”

John Milton

“And it came to pass, when Joshua and the children of Israel had made an end of slaying them with a very great slaughter, till they were consumed, that the rest which remained of them entered into fenced cities.”

 The Holy Bible

“It is a day we remember systematic slaughter of over a million of our innocent fellow Rwandans, an orgy of bloodletting unprecedented in the history of our nation.” 

Paul Kagame

Friday, July 24, 2015

Gratitude for being Rescued

“I have drunken deep of joy,
And I will taste no other wine tonight.”
 Percy Bysshe Shelley

In the darkness I was alone
And then you found me
I lingered in the pain
Of life
And then you saved me
I worried that I would fall
And you lifted me
Echoes of my grieving
Existence had hurt me
I was wounded
But no longer
I might tremble in the night
I still scream
During dreams
Nightmares linger
Still but
Fear doesn't rule my life
Because you give me hope
You give me the strength
To survive
Your love gives me more
Than the pain takes away
The days are endurable
And the nights I survive
Because with you I have
More truth to fight the lies
As a child I believed
I'd be alone
I would always despair 
I needed you
Never thought you'd appear
A needle in the haystack
Confusion suddenly cleared
I would never have been able
To rise above without you
By my side
I love you
Only you
You are the reason
I go on
And that I am alive

1 Corinthians 13:1-13 

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; ... "

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

The Gloaming

The beauty of the new dying light
The world set fire by the birth of night
The cloud caught remnants
Shed by fleeting waking hours
Day turned gaunt
Working world wakes at dawn
While the world sleeping will haunt
The dreams and spawn
New stories to tell
In the green glory found
Every night
In the gloaming

A passing ship cuts through the water's surface
Separates the waves and the calm
In the darkness the moon's light
Can be a holy chalice
Here upon the water it shines
Like a distant guidepost
Reminding us of her nearness
Despite our being earthbound
And possessing no wings
To fly
Forever perhaps
But we can appreciate
The passing light
Of the gloaming

Staring upwards
Alone in solitude
Wondering if I am alone
Just watching 
The moon rise
And the sun die
As if some mysterious being
Changes roles, crossing
Over to take the guardian role
Of the watch
Over earth
Made more beautiful
In this
The gloaming

Silent but for a strange knocking
It echoes along with a washing
Of waves and wake against the walls
There is a calm here
Between the harmony of the sky's beauty
And the water's rhythm
It is broken only by humans
And rare, broken acts
That speak their own language
And the peace can only hope to help
Because unspoken broken hearts
Never know the answer
Even in the gloaming

“It is a grave injustice to a child or adult to insist that they stop crying. One can comfort a person who is crying which enables him to relax and makes further crying unnecessary; but to humiliate a crying child is to increase his pain, and augment his rigidity. We stop other people from crying because we cannot stand the sounds and movements of their bodies. It threatens our own rigidity. It induces similar feelings in ourselves which we dare not express and it evokes a resonance in our own bodies which we resist.”  Alexander Lowen

“But when one does not complain, and when one wants to master oneself with a tyrant’s grip — one’s faculties rise in revolt — and one pays for outward calm with an almost unbearable inner struggle.” Charlotte Brontë

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

When the Dead will Dance

Danse macabre
Dance death dance
The harvest of the human crop
Begins anew with every day
My bones rise
Follow in the line
Of dancers and the dead
They cannot stop
The parade goes on
And walking bones 
Are not in pain
They neither mourn
Nor do they sob
The parade of the dead
Marches on 
Whether to heaven
Or oblivion
They march together
Whatever they've achieved
Whoever they are 
Society might believe
That they are important
Or that they are not
But death is a democrat
And takes everyone alike
We might wish to live
We might be happy to die
Kings, Paupers, Knights, Beggars
Are the human harvest
Time to say good-bye

Monday, July 20, 2015

When Night Falls Upon the Earth

She is lovely
But not an enigma
Her ways are not mysterious
She is divinity
Never missing her duty
She is fearless
Her movements are willowy
Her duty to earth
Unspoken but deep
She looks upon the globe below
And when the moment
Is appointed
Her veil falls
And day's light ends
A gray for time
Traps the last light
A gloaming exists
Between day and night
And soon
Her black veil
Has covered the world
She mourns her lover
When the morning begins
But he will return
When the appointed time 
Happens again
And he waits
For her embrace
And in her heart
She burns
To embrace him
Again and again

"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."

e. e.  cummings

"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night."
Edgar Allan Poe

She Walks in Beauty

By Lord Byron (George Gordon)
She walks in beauty, like the night
   Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
   Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
   Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
   Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
   Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
   How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
   So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
   But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
   A heart whose love is innocent!

Thursday, July 16, 2015

My Love Isn't Less Because

If you tell me that
You don't love me
It will hurt
My love will become unrequited
But it doesn't mean it will end
If you tell me that you hate my name
You cannot stand me
My love will remain
Because love doesn't diminish
By the hand of others
I am not able to love
Only if I am loved in return
I am only then loving
For the reward
I love because I do
No matter how it might burn
Either in my heart
In some bitter regret
Or in my grieving soul
Because I am not loving
In order to be loved
Love is not capricious
Nor a whim
If it ends for any reason
It might well be a lesson
Because I will not forget
What my heart has done
I can only follow
And remember
I will not lament that I loved
Only that I am wounded
I will learn to be moved
From the mercy of the moment
When my heart reached out
And try to reject the sorrow
Of the pain
And remain
With a love unspoken
I won't love less
Because my love
Is not an emotion
It is life

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Chains of a Slave

In chains from the beginning
A slave has no shame for his birth
Yet he has to account
For this curse
The chains keep me from flying
Breathing and growing
Yet I have learned
I can become master
Of the sky
By how I determine
The fashion in which
My dying
And how I live
By my choice
To lose the chains
Or embrace
Them around my body
For now and ever more
I can stay upon the earth
Safe and never tested
Or I can loose these chains
From my feet, and wings
And soar
And lose sight of the ground
It is my choice
My will
For the one
I call my King

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

I am a Stain

Maybe I am simply an infection
A bubbling virus or a bacteria
Causing death or damage to the brain 
Perhaps I am a disease 
Pulsing through the veins
A non-specific cancer
A disease of the heart
A strain of evil
Or a human stain
Because I know I am hated
I am someone unwanted
Abandoned at birth
Ignored and thrown away
Thought to be an idiot
An imbecile

Left to drain
Told to be quiet
In the silence of a life
Where everyone is allowed
To speak, to share
I am not proud
For I am a stain
And it is time
To leave
Drain my shadow
Leave no image
Empty my humanity
Pour down the red rain

I am a simple stain
Upon the white flag
Of surrender
No one will remember
That I was ever 
Ever here
But for the stain

Society has shown me
It has told me
It owns me
But to them
I have no use
Society cannot understand
A being like me
Who refuses chains
But refuses also
To play the hierarchy
The societal games

I am human and therefore
I possess value
I am unique
I was made different
I was made to be more
To the tribe
To the hive
To those who think
Someone like me
Is a being who is arcane
To the greater number
That judges me
I am worthless
Yes, I am a stain
And nothing can wash me
Except on the inside

Monday, July 13, 2015

The Hawk's Human

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre, 
 The falcone cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world... "
W. B. Yeats

Looking down
From far above
Above the castle
There were eyes
And wings
The grounds
Nothing went on
Without notice

The falconer's arm
The call
The garb
Were used
In unison
With the partner
Two species
But was species
Being trained
The falcon
Or the falconer?

"Itque palam est, quod ars venadi cum avibuw & ars est, 
& eceteris venationibus nobiliar, & dignior, & ideo prior."

Frederick II of Hohenstaufen, Holy Roman Emperor, 
De Arte Venadi Cum Avibus (The Art of Falconry) - 1248

"Et tout anisi qu’on ne scaroit lire sans congiostre les lettres; 
de mesme on ne peut estre Fauconnier san cognoistre les 
Oyseaux ce qui est le principe de cest art."
Charles d’Arcussia, La Fauconnerie, 1589

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Nightmares or Dreams

Bram Stoker
 “Even if she be not harmed, 
her heart may fail her in so 
much and so many horrors; 
and hereafter she may suffer--
both in waking, from her 
nerves, and in sleep, from 
her dreams.”

There are dreams
In which you succeed
Only to wake
And have them fade
Never to replay
There are the nightmares
That linger
Every time
You close your eyes
And you beg to die
But you wake up
And meet and new day
But the worst thing of all
Is to exist
one single moment
In the dream lands
No sleeping thought
Because you cannot
Imagine well enough
To be bothered by your mind
You don't care to stray
From this comforting place
You can't imagine a world
That might not be like this
So you hide your mind away
In an asylum
And sleep
Like a dead man
Like the dead
Without a single dream
Before long
You stop waking
You forever sleep
And never live
Enter into eternal decay
Neither in waking life
Nor a hero in the dream state

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Stopping The Flood

Persian King Darius tried to destroy Athens at Marathon and lost
Darius's son King Xerxes learned a similar lesson at Thermopylae,
Where the Spartans drew a line and refused to allow the Persians to pass
Without the invaders suffering a tremendous cost

At Châlons the Roman general Aetius and Visgoth King Theodoric
Joined forces against the massive horde of Huns and won
Few could have foreseen former enemies now partners
At Poitiers, the Frankish Hammer defeated invaders
Western civilization survived and stood fast
Former rivals joined forces, now united

 They could not know then how vital and powerful
A Europe who would become a single union would be
An exquisite tapestry created in common, language, ideas 
A work of art very intricate and tightly woven
The ideal of many, thinking as one people gained importance

But then, as always rot comes from within
Rivalry, old tensions, discord, anger for old enemies 
A confluence of western blood marked 
The old boundaries and parameters
The beautiful dream of a place called Europe
Each state would be equal yet unique

In the present, what we call modernity
A dream exists still of one Europe
Greece, who taught the rest of the continent
About true democracy and citizen soldiers
The Greeks are seen as frivilous
Living too freely
And that nation
The first democracy
Will be made to suffer
As Greece will become
The sacrifice by the others 
For their god Mammon

Friday, July 3, 2015

4 Maidens

Life and death are a circle
Even without intent
The earth partakes with the seasons
As we are reminded
When the maidens arrive

The four seasons are different
As with personality traits of the maidens
The faeries bring forth the changes
As the earth spins and time moves forward
Ever forward

Spring is a magnificent announcement of life
The truth of grace and mercy
After the quiet rest and slumber
Of the previous season
That has passed

The glory of summer is felt, heard, seen
It is alive in every direction
And the gestalt of energy and joy
Combine to create growth
And amusement

By the time autumn has arrived
The moment of glory still exists but
The living plants are dying, giving a last look
To show the world
How glorious it was

At last when the snow has fallen
Winter is here and the moment is gone
The world has sheltered under the white
To sleep for a time
Until life calls again

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

No escape from the zoo

Each species
And each race
Divided with prejudice 
Every one was separate
Prisoners condemned
Branded, ignored, chained

Others were placed in a pasture
To reproduce, for more workers
There were no borders,
Fenced in by metal
Wire with sharp edges
Slashing the skin to the bone
Nerves, muscles connected by pain

Damnation before escape
The beasts could never leave
Except by death as the nexus
Whatever the future pain
Through that portal offered hope
No new days, but no more anguish

But the lives lost
Were each unique
Every soul born
Carried the DNA
Of the creator
Each creation lost
Could never be replaced