Like Saturn

The pinnacle he sought
Saturn was a Titan of a race of beings
Enormous in size and more of power
Saturn feared his children would be his curse
They would be born and then kill him
He was both paranoid and prophetic
For each and every generation had excelled
One after another they were taller
So much stronger
And even more so of thought
Saturn chose to then eat his kin
As his partner proceeded to give birth
One after another he'd kill and then swallow
Knowing his offspring would be greater
Than anything he might ever attempt
Greater than anything he might even know
With every bundle of joyful flesh he caught
He kept upon his plan of slaughter
And had to live with the carnage he had wrought

Demon Dance

He dances upon the stage
a macabre and dangerous trance
There he performs a wee jig
soon enough he is transformed
Feet prance lightly on the surface
and finally, he begins to chant
There is nothing I might do
That will make you think
I am true
But I will still move


“Not necessity, not desire
- no, the love of power is

the demon of men.”   Friedrich Nietzsche

Killer Neighbor

Humans massed upon the shores
The weather was more warm
But there would be storms
And explosions of ash and stone
Vesuvius was the master
And he'd release fire at intervals
The smoke and rumbles a warning
But still people live nearby
Almost daring Vesuvius to erupt
And consume the land and people
As if offerings or sacrifice
To the god of Fire

Black Sun Castle

Bodyguards of the devil wore black
Regaled in medals, pompous and strict
The beliefs they held were evil
Given complete power
A sort of human became ascendant
A chicken farmer rising in status
Himmler the organization's hour
Reimagining the racist criminals
They'd become the state's apparatus
To destroy enemies, cull the herd
The members were loyal, but liars
Supposedly honorable knights
The rode upon a hateful tide
Occult leader Himmler declared
The white race supreme in pride
Hubris was their enemy
Speaking boldly of goals of genocide
There'd be catastrophe, events would portent
When Democracy and Egalitarian armies
Would join forces to bring
The Nazi state's end

"I know there are some people in Germany who become sick when they see these black uniforms, we understand the reason for this, and do not expect we shall be loved by all that number of people; those who come to fear us in any way or at any time must have a bad conscience towards the Fuhrer and the nation. For these persons we have established an organisation called the Security Service." Heinrich Himmler

The Ministry of Fear

By force and guile they round up dissidents
Announcing their presence with violence
Sending messages by their actions and signals
They are the messengers for the goverment
This ministry uses the death's head as a symbol
Hoping to make others fear their wrath
By knowledge they solve every mystery
Killing, by burning proven enemies to ash
Wearing uniforms, prestigious and intricate
Inspiring with the unifrom color, gun metal black
They choose the time, the place, the reason
For their fatal attack

As a Bear

He was a member of a tribe
They called themselves
The Clan of the Bear
His name was Arcturus
Considered the greatest of men
Covered in scars
He led his clan in battle
When the path forward
Was divined from the stars
Fought with skills of the elite
They were those who never fell back
In battle they were wild
Wearing furs, bearing claws and swords
They fought with ardor
If they found an enemy they'd move forward
Never retreating, never falling
Dying in combat was not shame
In the glory of battle
Indeed, it was there
Where they would earn their name

Death And The Knight

With armor never enough to turn a spiritual attack.
and weapons never sharp enough, or powerful enough to slay the evil that dwells within, a knight is offered no solace, no time away from war, for every battle is fought within him.

But then it becomes important to understand, every death he causes, every life he ends, takes a portion of his soul from him.  He is meant to fight, meant to kill, for he is a defender of the weak.  But he is willing, and indeed, able, when so few others are ready, or there to be, what the church needs him to be.

“The modern mind is hard to please; and it generally calls the way of Godfrey ferocious and the way of Francis fanatical. That is, it calls any moral method unpractical, when it has just called any practical method immoral.”  G.K. Chesterton

Pride

Satan was the deceiver
The accuser
The bright morning star
He was proof that good is not beautiful
Evil is not ugly
He saw himself as God's equal
And for that pride
He was cast out from Heaven
Many revile him
Some fear him
But he was never God's equal
He was his servant
Who became bitter
And for this left God's kingdom
Walking away to the furthest horizon
Due to pride
Due to malevolent beliefs
Being beautiful, bright, powerful
Led Satan to rebellion
And belief that he was high above all

Love has no boundaries

He was of a celestial nature, purpose built by a creator
He lived beyond human concepts of time, of past or future
She was a human of talent, of beauty, of deep insight
Her exquisite nature drew pursuit of creatures of the night
They loved, they sorrowed that they could not spend forever together
But his being was without a soul, made to answer demands
Her nature was to serve, but free will would destroy his plans
They could never be one so they entered final oblivion

ART'S GIFT

If art happens, it requires an eye and hand
Expressed by an artist's creative fire to create
Many appreciate the end result but don't understand
It has to have come from a singular act of creation
It is alive thereafter, or fails by damnation
But not all have such talent to command
It isn't about destiny or any kind of fate
It comes from control of one's fire
Not simply from desire
But a design or aptitude
And a decision to make it happen

“You must have chaos within you to give 
birth to a dancing star.” Friedrich Nietzsche 

Burning

If you have a desire inside
It burns
If you cannot express it
It burns you
Some believe you have to do so
Others try to keep it in
But I burn to write
Or it burns within

Photo copyright me, 2019

A question about the Sacred Vessel

We are often told that the Holy Grail is drinking utensil used by the God in human flesh Christ during the Last Supper before his torturous death.

But what if the vessel was not for food, what if it was not accompanied by fruit of the vine?  What if the vessel was used to collect his blood, the blood of one divine?

Or more, what if the vessel was the carrier of the blood, the bearer of the line, what if the blood is within the body of a living being, not drinkable as wine?

Here and Now, There and Then

We can see from the length of shadow that we cast 

That comes from from the moments of our past

Our lives feel like they are chains to our being

If we can't unsee what we've seen

But there is healing from the memories

Allowing an escape from the trap of legacies

There is only one direction we might go

Forward is the path life's flood will flow

Holy Beauty

Is it the beauty of nature that makes us think it holy, or is it the one who created who is holy, who endows all things touched with his holiness?

Sad day

When I hear you cry
It breaks my heart inside
I've never thought I'd be let go
Things happen and I never know
So don't worry about me
Now that I am free
I won't worry

The Fire Lizards

They live in the land of fire
Where only the fittest survive
Where the land has to be hot
The volcanoes offer comfort
For the heat makes them alive
Anyone who approaches
Must be prepared to fight
Or die

no to goodbye

I said goodbye but you said no
Saying we should never be apart
And we need time to perfect it
I said you never really know
Those you love leave deepest scars
And when you least expect it
Those scars can show
Why should we worry
Waste of time trying to figure it out
Better by far never to hurry
It will happen or not, no doubt
So just do it or do not
We both know what this is about

Unworthy

She is magnificent
Her form is exquisite
With a scent of jasmine
She moves as fluid
Her agile form is elegant
And yes
I am captivated by her being
But I am ugly
I am forsaken
My mind is jaded
My soul broken
Whereas she is the chosen
I am nothing
My form is decadent
Worthless
Slow moving
My thoughts indolent
And idiotic

Guardian of an ancient place

A wall stands there
Imposing, threatening
A complicated palisade
Performing its noble duties
Ancient and defended well
By the memories of the warriors
Buried deep within the structure
By the vigilance of the ravens
Waiting for the humans to return
At the powerfully defended gate
Perfectly shaped stones melded
Unified and made one,
Surrounding the village
In a ring of stone and will never fall
No invaders will ever pillage
And no enemy could breach the ramparts

Beauty is eternal

The creator created evidence
For our path of existence
Painting his work with excellence
He created and refined
Perfect and sublime
Only one was divine
He lifted his hands
Beauty appeared
But some worship the form
Rather than the hand
And idolatry betrays us
For it displays
Our desire to become gods
Equal to the creator
And above his creations

A voice from the other side of the veil

From this distance you might think
I cannot hear or see your complicated plot
This narrative that you will create
To replace your boring life
You will lie until your heart utterly stinks
Your plans come to naught, your life end in rot
It is you who fails, you who live in hate
You do not love, instead you create strife
And I can only say
From the perspective
Gathered from a distance
Spent behind the veil
You will earn the life you burn
And cast into the ovens
Of eternity

Escaping the deluge

Zeus became enraged
And poured down floods
His anger would not be soothed
His nature was wild, untamed
But Prometheus had a son
His name, Deucalion
And he reigned over Phthia
With his wife Pyrrha
Warned of the oncoming deluge
He quickly built a chest
Large enough for him and wife
And by this they survived
Floating to the top of mountains
They were lucky to be alive

In the Dust

A lifetime spent in pain
An inescapable shame
Of never being able to escape
From the constant rain

Destiny is a lie with no answers for the question why
I've asked them all, and every effort is simply wasted time

I never could see the path
And I couldn't bear the wrath
Nothing left but the aftermath
Fate is dead, now I'm left to chance

My life is at an end, my dreams died long before
And I am broken, from my countenance to my core

There is only one question that matters
And it burns inside like cancer

Why am I here, when I could be gone
Who decides what is fair, and what's gone wrong

Wolf Flight

Snow flies with the wind
The bitterness instills itself
With a shiver you move on
A misery is working within
As hope flees with stealth
From the Amazon to Babylon
There is no hope to be found
So I give in to my fears
As the cold makes me grieve
As it leaves trails in tears

Terminus Point

Between light and darkness there is a terminal point.  Beyond our dreams, we are told by Freud, the world in which we live is inhabited by ghosts.

Silent Satellites

Satellite hovering in orbit
Taking secret photo of the common man
NSA Listeners holding their Patriot act
Breaking the laws of the land

(You know the laws, they are the ones  they feign to uphold)

Ignoring them at our own peril
We let them do the dirty work for us
Silent creeping theft of our inheritance
We allow them to steal our justice

(And now, what reasons do we have to be)

We deserve what we get
Surrendered our vigilance long ago
What's the point, we are dirty too
By giving in we supply the ammo

(If we are honest we will know our folly)

Flee from Big Brother's reach
Long after you gave him permission
Sign your rights and life over
Accomplish his mission

(Wave goodbye, without a moment of regret)

Clash upon the Saxon Shores

A red confluence of rivers
Massive is the flow after battle
The churning waters turned crimson

The life blood of heroes now a flood

Prayers swirl like snow in a blizzard
Sacred grounds of death made a chapel
Human waves pushed for extinction

The purple masses burned now turned ash

The Danes ambushed at night by order of the king
The Saxons act with shield and axe with brutality
Now is the hour of shield wall breaking

Some die, few are valiant, others flee to Valhalla

The winds of the coming storm singing
The God Ares revels in the mortality
Covered in blood, the land is shaking

Sacred shadows remain, their sacrifices echo

"So many died in an area so small that the field 
was said to have been still whitened with bleached 
bones 50 years after the battle"

Fade to black

While wearing a morbid and gruesome grimace
He wrote down final words
Some last thoughts
Not for comfort, but to let others know
Where he'd been
In this tiny room where he'd lived for a decade
He had company
All of the voices in his head
Since youth he knew them well
They carried on a dialogue
Whispering in his ear
They made his life hell
When they ask questions
He screamed his reply
Meant to be his last words
He delivered them with a shout
Diary finished, book lock sealed
He'd written very little, only this
God himself can't be redeemed
Why'd I ever think he'd save me
Decision final
Chose the pattern of the corrective surgery
With one slice across the jugular
Another across the wrist
There is a sort of rush
Gushing, dark red blood
The act makes no sound
But he is shocked
As crimson poured upon the ground
In torrents and spray as if a flood
This was no holy act
His skin turned white
A shiver from pain
Growing cold by the loss
His future slowly congealed
He believed in God
But never eliminated doubt
Instead of victory, he let the demons win
He was broken by bad choices
New pain from rejection was the final blow
He didn't silence the voices
He wasn't willing to heal
So his bleeding doesn't stop
He felt dizzy, heard a flush of sound
His vision now went blank
Crashes backward
To the floor
And fades