BENEATH THE SILENT SURFACE Part 1 CONTOURS OF SOLACE

Here's a poem in two parts. Up until that point the longest one I had ever written. I felt I needed an environment where anything is possible and where no one could actually prove me wrong. No one living that is. So this takes place in the afterlife. I wanted it to be surreal yet with a strong human element. It's a story about undying love and one mans journey to find his dead wife. The same subject was also explored in WHAT DREAMS MAY COME, but I think this heads off in different directions from that film. I tried to let my imagination run completely free here, nothing was off limit, nothing impossible. It starts with a man coming home one day to find his wife has just been murdered and the killer is still there. He dispatches the killer and then turns the gun on himself. Thus begins an odyssey into realms unknown.

She lays on the floor
by the foot of the bed
Hands 'round her neck
strangled, she's dead
The killer is laughing
as I walk through the door
So I blow him away
just to even the score

I banish my sorrow
for I have the cure
Put the gun to my temple
and relief I'm ensured
I'm reborn from rebirth
in the sandunes of death
As I crawl from the vortex
of abandoned regrets

Armed with persistence
A hunters crusade
In a world of immortals
the forsaken, dismayed
I pause to observe
such a destitute place
Where spirits converge
in a dark rusty haze

I see rivers suspended
floating in the air
Glistening in a crimson hue
that will never disappear
Rain's cascading from the soil
and fall unto the sky
to saturate depleted clouds
as they drift on by

I trek on through a forest
of empty human shells
Where they wait to snag a soul
and bid this plane farwell
They're cloaked in desperation
and bound by circumstance
Peering into hollow hopes
that will never advance

Immersed in contemplation
weary in my quest
I've carved a path of foolish wrath
to become what I detest
( Yet ) There's contours of solace
beneath the silent surface
To conquer my redemption
I must forage for a purpose

I come upon a garden
where flowers are forged in ice
A frosty breath of winter chill
procured a swift demise
I brave such wicked hostile winds
across the desert snow
Bloody prints left in my wake
retains a ghostly glow

I rest in the canyon
of colorless leaves
Where souls are left lonely
forlorn and bereaved
I anchor myself
to the pale dusty ground
Where I'm mourning the lost
that have been left unfound

I glare at defeat
still I toss out your name
Echoes of longing
with no discernable aim
I'm bent and I'm broken
so suffused with despair
I failed to aknowledge
it was you standing there

The need to speak I did forego
to share a sweet embrace
I've come so far to be this close
not a moment I will waste
So when we chance upon a glen
enravished we entwine
Lawless in our lovelorn lust
re-joined as if by design

I'm lulled into slumber
my conflicts at ease
Nestled beside you
at last I am at peace
( But ) The allure of complacement
is a treacherous foe
Imbued with the delusions
that follows in tow

When I awake I sense decay
envelopes me in dread
For what I cradle in my arms
is her disembodied head
On a mound the killer taunts
hatchet in his hand
Grinning wide as if to say
catch me if you can

The pamorama in my view
implodes in gleaming white
The deconstruction starts anew
to feed the famished light
Petrified, such tattered gloom
depspondance one derives
For what I feared the most of all
they brought me back alive

THE TWO FACED RENEGADE

More lyrics from the past. Maybe I should rewrite this stuff, but I have chosen to leave it the way I wrote it back in the ancient 80's. Let it stand on it's own demerit. Since I have way too much time to think about things I wondered back then, how would a German soldier feel about fighting in World War Two if he did not agree with what his country was doing. Eagle eyed readers would know this concept was later carried on to the poem There's a fence around forever.

The season for treason is second to none
The frontline fighting soldier stays the lonely one
In the middle of a split vision
you do right to question my decision

Should I stay loyal to the country I serve
though I detest it's intentions to conquer the world
How far goes my duty should I kneel and obey
pull the trigger and look the other way

Oh I wish I knew which way the wind blew
for the two faced renegade
In the two faced masquerade

Is it my obligation to blindly respect
my superiors orders that I cannot accept
Feeding the cannons with human flesh
Entertaining our leaders in a war play grotesque

How can I indulge in this and still stay sane
watching vigerous landscapes turn into desert plains
How can I hate someone I never met
How can I be the bullet in a Russian roulette
Ruling over life and death

There's a place in the sky

Here's a lyric from my past. Written some time in the 80's. If there was any music to it I've forgotten. Looking at it today the chorus seems rather religious, though I doubt that was my intention at the time. As far as I am able to ascertain it is about a condemned man. What his crimes were I do not know. This is the edited version. ( ok, some of this stuff was pretty out there ) It probably made sense to me once.

I am guilty they'll hang me soon
and my corpse will swing before the moon
They'll hear me scream til my breath collapse
watching me wither, my very last gasp

When I'm stiff
they'll cut me down
See me fall
to the ground
When I'm dead
they'll leave me be
When I'm dead
I will be free

There's a place in the sky
where we go when we die
There's a place in the night
were we live out sight

The string of life left my domain
pervading through my sordid brain
The tombstone wait to be inscribed
if they find me worthy now when I've died

The rope is tight I cannot breathe
who has spread infected seed
Strangeled thoughts they fade away
no more I will feel dismay

THE RENEGADE ROMANTIC

Here's a poem about how I imagine woman wants us men to be. I'm not quite sure we succeed all the time, but trust me we do try. Since most of the time we fall flat on our faces we tend to look like someone punched our faces in. When we fail you gals sure let's us know. He is a renegade because he goes against the tough guy routine, as he allows his love to shine through.

The renegade romantic
believes in love that lasts
believes in the future
and not in the past

The renegade romantic
never loses his faith
He knows that good will come
to those who wait

The renegade romantic
adores a prolonged kiss
He knows for sure it's heaven
he knows for sure it's bliss

The renegade romantic
will never let you down
Whenever you may need him
he'll always be around

The renegade romantic
will touch you like the wind
The only love he wants to give
comes from deep within

The renegade romantic
will take good care of you
Always knows what to say
and always what to do

The renegade romantic
will soothe your aching soul
Pick you up and dust you off
if ever you should fall

The renegade romantic
will listen when you speak
Always lend a helping hand
and give you what you seek

The renegade romantic
will love you til you die
and no moments you will regret
that he was by your side

BEYOND THE REALMS OF SALVATION

Here in the US children seems to vanish without a trace every day. They are abducted from playgrounds, the streets they live on and some are even plucked from the safety of their own homes. Who takes them, where do they go and what happens to them ? Sadly in most cases the outcome is not a happy one. This poem was inspired by such a case. I never really know where a particular story is going to lead me and this one took me into a rather grusome territory. It's a mixture of horror, Brothers Grimm and current events. Probably one of the most graphic poems I've written so if that upsets anyone I suggest you skip it.


In the bleak forest there's a treacherous calm
where the wind dear not rustle the leaves
Darkness commence at the foot of the night
and the day always struggle to breathe

Just above ground there's a milky white mist
it slithers and curls 'round the trees
Trembling branches that claws at the moon
confined to a place without peace

There's a path up ahead that leads out of this world
to the house of the hollow stone
This windowless lair has a grim stench of fear
and perched atop the river of bones

Shadows corrode in his ghastly abode
and whispers so faint disappears
He often departs to seek out young hearts
abduct those who sleep unawere

In nocturnal forays he whisks them away
sweet children so safe in their domain
No single word from his breath ever heard
he threads lightly to harvest his claim

Consuming their eyes stifleing their cries
gazing at sights through many past lives
With a wicked curved blade their skin he then flays
devours the essence from which he thrives

Slaking their thirst biting veins til they burst
spraying tiny droplets on his skin
Guilt is a haze, a smirk on his face
as he dabs at the blood on his chin

He dines on the brains of the innocence slain
compelled by the vapours of death
Absorbing pure souls to become briefly whole
unburdened by remorse or regrets

The vestige of wraiths thus gone without a trace
from the vessels of splendored light
His hunger recedes as sustenance feeds
on childrens unfortunate blight

Again tomorrow he'll wreak another batch of sorrow
douse the sentiments of joy with unforgiving pain
A self imposed affliction fuels his own addiction
a pestilence of purpose a plague of disdain

I WOKE UP DEAD ( It was downhill from there )

A few years back I used to live in an apartment, and wondered what would happen if you died there and your spirit were confined to this space for all eternity without any opportunity to vacate those premises. It would, I venture, be a rather tedious existence. Then what if a woman moved in and you fell in love with her, but since you are dead it would be a somewhat complicated relationship. Alright if yer gonna nitpick, impossible. The man in the poem however does manage to gain entrance to her dreams and in this alternate reality a seduction unfolds. The only way for them to be together is for her to die. He succeeds in his trickery and she is finally his, but as you will discover, taking someone against their will is never a good idea.
I am not sure I made it clear the woman commits suicide in the poem, so I felt it best to point that out here.

I woke up dead
the day I died
I never spoke
nor did I cry
A quiet heart
belongs to death
I overslept
my final breath

I'm stationed here
inside my room
As I must haunt
this very tomb
I am the eyes
the orb that sees
Forced to observe
eternities

Left to stare
at barren walls
Oh such a draft
upon my soul
How I despise
my solitude
Where errant winds
may not intrude

You came to me
in pomp and swoon
To quell my melancholy
depths of gloom
A dormant yearning swell
to roust in me an ache
A ressurected radiance
that I long since did forsake

I would peer on down
from heights of up above
A knight of immortality
denied the rights of love
Lest I can not reach for
what I can not touch
Which is just a little less
of not too very much

So when you sleep
and while you dream
I slip into your
subconscious stream
A thought pursuit
a rendevous
I built a bridge
between me and you

I skulk about
in memories
As I must learn
what I need to be
Who I am
what I'll become
It is the man
to which you belong

As shadows part
we meet at last
Me, the thief
that stole your past
I am the charmer
of cruel deceit
I hide deception
behind words so sweet

Each night I wait
as you descend
Into my arms
anew, again
The dread of dawn
I can't allay
When you awake
I wilt away

I cherish the dim glow
of the vanquished sun
Replenished by the fading light
towards the dark I run
Impatient I do linger
in the archives of your mind
Abiding by compulsion
to sever ties that binds

I surface from a whisper,
but a trickle to a scream
With plans of grand devotion
I justify my scheme
I banish apprehension
for a lovers last crusade
A conqueror of certainty
one does not dissuade

I whisked her out of slumber
her body now a shell
I bargained for a paradise
she thought of it as hell
Apart we are together
her hatred thus confined
She'll be with me forever
always here, but never mine

WHEN TEMPESTS BLEED

I seem to be drawn to the subject of reincarnation. I find the prospects that one may have lived before rather fascinating, and if we have are those memoires locked within our psyche. What if they one day starts to surface. Are there skeletons it those cowebbed recesses. Would we really like to find out what we were and what we did. This poem is about such an occurance. A man begins having visions of events he knows nothing about and as they progress he realises some knowledge is best left forgotten. This started with the title which just popped into my head one day. How I arrived at this particular subject is anyone's guess. I also changed the rythm of the poem after a few verses. Again, don't know why, it just happened that way.

I sense the pulse of a distant voice
a tremor, faint, subdued
It crawls, it climbs from depths below
forsakes it's solitude
A murmur lost in labyrinths
so faint yet it persists
A lifeless hum of what once was
and what may still exist

Fragments form from peeling pasts
of pictures hung askew
A faceless fury simmers dormant
to arise anew
I hear it echo bold and stirring
reverberate through me
A perilous unwilling welcome
a hazy memories

I harvest recollections from
jumbled severed sights
Where a re-assembled tunnel looms
at the end of dimming lights
A river flows with vanquished visions
familiar, or so it seems
Grisly revelations pour from
many muted screams

There's an emenating afterglow
from countless unknown graves
Where bones concealed in restless earth
betrays the whim depraved
No wounds may heal when tempests bleed
into the vengeful stream
Among the slain uneasy sleep
will always intervene

I touch the soil awake the past
shudder at it's chill
Rupturing scars, a stowaway stench
unfurls against my will
Memoirs of murder etched into my mind
a latent reel unspools
Into the abyss of dread I peer
hollow vast and cruel

Serenity suffers wilting it's surface
to burrow beneath my veneer
Images bending disjointed unending
at my own reflection I stare
In a veil shrouded corner forgotten by mourners
lonely lies victims remains
Tucked in by the years drying up dusty tears
life frozen in their veins

Are we brothers in death pale silhouettes
or vagrants cast aside
Are we weeds for the vermin rocks for the sand
where the age of the ageless has died
Confounded I'm searching a mosaic emerging
revealing invisible truth
Who was I then will I become that again
last past the remnants of youth

A soothing surrender to violence tender
stitching the seams of time
Spectral traces I gaze at their faces
fearful of what I may find
The wild weaving wind gusts from within
as I can clearly see
I never succumbed to the hands of the beast
for the beast was always me

DYING TO LIVE

This is basically about embracing life while you have the chance and not give up in following your dreams. To be honest this was a title that popped into my head one day. Thought I better come up with something so I could use it. Written before I abandoned the lyrical format, thus there's a chorus in there.

I circle my solutions
forsaking my own needs
running up downhill against
the will to succeed

I cradle limitations
to quietly observe
my subservient reflection
discarded by the curb

I've docked in despondance's harbor
by the cliffs of unknown heights
I've watched lovers doomed with failure
plummet off the ledge of life

The eclipse of revelations
brings ambition by default
become myself an architect
to construct a firm resolve

From ashes I may build
adventurous endeavours
and populate my vacant dawn
with a prosperous forever

I'm dying to live
not living to die
to walk about in wonderment
across the scarlet sky

Clouds of discontent
I aim to peel away
for depressive joys dilutes
the splendor of the day

WHEN THE MOON CAN ONLY SMILE

Love must be in the air. Yesterday a hangliding Cupid flew over my roof and crashed smack dab into my tree out front. I rushed out to give him a hand, but he threatened to sue me for putting a tree in his flightpath. Before I could cough up an apology he fired off an arrow that barely missed me and took the head clean off my garden gnome. The force threw him right into a snow drift. Apparently Bows has recoil, who knew. I scrambled myself back into the house as the persistant little pud came after me a like a tiny Terminator. I was ducking arrows left and right as he chased me in and out of every room. Finally he cornered me in the bathroom and as I tried to back up I fell in the tub. I thought it was curtains, I was done for, it's all over. I looked up and realised he was out of arrows. I started to relax and breathed a sigh of relief. Cupid on the other hand winked at me turned around and casually tossed a love grenade over his shoulder. It landed in my lap and exploded. Suddenly a strange sensation came over me and I felt compelled to jot down a few words. Another one of those lyrics I say I don't write anymore, so alas there's a chorus, hence the title, but no music. Since it's Valentines day I figured I'd post something in the spirit of the day.

I ache when I'm near you
words leap right out of my mind
I can't believe that I'm the one
that we became entwined

You are the light that darkness fled
It's spark such comfort holds
I nestle close as close can be
with your arms around my soul

When we touch the stars ignite
and shoots across the sky
The sun's inflamed, the night's insane,
but the moon can only smile

I felt just like a castaway
on an island lost at sea
Until the day you came by
to heal and rescue me

You are my temple and my savior
a vision bold and true
and every second we're apart
I only think of you

When we touch the stars ignite
and shoots across the sky
The sun's inflamed, the night's insane,
but the moon can only smile

So here you are now captivating
in all your gracious splendor
The only thing for me to do
is to let my heart surrender

There's nowhere else for me to go,
but to curl up by the fire
Gaze into your ocean eyes
there's so much to admire

I've seldom seen such beauty
it'spell does me entice
So mysterious and magical
in fragrance and in spice

Feeling is believing in
moments few and frayed,
but love soothes in anxious times
much more than I can ever say

THERE'S A FENCE AROUND FOREVER

Here's a title I've only begrudgingly come to tolerate. I suppose it's apt given the subject matter, but I wish something better had occured to me. This has recieved several revisons, even as late as today. Never been completely happy with it, then I never am with what I write so I figure I might as well stop some time. I might tinker with it again if I feel so inclined. This poem was promted by my attempt to write a ghost story in an environment I had never seen apparitions in. ( if there have been such stories I have never come across it ) So, this is a poem of ghosts in a Consentration Camp. Seems ripe for troubled souls. However in the final version, the actual ghosts are almost a sidebar and it had become a tale of one German's struggle to come to terms with the methodical mass slaughter of Jews. Every day he must perform a duty he does his best to supress the implications of, but he does it for self preservation. To refuse is to sign his own death warrant. Unfortunately for him those he murdered comes back to take their revenge. The poem is from his point of view.


Tis was the day like any other
born to the stench of decay
Blue skies would never hover
above us it was always grey
Barbed wire gleaming
off a pale muted haze
A fence around forever
the chill of death's embrace

Woman shuffle slowly by
traverse the endless yard
Prolongs another treasured breath
and refuge from the guards
One cannot even glimpse the tears
obscured by torrent rain
It soaks into the famished earth,
but can't conceal the shame

They know the destination
and their befallen fate
They yield to domination
subservients to hate
Heads held in shadows
spirits beyond repair
Woeful broken marrow
a pestilence of fear

I watch from a distance
as they lumber through the door
A frigid gust, a relentless wind
strokes the unwashed floor
I look not at their faces
I do not need to see
Six foot deep my conscience lies
it's either them or me

Hestitant in peeling stripes
shed dignity with clothes
Without a stitch of thread to wear
they are naked, numb, morose
Across the threshold waits
blind suffocating walls
I steal the seeds of life
of every one and all

I know they scream,
but I've chosen not to hear
It sutures my resolve
to keep my mind elsewhere
By duty I am bound
no judgement I may make
My country I must serve
redemption I forsake

Silence sighs at last
a trembling demise
It seeps into the past
and gradually subsides
A crumbled heap of humanity
numbers without names
Adrift in a sea of insanity
poisened rivers in their veins

The furnace never cools
the fury of the flame
It feeds upon the fuel
the remnants of the slain
Too fast, too soon we kill
bones that burn too slow
We're piling up a hill
that will never cease to grow

So deep we dig them graves
so many we conceal
The earth's veneer a darkned veil
negates not how I feel
There is no restful place
no respite come the night
When remembering the day
in anguished sleep I writhe

Still my dreams be not
they haunt me so
All these pleeding eyes
cannot let them go
Guilt immersed in consequence
wields such stark dismay
It's grip ferocious unrelenting
makes me the hunted prey

Tattered hulks of horror
gathers by my bed
Sentiments of sorrow
I wish I could have fled
I move without motion
my will is not my own
I know upon this notion
I'll reap what I have sown

Alone in the chamber
I fall to my knees
I beg for forgiveness
I bargain for release
Dread does besiege me
by despondance I'm entombed
( I hear ) the hiss of pipes a solitary sound
that fades away too soon

UNMASKING THE PAST

This is not a new one, just correcting the title of the first poem I posted.
I deals with reincarnation and what might happen if all your previous lives suddenly convene in your mind at once. Boy, I hate when that happens.

When I stare into the mirror
what do I see
So many faces
yet none of them me

With each day passing
I strive to construe
Why each morning I wake
with a face born anew

I canvass the changes
the questions within
As I probe into the depth
of shedding one's skin

Who will I be tomorrow
and who am I today
These strangers passing through
and moulding me like clay

Characters that seem
somehow at one with me
Confined to many distant pasts
kept in captivity

Perhaps I am the gateway
for those I used to be
and at last I will complete
my final odyssey

Through a thousand lives I journey
peering into ancient eyes
A thousand times I die again
to reshape my human guise

Dormant lies the knowledge
from which I must extract
Tiny grains of wisdom
into learned conclusive facts

A multitude of fragments
has fractured my control
I no longer am myself
now I am them all

Eternally the battles fought
for whom will rule the day
I am, but what I've become
the host of disarray

I WROTE THE NIGHT

I don't really have a title on this one, but I felt I had to call it something, so there you go. Not sure what it is about. Sounds like a nightmare of some sort. I tend to play around with the words day and night a lot, and I guess that's what promted the first verse, and it went haywire from there. I later realised that Mountains of madness was used by H.P. Lovecraft, though I decided to leave it in. I try to stear away from copying others if I am awere of certain phrases being out there. Since my aspirations is mostly to amuse myself with these poems, I don't try to take it too seriously, and doubt anyone else does either.


I wrote the night in a daylight glow
as darkness whispered my name
I pillaged the soul of a destitute child
and lost everything that I've gained

I sought the moon from a crippled old fool
and he carved me a hole in my head
I climbed me a river through mountains of madness
seeking refuge in the land of the dead

I turned my back to the tunnel of light
and walked to the pit of despair
I stood in the doorway of cosmic convulsions
before descending down mystical stairs

Near the bottom nearly blind in my gaze
I sensed shadows converge to attack
There's fear after death I know that for sure
and I wish I could have my life back

I know I'm confined to this cavernous womb
forsaken by hope and damned by mankind
I cradle regrets like a son gone unloved
as I'm mourning in silence the world left behind

THE SHADOWS IN MY MIND

This is basically a song lyric, but I suppose it could double as a poem. I started out doing song lyrics way back in the 80's ( yeah, I'm that old ) and when I rediscovered my pining for writing again that's where I picked it up. After awhile though I figured why do lyrics when I don't write songs, so I became a stunt poet. ( I don't know what means either, suggestions anyone ? )
The shadows in my mind is about a man who longs for love and a perfect woman. In fact he wants it so deperately that he conjures her up in his mind. Unfortunately, when he tries to get close she disappears. That's why he never can catch up with her. Obviously there's no such thing as the perfect woman. ( did someone boo and hiss ? ) There's no such thing as the perfect man either so there, happy now.. I have left the chorus in. It's easily identifiable. Here's a hint, it's in there twice.


I saw atumns barren wasteland
and leaves descending flights
Where the day would rush across so fast
just to catch up with the night

There's a woman in the forest
with white liquid hair
I'd glimpse her in the morning
before she disappears

Is she a ghost
from the shadows in my mind
Out of touch, out of reach,
but oh so devine

At dawn I'd wake and look outside
to view the early light
I knew you'd be there wating for me
sometimes hiding out of sight

A fleeting moment from afar
is all you will let me see
and if I dare to come too close
you fade, dissolve, you flee

Is she a ghost
from the shadows in my mind
Out of touch, out of reach,
but oh so devine

Does my eyes decieve me
are they leading me astray
Do I search for a reason
beyond the hunters prey

Will I love you in the winter
will you sleep beneath the snow
Will you melt away forever
with a pale transparent glow

WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME

This pertains to anyone that are uncertain about their loved ones comittment, and who isn't sometimes. These are questions that often remain silent because the fear of the answers.


Will you still love me
now that you know me
now that you know who I am
Will you still hold me
the way you would hold me
now that you do understand

Or will you forsake me
torment and break me
leave me a heart in despair
Do you aim to hurt me
will you try to convert me
so I say just what you want to hear

Or am I an endeavour
halfway to forever
or will we go all the way
Will you fail me in living
in love while forgiving
and only with me will you stay

Can you overlook flaws
that's part of the cause
embrace imperfections in me
Will you pardon my sins
against petulant winds
those days we don't always agree

Will we both grow stronger
to prolong love much longer
and see us through life as one
Will we fight through regrets
and learn not to forget
it was good what we once begun

THE MIND PLAGUE

I don't usually do much science fiction, but here's one sort of. I had a large backstory to this one, but my mind wanders and I get bored easily so it's confined to the deeper recesses of my mind, for now.
This poses the question, what if beings from another planet would wipe out civilization only to start it anew from scratch. What if we could only progress so far as a society before being cleansed off this earth. What if aliens would repopulate the earth in their image and hide any evidence of them doing so, leaving us to come to our own conclusions. But I digress, the poem is about the day of reckoning, but not in a biblical sense.

It blew in across melancholy skies
At first covert concealed in sightless eyes
The night was wet with spores of vile contempt
No one was immune, no one was excempt

The vibrant wonder once of human kind
Left withered hulks of dull vacated minds
Scant lingerings of thoughts remain,
but the fading flicker of a conscious brain

A stationary world now a tempered shell
where quiet lurks calm must dwell
Immobile they stand like figures of straw
scarecrows abandoned cleansed of their flaws

A telepathic pestilence gushing from it's source
a catatonic rendering negates prolonging wars
A hollow hush anticipates the darkening eclipse
The eve of shadows curl around clouds of flying ships

A beckoning oblivion one's unforgiving state
as shapes of man conforms to dust it's memories abates
The exit to existence lays waste the furnaced earth
the residue so very faint ingrained in ashen dirt

The planetary puppeteers embarks on new designs
architects of evolution their image left behind
Species born unfinished forms refines it's DNA
to re-create our past mistakes to revel in dismay

I'D LOVE TO EAT A CANNIBAL

You know if people get hungry enough they'll eat anything.

I'd love to eat a cannibal
to find out how they taste
Throw him in the microwave
until it's nice and glazed

I'd put some carrots on the stove
and melt some cheese of course
Have to cook it very low
to get the perfect sauce

I'd fry the brain on medium high
while boiling all the toes
and listen for the ears to pop
some olives up his nose

I will prepare some fingerfood
when I hear the knuckles crack
I'll marinate a thigh or two
and sprinkle spices on the back

Soon enough we'll have a meal
the blood will be our wine
and for dessert I saved the best
a chocolate covered spine

WHISPERING SHADOWS

This was inspired by the place I used to live in. An apartment building. I thought, what if one of the tenants were a serial killer and used his residence for nefarious deeds. Despite the similarities to a famous, now deceased person, it really isn't about him. More that evil essence I would suggest. This is a story about a boy that starts having these visits from apparitions trying to convey something of the utmost importance. Unfortunately he does not heed their warning and dire consequences ensues.


I hear ripples in the silence
strange confounding sounds
It emanates from up above
and twirls it's way on down

I hear the shadows whisper.
but their words remain unclear
As if they all were torn apart
and drifted through the air

I see there's thirteen faces
so pale and white like snow
They bring a secret so grotesque
they've come to let me know

I gaze into a soulless void
where tears are tossed aside
and death becomes a paradox
where children run to hide

I see a room that's just like this
It's colors dark and red
On the floor beyond decay
are thirteen severed heads

On a hook a boy's been hung
his trembling breath subsides
Blood erupts from empty holes
two sockets without eyes

A ghostly mist departs it's host
at last the pain forsaken
Yet nothing ever will restore
the life that has been taken

From my view these visions fade
while their testament remains
The holocaust of innocence
leaves nothing ever gained

I feel like I've been fast asleep
submerged in hollow dreams
Yet here I am so wide awake
in the world of in-between

And at last I understand
the pictures in my mind
I am the fourteenth of the damned
the one they sought to find

EARTHBOUND

This one is rather whimsical where I try to play around with words a bit. Anyone trying to find meaning here will go home disappointed. Alright, ya got me, this is actually a thinly veiled allegory about the plight of sheep herders in outer Mongolia.

Parachuting raindrops in an ambush from the sky
Liquified commandos splash into the ground and die
Revolutionary mushrooms in camouflage disguise
waiting in the musty earth for the sun to rise

Tumbleweeds drifting through the shadows by the lake
where old abandoned rainbows come to congregate
and kamakazi clouds in their suicidal grey
dive into the water to open up the day

Melancholi colors lost in black and white
yearning for a touch of blue to escape the dismal night
Decadent daffodils with a sinful persuasion
covets young roses for some cross polination

The river is revolting slowing to a stream
caressing the waves of an impossible dream
Reflecting transparence so perfectly clear
as the windswept horizen implodes and disappears