Vampire Empire

It has been too long since I have had anything new to share…  I am pleased to report that that is no longer the case.  This piece is intended to be a song, though the lyrics are powerful enough in their own right.  But before anyone has a chance to ask, this has absolutely nothing to do with the Twilight series or my personal feelings about it.  Enjoy the Vampire Empire. 

Psychotropic

Right hook to a glass jaw.
Reason crumbles and falls away.
A failure of epic scale,
as we surrender to emotion.

The heart is psychotic
and beyond understanding.
Only waiting brings healing,
No tears will do the task.

Fireworks are pretty,
but are mere distractions.
They say there are drugs
Which serve the same purpose.

Please forgive my eyes
and my overplayed hand.
A stretched out neck
Has beckoned an axe.

{CK}

Pain Unto Cleansing

Forgive me for being heavy handed
It was not exactly my intent.
This farcical merry-go-round
Has given to me a sideways bent.
Give unto me a hand so helping
Seems my side now has a dent.
I see hundreds of mobs waiting-
watching for a chance to vent.

A dark shaft named “worthless”-
Made of iron and not of wood.
Truncated lies spitting venom
Yet words manage to spill blood.
The arrow jutting from my leg
Causes pain just like a flood.
A red fire rages in my veins
Poisoning my thoughts of good.

Forget my face just a moment
and see what shadows remain.
On my dirty face I bear a mark,
That looks like that of Cain.
The fire carried by my blood
Is about to reach my brain,
I hobble towards the iron door
And hope to get out in the rain.

Jonah made a break to the left
And caught himself a big Fish.
Taking a cue from his mistake,
I headed right with only a wish.
Twenty meters away and I collapsed,
The pain, it swells on me afresh.
I see a hound beside the road-
His collar says his name is Jess.

Consicousness is overrated-
In the black you finally stop caring.
Somwhere the rain has stopped,
But I have lost all bearing.
My so-called-peace is left unbroken
By questions of how I’m faring.
“This respite won’t last forever,
But it’s nice” that’s what I’m thinking.

When at last I come back around,
The air is dry- the pain is gone.
Someone cleaned my mortal wound-
The rain has stopped- it is dawn.
As I look down at my arrowless leg,
Bloody pawprints have begun to wan.
I looked hard for Jess and my arrow,
But alas, my friend, he was withdrawn.

{CK}

Crush Me

Powder blows with the wind.
Proud hearts build castles
expecting an eternity
of nothing but bliss.

The artificial edifice
soon falls like a house
made out of playing cards
built on a mere wish.

Take my name from the lottery
I don’t want to play anymore.
There’s too many tickets sold
Promising all too few prizes.

I burned all the bridges
that I had forgot to cross.
So I stand in silken deserts
Watching the dust blow by.

See the dust glittering
as it blankets the wind
forming in it a figure,
One to which I fell in.

And yet another castle falls,
Raising up a dust storm.
The winds whistle a cheery tune
To see the edifice destroyed.

So does the dust dissipate,
and I’m laying on the ground-
Smoke rises from distant bridges,
And the wind whistles loud.

{CK}

Commonality.

Pens pack a punch of which swords can only dream
The weaponless soldier has lost his merit,
But the writer will always have his mouth.
Yet broken dreams of both lay seige to the moonbeam.

We strive and reach for the unattainable
A dreamer left with no time for sleep
Will lose his last mark of sanity-
As the glass of wine falls from the table.

Thus I sharpen my tongue just like a knife
and we will see what blood may flow
In this invisible cirlce we have made.
With many infamous words do we end a life.

I stuck my foot in my mouth and lost a toe
But at least now the bullet will miss,
Seeing as how the target is smaller.
There’s always an upside to our bit of woe.

{CK}

One More Nail.

I don’t really know that I have much to say about this one.  However, I do need to mention that this is intended to be a song contrasting four different characters, so please forgive the length. 

Revolver’s Revolution

With upraised fists and chants of Revolution does great change happen.  Bergen once said, “Great changes are easier than small ones”, but what he has forgot is the volatility of tradition.  Iconoclasts are heroes when History judges their conduct.  Yet unknown to us all is that the heroes need villains to be more than mere men. 

A Cryptic Triptych: part 3

Artist in the Asylum: A Cryptic Triptych.

PART III

A Cryptic Triptych: part 2

Artist in the Asylum: A Cryptic Triptych.

PART 2

A Cryptic Triptych: part 1

Artist in the Asylum; a Cryptic Triptych.

PART ONE