Dynamite Dentalwork

“This feels like overkill…” a man said with an ironic grin to his friend. “At the very least, we won’t let it go to his head.”  All watching knew they would witness a murder, yet none turned away or tried to stop the scene.

Decimal Decimation in Half-Tone.

Just like a broken record,
We repeat the same old things.
Day in and out never changing.
Warped visions and hard lessons
Culminating in desire unfulfilled
And dark thoughts unchecked.

Blank check paid to death,
“Run roughshod over me” the cry.
Kicking the habit and the age–
Fighting a war fit for a saint
With weapon eternal and heart afire–
All hail the war-torn victor.

{CK}

Man In a Cave…

A hero in my own terms.  Dare I forget that before all else fades I will be humbled?  You call out to me and in my weakness I am paralyzed.  With just a touch is my soul opened, and when that touch withdraws I find myself cold and alone.  If I open a door, I feel a draft- but if I keep it closed, I languish.  

Executive Executioner

An ideology in stockades-
A nation under blockade.
Screaming about culture wars
While blood runs like sewers.

Scream at the ceiling
if you think it helps.
Sometimes quiet retreat
Is the best medicine.

Flog the horse till it bleeds
Maybe it will run faster.
I think the road is ending,
But I might be dreaming.

Such tearful rememberance
Follows a hard goodbye.
A .44 shot to the temple
Ends the pain quickly.

Then do eyes snap open
and we wake from a dream.
This may not be our fate,
Or that is how it seems.

Answer hiding in plain sight
Brushed over in simplicity.
On your knees before God,
And you might avoid calamity.

{CK}

The Words of the Angelic Messenger.

A bloody throne for the ruler of this world. Though I dare say it will not seem to be fitting until the end. A straight finger with crisper sleeves will mark out those condemned to suffer for their love. A dark day with a darker foe will ascend on that day… hard to believe that so many are willing to forfeit their world for the promise of another.

The Message.

A blazing torch amidst a desert,
Many a creature walk in its light.
Snuffed by a downpour just the same.
With a dying breath it lights another.

So the fire is playing leapfrog
Or that is how it seems.
Jumping space and refusing to die,
A neverending bit of flame.

Is it the world I see on fire,
Or a mob or burning torches?
If even one should ever go out,
Four more rise into its place.

Yes this world will begin to burn,
Under vengeance of eternal flame.
It should be clear that this began,
When we slew the Perfect Lamb.

“Forget me not” was parting words,
Before he was suddenly taken up.
But a shout and a trumpet blast
will be his herald on that day.

{CK}

Walking Alone.

When I walk alone
I wonder where I am
When I walk with you
It matters not to me

For where you are,
There will my heart be found
Where you are,
It’s where I long to be
Where you are
It’s my one desire
That where you are
is where I will be.

{CK}

A Sepulcher’s Lament

Oh that I were a cradle!
Broken whim and the dead men
All find some home with me.

A coat of paint and flowers—
Nothing more than fancy doors
For such a run-down house.

I want to be seen pretty,
But my home sings sad tomes-
Inside me are dried bones.

I hear the people whisper…
Seems these bones have been atoned,
The bones will come to life.

But for now a spider crawls.
The wind, it blows- the plants grow,
I sit here stone quiet… And all alone.

{CK}

Lovely but Loveless…

A crestfallen star
with newfallen snow.
A shadow figure
Of a love foretold.

On a winter’s night,
There is a warm glow.
If only it did not
fall on hearts of stone.

O, humanity–
we feel so alive…
Comfort is reigning–
We are paralyzed.

A quieted heart
devoid of feeling.
Static sense of bliss
Seems so appealing.

Disquieted heart
Aroused with hunger.
Why, then must we wait-
For how much longer?

Love is lost on us,
Caught in our self-hate.
We wait for our hearts
To suddenly beat.

Shake off the stony
and break off the ice.
Fall on your faces…
For love is a fight.

{Christian Kane}

Beyond These Walls…

A burning question
At the back of his mind.
Is this all there is?

We sing songs of gears,
Shattered dreams and evil.
Is there more than this?

A broken pitcher,
Golden bowls in pieces.
Is it so hopeless?

Tension pulls on him,
He is torn into two…
Asking who he was.

Such seperation,
Devolve to love and hate.
But then which to choose?

There has to be more,
Than what the senses say.
Who says what “real” is?

Sight does not create,
Nor taste substantiate.
Who knows what all is?

{CK}