Month: June 2015

A gift (Hubris)

I know I have a gift, though at times I hate to admit.

For at times it seems a chain, this curse of mine, keeping this pen in my hand for now and all time.

To make me listen to the cruel mistress the muse, who fills my mind and soul with stories of another time, another age

It makes me rant rave, and yet still it remains not separate but the same that voice inside my head.

This gold gilded chain of a gift that makes my skills a singular thing.

I can write, I can make words dance across the page, yet I’ve no skill for other things, not a passion for aught else.

My mind burns for words to fill it, to make of myself more

To fill the page with ink until it runs along the floor and up along the walls.

To fill my soul with the words inside my soul, to see them and let them show, that is my gift, the curse I know.

So, I know that I seem skilled, I know that some say blessed, instead say cursed, for I had little choice in this.

Labyrinth

Lost in the words and lent to despair

I can’t see myself in the mist for all I know I’m there.

The words they float about me, inside my head

And I have to pick a version of me from the meanings in them

My mind is a maze, in which at times I do despair

For it is so hard to find myself in the center of that labyrinth within there.

Myself

Seeing myself in the light of day

A new brand of thinking

A hope for the way

A way to find who I was

And who I am meant to be

A version of myself

For me and the world to see

I am not a monster

For all I pretend to be

I am not simply my words

Written on the page

Not yet another character

In the stories I tell and say

Recreated through recreation

No more, not again

I realize my mistake

In seeing my demons as me

And not for seeing me for who I am

I see the truth now, I see clear

I am myself, it is such a simple thing

Yes such a hard thing to take

A bitter pill, a blessed weight

Something to enjoy, not one to remake

I am myself, I am me

And simply put, that is all I ever wanted to be

Worldview

I have followed the path of honor,

and I have found the end

The end of it is nothing

for it was never there to begin

I have found honor to be a lie

Valor a thing of myth

Goodness a pipe dream

We see

In those filthy vapors and the mist

There is many things in this world

That do indeed exist

They however do not include

The shining swords

and bright kind words

That we hoped for when were children

Those tales of honor, those tales of glory

Something told to make light of the ugly

There is no such thing as Valor

And Honor is a lie

Goodness the worst of all

For nothing in this world is kind

Purity, the greatest offender

Offering the falsehood that never was

Tainted from birth to death

As all us humans are

From our first to final breath

We are corrupt, for we can learn

We are cruel, though we hide it

We are greedy, and we embrace it

I do not absolve myself

Nor think myself above

I just feel I see clearly now

Lies dispelled

The truth revealed and to be reviled or revered

As each would choose their own

Ridden By The Words

Ridden by the words inside my mind I ride myself down

Tear them from my own hide

Ridden down to rid myself of words riddled with despair

The wretched words filled with worms and disease, disgust and  desolation

I wrench them my from mind, attempt to throw them to the side

Yet still the perverse imperfect words prevail as I fail to rid myself of the disease

So still I write, still I go, ridden by words riddled with such pain

Like a leaper I long for life that doesn’t let me languish away

To rid myself of sores I gained as I aged, not the aching or the pains

But disgusting things that show how I have rotted away

Oh how I wish I could rid myself of these words

These things that leave me riddled and filled with holes, filled with pits as black as pitch

The pits that ooze these distasteful words, this diseased, destructive creations

So yet again I ride myself down, to tear them from my hide

Yet it never happens

Not matter how often I try

I Am No Saint

I am no saint, I know my taint, my rage and anger so

No sorrow here, no tears do I know

I have tried and found I can not cry, I can not shed a single tear out of sadness or the dread of fear

No, all I know is the tide of anger, that endless rage that marches ever forward, flowing ever towards

Inexorable and unending, never stopping never starting simply being from the beginning

Born with red in my eyes and blood on my hands, dark thoughts spawned by wishing of dark deeds

My anger, my rage, it wishes to feed

Unending, unchanging, the rage is like a tide

Sorry my dear but it never goes out but only comes in

High tide getting higher, the rage growing deeper

The high ground of calm getting ever steeper

I feel naught else it seems, no joy, no sorrow

Just enough rage that I’ve more than enough to let the others borrow

So taste of the wine, taste of this madness of mine, enjoy the rage, enjoy the drink

Let this blood bring you to the furthest brink, till the shore does darken and you feel like you’re out at sea

With nothing but the dark waters and stars to keep you company

Watch that blood red water cover you over, drag you deep

Feel it crush your bones and squeeze your lungs

Know that you are for the Rage to keep

Let this happen, go out to that sea

And then, and then you’ll know what it’s like

What is like to be me

I am no saint, no no saint at all

I’ve enough rage, enough taint to make everyone, to make us all do nothing

Nothing but fall

Screaming

Do you know what it is like inside my mind?

Endless screaming never seeming to be ceasing the bloody sound bleeding through my skin and bone

Endless screaming and so much rage so much anger that doesn’t die

And I don’t even know why

I have that screaming inside my head that noise that’s there when I awake and lay myself down to bed

I start and end the day the same every time  with that screaming inside my mind

I wish it’d stop, I want quiet, I want silence

I want things that can never be

That screaming won’t stop you see

For the one screaming is me

My Words Did Fail Me

My words did fail me on how to say

Until my dear, today did come

To save you from the past I’ve not a clue

As to what I could have done

Accept what you should do, or attempt or try

To let go, to be at ease

Release the past

Let it be

Save yourself from nightmare dreams

Of what once was and what will never be

I wish I could

Save you my dear

But alas

That is up to you, it’s up to you to ease my fears

So release the past, let it be

Find your peace and be at ease

Tomorrow is new and yesterday is gone

Look forward not back

Not back towards but what forward towards what might be

Don’t remember but hope, let go your fears of yesterday

See that bright expanse of tomorrow

Yesteryear is gone, the fears that came have went

The future is bright and infinite

And it scares me so, how you are now, it scares me so

The thought of you not being in it

So save yourself from that painful past

Nothing is forever, nothing can last

It hurts to move forward, but it hurts more to stay behind

So please my dear, save yourself, save yourself

Please let go and be at east

and leave that past behind

Reasons

I watch the smoke drift lazily there

In the crisp morning air

While I wonder what it is I do

For what reason do I care?

Is it just that simple need to breathe that I decide to heed?

No, my habit speaks for something more as I search that smoke foolishly

Search it for a sign, a self inspired meaning that I do the right thing

That I do more than survive and exist between each breath

I sign that I did more than just simply survive until one day I didn’t

Until the foretold death that all must know and will eventually be met

No I want something more, something larger than my own sum of existence to give meaning to each breath

So I court that folly, that friend, that foretold death

I invite it in with a match a flare a ritual habit to prove in a way to be more than existence and instincts

To be less, for each breath to mean less only a sign I’m closer to death

Well that would be unacceptable, it would make it all meaningless

So each one I take means more and more instead a struggle for life for meaning even if there is none in the end

To do anything else is to court despair and that, that is one habit for which I will never care.