Mad King

Rattled, raving, the mad king crowed “Drown the new blood, out with the old! By dawn this night let the queen be crowned and then in revolution let this bitter ice burn, the sweet sickly taste of all that we’ve earned!”

His serfs did revel while his courtiers cried, by that setting sun all that lived did die but drew breath regardless its state.

The mad kings castle, the place where chance meets fate.

Tarry not yet still your feet, be not in a hurry this mad king to meet. He talks in riddles, he speaks in screams, his shattered sanity his crown and cane.


Riddled with Words

My fingers ache, my mind does burn, rattled and riddled with pages and words.

Stories do circle, and fates do fall, within this battered box, within my tired skull.

Each movement a motion, a fettering notion of words on a page. of stories to tell, of things to say.

Worlds of want, places of war, bitter dark death, bleak mourning and more.

It fills my skull and haunts my gaze, the words they bother, they insist and pervade all that I do, my dreams and my days.

They dance before my eyes, victors on parade, and my fingers dance a fickle tune while the blasted muse decides what to say.

Still regardless, I must let them out, bursting and hurting with words in my skull, I write and write, until I’m old and frail, and my hands rot and fall.

The burning, the ache, the desire to make, to put words to a page, it’s haunts my soul, its more than just a guest, at best I can decide, it’s not just all I know, in fact it defines me, myself, and my very soul.

Troubled Depths

Faith is a stranger, hope a forgotten friend.  Yet sorrow rains steady and I’ve not yet learned to swim.

Still, I met Faith once, upon those distant shores. I’ve known Hope before, yet I forgot the face they wore.

Yet still does sorrow rain, tears and screams falling upon my head, the dawn so far from me and I’ve yet to lay myself to bed.

I’ve not yet learned to swim, and still I tire so. This sorrow drags me under, this deep pall I’ve fallen to.

Still I know of faith, and I’ve met hope before, I can’t wait for them to save me, I can’t wait anymore. Still I’m not yet home, away from these troubled seas, and the sun has yet to rise, to dispel my fears and set my sorrow to ease.

If Faith and Hope can save me not, I’ll not wait for nothing, I must solider on. Back bent low, my bones do creak. I’m so weary, I’ve yet to sleep and walking upon this troubled sea is harder than I thought, yet if I fall into those darkened depths it’ll all be for not.

My troubled soul is deep, the waters dark and cruel, I’ve yet to learn to swim yet I’ll not be coward nor a fool. I know not what lies beneath, lurking in my shadows; so I must tread the surface, and beware both wind and rain and troubled depths or be lost to all I know.

For though I’ve known both hope and faith, tis sorrow that leads me home. Tis sorrow that is my guide, my only star at night. I’ll find my way through thick and thin til I’m once more safe and home, til once more I can rest my head and with these weary eyes, see the sun does still rise.

Faith and Hope are waiting, and sorrow is my guide. Life is not but troubled times, and I’ll race against this tide. I’ll find my friend of faith and my joyous face of hope, I’ll let my sorrow fade, that distant voice of youth. This sodden storm will pass, and I will continue on, and the storm will come again, and be weathered once more.

For life is not but misery, its does nothing but break against the rocks. Toss about your little ship and scuttle your faith and hope.

Tis not life for which we live, tis not life for which we hope. We learn and yearn to smile for others and be smiled at so in turn, for Faith and Hope, for all those little things, those stars in stormy skies.

Those things that guide us home, when grim sorrow rides the tide.



Blame & Broken Promises

Shattered words, stolen shame.

This my life.

This my blame.

To live is agony.

To die a curse.

Shattered words, stolen shame.

Moving forward, moving towards the forgiving final dawn.

Seeking rest.

Seeking peace.

A way to put my burdens at ease.

To finally know the grace of sleep.

Without out this burden that taints my dreams.

Without these shattered words and stolen shame, to wake me with my screams.

Personal Demons

Shattered symbols of broken sin follow just behind.

Shattered symbols like seven rings hide inside my mind

Shattered symbols to trail my wake like discarded trinkets go.

To remind me of what I was, to let them in and let me know.

I am not a person, I am not myself. I am not who I thought to be for I have become as someone else.

Hiding behind a smiling mask, letting not the world in. I shuffle across the mortal soil and watch my soul grow weak.

So hear my plea, and let me in along with the seven broken trinkets I keep. Let me in, let me in, let me in I say.

Let not my shadow worry, nor the symbols cause you harm. Smile for my presence, be proud to be so charmed. Worry not about tomorrow, live within today, take that which you wish to keep, and keep what others have. Take all you wish and tarry long, worry not the cost.

All I ask is you let me me, and warm my weary heart. Let me in and let me rest, here inside your arms. Hold me close and keep warm, along with these seven broken trinkets.

Worry not, tarry long and let me in, for all the world is yours. Take with you my shattered symbols, my broken rings of sin. Lift my burden ease my guilt.

All I ask is that you let me in.

Stranger to Myself

A stranger to my form, new inside my skin I never did get used to me.

That is to be my sin.

To be without that comfort of knowing who I am. To withheld the lack of doubt of being at home within.

Within my body, within my mind, a stranger to myself.

I can’t say in truth say I know me and mine and that is to be my crime.

My crime against myself, my sin against my sovereign hold, my knife against my throat.

I am stranger to my skin, unkown to my own thoughts, not at one with me and mine.

A stranger to myself.