On the edge of Eden and the depths of Hell we find our lives begin, on the balanced edge of a titled knife we start to make our friends.

We find our love and live our life, only to fall upon that edge, that tilted ledge that tips the game, that cuts it short all the same.

This same edge that glitters and gleams that makes it worth it and gives us a name. We learn ourselves just in time to see that fall begin. It’s so horribly sad but I see the beauty in it all the same.

There is wonder, there is life, and it’s all upon this titled edge of that sharpened knife of life.


Something Lost/Never Found

I feel a pain, an echo of something lost and never found, a screaming searing a shattered soul.

I sit in shadows of something like sorrow, for that certain surrender I’ll never know, that I’ve never seen and will never show, that warm surrender of heart and soul.

That lovely listless like that loosens the grasping grip of grating life, that lights the shadows that shattered with strife.

I know the scream but not the whisper, I know the pain but not the touch, I’ve seen the light but live in darkness, in this cold sightless night.

I know so much but so little all the same, a life of empty knowledge, of seeing but never knowing the same.


Yesterday gone, tomorrow not promised, see the world as it is rather than for what its not. See the shine, the glitter and the glow, and the rotten, the withered and the old, realize the bile, the bitter and the broken but rejoice in the shining, the golden, the gilded. See the beauty, the wonder in both, and find a point between that light, find a place that borders that night, and hold on to that now, that present place you make with everything you are, will all you have, for that might be truly all you get, for life is fleeting and life is fast but it’s ugly and beautiful and nothing so wondrous can ever truly last.

Past Death’s End

A moment of silence for the fallen, the forgotten and the friend, who stand in that final hour that place past death’s end.

A tear I shed for each foe felled, two for each friend lost, and I weep realizing this is life’s burden, our one and only true cost. A moment spent in memory, remembering all who gave their lives, those fallen, not forgotten, friend and foe alike, who stand in that silent light, that place found only after casting off the burden of life.

Remember those who went quietly into that peaceful night, and for those who went fighting, clinging to the thunder and the light, a tear I shed for all, friend and foe alike, for all that live gave their all, their self in sacrifice.

They bear no burden for this, the pain is ours, the living, and it tears me apart at times. There is days, and night, where I feel barely alive at all, and the tears seem to do nothing but fall, and I can’t help but weep like a child at the horror, the burden and pain of it all.

The cost at times is too great, too steep a price to pay, to give one to that final hour, it’s more than any of us should have to bear, and yet we do but we it not gladly, not with smiles or joy, but with our blood and tears we pay and pay again until our hearts are withered, and our joy is fled.

So, let us now, remember those fallen, the forgotten and the friends, who stand in that final hour past death’s end, let us cry our tears and purge our sorrow, until once more it becomes to much to bare, let us remember the smiles given and the joy shared.

In sorrow I remember joy, in respect, I remember honor, I give to these fallen both, and I shall remember, their life, their actions and their names, for my life was shared with theirs, and in my pain if there is one thing I know for true, it’s that I cared.

If they standing and among us now I wish I could say it so they could hear, but past this life there is no sound, no way for word to travel, and while these word’s bare pain, their meaning remains cold and hollow, hollowed and hallowed by pain and misery, these words are all I can offer for those that have fallen before me.

Farewell dear friends, farewell, and safe travels, may you find peace, may you find something better then the strife allotted to the living, for I know without you in it, the world has grown colder, the nights darker and all my laughter rings less true then it did when you were here.

Don’t Call it Survival

Don’t call it survival

That’s not what I aim for, that’s not for what I wish

I want a revival, I want something more, I want the lights and the bells and all the whistles, I want the glitter, and the glisten and I want all of you to lend your ears to listen.

Don’t call it survival, that’s not what I aim for, it’s not for what I wish

Survival is empty, a thing of meeting needs, never wants, and it never ends and never gets better, it only gets worse. There is no dreams, no lights, no bells but the funeral bell that tolls, at the end that is forever and always foretold and known.

No, what I want is not survival, I want a life, a meaning, something more then an endless meeting of needs, of simply surviving, never truly doing, not striving.

Don’t call it survival, it’s not all that we should aim for, aim higher, and see the light, don’t call it survival.

It’s so much more than that, so don’t call it survival, don’t aim so low, remember your dreams, those stories you told that you would one day be, and look around, look at your now, and ask yourself, did I ever live? Did I try to strive to thrive?

Or did I simply try to survive?

Lovely Tune

I’ve got a lovely tune

That I want for you to hear

I’ve got a lovely tune

So tilt your head to hear

It starts a little soft

Like a whisper spoken to true love

Then it gets a little loud

What with rambling raucous that is a crowd

Then it settles down

Not too much you notice, just below the din

For this is family having dinner with all their kin

Then it gets softer yet the speed picks up a pace

As time and age does set it’s hands upon the lover’s face

Alas you see the speed you hear, it’s a ragged pace to keep

So it slows yet more as the lover goes to that final sleep

A mournful tune a mournful March

The end we all must meet

The tune though it doesn’t stop there you see

Nay it only slows to simply repeat

What’s it called? Well you see

You know it dear, you hear it everyday

It’s the tune we live this tune of mine

It’s life you see, a lovely tune and true at that

And it’s a tune that I shall keep