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Star Wings
Somewhere deep inside,
Is a universe filled with stars.
The pattern of the wings,
There is a light, a light switch,
They are butterfly wings.
Turn it on,
Let the stars shine and burn.
Colors and spots,
Twinkle and fade, slowly they die.
Turn it off,
The eyes and illusions.
All exploding in a fiery death.
A Melody of Pain and Death
A sword is drawn,
In strings and cords,
It comes ringing from it’s sheath.
In keys and notes,
Thrust, parry, strike and attack.
A beautiful melody of death,
Dancing a beautiful dance.
A melody plays in my mind.
A Tree of Love
The eyes are a window to the soul.
My curtain is drawn tight.
Behind it a great tree grows.
It is a hand grasping,
Toward the window of my soul.
Tight around my heart,
A light beckons.
The tree grows tall and green.
But does the light go beyond,
Grasping in the dark,
A barrier to protect you?
Reaching for the heavens, my tree grows.
The light beckons to you,
It goes beyond everything you know.
To protect you from yourself, or from me…
Oh tree may you ever grow so tall, to reach beyond my barrier.
To let you see,
Me, reaching for you, pulling you.
Will you go?
Let me take you away.
A Chant of Blood
A door to the universe,
A vehicle traveling fast, for me.
Ahead an alter waits, ready to begin.
There’s a water filled bowl upon it.
Here in my mind, the grass grows tall.
Going to the stars.
The bowl is full to the brim, it can’t hold even one drop more.
My mind goes fast down the road.
I stand before it, the ritual has begun.
Down the road to galaxies and world that I’ve never seen.
I cut, it drips over and in, splashing.
The grass grows tall and red as blood here.
As I go down the road to nowhere,
The dagger held high now.
I thrust down, into a dimension I’ve never known.
The drops grow to rivers flowing away from me.
Splashing into my nameless sea, the bowl overflows.
I have gone beyond now, no one knows how far.
I hear the chant begin,
Like lifeblood from the vein…
Crimson Angel
It snowed that day,
Christmas day.
I saw my mother walking towards me,
With a smile and a present for me.
I was so excited until a bang pierced the air.
And my mother, so beautiful, so fair
Fell to the ground staining the ground crimson.
Also fell the present, it’s bow bright and paper stained crimson.
Like a fallen angel, my crimson angel in the snow.
The police came, and when I asked when my mother would return, the man shook his head and said “No.”
And then he handed me the present my mother could never give.
For she no longer lived.
Inside was a small glass star,
That I had begged for in the car.
We can’t afford it dear…. My mother’s last words to me.
Christmas This Year
This Christmas was strange
This Christmas was queer.
Through the presents and bows,
I heard a voice in my ear.
That this is all crap,
This cannot be it.
The true meaning is lost,
All that’s left is meaningless bullshit.
But all hope was not gone,
For you were there beside me.
And in that moment I knew right there,
What I wanted Christmas to be.
And I smiled….
The Human Condition
Myth and magic are two words that go hand in hand.
But man and magic is a tragic contradiction.
Once we knew and even understood but now…
There is only a rift that damns all who acknowledge it,
To a comfy white room with a constant buzz,
Of the truly comfortably numb.
It leaves a hole so large and engulfing, open.
The land and soul alike.
But society keeps plugging us along
With their ideals and rules imposed upon all.
Humanity marches along in a line of perpetual destruction.
Like good little ants directed by their queen.
Who is the true queen here?
The one in control of it all?
Is it some faceless villain?
Or society?
Television?
I think it is ourselves,
And the Human Condition.
The Cure, The Cost
Sometimes it’s like you can’t breathe
Or your skin burns or flashes icy.
So cold the goose bumps hurt.
Sleep is like a trance, not really a rest,
Constant images, voices, smells, tastes and contact,
Not really the stuff of dreams.
Like it’s real but you’re stuck outside the window, looking in.
Only to regain consciousness, not really “waking up.”
Even when you’re inside watching it, it doesn’t seem real
Too impossible to be.
Sort of like a mental disease, sort of wasting and debilitating,
But somehow invisible to others.
Somehow manageable, but still causing an unavoidable insanity.
The voices murmur and hum, sing and scream.
So much all at once, it’s hard to hear yourself think.
The question is what is the cure,
And how expensive the cost will be?
Soul Mates…
Skin so soft and fragrant
Eyes so deep and encompassing, pools I long to swim
Voice so soft and breath so very warm
I long to touch you, to feel you close
To heat your blood and taste the sweat,
To lick off your tears and drink of your blood
To share our physical bodies in so many ways
To share our mental selves so openly
To share our emotional waves completely
To share our souls until we become so entangled
That we can no longer tell where you or I end
And the other begins
And the places I wish to show you, people and things
Experiences to share, enjoy, show, explore and expand
True living and interests long lost
Interests in love, people, life or enjoyment
The idea that something new and different still exists
It hasn’t all been done
And maybe a way to change things
Or to make the best of them, and maybe even the impossible
Shangri-La, heaven, whatever, eternity in happiness…
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