Rememberance

 So now we raise our glasses 

To the fallen, to the gone

Who look down in silent vigil 

At we, who must move on

I will never cease remembrance

I will raise a glass to you

I will thunder out our voices

Reviving memories anew

That I may we earn my place among you

That I may we pay the debt I owe

That I may rise to meet the ones

Who set themselves to be my foe

And when the tally has been counted

And on my shield I am laid down

I'll raise a glass there with you

In Valhalla's halls renowned

pictures of a day

 quiet here, the peace of lonely solitude, reflection

remembering a tilt of head, a slightest voiced inflection

the moments and the glances as the shudder clicked the day

and relentlessly they ticked and spent and now they're gone away

and though the images left here are sweet as honey's taste

the distance and the miles will no doubt wear until they fade

and winds will blow and draw it down like pebbles turn to dust

leaving little more than detritus of longing turned to rust

who am I to weep, it is this loneliness I love.  

the deepest pang that fuels the muse, the drive to rise above

the biting pain that draws from me the words so bittersweet

the stories and the epic tales of love, so rare and fleet

it is the desert that I love, naked and so bare

though I drink the sweet oasis these feet will not stay there

in time and of their own they a' wanderin' will go

to wondrous desolation, under the lonely starlight glow

and drifting through the sage in skin so tender and so frail

and gazing to horizon though I know 'tis no avail

for when I find these feet have walked to yonder, jagged rise

there'll be no rest, but a new, compelling path where I'll abide..

searching

Changed I am and changed I'll be,

The constant drone of travesty.

The telling tales of cauldrons three,

The best of us, the best of me

Is lost in time's wicked embrace,

Is kept in memory's leathern case.

Is tucked away from morning sun

Is left with things now left undone.

For once I stood in open places.

Longed to bask in sunlit spaces.

This world it seems, cared not to taste it,

Crushed it, burned it, beat and chased it.

Left it here a broken tome,

A well lit room without a home,

A silent, gazing, epitaph,

A parody at which they laugh.

But I will walk this broken road.

This endless, tragic, richest lode

Where silently beneath the soil

Awaiting sweat and endless toil

Somewhere a gem is waiting there.

Is sitting, silent, quiet there.

Is longing for my hands to touch

To grasp and feel the timeless rush.

And there unearth the sacred flask,

Nectar which the gods do ask,

That fills the soul in ways unknown

And satiates the dead, alone.

And brings to it the breath of life,

The exhalation of sublime,

The bold sensation of alive,

Antagonist, but without strife.

So I will sit and look about

At all the scenes that move around,

At things that catch and hold my eye,

And pray my search in peace will lie. 

And pray, though fate may prove it so

That this is not the only road,

That this is not the fate decreed

That on this lonely, broken screed,

My feet are destined there to tread,

And wander, awestruck, breath but dead,

And gaze with longing deep and wide

Upon the scenes before my eyes.

Partaking none, but loving still,

The satiated, the fulfilled.

 

the breaking hold

Like a drifting breeze you passed out of my day.
Remaining still, I have the pictures, the scent, the stirring of the air in passing
yet I cannot hold on to you.
As if passing on a street and the scent of lavender wafts,
disturbing some long lost memory and
turning, I look for it, just out of the grasp of the countenance.
For the briefest moment the tendrils of some pleasant thing gently
and quietly waft across face, enough to feel but not enough to see.
And there I stand, mildly puzzled as I feel that sensation drifting away.
Then I turn, walking on my way. 
Content, but carrying a silent sadness and longing
that I feel but do not comprehend,
knowing some deep and wonderful thing was there and has gone,
and I, the broken, able only to brush against the quietest awareness before it slips away from me.
a single, confused tear falls as I walk along
longing to hold on to it
knowing it will fade, will it or no.

The Deepening

There is a wind

That takes me on

You will not know me,

Thereupon

The lovely curves of beauty deep

Are lost upon the frigid steep.

I am not there, the one you see

The one you love

 You long to be

I am not there

The crimson stain

The constipated, foul refrain.

The place I stand is far away

Far off from where your fancies play

Far off from here, your tepid ways

A distant score, a wretched place.

And there the darkness dwells so deep

You cannot know, you cannot keep

You cannot help but fall, so steep

Infiltrates all your peace’ed sleep

But wake’d mind cannot contrive

The cold and feckless

Fratricide

The call to empty, silent place

Where there the emptiness embrace…

the horseman

And I sit silent, contemplating
I explore your wicked way.
I recline and let you rage
considering your your stain'ed page.
In darkened corner I reside
and watch with curiosity,
the ruminations of your petty soul.
Your deadly, mild tease.
I feel the pointed darts
you fire upon me as I pray.
And I feel the consternation as
I try to walk my way.
And I know you deeply fear the
places that my feet may tread.
And I know you have no spirit,
No passion, only dread.
And in the walk, so far,
you feel that I alone am done.
You feel I have been shut away
Your territory won...
But wary, there
my little dear,
I fear I've not begun.
If you wake me, harsh you shake me,
If you make my blood to run.....

Do not rest your laurels on
those feet of clay so red
Do not close your eyes and slumber
on the filthy sheets you bed.
Do not make the deadly error
made by many walked before.
Do not close your eyes and lift
the wary watch upon your door.

I am wakened, I am shaken,
I have counted up the cost.
I have made the calculations,
I have pondered what is lost.
You have pressed me,
You have squeezed until I've no more breath to give.
Now I rise and, with the earth and stone,
will compensation give.

,,,so walk thou softly now, there's something new,
some nameless menace wakes.
A demon from another world, a creeping, groping taste.
It will strip you, leave you naked,
there exposed to their bold glance.
Though you beg with supplication,
It will offer you no chance. 

For though you have forgotten, this darkness has not memory lost
And though you have forgiven, it still remains and counts the cost.
And though you offer up as currency your countenance so bright,
It will expose without remorse all of your rottenness and blight.

So bask within your victory
So hollow and so sweet.
Pay no mind to clouds that gather,
To mustered storm , do pay no heed.
I am coming now,
The horseman now,
He rides upon your door.
Pray in deepest supplication.
He will ride for you no more.

the deepening

stop your slow kinetic refuge
stop your effervescent glow
do not whisper sweetness softly
do not glance the way you go

I have seen your lips pull hungry
I have felt your draw sublime
I have delved within the deepest hidden
ores from which you mine

I do not resisty intently
I do not wish to escape
I offer quietly the neck to bite,
the tender flesh, the nape

Only here I make the pretense of
the one who looks away
Only here I lift my eyes and
all of you in me I take

For the deft illusion of
the meek and mild place I stand
is but a quiet malefactor
of a hungry, empty land

that pulls, devours, consumes
that draws you in and rests your soul
while pulling from you life, the strife, the tides
the drama that unfolds

I will advise you, dearest love,
though you will not take my advice
these paths you walk are steep,
they have been paved with wast'ed lives

It will consume you, will remove you
will rip down your hallowed halls
Will decimate the sweet embrace and
bitter, sneer as towers fall

and none yet have beheld the
terrifying power of these chains
none have felt the awful crux
excruciating, bitter pains

can you stand here then
before the mighty fires of the deep?
Can you mock their hollow towers?
Can you run with hooves so fleet?

For to temper such a flame
is task of epic, mortal tome
Is fit for songs of many ages
Songs of warriors that roam

and what will you then do
when that bright fire you though was out
then rekindles, in midnight's winds do
flare alive and without doubt

will you have the will to stop it?
will you pull it to your soul?
While it burns a flame that pulls from
earth and stone that makes you whole?

check mate

quietly, the rustling movement of the cloaken mind
takes a step towards, furrowed brow, deftly moves behind.
intent on easy subterfuge and patiently he sees
all the tiny, little glances, touches, purposed subtleties.
so little is invested and so little offered up
for meager light to shine upon, wine to fill the shim'ring cup
a dance is stepped unnoticed in the dim lit, murky sway
outside, the lookers cannot tell the predator from prey

locked in combat gentle on the chessboard of desire
betting currency of pleasure on the edge of wrath and ire
tossing coins of jealous gold across the table made of ice
making cheap the heavy cost of what is virtue, what is vice
deftly and with purpose she now turns and looks away
he smiling and unmoving, eyes transition, blue to grey
unseen the cords of ether and unseen the hands that strive
pulling silent, resolute, a struggle deep within the minds

touch, a moment linger, and then turn and walk away
see the moistened lips, the hips that sumptuously sway
as taught the lines, the reels, the binds with lightning stretch out firm
baited hook becomes a smouldering look, the other player's turn
deftly and intently, let the settling net make blind
and draw the soul into the endless wells of deep fathomless eyes
close her in and wrap in comfort of a warm embrace, benign
then off now further down the shore, another game for which to find

knowing well the fickle nature of the shoreline that is walked
and the hollow tenderness of all the nets of words he talked
smiling sly at those who, angry, shake their fists and cast their blame
but throw their gold upon the table, ante up to play the game.

on navigating the bogs of the dying

Take the hazy photographs down with you when you go
Line the rooms you find, the tombs, where voices ebb and flow
And decorate the sumptuous cakes and treats they spread upon
Sweating table top, the putrid slop, to eyes on which they fawn.

It is sickly, it is sweetly, it is decadent, this tune
Music lightly, young and spritely, heavy painted and perfumed
Cast your glances, risk your chances, cast the sweaty dice again
Looking quickly to the others lest they deviantly win.

The wisdom of the ages, bought with money, crisp and bright
Speaks of notions, deep devotions, foreign essences, a blight
On dais dim, a din, a tune that speaks the elegant, divine
"Look!  Enticement of these vices , are all theirs, they are not mine."

The hollow feast, the rancid beast, the emptiest succour
Fill their belly, drain the well and dip a greedy hand once more
Wrap a cloak of smoke and soak their deeds in virtue pure
Engulfing aura, pour a little more, this stain'ed cure

Some little lies, gentlest goodbys, a scene for to maintain
A dusty stage, a rage, apoplectic acid rain
Veiled and frantic antics aimed to halt at any cost
Lest the set be met with light of day and then be lost

So entering this oddly placed theatre of macabre
Walk thou softly, look aloft, ye, do not trust to vision, Love
For demons there, are clinging there, and they do not concern
With hearts a'beat, with wondering feet, with what their fire burns

Do not touch these hallowed trinkets, do not whisper words of doubt
Brace your shoulders, look not bolder, though you're in, you are without
So'f by the grace of God you trod, you plod, you tread to yonder shore
Cast off the dust, the rust, disgust, walk on and dwell on this no more.