The poetry in this section embraces
the 'dark side' of the psyche.
I have always found myself drawn to dark subject matter and descriptive
horror. The morbid, the menacing, the hostile disorders within us
are all vital survival tools and if acknowledged and controlled
can serve and heal us on our spiritual journeys.
This is for those who enjoy escaping into a state of temporary insanity
to witness a merciless world of violent fantasies, strange symbols
and vengeful verse.
Warning: This section
contains subject matter of a violent and aggressive manner
and can be considered offensive to some readers.
Night
Creeps So drawn am I to this perfect circle
Pull me in to shallow waters
Quench this thirst from lifetimes ago
With glowing eyes we drown
Lost in the abyss of our recognition
Shudder .... stranger, standing there
Mortal blood has stained your lips
And tangled weeds adorn you hair.
The Lost Bones Open your eyes, sweet foe,
You're dreaming, don't be afraid.
I've taken you to a secret place
Where no one else has stayed.
It's a land I visited every night
And through my waking days.
But why should I bring you here?
I thought I heard you say.
You see, you have some bones of mine
I'd really like returned,
But first I want to show you why
It is for such bones I yearn.
"What bones?" you gasp in surprise,
"I just don't understand.
Why is it that you've taken me
To this lonely baron land?"
"You say you come here all the time,
To this place of silent sound?
No birds, no trees, no sign of life,
Just a hole dug in the ground?"
"I hate this rotting wasteland;
Even the very sky is black!
I want to leave this retched place!
I beg you take me back!"
Hush now, my foe, don't be afraid,
There is nothing you should fear,
For it was you who dug this shallow hole
And you who left me here.
I'm going to cradle gently like a babe
And lower you into the ground,
And the reason you can no longer speak
Is because I've taken away your sound.
And the reason you can no longer move,
Is because I've taken that from you too,
Now down you go my little lamb,
And I'll softly sing to you.
I stroke your hair as you go limp,
Now focus on my eyes,
See I've been gone for ten long years,
Now is your time to die.
For that part of my soul you stole away,
For those bones I'll never see,
Though precious as dirt they were to you,
They meant the world to me!
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Softly bury you,
Soil and silent cry.
For this reality was made by you,
And now I've brought you home.
And never will you leave this place,
Until you bring me back my bones.
Fairground Painted faces and forced smiles,
Empty wrappers and burst balloons.
Fear is a place of abandoned enjoyment, a ghost of a broken world.
I am forsaken, so I return here
As my stomach twists and turns in a knot of crippled centipedes,
Shining and segmented
Blind and fighting for air
In a squirming tapestry of fear and hatred.
My emotions flow thick and fast,
Two speeding cart rides on a crumbling track,
Destined to unite, but in a terrifying collision of bitter consequences.
The creaking of the big wheel reminds me of my aching bones
And I miss my tired body, where ever the hell it is.
My eyes dull and then awaken,
In a sickly shade of luminous green.
I swear that in the dead of night they glow and shine
Like the flickering carnival lights above me,
As I search the darkness for answers that will never come, and comfort
which
isn't there.
I think of the words they will never say
The promises they will never keep,
Don't insult me, I'd rather be alone than listen to your falsehoods
and
masked syllables.
Try the house of mirrors;
I hear they are looking for people like you there.
Dark beauty replaces the light,
Convincing me that it is better here, on the other side.
Walking around my carnival at night,
I take comfort in the knowledge that I belong in the shadows,
So no need is there to fear of what's lurking in them,
Behind the abandoned stalls and the boarded fun house.
And yet I can't help but sit and reminisce about the times
When it was bustling and full,
In a raging sea of faces and cotton candy,
Excited and belonging, all heading somewhere, as I sit still and
alone.
It's ok though, they never stay for very long anyway, in my fairground.
The distant jingle of the circus song which once drove me to insanity,
now
envelopes me in slithering arms.
Dulling my cries and numbing my senses in an ecstasy of illusioned
belonging.
I'm home.
Media Whores Breeding ground or sacred place?
Misery etched on a skeletal face
Beautiful vermin of a flourishing race
Media Whores.
Saddle my back, bridle the bit
Wait while I give my veins another hit
And squeeze on the dress I long to fit
Media Whores.
Instinct, maternal, now forgot
Watch me as I start to trot
Feel my innards start to rot
Media Whores.
Come and join the carousel ride!
Laugh while painted faces starts to slide!
(Forget that you're dying on the inside)
Media Whores.
Banshee Feed her
Screaming out the window
Banshee
Wailing in the night
Tell her
That I'll be a moment
Tell her
That she'll be alright
Banshee
High up in the branches
Crying
Of loss we do not know
Give her
Soup to warm her darkness
Give her
Shelter from the snow.
Snow Crop Hush and tread carefully
There are skulls in the snow
There once was a pathway
Where nettles now grow
My mind speaks a language
Your soul used to know
Sinister trophies of a merciless foe.
The Rainbleeder It was in the boat graveyard that I saw him.
The creaking of the boats,
Or could it be his bones?
The scratching of the insects underfoot
Penetrates the air in a symphony of sickness.
(The blood filling his eyes
Is seeping down the back of my neck)
'End Times,' he whispers
'End Times,' I reply.
He smiles and returns to the darkness.
Painful silence of the blissful dead?
The beauty found in the desolate...
The curve of his mouth...
His talent...
There are none like him. (for Dax Riggs)
The Lady Wears Death Disguise yourself under pelts of pain
Sip cocktails in your murderous wear
Blinded are you by the sick greed of fame
And deafened to the fur from bone tear.
Wrap yourself in suffering's warm
And beneath their corpse then pray
That on a darkened shore in a distant life,
You will not be reborn as they.
The sharpening of the skinning knife
Make coats at money's whim
And hold thee by the neck, will they
Then rip you limb from limb.
Do you think their fur will make
you softer?
Will you ever be like they?
Your money buys brutality
As skinless creatures lay.
Vacant woman, far from thought
For the karma that you wrote
I hear that down in Hades chambers
From your skin they'll craft a coat.
He
Sang As He Slayed We ran through the sewers, snaking corridors
and stinking chambers,
We helped none that fell, we held none that limped.
We ran over bodies of those that had fallen
We clawed at each other in desperation.
We ran from him.
We hid under clothing, discarded in these chambers.
We pulled at rags to diguise our own faces
And in the panicked process, pulled the other end of rag off another's
crying face.
We curled into balls of our former foetus selves.
We hid behind walls and under sewer water
Plastic bags over heads disguising bodies under water.
We hid from him.
We heard him singing as he paddled his raft,
Through the sewers and snaking corridors
We watched his shadow dance over the sewer walls
And we knew he was just around the bend.
He sang and he whistled as he paddled nearer.
Held breath escaped bursting lungs as he paddled past those that
were
hidden.
We knew there weren't enough rags to hide our whole bodies.
My face was exposed so I closed my eyes.
Convinced myself if I never saw him then he wouldn't see me.
But I heard him. I HEARD HIM!
And he sang as his raft reached our platform.
He danced with grace over hidden bodies.
"Look at all these clothes! Where oh where are the little lambs?"
He mocked as he knifed those under rags.
Umbrella over one shoulder.
Funny, I thought, that he should need one under ground.
I laughed pathetically at the irony, and my idiocy to care.
Then he saw me.
Another hidden face looked towards me.
We shared a moment of suspended emotion.
He's seen you, her eyes sympathised.
He's seen me.
Did I run?
No.
Did I cry?
Yes.
Did I die?
Maybe in that reality.
I awoke.
I felt fearful for those still in the dream.
You're in the thick of hurting but
believe you'll be alright,
Even the sun gives way to moonlight so you can see at night.
There's a liar in your chamber, there's a martyr at the door,
So you hook yourself to devices suspended off the floor.
You bargain with the Devil and you'll
never get it back...
Cut the cords of sadness and step down from the Rack.
You've lost yourself in grieving,
your senses start to fade
Convinced that you're responsible for the reality life made.
You've turned your back on comfort, think you deserve the steel?
One hand's on the trigger, the other on the wheel.
She sold her soul on Ebay, now she'll
never get it back!
Cut the cords of sadness and step down from the Rack.
Stop the cogs from turning! Cut her
down from there!
All she needs is someone to gently stroke her hair.
Lead her from this limbo and the sadness of her life
For here lies someone's daughter and once potential wife.
You have left the circle, we'll lay
you on your back
Cut the cords of sadness and leave alone the Rack.
