"Night Train to Valhalla"
The troubled teenagers sat uneasy in their chairs
looking down at the ground…
Not one of them wanted to stare
at the person stood before them
Not one of them made a sound
What could he tell them
that they hadn’t already been told?
But sit they did,
even raised their heads
and eventually
witnessed the magic unfold…
Do you like stories?
he began
Do you?
Do you like tales of hope and glory?
Then lend me your ears
and open your hearts and your minds
and you will find that there is magic all around
Seek and ye shall find…
Make yourselves comfortable
I’m about to start
My name is not important
Though I do play a part
in this fable
All you need to know is that I drive the train
The night train
The night train to Valhalla…
Let me tell you a story about a lost girl
Her name was Lyric Storm
and it fit her like a glove
Her life was a concerto of disillusionment
A maelstrom of unrequited love
and unrealised dreams
Music had been her salvation,
at least in the beginning
But before too long
she found herself swimming
in a pool of unworthiness,
drowning in her moments of mediocrity…
She was fragile, and broken
like a fine china teacup
One that no amount of glue
or disingenuous goodwill
was ever going to stick back together again
It would hold her together for only so long
before the cracks would reappear
becoming scars of desolation
etched into her skin
during moments of frustration
that coiled around her
like a razor wire strait jacket
She would carve tic-tac-toe grids into her arms
with a rusty razor blade
because she said that she felt like a nought,
like a zero,
like a nothing
She didn’t need a hero
She just needed someone to believe in her
That’s where I came in
October 31st, 23.59
She stood on a railway platform
staring down the line
waiting for any train to roll in
so that she could check out
There would be no drama
No need to shout
She never saw me coming…
My train that is governed by no timetable
and by no physical laws
rolled along the tracks as silently as the voice
of every bullied child,
every victim of domestic violence,
and every downtrodden minority group
that screams silently into the deaf ears
of those who won’t listen
and came to rest alongside her…
I opened the doors, and sensing something that she could not
comprehend
she stepped on board, and became a
Legend
You are the strays
You are the lost
Tossed
away by society
Discarded like fast food wrappers
Together you are legion…
She stepped on board defeated
and stepped off a champion…
On board, she stared at the windows
But the windows were not windows
They were T.V. screens
Each one playing scenes
of strife
in a montage of melancholy
that she called life…
Scenes from a play, wrote by her hand
and wrought from each and every breath that she had taken
while trying to understand
and comprehend her place in the scheme of things…
So many dreams un fulfilled
So many nightmares to endure
Idle promises
dangled like a lure
in her path
the aftermath of which
slapped her in the face
like toxic waste
But where others saw a waste of time
I saw potential
and I showed her images
of what she could achieve
Wonders await those who believe
in themselves…
And when the screens fell silent
you could have heard a pin drop
and if your hearing had been fine-tuned enough
you would have heard the rustle of hairs
on the back of her neck
You would have heard the goose bumps breaking out
on her flesh
So I stand here in front of you
and offer you that same glimmer
of hope
Shimmer like a firefly
amidst a night of darkest, bitter treacle
Know that you have no equal
Your time of languishing in the shadows has ceased
Let the magic inside of you
be released
Shine with the luminosity
of a Supernova
Explode with the ferocity
of a Tsunami
Allow it to wash away all your doubt
Shout
from the rooftops
“This is my time”
“This is my design”
Do not be denied your time in the limelight
Fight for your place in the world
This is your birth-right
So make a stand
and protest at the gates of injustice
until they succumb
like the walls of Jericho
to the fanfare of the common man…
So arise
like the warriors that you were born to be
This is not about them
This is not about me
This is about you…
So rise
Rise and shine like the champions that you are
Because you are GOLD
Copyright Ryan Woods 06/06/2016
"Slipknots and Razor Blades"
I stuck my neck out for you,
and in return you handed me a noose;
so I have decided it is time
to cut you loose...
I do not want to hang with you anymore....
There's the door...
Don't let it hit you in the ass
as you leave...
I may have taken leave
of my senses,
jumped through hoops
and scaled fences
for you.
But, those days are gone.
You are just one,
of the many mistakes that I
have made,
for which I have paid
the price...
You fed me a slice
of reality,
and now I am sick to my stomach
of your condescending ways,
your mind games,
and your power plays...
You think that it is funny
treating me the way that you do.
But I will humour you,
no more.
You treat me like a whore,
thinking that you can fuck with me
whenever you see fit.
But now the shit
has hit the fan
and I can't understand
how you can
be so blind
to find
me guilty
of any crime...
If I had a dime
for every time
that I allowed you
to take advantage of me
I would be rich
beyond my wildest dreams...
It seems
that no good deed
goes unpunished,
and I am serving hard-time
for mine.
You handed me down
a life sentence
when you said, "I do"...
If I only knew
then
what I know
now.
Oh, how different things would be...
In life, there are tales to be told,
and stories to unfold,
pearls of wisdom to be learned
and bridges to be built,
or to be burned....
I am only human...
If you cut me I bleed,
and you seem to feed
on my pain.
You are a razor blade,
that leaves scars on the surface,
and deep inside.
But there is a place where I can hide
when everything becomes too much...
Such is the beauty of my imagination.
It bears no relation
to the reality of the situation
that I find myself in...
I can be whatever I want to be.
I can be a wolf, roaming free
across an Arctic tundra...
I sit here,
and wonder,
where you would be
if I had not intervened
in the nightmare
that you once were living.
I did all the giving,
and you did all the taking.
Forsaking my trust.
Now dust,
and ghosts
are the only hosts
to the celebration
of our union.
Even a holy communion
cannot exorcise
the demons
that your lies
have created...
I waited
for love,
and hated
every minute
of what you gave
me instead.
You got inside my head,
and rearranged all the cogs,
every nut
and every bolt;
finding fault
with everything that I do,
and everything that you see...
Fool me once,
Shame on you...
Fool me twice,
Shame on me...
Copyright © Ryan Woods
"Snippets of Cinnamon Paige" - intro and brief snippets from my manuscript, "The Journal of Cinnamon Paige, Un-Death by Chocolate"
intro...
Each night as I lay my head down to sleep, I try to nurture pleasant thoughts in the hope that they will stay with me until dawn. But the happy images that I am able to summon, disappear quicker than a politician’s promises, and I am left with a darkness that clings to me like bitter treacle, until daylight.
The gentle pitter-patter of rain that would once have been like a lullaby to me, and would have conjured up images of jewels dancing against my window pane, soothing me into the folds of sleep’s gentle embrace, now assaults my senses with the subtlety of spent bullets. The raindrops turn into a monsoon of blood…and drench my mind with monstrous memories…
excerpt...
As far as I’m concerned you basically have two choices. You can either take me or leave me; that’s what I say. I’ll get by just fine whichever you choose.
I think it’s because of the way that I look, and the things that I like, that I kind of inadvertently chose to be an outsider. I’m not saying that it was totally intentional, or otherwise, but I’ve always been a little bit of an introvert, feeling most comfortable when in my own company and the company of a close circle of family and friends.
Some people tend to assume that I’m a Goth. Some people think that I’m more of an Emo. I used to think that was a flightless bird from New Zealand until my mum explained what it meant. I don’t like being categorised or labelled. Labels are for food as far as I’m concerned. If I’d wanted to be labelled, I’d have gotten a barcode tattooed on my forehead.
I don’t consider myself to be neither a Goth nor an Emo. I don’t self-harm, I don’t hate the world and I’m not overly EMOtional. I’m just a quirky, slightly misunderstood girl who enjoys horror movies (classic black and white in particular), scary books (graphic novels especially) and of course that most wonderful time of the year. No, I don’t mean Christmas, silly; although Christmas is pretty awesome. I am of course talking about Halloween, which brings us nicely, or not so nicely as the case may be, to where all this began...
excerpt...
Also, sharing our home, and our lives with us, is my 3-year-old Siberian Husky, “Duke”. I say “my” as opposed to “our” because I truly believe that Duke and I are kindred spirits. He is the yin to my yang, the egg to my bacon, the cheese to my cracker. You can think of us as Shaggy and Scooby if that makes it any easier for you to grasp.
I love animals, particularly dogs and especially Huskies. They really are like no other dog. It is quite simply the closest thing to having a wolf roaming through your house, other than obviously having a wolf roaming through your house, which let’s face it, is really rather dangerous and totally impractical.
I mean, it’s not like you’d really want a wolf sleeping at the foot of your bed (as cool as that may sound), and you can’t exactly lie on the floor next to a wolf and give it a big hug, can you? Unless of course, you want to lose part of your nose or one of your ears.
Personally, although I don’t consider myself pretty by any stretch of the imagination, I still like to have my nose attached to my face, and I like having an ear at either side of my head. I find them quite useful in that position, and there’s something about the symmetry of having two ears that I find quite pleasing...