Take Me
Take me...
I can take it.
My vigor is strong to the point I can shake it.
My broad, broad shoulders can carry the load,
like a lode of boulders on my back that can't break it.
There's always something to glean in continuing to exist;
always a miraculous appearance to experience.
There are shades of darkness, and I'm not one to succumb;
I'll take my chances against the One.
"A heretic a heathen, I'll be knocking on the gates of hell,"
Boxing and weaving the venerable Peek-a-Boo; shields impenetrable as the Philly Shell.
I'm your Huckleberry, and I'll shuck and I'll jive;
and battle till it all turns to rubble.
Cuz what the Devil doesn't know about me...
is I'd bury myself alive, just to prove I can handle a shovel.
Teladamyr
Silas' body shriveled, feeling his bones, his skin, melt off of him. He would love to stay a human, but there's no survival in the Land of the Dead. He was bound to see his demise at one point while walking the diminishing grounds. He was a traveller. A bard, explaining stories to everyone he came across, none of them being true tales. Until he heard about the Grove. The Grove where he could be free, no rules, no one to berate him, no one chasing him. He would be independent...for once.
The creature's quills stabbed deeper into Silas' flesh. The poison, the venom, crawled through his blood stream, crawled through each red blood cell. The creature was tall. Almost 9 foot (only a guess of Silas'). It was the Teladamyr, the protector of the Land of the Dead.
The Teladamyr is a protector made of barely any skin, most of its body being seen as bones. Even though a flesh-like substance surrounds its body, it is thin and has the consistency of paper, causing the protector's bones to be seen very obviously. The Teladamyr's quills are deadly, which causes the person's or creature's skin to slowly melt off until they are nothing but bones. The protector is loud, not caring how quiet it needs to be. It's one of the most powerful protectors, it doesn't have any mercy or care for anything but its area. No one survived him. For your soul to survive, you must accept it. Accept your fate and your soul will survive to be just a follower of the Teladamyr. That's what Silas was doing.
His heart pounded, his head creating a migraine. He watched chunks of flesh, his flesh falling off his legs and arms, his clothes becoming looser and looser. His bones grew looser and his screams created echos throughout the trees. No one would save him. And he wasn't going to save himself. For his struggles weren't going to help keep his soul bounded to his body.
It or me
I stared into those awful eyes. The creature stared back, unblinking, it's eyes round, and gleaming black - I saw my own face reflected back and shuddered. This would only end when one of us was dead.
It's hideous, hairy hide made my skin crawl and prickle. Was the creature's stomach hairy too - or was the skin there pale and bald? The thick shag continue all the way down down the legs, where it took on an almost velvety quality. Two sharp black claws poked out from the fur at the end of each leg. Claws that allowed the creature to defy gravity - to climb where no living thing should be able to climb.
The creature had let itself in to my home, my sanctuary, my safe space and had been waiting for me with a chilling patience. Where it came from - I might never know. But I was desperate to avoid those merciless fangs. The thought of them sinking into my soft flesh filled me with such dread - I remained frozen as long seconds dripped past.
But, I knew the kind of death that awaited this creature's prey. It was slow and painful - victims were often immobilised with brutal efficiency - and then eaten alive. Slowly I gripped my weapon. I had one chance to strike a stunning blow. If the creature jumped or attacked first, I knew my courage would fail me.
Taking a deep, jagged breath, I calmed my jangled nerves. And committed murder.
But, as I threw the roll of newspaper and squashed spider in the bin, I didn't feel the slightest contrition. After all, it was me or it.
Love/Hate
Philandering pandering slinger of words
slinging swords at the hoards
Spewing your anxiety in every direction
in direct dereliction of the weight fame affords
Sweet sweet whispers and smooth dissolves
into guttural violence and all that involves
Sonnets of love to the Gods above
plays of pure tragedy and the pain thereof
Two-faced flip-flopper and theatre hopper
scheming and scamming about town
Fraudulent propster and copulant copp-er
still rizzing with a crooked ass crown
So we can all hate on the histories you create
and comment on your ambitious design
It's sensationalist sizzling but the words are so blistering
they invented the true Test of Time
The Scars That I Earned
There’s nothing I would change
In the mistakes that I’ve made
’Cuz they made me the human I am
You can’t pick and choose
The battles you lose
You just get up and fight ’em again
Add all of the battles
And all of the scars
They’re the sum of the wisdom I’ve learned
I’m bruised and I’m battered
But I thank lucky stars
For all of the scars that I earned
The clock
I sit at my desk, watching the time. Watching the clock, oh that wretched clock. Time feels slow as it goes past, minutes fade into hours, hours into days. Soon it all becomes a blur, the sound of the ticking engrained in my memory like a sour taste on my tongue. As I sit I wonder, is this really how life goes? is this how it all will end? days long gone, fading into the background of the gray scenery. As time passes with each tick of that wretched clock, I grow older. I grow weaker. But time must pass, we all must age, theres no denying the change of age. But in the scene of storm clouds and people growing more miserable with each passing day, there is a light. A light that leads you on to keep trying. To keep going. It urges us to follow it's winding path into tomorrow. But as the light fades into the darkness, we continue the same cycle. The cycle of life, The cycle that goes on and on until time itself is no more. When there are no more ticks, of that wretched clock.
The Only World I Know
This is the only world I know
and deep down it troubles me so.
The feeling isn’t right. I see the blight.
We’re no longer in tune with the light.
*
Mother nature wasn’t always kind.
Tempests, storms, volcanoes erupting
made early life so disrupting.
Though our fight for survival made us strong
our coping mechanisms were slow
to pose a threat to the planet we know.
*
With technology though,
Greedy Titans told
mother nature where to go.
Having conquered Earth
they also want Space,
forgetting the human race.
*
All these dreams of escaping gravity
are signs of hubris far and near.
After poisoning our biosphere
the Titans live in fear
and set their sights on planet B.
*
Technology was not the tool
for taming mother nature,
but for satiating the Titan’s greed.
Sadly, we followed their lead.
*
Thanks to the industrial revolution,
in just a few centuries,
we’ve gone from millions to billions
of mouths to feed, destroying everything
like swarms of locusts in the spring.
*
We’re kind creatures, I’d like to think,
but collectively, we destroy everything!
Individual greed is a human flaw;
collective greed is the last straw!
*
If collective greed is destroying our only home
there’s still hope for saving humanity.
The name of that light flickering beyond the sea
is collective action and humility.
no cosmic soup
just a can of spaggettios
each once al dente perfectly defined circles of love
such great beginnings futile nugatory ineffectual vain
blobbing into a mush those stuck together in our can
dusty and forgotten on a sagging shelf with others dented
rusting in our tiny circle those we've touched in our lives
now stuck together rotting in sweetened safe sauce
into a glob each having become indistinguishable
once created to feed starving childrens of Africa
rejected sight unseen without a steamy spoonful
never used
we simply go on
becoming useless
in a forever eternity
an excess commodity
even food pantries refuse
mothballed obliterated
individuality erased
purpose forgotten.