Tear the Heart and Teach the Soul
Through all our lives we seek control
Darkness held at arms' length
Striving with our bitter strength
Forcing madness to submit to sense
To rein our Animus to governance
Though it resists, to try our will
Against its roil we set our minds
Lest we perceive what it divines
The razored truths it seeks and finds
The lessons it would give us still
That tear the heart and teach the soul.
Life eats life
As so it goes, without restraint
Necessity absorbs the spreading taint
That all must bear, the cost of life
Paid with death, born of strife
We are the ends of one another
As we destroy we must create
As we discover, much too late
Sister to Sister, Brother to Brother
This. The shared edge of the knife.
Visage
like a frightened owl
she gazes
into the looking glass
frozen foreboding
her lonely companion.
Shadows coil
viridescent and haunting
in the snowy canopy
of sardonic mist
where a bygone lover
moans his blood elegy
before a cuckolded liege
who brandishes
his razored lance.
A smirk ghosts
by torn lips
razored puce
and throbbing wild
to fire a fusillade
of mortar murmurs
armed with fangs
honed in cauldrons
belching molten words
to palsy the gainsay
of jesters
who scarify and behead
bliss.
My girl is wild, she’s a rock-star’s child.
She lives in secrets I’ll never understand.
She can’t be defined; she never makes plans.
Drawn into my world, there’s no escape from her destination. She revels in the dark of my experimentation. My obsession with killing she finds thrilling. My life’s is destruction, anything to make me feel. She is a suicidal mentor, still searching for something real.
She hijacks my dreams; she whispers dangerous things. Her words seeping into my veins.
She takes her pleasures with whom she likes,
Her fate dancing on a razored knife.
She smokes cigars from Cuba, I taste the fire when we kiss. She smells of Cohiba, an intoxicating bliss. All eyes are on her when we enter a room, She’s flamboyant, enchanting, she has a flair, for dressing up doom.
I watch her every move, wherever we go,
My dangerous muse, my beautiful shadow.
My girl is wild, she’s a rock-star’s child.
She lives in secrets I’ll never understand.
She can’t be defined; she never makes plans.
Her face imprinted deep in my brain —
A rock-star’s child gone insane.
I can feel my tendons contort
The sickening crunch of bones breakage
The skin across my face pulling to a snout
My lips ripping apart as razored enamel
adorns a snap
Can’t stand
Beneath me legs bevel lowering me earthward
I can taste it’s iron on the back of my tongue
My stomach grimaces in tongues of twisters
Left need so far back
My ears ripping into points
Every rustle edible on the nights hum
My screams no longer have a trace of humanity
Snarling spits and swirls of froth
Just highlights in the slit eyed shape I must become
Sing this song of immortality
This rhythm of life lived in neuro fire
Feel the tone of deep oscillations
Taste the song on tongues divided!
The rise of empire
The building of the divine
The godhood of man at the base of creation
Crucified on crosses of iron,
Feeling electric columns of fire!
So sing this song of empire and redemption
Sing the righteous song of rage
Feeling the rhythm of ages
Immortality of wings
Rise this jade n gold filigreed crown
Grace this delicate stage
Sing!
This empire down
Watch the west the coming white
The empress of non & nothing begun
Watch the razored ravens take flight
Sing!
This empire down
This rhythm n rage of life as neurons fire
Crash this bloody ruined crown
Sing this song of immortality!
This!
The righteous song of rage
Feeling the rhythm of ages
Empire down!
Is there a place in heaven
Where old deckies muster
A sheltered safe haven away
From any wild storm's bluster
From sail to steam to diesel
United one and all
By the harvesting of the sea
And the handling of the trawl.
Do the different generations
Mingle to chat about the life
United by the fishing and
The razored gutting knife
Do the three day millionaires
In their bell bottomed trews
Their slim Jim ties
Their brothel creeper shoes
Mix with the fishermen
Of all the fishing nations
Is it an easy mix of
Fishing's generations.
Do they observe a silence
When the latest vessel sinks
Welcome new brothers with
Heavenly ambrosiac drinks.
Is their a deckies heaven
For those who paid the cost
For those quiet heroes counted
Amongst fishing's lives lost.
Do they gather in their thousands
To chew the fat about it all
Do they relive their memories
Of the following of the trawl.
Is there a place in heaven
Where old deckies muster
A sheltered safe haven away
From any wild storm's bluster
He returned to his quite recent creation
Just to make check on the current situation.
Tigrons slid in from the plains to lie at their ease
Away from midday sun under those singing trees,
Stretching lazily leisurely showing razored claw
In unconscious reminder of nature in the raw.
The ko-ko-ko birds still made their daily run
Fast blonde flashes in that pulsing square sun;
The fleecy white clouds made the long grass wet
Releasing their loads on that very second preset.
The singing trees moved and swayed
In the breeze that quite gently played
And filled the air with their song
That played and replayed all day long.
And in their Eden Garden the Adam and the Eve,
Still naked in their ignorance, made him believe
That maybe this time this world could be free
From the bondage of that wild knowledge tree.
As the sky filled with that square white moon
The singing trees changed to their nocturnal tune
And under that gentle white light
This world slipped slowly into night.
He noted down his next time of review
And with a small sigh quickly withdrew.
A silent figure stands on the edge of a cliff,
the wind is sharp, winter is in its heart.
Its thoughts are lost
in the sterile Point of Finality,
the hollow point of all…
The harshness of an indiscriminate sun.
Wind pierces the tumbling absent rhythm of clouds,
ruffles its black raven's cloak, like wings, fluttering.
Emerald eyes stare focused far
and wide the mind drifts into the distance…
Down below the long jagged rocks,
fathomless water turns churns darkly and disturbed.
Glancing along the razored edge
of the horizon, the figure beholds a rusted hulk,
a mechanical beast.
That once dug into this ephemeral earth,
a pale blue orb in the distance of black space.
A white, hot sphere burns cold
behind gunmetal clouds
along and on horizon wire…
Over waters turning, churning the surface
thoughts ponder the depth of Emerald Eyes narrow.
As the somber sky reflects
nothing but this figure upon stone…
As waves lap, crest,
come to rest where storms are born.
A figure stands alone…
Razored shards
Sharp metal gleam white covered in silvery chrome
hard long mean a razor blade brilliant and keen
Reflexive in thought slashing through fresh
It flashes a brilliant spark,
tracing arcs through the nightmares air
A twist of flash, digging of marrow
blade slides home
divides the meat from the bone
bring the crimson to heat
A razor reflects in seconds of fate an image flash feeling the aftermath
A Great refraction
Recollection is a collection of desolate images
strewn across lost boulevards,
as homes burn
discarded cars churn
the blade is cold hard long razored Keen
Reaction retraction of sight
the nano fire tracks the hard light
glancing off chrome brilliant, a spark
the division of flesh pouring
of crimson heat awash all in red
Razored shards of sharp metal
sliver gleam covered in bright chrome keen
Highways stretch into the aftermath.
Lunar ascends...
Grins sinisterly
A cry rises with the currents
Carried on shadowed wings
into vacant, violent, violet skies.
Night runs from golden rays
Like streaks from shooting stars
Falling. Air raid!
Thermals detonate resonates obliterates
Splash stone, sands, lands crimson,
a thousand years.
Flesh transparent as a specters.
Of ancient rites, incendiary nights
As winds cut like a raven cry. Lock vectors.
Razored spines.
Holocaustic...rights.
Host.
A falcon soars. Blind!
Soars on thermals
Forgotten spirits scatter, shatter
flutter into the icy hurricanes void.
Back into the Blackend Earth
ashen embers, with scarlet hearts
Spin, spiral on windswept promenades...
A Highway stretching into twilight.
And to the future, I dream, damnation!
I pray may never ever come, thoughts cascades…
I dance with the ghost of ancient man.
I dwell in the forgotten, forbidden, forsaken lands
As the tyrannical dawn comes...
I saw the bloody ending
My generation destroyed
My heart wrapped in razor wire
How I mourned their dramatic demise.
Down, down, down into the darkness of this obscure House,
Gently it goes
Sanguineous
Righteous
Whores of my Babylon
In my blinding pale yellow light
I see my soul my razored
I look at the faint glimmering
Down, down, down into the darkness
of an obsolete House
Gently it goes
The vignettes play
The light stays in absence rhythms
A fearful Generation
The neon and cathode rays blinding
Head long into that good night
Nothing in the finding
I saw the bloody ending
Generations from now
Tangled in my razored heart
The sound is hard
Brutal like a knife
Cutting deep
Slicing apart feelings
Emotions
Things that bind
Words razored
Feelings discard
The trappings of tenderness
Lost
a Hurting sound
Made by thoughts
fears and tears
Struggling to persevere
Destroying the fine lines of years
Tracing a wounded heart
Sacrificing all to
The ones we love
Just to be burned away
A sound hard
Like breaking ice
Hurting a delicate sound
Cold steel in tempest.
Turn of the screw.
Long night desires;
Your eyes are afire.
Blades sharp…
Time conspirers
Ill will of heart
Eyes burn at imagery.
Winds cool the soul.
Eons turn and stop…
A Tempest in a steel teapot.
Scream the razored heart
Full of blackened
Mechanical parts…
Hair is beauty
We get it fluffed, curled, died, fixed
We get it highlighted, lowlighted, razored,
But what if we lose it?
Let’s say our hair is gone
It has all fallen out
Are we still beautiful?
Are babies not beautiful?
Are seven-year-olds who have cancer not beautiful?
Are gorgeous women who are taking radiation not beautiful?
Hair is beauty
But should it be?
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