Figments

Away from sanctions of time and space
A tiny sprout of freedom fills the void
Blazing anger sweeps through the heavens
Pouring down in whispers of demise

Scattered bodies like pebbles on a seashore
Creeping in the darkness that remains
Grunts of past enslave minds of tomorrow
Whilst the conspirators throw the blame

Provoking justice, inflict more treachery
Consuming all those who believe
Judge and the jury, with a new verdict everyday
As the raging infidels serve the creed

Digging ditches for the ages to come
Dungeons prey on you forever more
The heathen raise their flags for the battle
The war drums boom of skin and bones

As time stopped at the doorstep of dawn
We looked at the stars and saw the past…
When the wise were knowing
Our tribe was growing
The pyre was burning
The tides were turning…

Flying over the ruins of a being
Charred sentiments come to view
Wrecked around the bridges of long-ago
Hear what the silence says to you…

When a life was taken
A promise broken
A name was chosen
A dream was stolen

Of the joy of giving
The heart of loving
The sense of seeing
The pride of showing

A newer ending…

Mighty Red Lazers Scratching Against The Walls

Look Look!
I see red...
bloody well red!

marching towards you
luring you into
dreamy eyes and cheery smiles
fused together in heat beyond hell

Oh Dear, Look!
at the pale warriors of our kind
frail and futile,
bruised and confused.

Murmuring tunes of sex and lies
hunger in their dreamy eyes
they alienate and celebrate
their lust cannot be satisfied!

Chasing heroes and fairy tales
the phantoms of bygone days
Look..!
What a waste...
Fuck the chase!

Yeah, bloody well read.

Zilch

Where to begin?
Where to fall?
Blasted curtain hinder the view,
I once so knew.

Dreams lie
Atop each other
Sweet slumber, sweetest bliss;
And so I slip…

Out and about,
Below and beyond
It's a long way down
Into this quiet town.

Thoughts rise, shadows fall
Shimmering lights say it all…

And so I dance, my dance of deceit
Romancing my words I make you believe…
In nothing!

Bedtime Tale For The Under-loved

Once there lived a mute little boy in the village of souls who painted his dreams.
Untouched by acrimony and free from obsessions. His paintings breathed with love and un-charred imagination. The village-folk admired his art, but didn't understand the power of his dreams; and the boy, devoid of voice, was unable to elucidate his efforts.
He just smiled and nodded with gloomy warm eyes.
And so the days went by…
Until one fine morning a bright little girl with the aura of life came to the village to witness the carnival of hope. Amidst the colors and the crowd, she saw the boy – drenched in his thoughts and lost in the daze. As he entailed his dreams, stroke after stroke onto the canvas.
The girl, intrigued by his solitude approached the boy. She stared and stared at his remarkable treasure of imagination, his art… his soul.
Unaware of her presence, the boy kept painting – scribbling his mind on the board.
The girl kept looking, until the boy finished his work and was amazed to find her gazing at his recent masterpiece with appreciating eyes. For a moment, the world made sense and then faded away. As the girl explained what she saw in the dream he had so beautifully illustrated. She saw his soul through his eyes, she understood the meaning of every color and every stroke weaved into the painting. She knew his pain.
And so the days went by…

The boy had found a voice.
A companion who explained to the world what he thought and dreamt.
They went from places to places, villages to villages, inspiring people of all ages. Happy was the boy, and happy was the soul…

The world of men is a wicked place… where what seems is hardly what happens. The boy could paint a thousand pictures to stir an array of emotions, but the little girl now craved a voice she could talk to. And so one fine morning, she left with the aura of life – disappeared into the carnival of hope, in search of a voice to talk to.

What happened to the boy after that? No one really knows, but it is said that the colors of his canvas engulfed his heart and the power of his pain… paved his path. Unknown to the world and away from the soul… he still lurks between the shadows of reality to seek what he had lost and cherish what he had found.

Obsession claimed the colors.