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Hand in Hand

When slits from life
Cut too deep
We’re found thrusting up defenses
Warriors against the sinking,
How do you crawl out
From a grave excavating?

Her and I stand ready
To take down the beast
Flying toward the castle,
Blade in hand,
Guarding the tower
That leads to our heart,
Crusade against the filth
Of the world that blends into darkness,
Spilling onto the canvas
Collapsing it,
Weakening it’s view,
But her and I press on
With our armor forged in our union
Rising against the oppressive stalk,
Without her, this fight alone
Would prove futile,
Together though, we tread
Above the devour
Of the endless black sea,
Dauntless amongst
The ever present Raven.

Book Collector

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I am a lover of books,
Hearing the wrestle of the page
As I race to catch up,
Lost in the world of it’s characters
I can not be disturbed,
Suspended above
Waters of a tale so elaborate,
You lose yourself a bit more,
Swimming deeper into its syntax
Finding secret passages
Of a mind on the brink of madness,
The lull of it’s final address
To you, the reader
I’m fact enrages you!
Shoots your heart
Spins your mind in disbelief,
Arguing with it’s final words
But inside,
Knowing you were wrong,
A bad breakup
An easy way to fight your tears,
But you move on to the next
Engulfing tragedy,
One, not so reminiscent of Greek
Or Shakespearean,
It honestly, wouldn’t matter at all,
I am a lover of books,
Collecting on my shelves
Richer from the company
Of so many great conversations.

The Growing

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Deep, in the forgotten,
Stems years of drugging,
Bringing to surface the beaten
That stands on its stiffened tears,
Lost in the collection
And it’s echo,
The growing
Stumps
And bows,
The ashes fall around
Blanketing those underneath
And evading those outside,
Keeping warm the terrors
That keep the watchful one
Perched on bust,
The growing never rests
Suspicious of it’s friends
As he buried himself
Deep within hollow roots,
Its a lucid plane
Beyond it’s stance,
But the cloud’s brew
Thickens the gray,
As it shivers the dry growth,
For the growing
Sees further into the dirt.

She Smiles

She melts the shackles around my heart,
Rips through years of webbing, spun
By the evil doings of Sirens,
She cures the throbbing hurt that blinds a soul,
Illuminates upon the hidden crack
Terrifies away the stalking vultures,
She lulls and races the beats of my emotions,
Setting fire when I need it
And extinguishes too,
She loves me to no end
And I can see that all in her smile,
I’m better when I see it,
I’m home when she exhibits,
I look for it’s shine, in the crowded of moments,
Guides me to the place where I belong.

~Thank you to my love for the inspiration you give me everyday.

Awoken by Fear

He whispers out to her, from nowhere,
Terrified of the shadow
Cast by a stalking reach,
The glow emanating from beyond
It’s stance,
Entrancing her closer,
Trembling, in the warmth of it’s breath
She looks down
Watching, her feet move
Against her own resistance,
She knows she’s at the door
Of it’s stolen domain,
She feels it’s presence crushing her
So much, no sound echoes
When she opens her mouth,
The sleek brush upon her arm
Makes every hair stand at full attention,
She shoves, whips the door closed,
Runs to her bed and finally shrieks!

Her mother sloshes into the room
Sits beside her little girl,
Assures her that there are no monsters, Kisses her on the forehead
And tucks her in.

The closet door creeks open,
As a hand slithers down it’s side,
Stirring the fragile silence
While keeping her, in the gates
Of the monster’s eye.

Let it be

Let our hearts plunge to the depths
Of the unforeseen corner,
Do not place that harness net
Above the whaling waters
With waves swallowing and crashing
Upon the sharp stones,
Let our hearts free fall asleep
Until the never ending,
Encapsulated in stone now
Until warmth of the sun
Can pierce the black of the ocean,
Let it lay at the belly of the best
Listening to the entrancing sound
Of crushing wings, as we fall,
Let it be, let it be,
I hear no words of wisdom,
I shall fight.

Songs of a Trickster

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A little boy crouched in a chair
In a shadow of a corner,
Sneering at his toy resting on the bed,
The toy is a doll wearing a mischievous smile,
Said to be the spawn of Loki
The doll, named Rufus found it’s home
With a boy, who had no malice
That is, until Rufus sang songs of a spell
Bringing tornadoes of a boy and his doll
Into the kitchen, where fruit splatted
And juice splashed onto cleanliness,
Into the dining room, where fine dishes
Whistled louder than when they were whole,
Every part of the house was under attack,
But while the boy sat punished
For their dirty deeds,
Rufus smiled wider, thinking
Of more devilish acts they should do,
The wicked mind of Rufus spun,
Feeding ideas to the boy
Who was getting so rebellious
That his parents, fell ill,
But the boy swore that it wasn’t him,
Threw blame upon Rufus,
Who laid there, quietly
Laughing to himself, but showing grin,
The boy was to be sent away
As his parents got weaker,
To a home of lost, far from warmth,
The boy peeked around, scared to find
Rufus, coming to sing more spells.

Stain

He slowly presses open the heavy lids
Secreting the early day,
Bringing a stain
Into a hazy focus,
Filtering through the drenching fog,
He reaches out,
Brushes the brittle intruder
And finds it’s sharp stinking image,
The blur of its origin
Slowly pours into his memory
Calling him back,
To the sin of the apple,
The foul crimson grin
Upon his soul
Screams louder than the squawk
Of the perpetual mock,
Coming out from under the floorboards.

To the Dark

Why are we drawn to darkness,
Hypnotized by the nested eyes
Spinning its desire in the sharp web,
Cold spells upon the dreaming mind,
How do we tear away from the collapse
That chases after the trembling glass,
Crushed, under the heavy foot
Of the gasping giant, born
And living in the wintered night,
Strapped to endless wondering, blind
In the hollow candle, feeling the way
Within fires that hush the light
Charring the skin, avoiding escape,
You can’t see the end while drowning
In the swallows of the inferno,
Dread, is the world we bleed for
Now, and at the hour of our demise.