Thirst for Chaos

This rubble here, used to be a home,
Whispers of what once was, lingers in the ears
Of darkness, where these remains rot,
Memories and dreams, charred beyond thought
And recognition, in a still sleep, smoking
Amidst the forever residents, blended
Into the debris, left in the forgotten,
A sunken ship atop the exploded volcano,
No more life, no more cool breeze
Waking up the house where a family vanished,
Into fragile ash, crushed in the fine breath
Exhaled from their enemy, roosted upon demise
Of what he couldn’t bare to see, the good
Without any overcast, there needed to be chaos,
And in the calming of the after, he struck a match
To the gullet of this well made home
Just to watch it burn and swallow happiness,
All so he could smile watching from Olympus.


Songs of a Trickster


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.