Symphony

The music starts slow and heavy as he walks down the darkened hallway. What is left, he asks himself over and over, the blood dripping to the floor in time with the lowest note of the pianos keys. His scattered thoughts orchestrating a cacophony of sound easing momentarily as he thinks back to that moment. The warmth splashing against his bare chest with the rhythm of a metronome. Finding supreme, enthralling joy in the music death creates. His pain slows but the hole never fills, thus he will revel in another musical moment of his making tomorrow night. Perhaps. Gasps, grunts, slices, the wind, car horns outside…all successfully adding to his symphony. Such wondrous beauty of life that can only be seen by death. Gruesome, graphic, horrific death that shows people what they have to live for. Finding their loved ones cold and stiff to the touch, pooled blood solidifying under their feet as they stand over the bodies. But being the bringer of death only means he has already died himself. For spending that much time making music can only drain ones life force of all it was. The strings play a sorrowful wail over the blaring, victorious brass. Balance, there will always be balance. And when one source of death has been depleted it can leave the world knowing many, many more will follow in his footsteps allowing life to be appreciated.

And death dies in a crash of symbols and a whisper of flutes. Off the ledge and on to the rocks to sink where he is forgotten. But his actions will be forever felt, thriving within the paranoia and awareness of life that consumes those left behind.

Tomorrow was not meant to come but by living vicariously through the next musician.

The Bird and the Owl

There was once a little bird who live in a small glen on the edge of a mountain.
Every morning he wish desperately to have the strength to fly over and see the other side.
You see, when he was just a fledgling he'd been blown away from he's family in a horrible storm, over the mountain. He hadn't seen them in many, many moons.
One day, he said "blast it all, I've got to do it." He could wait no longer to see those he loved.
So, he packed a couple seeds under his breast feathers and took off. No regard for his own safety.
He flew and flew and flew until his little wings could beat no more. Exhausted from his efforts he landed with a struggle in a spruce tree.
In the middle of the night he's awoken by a rustling in the branches beside him. Looking to his side sharply he sees a massive owl. Scared for his life he squawks and tries to hop away fast.
The owl calls out to him, "rest little one, you may share my bough. I'll not harm you."
Eying the great raptor cautiously he pauses and settles down where he is. "Why won't you hurt me?" The little bird asks warily. With a swivel of his head he looks in the small creatures eyes, "what good would it do me? You're going to do it to yourself and leave me a feast."
Indignant the bird replies, "I will not. I am simply flying home to my family."
"These mountains are home to more dangers than I little one," the owl replies. "Why do you search for a home when you can settle where you were and be safe? Surely, you've made it this long alone."
The little bird hops up to the larger of his kind and says "Why would I settle when I can search and learn and grow?"
"Because you would be safe and content. Discontent only arises when knowledge of something greater comes into play," says the wise bird.
Thinking about this the little bird supposes the great owl could be right and without a word more settles down for the night, nestled in the raptors feathers.
Just before dawn the little bird awakes again to a more shocking surprise than the last. The great raptors talons pinning him to the branch. "Why," cries the bird shrilly, "You said you wouldn't hurt me, you gave me words of wisdom and comfort!"
The owl looks at the small thing beneath his foot and says, "One of the greatest lessons in life is to be careful of whose wise words you listen to." And with that the owl gobbled him whole.

Gypsy Man

The dog moon hanging lonely in the sky
The mist spraying at my face
As I stand above the city gazing...
Gazing and longing for that which is unattainable
Woe is the life of the gypsy soul.

Something Else

Around we go,
Up, down, sideways.
Sad misunderstanding leading to beautiful corrections.
Faster and faster my mind races,
Girl, you've got me spinning.
Didn't expect it,
From one encounter.
But it's there and I love it.
So strange to think,
But you've got me crushin'.
Smile for me,
And I'll dance for you.
You pick the beat,
I'll be there.
Write me a song,
So I can sing it off key.
Just to see you laugh.

What to do
Where to go
I don't know how to act
You confuse me so

Smile nice
Be polite
Just nod my way through
Assume my place

All the while
All the time
My heart beats a rhythm
In my ears

Not interested
Don't want to feel
The need to see you smile
Hear your voice

Hm

Trust is a fragile thing.
In people,
In life,
In humanity.
And in yourself.

Knowledge

My mind will always go back to that day
When everything felt alright
The water flowing with you beside me
And the peace I felt
You were good for me
And bad for me
But I will always remember your eyes
And what they taught me the day you walked away

Silence Is Tempting

The whispers like to stalk the day
And scream at the night
Howl through the quiet
And laugh through the noise
The are your hopes
They are your dreams
The companions you keep
Who let the loneliness be known
Do you know
How to chase them away
When you're afraid to get close
To let your flaws flow free
Is it worth it
The rejection you're afraid to feel
Again and again and again

Yeah

You don't know,
Don't know how much,
I hated what's inside.
Inside of me that made me do,
Do all those things,
That hurt you.
Pain reflected in my palms,
Palms so powerless,
In their uselessness.
My mind spoke,
Spoke oh, so loudly,
Screamed and cursed the tears away.
Day after day,
Days turned to weeks turned to months,
And the resounding sting remains.
A scar on who I have become.

Damn

The beauty is in the making.
Not the living,
Not the dying.

The strength is in the weakness.
Not the courage,
Not the pride.

The joy is in the overcoming.
Not the moment,
Not the brightness.

The life is in the you.
Not the them,
Not the it.

Woah

Up and down,
Life throws you around.
Twist and turn,
Your stomach churns.

Constants never constant,
Disappointment around the bend.
Never know what's coming next,
Bang, it's done.

Sometimes

The wind blows swiftly and I dream,
Of a time far away.
I wish it would carry me there,
But my thoughts are too heavy.

A place of comfort and ease,
In it's quiet stability.
The Winters warm and Summers cool,
Always looking forward to waking up tomorrow.

I hear the sirens on the breeze and wonder,
Will that come again before my time.
The sweet escape into life,
where no one but one knows me.

A Brief Moment

Sitting on a rocky riverbank for hours.
Cotton wood seeds floating to the swiftly moving water.
Crisp, fresh, earthy scents.
Reclining against the cool stone in the rising heat.
To the right is you.
Face lifted to the sky with eyes closed in contemplation.
Sunlight filtered through the trees splashing patterns on your face.
And I breathe.

Unknown

So very lost I am in this desolate waste land of uncertainty and desperation.
Like a hungry beast scrambling for decaying scraps.
Starving and thirsty with eyes caked shut with mud and sand.
Multiple mirages of hopes and dreams spinning and spinning in minds eye.
Reaching out with bare instinct unable to respond to threat or salvation.
Senses befuddled with sweet sounding, succulent tasting, heavenly smells of death.
Change. Fear. Caged.
Subservient to a task master universe wishing only to drive it's captive to its knees.
Humiliation resonating from the laughing call of gulls over head.
Even that a glimmer of sick hope.
Open water near but unknown.
And then behind, gone, lost.
Crawling through rocks to shed skin layer after layer.
Feeling the same, looking the same, sounding the same.
No change.
Nothing better underneath.
Rolling in mud, sand, mulch, anything.
To simply change.
To be more is to ask too much.

The Beast

Desolation desolation
spinning starving
hunger hunger
thirsting thirsting
hopeless dreams
dying dying
dead.

There's a shadow creeping
in the deepest parts of mind
rearing its ugly head to light
in the space between wake and slumber

Haunted haunted
heaving hunting
dark dark
twirling twirling
death is change
quickly quickly
gone.

There's a smile in the depth
eyes aglow in lust
laughing softly against sweet skin
consumption is soon coming

Finished finished
ending eating
power power
laughing laughing
satisfied now
sleeping sleeping
grinning.

There's a body to the shadow now
whole and complete
flexing in ecstasy against the dark
it has arrived.

The beast