Pleasant secrets the wind does whisper
But I cannot hear them.
They are too far away
For my eager ears to catch.
And they aid me not.
Listlessly I drift
Upon the vast and empty sea
The seabirds croak above
As they wait for the end.
The sun falls upon my naked body
A thousand golden spears
Searing my soul
With the truths of the world.
Alone, I can no longer
Feel, love, nor see.
But not quite alone
Pain is my companion.
Upon the fields of France we meet,
Two knights in armour shining bright.
'Twas just beyond the town of Crecy
Before that immortal, bloody fight.
"Hail, my friend. We meet at last.
And what brings us here?” I say.
"We’ve come to take back Normandy
And all of France, we may.”
Together we rode forth
To the sound of troops amassing.
Whispering filled the morning air.
A fatal rain was passing.
Finally, the hour had come
For a red dawn and glory eternal.
"Let us go forth, comrade," he said,
"Quell any fears internal."
Furiously, we raised our swords on high
And fought with fury seen never since,
As I rode among knights of honour
With Edward, the Black Prince.
Sitting upon a mountain’s crest,
Golden in twilight’s dying light,
A smile plays about her lips,
Her eyes burning like crystals white.
Her smile, an angel’s smile,
Healing balm to an aching heart,
Comforting a longing soul,
Finally making my life to start.
Her laugh a heavenly laugh,
Mixing with the music of birds and rain
And the soulful sighs of the night-phantoms,
Piercing my heart with its sweet refrain.
The pale white face of the night
Rises to embrace the darkened sky,
Lighting the path by which we dance;
In each other’s warm embrace we fly.
And finally, when we sleep„
Jealous elves upon us fall,
Envious of a lover’s love,
For their hearts are stone-cold walls.
So this is how it comes about
That I sit upon this lonely hill
In twilight’s dying light;
Dead as the boulders is my will.
Upon my windblown cheeks
Tears like crystal rain now flow.
I sit alone as I weep,
Alone but with many foes.
Tears of a lesser god.
A body drops.
A deathly thud.
A hero in another life.
But not quite dead,
The hero shivers, shakes,
Lines are drawn on rock,
In the trees.
Hands carve the very sky.
Drawing lines just for me.
Lines to see, to follow.
Lines to break and form again.
Lips part, in a smile perhaps.
But the birds are silent still.
He has beautiful brown eyes,
But a leprous heart.
Big kind hands
That will tear you apart,
And all the while he’ll whisper in your ear,
“I love you.”
Your heart will pound and forget itself,
But what’s the tune of its drumming beat?
Is it fear it tastes,
Or is it something sweet?
If you leave, he’ll cry,
“I need you.”
And in the dark, he’ll hold you tight,
Let you know he’s always there.
But don’t you run. Don’t pack your things.
He’ll find you, and, oh, he will care.
When he catches you, he’ll scream,
“Who are you?”
He’ll make you cry; he’ll make you bleed,
And afterwards say it wasn’t him.
He’ll hold your hand and say he’ll never hurt you,
And you’ll believe it once again,
As he looks you in the eye and says,
“I’m with you.”
Finally he’s had one too many bad days,
And now you’re no longer around.
He misses you; he curses you; he knows he loved you,
(But still he put you in the ground)
As he looks at things that once were you and whispers,
“I killed you.”
The last time I saw you
You spared my life.
A joke, you see,
Betrayed by the subtle twist
Of loveless, pale lips
And the gleam of Death’s eyes.
As I ran from you,
I wouldn’t go far,
That you’d come again,
And next time I’d be less lucky.
So much told by a shift of the eyes,
A restless finger’s twitch.
You know I’ll come back again,
And you’re just waiting
For the game to resume.
Eyes no longer see.
Ears no longer hear.
Screams of pain
And tears of sorrow
Are a distant dream of thunder
In a land I’ll never know,
But in the darkness
Awaits a long, lost friend.
I walk and walk
Hands held forth before me.
My throat is parched;
My clothes are worn,
My muscles sore,
And my limbs drunk.
I reach out
With emptied hands,
Aching to clasp you,
But claws reach out to meet me,
Hooked, cold, and wicked.
Demons dance about me,
As I stand alone,
Wings beat me,
Claws rip and shred,
And hellish laughter
Ravages my mind.
Acrid sulphur burns my lungs,
And the taste of ash
Scours my tongue.
I cry out.
I speak to an empty room.
My landlady came by my door.
The rent’s past due, once again.
I looked her in the eyes.
It’s not coming, ‘cause I’ve been dead.
I’ve been living a fool’s life,
And haven’t woken up in fifteen days.
I lay there, in a world not mine,
Staring high up into the heavens,
Wondering what the world looks like
To a bird.
I’ve left this place,
This brazen, earthbound hole,
A long long time ago.
I turn around
And close the door
In the landlady’s face.
Running through a dying wood,
Hands full of stolen lives
And stolen moments.
And weeds slap,
Sinking burrs into shattered flesh.
Even weeds deserve to live,
And what better way to make some life
But through a passing dead man?
For three days,
But on the third day,
There’s no rising again.
At least I won’t fall anymore.
Cool mud hugs me fine,
Icy water cleans my wounds,
Quiets my head,
And kills my fire.
I won’t be getting up again,
But here they’ll never find me.
You wrote the words to our swan song,
But together we sang the melody.
The bells rang out with the clamor of hell,
Confused between mourning and glee.
Now you’ll sing me to my sleep,
And as I close my eyes and turn to rest
I’ll kiss your teary face one last time,
And wish you, lady, wish you my best.
When you leave and all is quiet,
I’ll float away in nightmare seas,
And fiery worms will cut through my lungs.
I’ll try to scream, but only wheeze.
The waters can’t drown me,
I’ve just started my dying,
And the fires won’t go out,
Because it’s too cold for crying.
It’s the end of days, the beginning of night,
But my stubborn mind refuses to die.
Rotting and burning until the break of dawn,
As the waves rush in again but with tired sighs.