Crosses

We are born,

we take on our path,

each and every one with a cross on their back.

Some heavier,

some easier to bear,

some wooden, some gold plated,

the latter being very rare.

We carry them to work, to home and back again,

while we laugh or cry,

it’s always there.

We go to sleep, lay it aside,

wake up again, wear it with pride.

 

 

 

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Satan’s Cellar Dweller

Every day scrambling for something good in me,

But there’s evil in every cell,

It gets the best of me.

And every night I go to sleep,

I pray to Jesus on the crucifix,

Fall asleep with good intentions,

wake up as the best friend of Lucifer.

Dwelling in my cellar,

angels try to break through,

I know evil is the strongest force,

but maybe there’s something good, too.

Here he is, the fallen angel, knocking at my door again,

I try to fight but once more I let him win.

It’s ten minutes to three, I’m sharpening my knives,

Homicidal ideation, I might be taking lives tonight.

I walk these empty streets alone,

Looking for an easy prey,

Someone is about meet their death…

on Lord’s day.

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Bored

So bored and out of it,
Staring at the stale, dry cracks in the wall,
A cockroach leans in for a kiss with the dirty dish.
It’s been a while…
Look at the nightfall,
I’ve been waiting to put this cigarette to my lips,
Inhale…
Make a wish.
Smoke caressing the lungs like a gun gently brushing against the temple,
It smells like death, if the smokes are going to kill me, let them.
It’s been too long,
Already twenty-five out of seventy,
and the thought of leaving this hell seems heavenly.
I have nothing to offer,
just my worn out shell.
Like a bride rejected and left at the altar.
If I go unnoticed, I won’t have to tell.
But for now, let the bones decay,
I’ll be here in the clouds of smoke,
Waiting so patiently,
when twenty-five becomes seventy,
and my life is erased from the first, to the last day.

Camatose

Yet again,
these pits of hell,
grip me tightly ’round my neck,
it’s a love song, it’s a spell,
feel this pain spread in my chest.
I slip into my comatose,
heavy, medicated sleep,
a thousand needles, head to toe,
as the night grows dark and deep.
There’s no escape and no salvation
from this illness I possess,
It’s a cage and I’m a beast,
held in captive and possessed.

Strawberry Mark

My scars light up on fire,

every time I reminiscence,

of the abyss, I was held captive in.

the mirrors are my liars,

they told me I would never come to win.

The walls are my only,

the listeners in the dark,

of my sighs and my prayers ā€“ holy,

as I begin to remember your strawberry marks.

Iā€™m a prisoner of my universe,

of this glass wall, I have made,

of my soul that is wounded,

of my body ā€“ decayed.

Deaths sweet, soothing lullaby

While it’s quiet,
and spirits dance around me while I cry,
I hear so often in the night,
Death’s sweet, soothing lullaby.

It sings about the knot,
and the rope you use to tie it,
it sings about the freedom,
it knows that you are tired.

It sings about the buildings,
ones that stand up tall,
about the flight that comes with them,
about the moment when it ends it all.

I hear it’s silky undertone,
It’s begging me to try,
I’m in no two minds,
this was the last time I heard,
death’s sweet, soothing lullaby.

The devil is a lovely fellow

The devil is a lovely fellow,
He asked me for a dance,
I smiled and took his hand,
I knew this dance would be my last.

We danced our way through the old town,
through narrow streets and passersby,
through old building run down,
he spoke to me – his voice a silky lullaby.

He took me back to where we met,
He looked at me with glee,
He knew I felt no dread,
because he knew he’s taking me.

Lonely Trip

A clutch, a clench, a grip,
to a zip.
A scarce apprehension of what it was made of,
I knew it was about to be a lonely trip.

A train ride full of frowns of other guests,
they are on it for the same trip,
they clutch, they clench, they grip,
to a zip.

Eyes empty and a stiff upper lip,
keep all to yourself, don’t let a sound slip,
soon we will all be there, all going the same way,
see the children and the others look down as they pray.

It’s only getting faster, it’s picking up speed,
The murmurs getting louder as they look up to God,
We’re all in it too deep.
A crash and it’s over, no one made it alive,
Indeed,
we were all in it, but it was a short, lonely ride.

You and I

You and I,

Can we go back to July

and rewrite the stories of our lives?

Burn all the chapters,

because there’s no more meaning in those lies.

All the way from chapter one,

Watching all the ashes as they dry,

Dance around the bonfire while it’s done.

There’s no more past,

Just a wicked thought,

Laid long ago to rest.

This new book will last a century,

and a lifetime at its’ best.