Saturday 15 December 2012

Cold Mornings Are Better Than No Mornings At All


Cold mornings are better than no mornings at all,
So further in from any dawn of the soul,
Have you ever tried to live in black orbs?
Entrapped in the vast land of your empty corpse
There, reality becomes a set of arbitrary rules,
With your jobs, hospitals, stores and schools,
Enforced to keep an illusion of being alive,
Designed especially for you to survive,
But survival is an instinct you buried deep
When you first felt the darkness creep
And the universe revealed its angry face
Inside you and it settled in its place,
Then it started mutating and multiplying
And you found no alternative to bluntly lying
To convince the mornings to come anew
Tell them they haven't completely lost you,
But nights aren't dead, they're more like dying,
Heart quickly sinking and soul slowly flying,
All the crying and the laughter of your loved ones,
Does nothing for you to pull up the deceased suns
The cradle is empty, the grave is empty as well,
And you have an entire life that you need to sell,
Its your purpose that justifies all your sins,
So you plea to god for just one last win,
Sell your life, sell your soul, sell it for odes,
The night has already fallen on all the roads,
So walk all you want, the night is the night,
And kick all you want, and fight the good fight
Fight with your honor and lose it in a toss,
Dream frantically of your next great loss,
And water your chains, bring forth the rust,
I'll get stabbed in the front if its all about trust,
I'll lay my neck down for you if you promise,
That your blade will follow through and never miss,
You see, my poetry is broken and it's all the same,
Say the night, obsession, death and your name,
Say the pain and the chain and a kiss goodnight
The storms of cold and lava streaming bright,
And I still live in a black orb that I built,
While the sun is tired of living in guilt
That it cant warm me anymore, so it left,
And my heart has carried a lute bereft,
And played dirges down every street,
A Pied Piper with quick jolly feet,
Leading all my ghosts around my town,
Taking them to the bloody river to drown,
Taking all the time he needs with me,
Do whatever you want but don't set me free,
I can still make more ghosts to love here,
And if my guilt dries up there's always fear,
So don't you worry about me going sane,
There's no salvation for those who love pain,
As long as the chains dangle from the trees,
And my heart quickens and I fall to my knees,
My will flees and takes with it the light,
And I can't sleep without my ghosts overnight,
And lustrous moons become where I rise to fall,
So cold mornings are better than no mornings at all.

Monday 3 December 2012

50's housewife


Is your poison alright, honey?
I made it specially for you,
I sure it'll worth all your money,
But i'll give it to you for free so

I guarantee there's no stopping
After you take your first mouthful,
So do you want more poison topping?
No worries love you'll never run full.

Can you taste the sweet flavor of pain,
With a hint of fear on the side?
I know the rasp regret doesn't wane,
And goes nicely with the torture inside.

I poured love into it, sealed it with kisses,
To infect your heart with my heated breath
Break your ribs too as it never misses,
Don't you always just love to feel my death,

Don't you enjoy delicious painful twists,
Of your own most favorite medicine,
Your limbs will tense and your head rests,
Your heart will submit to my every sin.

My every whim, your holding string,
Drink more love for there's plenty to go,
Ghosts in your eyes will dance and sing,
But you'll bow at the end of the show

For me, this is finger licking good,
And you'll enjoy every bit of that taste,
Bitter on your lips and throat where it should
Linger forever and never go to waste.

My poison is passionate and new,
And has a hypnotizing effect,
Strong on the will and endured by few,
Masterfully concocted to be perfect.