The Roaring Warden
At times I almost pray
To steal an ear’s worth
For then what I might say
Won’t always mean a sore
I fiddle and I fawn
I share most man’s odd quality
But every hour at dawn
She finds it an atrocity
She’s made it a tradition
Her screams and bitter song
But I’ve made it my mission
To rid her of the wrong
Still I am no victim
Not only at the least
I’ve named myself a critter
So she becomes a beat
Could right of rule be painful
In such a world as mine?
Where pity’s reign is boastful
And banshee divine
My paradise on Earth
Lurks when she sleeps at night
But when it leaves I curse my birth
And, for a moment, turn to crime
I near follow after
Not long before it dies
The lure of love and laughter
In lieu of blood and cries
But if it holds the better
I can never be sure
A slaughtered pain threshold
I’ve longed to endure
At times I need to cringe
How torment cures a heart
I beg to tame my sins
While essence falls uncharred
27th and Crimson Avenue
All is fair in love and war
So I’ve heard many say
Not knowing what would lie in store
That there’s a price they’re meant to pay
The first fist calls
Tails, we begin
The simplest of brawls
A courage to sin
One down, two to go
So the count proceeds
A game of tumbling down a road
An isle of murderous deeds
Commander grins to glory
Cutting through the queues
Then desperate tells a story
Of a little girl he can’t refuse
Some, then lose an interest
So easily slips joy
Perhaps we meet again in winter
Grow cunning and coy
Others, erupt on instinct
The first shot fired bubbles tears
Stow away to find content
“Let’s hope they don’t find us here.”
So strange, they must have missed a note
Along a dreary melody
Give discipline to those who quote
“Won’t mother find me in history?”
But don’t you worry, just you wait
This won’t become a sore
These mile morgues will never sate
Yet all is fair in love and war
Me and Paulie Dine
Here is the steeple
No, here lies my shrine
When I was little
That was the time
Sense was so futile
The universe, mine
Though I’d retire
To rise while I die
Reared upon beauty
Thought fenland fine
Made up a routine
To dream of Paulie Dine
Battles and castles
Marches in lines
Adventure, my hassle
Hunting for rhines
At least, I’ll be sure now
It lives only that age
Take a breath, take a bow
No longer a mindless mage
Forgive me, dear Paulie
How I wish you’d stayed mine
At the Arch of Perdition
Unkempt services, a horror itself
The memories take refuge upon a dusty shelf
Two appointed love birds trying to sell
A modest tale of romance at the gates of hell
The ball, what a grand gesture!
Kept on easy rails at a toppling measure
They say it’s not to be forgotten
And in the evening trails a swamp house sodden
Though often tread and trimmed for lure
Barely hoping to condemn a loss meant to mourn
Surely this greatly-tied knot only leads to good
Then find a new ghost to blame for leaving as it should
So tender, so soft
Dies an ancient cot
And the lives it sought
Lay crooning draught
Their marks forever wrought
“And here you will rot.”
The Peal of Joy-Skinned Lullaby
My love is lathered in blood and filth
Her blotchy cheeks christened
A carcass clad in counterfeit silk
And yet she hauls her weight to rinse
“Might I give a hand” to my dismay
Then designated tiny tot
A meager snort and she is rage
Through nurse and nurture later taught
Decreed strong and rigid
I claim her to be mine
Then shrieks young and timid
To mutiny arise
Why then, does love need be?
I crown myself the sinner of saints
Betrothed to misery
And grit my teeth then swallow complaint
Yet once when I was stallion
Tongue loose of mouthpiece and leash
I stalked close by battalions
My days a game of ‘flee the siege!’
The will that swayed our house that age
I scorned and cooed to pity
And crossed the guards with admirable grace
And hoped for title in glory’s committee
Not late enough did I discover
My pristine tales were meant as tales
And all the points I scored were smothered
By tombs of gunpowder drenched in ale
It was then that I reached for my dog-eared passage
And listed my sins in pants of sorrow
My heart down beaten by cross-print lashes
And eyes quavered to rouse tomorrow
I sought the persecutor’s return
In what came next the light of day
And bowls soaked tears of mud and burn
My eyes light bright by angel’s ray
I pledged to thank my rescuer
Offered my years if they’d suffice
I knew so little, then, and hadn’t heard
Saved from the fire, doomed to ice
You Shall Be Attended to in an Eternity
I take my place among the many
Some simple ruler to follow
Adopted by the frequent renegade
A break of lead to sorrow
So goes the hours, so runs the days
Sleepless and loud, drives on the craze
A dab of color claims dry and messy
Enough to coat a membered frenzy
Does the good doctor not realize we’ve waited too long?
Silent and still our lives drag upon
An unworthy tale of an infamous tune
Trapped in a deluge of welcoming drones
In go the life tools, out comes the nurse
Some call out wolf whistles, others converse
Never the matter, all got the same
No mention of how much longer, nor any type of treatment, not even a name!
Waiting, still waiting for that special day
Here we make, we do and work for pay
Little did we know, yet little did we pray
That all we were waiting for was another wait
Impressum
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.10.2014
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