November 11, 2011

To Sleep, To Dream

To sleep perchance to dream,
Oh what lovely sentiment.
But what is one to do,
When dreams turn into horrors?

When visions of love and beauty,
Transform to hate and filth.
And friends turn into monsters,
Should one simply run away?

When one can not escape,
Even within ones own mind.
And safe harbour cannot be found,
Is there any hope for peace?

Perhaps one must face the horror,
That waits behind closed eyes.
And if one's demons are confronted
Will they live to tell the tale?

The Emptiness of Silence

As I stare at the blank sheet of paper
I find myself unable to think of ways to fill it
What well become of me when I have nothing left?
No words to speak, no stories left to tell

What shall I do when my imagination fails me?
When my thoughts no longer sing sweet melodies
Is there anything left when all the words are gone?
Perhaps I am doomed to fall into the emptiness of silence

How many have fallen into the pit before me?
Fallen into the endless black of obscurity
Never to be seen again, never to be heard
Surely their numbers are too great to count

And here I find myself lost among them
Searching for words that have begun to allude me
The pen may very well be mightier than the sword
But I am afraid mine has begun to grow weak

So I sit here and lament on the way things used to be
When words held a passion and power all their own
I remember the days when I had something to say
And the blank sheet of paper was a doorway to my mind

The Never Was

The destiny of the Never Was
Makes little difference to the waking world
The voices of the Never Were
Cannot be heard to echo

The Never Was and Never Were
Cannot be seen by waking eyes
For they live amongst the Might Have Been
And are nothing more than shadows

Each and every Never Was
Glimmers bright for but a moment
Each and every Never Were
Speaks only in a whisper

For they are the thoughts that come in sleep
Inhabitants of the land of dreams
Who come to life each and every night
Only to vanish with the rising sun

The Zombie Next Door

There was one single rule down on Sycamore Street
That all the kids followed whenever they’d meet
Whenever they went out to run and to play
At house 666 they would all keep away

Everyone knew that that house was bad
And light never shone, not even a tad
From out of the windows of house 666
That creepy old house made of crumbling bricks

The house wasn’t empty as everyone knew
Because every so often you could see an eyeball or two
Peeking from behind the curtains of yellowing lace
Sometimes you could almost even make out a face

Even the mailman’s knees would quite often shake
Whenever he had some deliveries to make
To house 666 with the zombie inside
Who used to be Mr. Zimmerman before he had died

Now Mr. Zimmerman had died over six years ago
From a terrible heart attack while shoveling snow
How he came back no one ever knew
But he wouldn’t leave so what could they do?

So now there’s a zombie living on Sycamore Street
Who comes out late at night to find something to eat
His favorites include skunks and nice juicy rats
He even sometimes eats the neighborhood cats

So just to be safe please keep Fluffy inside
In fact all your pets should learn how to hide
For when Mr. Zimmerman’s hungry only the best will do
And you don’t want him cooking a nice kitty stew

October 17, 2009

The Tree

There's a tree stands alone in a meadow
Where the down and the downtrodden swing
There's a fairies circle intertwined in it's root knots
Where the creatures of night come to sing

At the base of the tree you can find her
On the nights when the old moon is high
There she waits patiently for her lover
To slowly grow old and to die

Dressed in a gown made of teardrops and heartache
Sorrow etched into her wedding veil
She hopes that some day he may find her
So the two of them can at last set sail

Far away from the land of the living
Along the Styx to the realm of the dead
Away from the mourning of loved ones
Where their corpses can at last rest their heads

It is said that she'll wait there forever
For her lover had long ago died
It's been well over a century
Since her bride groom had stood by her side

So she'll wait by the tree in the meadow
Patiently for the last dying gasp
Of a lover whose heart had moved forward
Long ago leaving her in the past

January 27, 2009

Waiting for The Man

Bury me with coffers
So that I may pay the man
Who waits upon the river
With a sickle in his hand

He stands before me silent
For there are no words to say
We both know the destination
But he’s the only one who knows the way

I know no matter what I do
He shall not change his course
And that this shall be my final journey
Yet I refuse to feel remorse

For anything I may have done
Against country, kith or kin
For I know within my heart
That I would do it all again

Indeed I am a scoundrel
Of this there is no doubt
And perhaps it’s true a conscience
Was something I was born without

But I was slave to no one
I lived as I saw fit
My life was the adventure
That I chose to make of it

Now all too soon the journey’s over
As the ferry reaches the shore
And I know I shall be paying penance

For now and evermore

May 23, 2008


Wracked with guilt full of despair
Though try to act like you don’t care
Guardian angels watch with tears in their eyes
No longer able to see through your disguise

Could it be you’re too far gone?
Has this charade gone on too long?
Has it come down to sink or swim?
Can you escape this mess you’re in?

Push away the helping hand
The one I won’t extend again
The hand that could have saved your life
Now holding the bloody knife

Tossing roses at your feet
Waiting for when next we meet
So that we may start again
Knowing how things could have been

Chalk it up to live and learn
Light a match and watch it burn
Let it slip into the past
Hoping that the pain won’t last

So say goodbye to yesterday
Turn your back and walk away
Steal away into the night
Spread your wings and then take flight