Temptation is my name

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Lead me to the edge of the cliff

and let me fall into the silent darkness

that is your soul,

then let the water touch my skin

‘til all my senses surrender to you

and temptation is my name.

Walk the streets at 2am...

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When you walk through the streets at 2am

streetlights cast subdued pools of light

at unsettlingly regular intervals,

while the bare branches of the roadside trees

evoke shadow creatures that exist only in your mind.

The silence is so heavy that the distant cry of a cat

sounds more like the final scream of a dying soul,

and the rustling in the leaves becomes a murderous stalker,

who’s trailed your every step, just waiting for the perfect moment

to plunge a dagger into your back.

And quite without thought your pace speeds up,

your strides become longer, you start to run,

but no matter how many miles you cover in your blind escape,

you cannot outrun the emptiness and isolation that surrounds you

like a darkness that harbours all your sins without a chance for absolution,

in a shadow world that enfolds you in an inescapable embrace.

A walk in the Shadow World

 

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The day the mist fell like a shimmering veil on the unsuspecting world

was the day when a long forgotten darkness raised its head, yawned and uncurled,

and his thoughts were rearranged as it stretched to flip a switch,

of his mind he lost control, focussed redirection ditched,

and when Roger Waters asked “Is there anybody out there”

every sense in him agreed, ‘twas the devil who doesn’t care,

who induced in him a longing for a silence that is deep,

for a numbing by the poison in his veins to through him seep,

and no play the world now offered would detract him from this end,

for tonight he walks the shadow world that to the grave descends.

The End

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It’s the pressure in the air as a thousand black-winged angels descend upon the earth,

the ground underfoot that moves as if walking over a mass of slithering serpents,

it’s the thunder booming ever louder in your heart that leaves you trembling,

as the fierceness of the wind howling in your ears swallows all your words.

And you fear innate reactions as you fear to stay inert

yet the tingling in your skin forces moves abrupt and curt,

as your thoughts keep rolling over as a tumbleweed in flight

there is no way you can flee from the end that is in sight.

Disillusioned

 

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I feel a little hurt by life that’s let me down,

the rhymes so well rehearsed, have left a perfect frown,

as what long told should be, in life is never timed,

a dream of fantasy that falters ere it dies.

I once believed in love, in happy families,

a life to be proud of, a seamless unity,

yet that which I have chased is not quite as it seems,

a glittering showcase, that’s captured, not set free.

A heart that’s dipped in stone, a smile that’s mostly fake,

a random off-beat note that sings my life’s mistakes, 

now want me to let go this man into the world,

where truth is but a show and trust a long-dead slur.

The Voices in my Head

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They’re in my head, they won’t get out,

circling and churning my hist’ry they shout,

there is no silence, there is no reprieve,

the truth is splintered, my today deceived.

I cannot escape their angry torment,

there is no defense to their bitter dissent,

driving each thought with the crap of a whip,

on sanity’s grasp I’m losing my grip.

I pray for the darkness to take me alive,

the little that’s good I now shun and revile,

for silence eternal my voice has stole,

gone all the hope that is left in my soul.

Broken

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I cry for the little girl standing at the gate, tears streaming down her cheeks because she didn’t know why she was left at home alone with her brother.  And I cry for the 10-year with the mussed up ponytail, who sat with her father on the backstairs of the garage, begging him to stay, to not leave her, while looking into his bleary eyes.

...my heart aches for the solitary teen, who wandered alone through the busy school halls with a scowl of indifference to keep people away, all the while building an insurmountable wall under the guise of disregard and rebellion...

I cry for the young woman who mistook attention for caring, placed acknowledgement before intent, was so desperate for love that she willingly consented to harmful things, ‘til the need to lose her feelings led to chosen medications just to numb the screaming voices of her sadness and her pain.

...and my heart bleeds for the woman whose tears greet her every morning, as the thought of another day plunges her into deep despair...

Forever Lost

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We’re on the 2^nd floor in a house of unknown ownership, lounging on pillows laying on the floor against a long, bare white wall; a wall that is chipped and marked, a carpet of indeterminate shades.  On either side of this open space, moody grey skies slowly succumb to the darkness of the night through big steel-framed windows.  Streaky white curtains billow listlessly in the breeze, blowing the passing minutes into a lost and far-away land.  Every now and again strangers drift up the staircase, lean against the banister, maybe a quick nod in our direction, more often than not, eyes downcast and intent on their pursuit.  Here we spend endless hours in the numbing haze of fragrant smoke, seekers of a common distraction, a wordless companionship of inane conversations and missing moments.

An hour passed, or it could have been a day, for time doesn’t live in this house.  Stay forever we could not, and soon we found ourselves walking deserted, nameless streets in a comfortable stillness as the first rays of sunlight played warmly on our backs.  The take-away coffee and toasted sandwich could have been a lavish meal from a royal banquet in this fresh and silent dawn.  And still we kept on walking.  ‘Till the twittering birds were pushed into the distance by the sound of rushing water from somewhere to the north. 

It seemed like a good idea to head that way, maybe find a way closer to the river bank and just sit and watch for a while…  We found the disused road that led us to an old arch bridge where grass and weeds have broken through the old cement surface.  But it was solid, and it had a stone railing alongside the pedestrian walkway, aged and weathered and covered in moss in places.  Surefooted and with lightness of step you playfully leapt on this low railing, turned and grinned at me, while you took in the elevated view.  With an exaggerated bow and extended hand you turned my way again, but your foot found the moss, and your footing was lost, and you disappeared towards a foreign below.  Time flashed by as I raced to the spot where your ghost still stood, confusion on your face, staring down at the cement slabs of the riverbed below, where your body lay inert and lifeless.

It was over before it began, before help arrived, and chaos replaced the peaceful kiss of dawn.  I stood there long after a stunned silence returned to this abandoned bridge.  Your ghost and I.  Unable to comprehend, unwilling to accept, incapable of letting go.  And we left hand in hand, a wordless companionship in the reluctant silence, away from this place of dismay.