Posts Tagged ‘good or evil’

I feel off-kilter,
Somehow weighted to one side,
The mind hangs in the balance,
A set of scales nestled in our egos,
Ungodly yet ornate,
Lifes events are as weights on one side or the other,

Life can bring circumstance of both good and bad,
Too much of either can be destructive,
Positive and negative,
Success and heartbreak,
Narcissism and misanthropy,
Use these events as lessons not additions to your id,

Either weight dropping is a fell stroke,
One way leads to decadence,
The other a fall to adversity,
Both are forms of insanity,
Both will destroy your own soul,
Both are evil by different modus operandi,

Do not allow your scales to dip,
One must strive for balance,
Be as a pendulum,
Map a safe travail through lifes hills and valleys,
The ups and downs,
Protect your minds integrity.

Do you hear the chanting?
Esoteric words upon piscine lips,
Hymns out to sea,
A burg willfully forgotten by humanity,
A fishermans haven turned nightmare,
Towers held aloft by stone tentacles,
This decrepit ruin of a town contains a dark secret,
Even the moon looks away in fear,

Prayers made amidst undertow and rock pools,
Bubbles and salty mist rise up in chorus,
A cacophony of groans and briny gargles,
Praise to a god not dead but sleeping,
At once the chanting dies away,
A dire shape appears under the waves,
A hunger unknowable,
An apocalypse summoned,

Dagon.

I could tell you of numberless beasts,
My voice could be a bestiary,
Of sirens and goblins and demons,
Of dragons and gryphons on the wing,
But instead I speak of a creature not of nobility,
But cruelty given wings,
Sadism in the sky,

You’d be forgiven for believing it a vulture,
An unkempt avian with a fair maidens gaze,
Perched atop the expired skeletons of trees,
Indeed it is a glutton for mens hearts,
Both symbolically and physically,
She will gladly carouse with you,
Winning your heart before plucking it clean with talons,

Beware the harpy,
For the nectar she offers is bile,
The words she speaks are barely contained storms,
Her kind have scavenged for eons,
Leaving legions of hoplite bones behind,
Curiously graceful in their barbarity,
Flight wasted on cruelty.

I know of a place,
Supposedly above us all,
A hive of powerful insects,
Within a gothic revival cathedral of the politik,
A nest of invertebrates in fancy suits,
Exoskeletons with party badges,

They titter to each other with slavering mouthparts,
Which service for the poor do they consume next?
Which welfare element to scavenge from?
Arguments made in clicks and buzzing,
Elected and opposition bicker in a childish game,
One that the electorate lose every time,

The hive walls writhe as the swarms debate,
Their original purpose drowned,
Feasted upon by mandibles myriad,
Now the numbers must only rise,
Compound eyes scanning statistic analyses,
Claws rubbing together in hunger,

This infestation is beyond purging,
You voted for this,
This elitist hive of twisted democracy,
Allegiance to the party colony is all to these villains,
The people are simply a source of sustenance,
I fear they too can be the only effective insecticide,

Raise your voices,
Don’t fall prey.

Among the dank forests of mud and blood,
You catch the scent of cauldron glub,
Ingredients combined in a frenzied hubbub,
Magical energies coalesce in a flood,

Sticks and stones,
And forest animal bones,
Among leather-bound tomes,
Not to mention victims groans,

A hag lives here,
Behind mask fashioned from skull of deer,
And ornery robes of woolen shear,
Many centuries alive has this grey seer,

Dare you not irk her,
Lest you lose all your heads fur,
And see frogs pads where your hands were,
Followed of course by a cold grave inter.

Look at me,
Gaze upon my singular face,
Hark to this clown,
For it takes a fool to see the truth of things,
A madman to understand the world,
So I daub each colour upon my jesters aspect,

This face of paints,
It shifts like a tumultuous sea,
Replete with vivid corals of all shades,
Prismatic tsunamis as expressions shift,
Yet this mind is more of a circus,
I’m a deranged showman in truth,

I wield these colours instead of emotions,
Each chroma deciphering an aspect of reality,
To shine light on mans vices,
They are my true face,
For it requires lunacy to be totally free,
And insanity is the only truly sane way to exist,

An arbiter of pure chaos,
True art,
A clown to point the crooked way,
I’m the Oldschool Harlequin.

Hear me friends,
The night of frights is come,
The moon demands a lightshow,
And we must construct our effigies,
Totems of the pumpkin king,
Ghastly in his visage,
And a corpsefire within,
An icon of the night,

So take up your scalpels,
Gather your minions around,
Prepare your orbed squash for its procedure,
Align the sacred blade,
Initiate the incision,
Grin as you grimly create,
A beautiful chelsea smile,
Upon this pumpkin bestow,

Its grin shall greet the creatures of the night,
A will-o-the-wisp to call up the underworld,
The legions of unholy beings,
For this night of ungodly jollity.

Do you ever lay awake at night?
Beyond the turn of midnight,
Wondering why you weren’t enough,
Or how you could have performed differently,
Your mind painting new timelines,
Wishes upon tired stars,

The devils hour is thought sinister,
But bad karma only comes to those deserving,
It has become a stage for the crestfallen,
The night breeze is a fitting backtrack,
A subtle chill to the bone,
Numbing the body,

The demons of the hour recognise heartbreak,
For even they are angels to some,
They shall not bring more torment upon you,
They know your heart is the prime malignant harrier,
They spy the anguish on your cheeks,
The inconsolable tears upon your pillow,

This is no nightmare,
No black magic at work tonight,
No witchcraft or demonology,
This is simply a soul breaking down,
Heartbreak in the twilight,
A melancholy man or woman watched over by the moon,

This is real.

It’s finally supper time,
Our nightly ritual,
The victims are already at the trough,
But I’m missing a vital component,
The broth is incomplete,
This little mandrake,
It’s just the ticket,

This earthy fruit of foulness,
It will sent them careening into fantasy,
A final dream for the little souls,
Hallucinogens to cleanse the pallette,
Before the poison does its deed,
This heathenry,
It shall be akin to sorcery,

Into the soup you go,
Keep it quiet now,
My little botanical homunculus,
Dont reveal yourself to them,
You may appear infantile,
A parody of a child,
But you’re a monster tonight.

Do you crave horror?
Does your heart desire a quickened pace?
To bring the otherworldly to your world?
Then turn the lights down low,
And let me tell you a virtual story my friend,

Did you hear that?

Out there in the cold of the web,
There are urban legends copied and shared ad infinitum,
Tales of woe and suicide and hellish monsters,
Things that should not exist,
Maybe they do and maybe the don’t,

Is that a bit of a chill?

Haunted websites and schools of dead souls,
Freaks with grins just that bit too wide,
Men in masks travelling in tinted window vans,
Forms of spindly limbs stalking you in the woods,
Things that climb in your window and caress your sleeping cheek,

Was that something taking a peek?

These may seem too real for some dispositions,
But don’t fear my dear friend,
These are simply fictions,
They aren’t real,
Right?

There is nothing behind you.