Much madness
is divinest sense –

An eye that hath discerned the severest madness,
according to Emily’s judicious eyes, hath much sense –

The starker lunacy
be equated to divinity –

‘Tis common, unwritten law that we assent common beliefs
And ‘tis uncommon beliefs that common law demurs –

In this, as all overcome,
The stoic few as she will come –

Sanity hath common sanction
Or, you’re forthwith a risk –

Touched by a chain
And bound in shame –

Mirrors within your eyes…
Stare tranquilly in ice.
Those fog risen lids…
stilled moments echoing.

Frozen they are…
seasoning affection
nowhere near
to thaw tearcicles.

Midnight,
An hour for evil to be smite.
The fallen angel said: let there be night!
And God said: let there be light!

Tis’ the hour of His birth,
And the time of our rebirth.
Oh, believers of the heavens,
Tis’ the hour of your redemptions!

To within our souls,
God has sloped his hands over Heaven’s grassy knolls
To cleanse the ink of sin
That too many of our free-wills are stained within.

On the eve of His birth
And the time of our prayer for rebirth,
All the peoples of the Faith dance in spirit,
So, tis’ the night our Lord shall save it!

Oh, sinners of the of the earth themselves
Best pray for their holy escape,
Redeem yourselves! Release yourselves
from Lucifer’s black cape!

The light of our Faith skewers any darkness with a holy sword,
For the newborn babe of this hour of our Lord.
As brilliant, and mighty as he will one day stoutly stand;
Leading us of the true Faith through every land!

Within a humble manger,
Over a now sanctified bed of hay,
Far from sinful danger,
The King of Kings lay.

Our Faith and Pride follow!
For those filled with sorrow.
Open your arms for the redeemer!
For a true child of God finds this not as a dreamer!

Breaking every bind between Faith and sin,
The Lord has freed the believers in the world they abode in.
We now on this night see a sinner; a slave,
But by the grace of holy-love, we now see a brother that unto us fate gave.

And for this, we are forever grateful to Him
And we shall on Christmas Eve sing his hymn.
From His birth, to His suffering, to His rebirth.
So, now tis’ the hour of His birth.

Believers die to rise,
Sinners die to have a fall so grim.
In death we rise.
In death we rise with Him!

Two tear-rivers streamed in my black forest,
And sorry I could not dam it to a respite
And be it I’ve longed to change,
And parting one eyelid, as far as I could be sane
To where I tear in the rain;

Then locked the other eyelid, as just as teary,  
And quench perhaps their thirst daily,
Because it was thundery, and wanted to cry;
Though as for that within the rain I was sly,
Had falling tear-showers really be from the sinking sky?


Both these eyes to the world equally keen
In rain no tears shall be seen.
Oh, sorrowed storms hide the bursting stream!
Yet strolling my way sobbing on,
If ever should come back the sun, I’d be gone.

I should be telling this with a hesitance
But somewhere ages ago I died:
Two tear-rivers flowed in my mind,
Succumbing to one less sufferance
And that has solaced all the difference.

Nightfall has spilt its ink
staining the landscape with its morbid hue.

The moon stares and bleaches
the oily water with thousands of winks.

A mountains silhouette
carved the abysmal blue

of the nighttime horizon…
the purgatory of our sins.

The power of Gods eye
thrusts through the darkness

and the spotlight of his white iris
pierces the blackened hue that is our sins.

Satan resides deep in the oily depths
where he and his plague of followers drown in sin.

The lords light shall be visible here,
though not so brilliantly,
as Styx is dyed in a pitch tinge.

Far above the freezing, muddy floor of Styx,
the dampened air of purgatory clouded in mist;

illuminated
by our Fathers starry eye.

Frailly erected upon two twigs
within the hallowing walls of the dusking sun beam,
I’m encircled by the furious winds of a ******’s no-mans-land.

This land encompassing me
is one violated by its own submission
into vision-less ignorance.

I stand here,
the temptation to reach through;
exposing myself into the obscurities around me.

Is it within this light that I am being misguided?
Is it the world beyond holding the truth
from which has deceived me time and again?

There’s only one way to find my path,
be it dark and unkind, I must step out of my life
into the world that whirls in frightening speed around me.

I gaze through the purifying threshold
feeling the eyes of the nocturnal creatures
piercing from far beyond.

They know me;
they see me,
fearing what they don’t understand.

This world is too small,
I walk amongst the folks I coexist
within these cruel existences.

I gasp… my skin tightens…
I take one last look up into my dusking sun;
“I wonder how you shine in the world beyond!”

Stunned still! In spotlights
of narrow-minded illogicalities?

Your poisonous intentions
inflicted with sharpened utters of disrespect!

Of what pure breed
have you been endowed?

Leave useless judgments to your own misguidance
and me to tend my dreams!

This skinless body…
an exposed inner lack of conscience.
A once concealed mold of hell… stabbed and gutted.
I shall hide no more.

Oh that deceptive suit I’ve always worn
clings still… to the feet of a body that drags it in the past.
My mask of sanity now lifted;
opening the curtain to a horror show.

I will never walk a lie again.
I’ll keep my back towards the life of deceit.  
Such a fragile soul has lost all its armor,
how can things ever be the same again?

The foundations of every beautiful lie I’ve lived to utter
shall collapse, leaving a dust cloud of uncertainty.
Through the light of reason…
surviving truths shall follow past the veil…
though I’m afraid I am of few logical justifications.

Hear me whoever... I confess!

Your picture possesses my mind,
burning my resistance
to a confounded pile of ash.

It’s been hours.
Yet still, I can’t describe the inferno
prowling behind those eyes.

All that remains
is a heart pounding its ribcage beneath,
thrusting blood through rigor veins.

To your pleasure,
I will never call you again.
Nor brush your lip with mine.
Mourning you has become an art.

Lament now?
Should I?
No…
just once more…

Sharpened words we used to puncture,
no longer unsheathed.
Scars within,
leave lasting marks too.

A black widow you are…
a wonder in beginnings,
luring me in your web…
deadens me.

I hate you.
What tensed me so
to say that to you?
You’ve drained me of emotion.

I drag my anger away.
I will not listen anymore.
I know death is waiting…
just beyond.

This road leads nowhere.
A bluish light, vaguely reminiscent of the moon,
illuminates the path ahead.

A frigid, sudden gust slaps my cheek.
Numbing the sense
of the falling tears.

The restrictions of life
have kept me rolling on rusty tracks,
screaming through a narrow, black tunnel.

The way ahead holds uncertainties.
A storm of blackened clouds
veil the path ahead.

Rays of twilight
offer glances.
I still don’t know where I am.

I let you rest your face
upon mine,
when you feel as so.

Your river runs calm,
and free,
from its ocean.

Crossing my cheek
from yours;
quietly down.

Leaving its path
of eye-shadow
behind.

Dim green,
that’s what you wore,
a dye;
finely concentrated
to stain
the center gem
within
your eye.

I have for you;
mask of love,

sewn to mind,
which despises of.

Summer’s funeral has surely come!
For sure it is bedtime for the warmth
and the awakening of the chill.

Trees have been ***** of their leaves.
All that stands are their naked bodies;
opened to the abuse of winter.

How beaten we are, how abused by each other.
Shall hell’s fury or heaven’s grace rule?
Our moon cuts a wink for us in the night sky,

shall we ever be mocked further?
From spring’s birth to summer’s life,
fall’s ill to winter’s death.

What strange messages
has autumn handed us!    

They hold their branch,
by their withering root.  

Once flushed in greens,
they fall, die, Indian gold.

Blanketing our solid grounds,
quilting our grey ways.

Coming storm I am,
drifting, distant,
dampness of rain
from afar
sodden your lips.

Closer, the storm carries
in gentle arms
of swift winds,
each drop
of tear-showers.

Open
your tear damp
curtains for me,
so that swift dawn
of iris sun,
brush horizons
teary cloud aside.