Through the years
and through the tears
we suddenly come to see
the damage we've done
to all those someones
takes root and begins to feed

Waking at night
not just from fright
the cold sweat does remain
the shivers that climb
up and down your spine
A reminder of all that pain

The pain you inflicted
whilst still in your youth
as you struggled to live with a theme
stomping on feelings
of those already reeling
with only one foot in the ring

Oh you will suffer
I promise you that
as what comes indeed goes around
remember this when
you cry for your sins
alone on the cold wet ground

As I sat reading
one of the bards tales
the laughter within me
could not be quelled
he wrote with authority
he wrote with some wit
his words seemed to match
with the joint I just lit

As I continued
to peruse the tale
A voice from the kitchen
slightly derailed
my narrowing focus
had suddenly gone south
it seemed that I now
had cotton in my mouth

I reached for the glass
beside on the stand
intending to quench
the thirst I now had
but not taking an eye
off the page before
I clumsily knocked
the drink to the floor

I looked around
if any had seen
where was the cat
when I really need
a lackey , a scapegoat
on which to lay blame
The voice from the kitchen
called out my name

"What was that noise?"
inquired the voice
looking around
I had but one choice
Take off my socks
and sopp up the mess
down the hallway
came her footsteps

Quickly I scrubbed
and scrubbed some more
the cranberry juice
had stained the floor
suddenly there
before me appeared
the fuzzy red slippers
which I so feared

"You've stained the carpet!"
spat my angry wife
I quivered and shrank
hopefully out of sight
"I've told you before
"your not allowed."
"to sit and read stories
with liquid around."

With my head bowed
I went for the door
containing the machine
I'd used before
patiently she watched
as I cleaned the spot
removing the stain
which I had wrought

Spreading division
spewing forth hate
an inferno was growing
instead of debate
unwilling to reason
unwilling to bend
he preached of restoring
his view of the faith

It mattered not
whom he'd killed
or made to suffer
infidels they 'd been
unworthy of life
in the creators grand scheme
they were lower than slug
the vision he'd seen

Attracted to him
were the lowest of low
the uneducated
would die for his cause
he peddled in hope
while selling his dream
taking out on the innocent
his satanic scheme

A loser in life
a loser in love
lashing out at his neighbors
demanding they look
upon his new greatness
surely they'd see
a man of importance
he'd finally be

Lines were now crossed
there was no going back
forces were gathering
a decisive strike back
with no more warnings
for none were required
the world would soon see
this prophet retired

Standing tall
for all to see
majestic grace
reveal to me
the secret that
you hold so dear
the secret that
you hold so near
a mystery from ages past
that blooms as though
the day won't last
spreading out
into the world
loving embrace
needs no words

Outwardly awkward
perpetually alone
you stalk the night
by moonlights cold glow

Stay in the shadows
glare at the flow
bitter young man
witnesses the blow

The sirens they wail
cut through the night
race with out winners
fearing the light

For light brings the change
that none can abide
unwilling to take
chance for a bride

Surely you'll suffer
for all that you know
the price of permission
Bitter pill taken once more.

All at once the memories
come crashing to the fore
transporting me back in time
where I was yet once before

My hands began to tremble
shivers shook me to the core
sweat began to bead my brow
the clock struck half past four

The keening wail pierced the night
the Banshee's mournful cry
heralding yet another
passing of my kind

The creature it has followed us
from an early time
a transgression of an ancestor
brought this curse to life

Our family has a history
we came from on the moors
just poor Celtic farmers once
a past that is no more

Warily I look around
from ceiling the the floor
it seems that it has found me
its duty carried forth

I once thought this was fantasy
a scary story told
by my aging grand parents
when the nights were dark and cold

But now the horror strikes me
as I settle to the floor
I am the last one of my kind
The Banshee will cry no more