Watch him twist, watch him squirm,
Watch him catch the early worm,
See him writhe, see him turn,
He’ll take your soul,
then watch it burn.


© H V Swan

Facing each day or facing my debts
What do I see? But Russian Roulette

Cold steel in my hand and brass on the cover
loading one up, I drop the five other

Placing the barrel next to my skull
closing my eyes, feeling more dull

Pulling it back, the trigger with force
hearing a click, thinking what's more

One more time, the intensity deepens
Do I live or die? My plot thickens

Third times a charm, so I've been told
The click is once more, but nothing, BEHOLD!

Four now five, still nothing but blank
what's going on, its stealing my fate

This is the one, the final shot
squeezing that trigger, I am dead on the spot.

"They said to the lame man,
Pick up thy bed and walk,
They said to a subject with mental ills,
sort your head out,
pull yourself together,
if you will.

You are not a pair of threadbare curtains,
of that I'm certain,
You are a person.
So,the sorry being picked up a pen,
a perfect catharsis,
a mechanism of honest escape.

Some folk,
well,
they sink into a bottle to drown the pain within,
Others shoot a mainline,
maybe sit upon a train line.
So where should they begin?
None of the three above,

Used a pen,as a trumpeting swan,
Mental illness, pray begone."
(C) Livvi

Where did it start but by one little cry,
one mother's love, one day she will die

Trees grace the land, the water at peace
Visually astounding, pleasant at ease

The lake was open for summer time fun
Camp Crystal Lake where it begun

A boy and his mother greeted each soul,
welcome my friends enjoy it all.

The torment started, it lasted all season,
they beheaded his mother for all the wrong reasons

Emboldened with fury, deep in the lake
drowned by cowards, feeling no shame

Each year they returned, hearing stories of the camp
the man in the mask, machete in hand

Not believing the myth, what shadows do lurk
no hearts will be pounding, only their blood will spurt

Pre-marital *** upstairs in the cabin
rolling blunts on couch, look out, he's coming

Naked in the shower, Alice did fall,
ice pick in hand, no scream or no crawl

Squeezing your eyes out or smashing your face
Ask all of the counselors at Camp Crystal Lake

One hundred and fifty more victims will fall
This is my place, you are not welcome at all

Mother, I love you, through all of the pain
Hide behind my mask, my machete does reign.

This life, this love, this death,
all have meaning yet all fade into the jaded darkness that lays on the other side of our sunlit morning,
touching the untouchable,
reaching through the veil,  
our dreams carry us forward as if resting on an ancient burial raft,
gently drifting down the stream into a unseen oblivion.


© H V Swan

All we could ever hope to have been is uncoiled before us like a python caught in the mid day sun,
laid bare, a naked shame for all to see,
yet in all of this we bask in the warmth of our discovery,
sanctified in our own existence,
parity of the soul and all deeds are done.


© H V Swan

Why do we feign such rapturous delight,
in pretence to others that all is alright,
what if the soul is quietly suppressed,
cloaked in darkness, hidden and repressed,

Are we ashamed to drape the veil,
to retreat into darkness and embrace the pale,
truth can be found from deep in a frown,
so why wear the clothes and tears of a clown.

© H V Swan