I used to believe in karma and pray to a greater power above.

Then I realized horrendous things happen to the most
beautiful people and the cruel truth about love.

the only angels and demons that exist, are the ones
created within ourself.

I don't need a savior
because I saved myself.

Down in the belly of The Angel of Defeat
You'll find war waging over only Gods know what
And she's not the one fighting for all that is good
She has shadows in her eyes and demons under her red hood
She rages her lupine armies against Paladins armed with The Light
This battle was foreshadowed before mans dawn and laid in the stones this world was built upon
There's no avoiding what the stars have aligned
And this fight won't end until there's either dark

Or light

By Arcassin Burnham


We could have been in all the other worlds across
the galaxy exploring what makes you happy the most,
But i can't right now..
We could have traveled a hundred miles on our way to
freedom like the angels would allow us to enjoy them,
But i can't right now.

I was so lucky to embrace the parts of your skin that i touched
while i was in your presence thinking about how this is a rush,
caring about you like the sun giving its rising warming peace,
i hate when you're gone , but at last i want to do is believe,

I Can't right now,
it's too good be true lord , I Can't right now.

They look at me with pointed sharp eyes,
Tell me it's all in my mind, I must be blind,
I look at the bedroom wall and there is nothing,
Yet my mind every moment is filled with so much activity.
I see this world around me spinning but slowly,
This whole social mirage keeps on changing,
Except when I'm drifting at night at my home,
Good or bad, right or wrong, but never once when
I was alone, was I ever TRULY alone.
They followed me this way and that through
The streets, called to me, scold me or made me laugh,
Vague clay statuesque devils or angels, I could not say,
But in the end you tell me it's all in my mind
When the night becomes day.

You and me, dreams fake, but all in all it's what is the take,
You and me, plain as can be, but we're having fun falling asleep,
Face first into the cake.
You and me, our hopes so free, but we're still stuck where we will
Always be.

So what is real? What is fake? It seems to you there's much at stake,
In daring to dream, daring to fly! Why not just grow old fast,
Whither and die?
So why my grin, why your frown? Could it be that your
Hatred has gotten You down?

It will be a long walk home, trailing turning, all alone,
Over my shoulder I hear your scorn, every day until I'm forlorn.
Every turn I feel their eyes, they never leave, yet it's always been,
Always will be that I'm blind, YOU WIN like you always would,
It's got to be *it's all in my mind...

the moon stood in the sky
with tools upon his back.
so he’d work through day
and through the night.

he forged the weapons of
warriors throughout his land,
and for one it was quite special
to hold a blade made from his hand.

the sun gleamed in the day,
but the moon was far away.
a star catcher he did make
to pull the sun into his wake.

eclipses aren’t made to last.
but their energy stays
a never forgotten past.
the moon enjoyed the sun’s rays.

so should he stand in shadows,
he was content with his fate.
at least the sun lived day to day.

the moon hid his pain, day to day,
for he hurt in way that mortals
could not know, could not speak.
his sorrow made gods fall to their knees

and so the moon toiled, day to day,
while the sun lived away
but he could not weep.
the sun was never his to keep.

the bluebird had queries and questions
and thought he should ask the moon,
but the moon was dark that night.
its hood was pulled tight.

the bluebird sighed, and so did the sun.
the sea greeted him with a waving hand.
“bluebird, bluebird up there!
the moon does not speak easy.
having its skin broken too many times.”

the bluebird whistled a sad tune.
“whatever shall i do, when i need the moon?
he will not speak, and i am too weak
to fly to him up there.”

the sea crashed against the rocky shore,
and its response was, “you need not wings,
bluebird, when the moon will come to you.
for when your light falls the moon will rise,
in the darkness it lights the skies.”

the bluebird huffed once again.
“i am not the sun, silly sea.
you mistake my feathers for blue skies,
i am not the stars in the night.”

but the bluebird could not see,
how bright he was to be.
and as he flew away,
the moon began to say,
“your wings are bigger than they seem.
bluebird, do not fret.
our time is to come together yet.

so the bluebird whistled a tune
as his wings expanded and grew,
and lifted him high into the sky,
and to the moon he drew nigh.
he landed among the stars.
bluebird, you will indeed go far.

I was always told that
Angels fell to earth right out of the sky.
But I’ve just seen some plough through the street
In a soft-top GTI.
They wear no halos or feathered wings
Just low cut tops weighed down with bling.
They reach for offerings from higher powers
Whilst blurting out a verse so sour

From the radio distortions
Where the treble and bass don’t mix.
They fester in daddy’s fortunes
Refuelling on Marlborough kicks.
No reasons to care or give a ****.
No schedule. No curfew. No back up plans.
Because the coke’s *****, the merlot’s cheap
They dance until they dare to sleep.

They own the roads and highway code -
They drive however they like.
Be it a classic Sunday saunter
Or ripping up bends at ninety-five.
No care for  what’s wrong or morally right -
Not the subtle difference between concrete and ice.
Their fate is held by a suspect man
With a shrouded face and a scythe in hand.

His mercy waveringly alters
At the flick of a delicate switch.
He knocks it upwards violently
With the most convulsing of kicks.
No red alert! No alarm bells ring.
No saviour. No hero. No Prince Charming
From Clapham to Clacton to save their souls -
They’re at home watching rich boys banging in goals.

The lightest clouds from brighter skies
Can’t cushion them from their fall
The sight of a hematic sunset
Is the last thing they shall recall.
No blessing, swan songs or final words,
No final pleas to be willingly heard.
It’s up to Daddy if they get to relish
His delicacies – or the unspeakably hellish.

I was at my friends dads house during the day.  I sat on his porch and talked with his son in law.  I then started to notice strange people walking in and out of the air.  I went inside and saw my dead grandmother sitting by my friends dad.  I asked her in Spanish " what are you doing here." She just smiled and pointed outside.  I looked out the window and noticed the strange people again.  They were laughing and shining brighter than the sun.  A tear ran down my dark brown eye. I knew they were here for him. All this was just an ethereal goodbye.