I woke up
In a dark place
With four goats around me
Dancing.

The dance was demonic
Satanic
Hallucinogenic
Static.

They moved
Yet stayed in place
They sang demonic tunes
Yet did not open their mouth.

I paniced
Screamed
Shivered
and finally ran.

I kicked one
and it Unfolded
Exploded
Into butterflies.

The other goats burst and shaped
Defaced
Recombobulated
A man.

The man had a mask
of Clay
My fist felt the clay
The clay felt my fist.

The mask
Shattered
Corroded
Disintegrated.

I saw fear
I saw dismay
I saw dread
I saw me.

He spoke
"Pathetic"
"Disgusting"
"I'm you? How cliche?".

I shook
I saw crows
I burst to butterflies
The crows ate me.

I was on the floor
I overdosed
I ****** up
I should do this again.

I wear my cloak of crows
With a sly eye to the door
Hanging on the thought
Of leaving because
I've never really stayed

The black feathers flock to the window
Beady eyes survey my inaction
As the pitter patter of raindrops
Hum along the glass

I'm comforted for a moment
By my new ****** of friends
Gazing into my past
And the uncertain future

The rapid beat of my heart
Regains my attention
To the clutch on the armrest
My eyes have since shifted
Back to the door...

Like I'm there once again
Such a persistent memory
The one where it is too late
When regrets manifest
Into demons we carry
Through the mud, these burdens
Never letting you forget that instant

So I sit in this chair
In this room focused
On the door ready to run

At the end of the day
All the convincing in the world
Cannot change true nature
Not when it counts
Not when it matters

Ten black crows
in a red-budded
cottonwood tree
basking in the eerie
glow of the waning sun
bruised, livid sky
weighted air
waves shush, shush
on the receding tide
serenity reigns
but I can feel it
hovering offshore
a curled fist
wound tight
ready to strike

Renegade crows
swagger ashore
lifting unlucky tritons
high into the whirling
wind, dropping them
to the rocks below

shell is rendered
to fine dust
revealing the mollusk
vainly hiding
in the fissured whorl
of what was once

Home

now a splintered chamber
with no exit  
from which to squeeze
into the minute space
between falling
and breaking clean open.

and when everything's stripped back
And all self imposing things are gone
What's left?

A fury of wings folded
A silence suddenly fell

And in the bright dark
A crown of crows

What is the right ending?

Murders of crows sing
Prophetic tales

An evil man, in righteous body
Waiting eternities, to leave a wake
Of ruins, oracles weaping
The fall of man.

This false world,
Twist apart the flesh
Fighting, torn to pieces
To encapsulate, the intent

Fiendish resonates in the chest
A word, spoken by strangers
Summoning, to their ignorance
The mad king

Howling vibrations grasp
At the walls lining the throat
Where booming echoes
Locate the delusions.

Words, chain the beast.
The maniac cackles,
Taunting in the cells.
Always ready, always waiting.

---

black crows fly
flock to the moon
and pick its fields clean
i sit and watch the harvest
as if in a dream

its face is barely visible
its light torn from its eyes
i sit here a'weeping
as it sails the skies

o brave moon!
do not despair!
don't give them a thought!
they may pluck your lighted fields
but their work is all for naught!

later in the evening
i see you have not waned!
as for all the scavengers

not a one remains.


soulsurvivor
(C) 9/28/2015

Lost in a moment
Clarity, profoundly strikes,
Resonating in my soul
I hear the Crow caw
Her fluttering black feathers
An anchor to a spiritual realm.
Beckoned by moonbeams
Glowing full in the darkness
Piercing the night sky, into
A lunatic's daydreams
Where beady eyes observe me
So particular, curiously investigating
With a nod of approval, ambitions rise
Time elapses through the stars
Graceful wings dance of destiny
Visions of fate, binding us together.

Have ever you heard
   The crows sing sweetly?
A singing bird,
   They sing discreetly.

They caw to scoff
   And to berate you,—
To **** you off
   And agitate you.

O.O