#piper
The thorn'd crown they forced upon my head has budded black roses.
Fed with my blood as initiation
The piper has been paid in full
Now I rule the garden everyone dismissed as death.
When darkness blossoms, the world will fall silent
witnessing black petals cascade from the sky.
Instilling all with remorse for ever denying the beauty that flows through my veins
-PM
Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 9:33 PM UTC
March! March! March!
Marketing's pounding drum.
Beat! Beat! Beat!
Hear the thundering feet.
Come one, Come all!
Answer the piper's call.
Act fast! Act fast!
The sale will not last!
Need, Need, Need!
You will not be freed.
Credit, Credit, Credit!
As long as you can get it.
Spend, Spend, Spend!
Will it never end?
Pawn, Pawns, Pawns,
The illusion We are in control.
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 8:58 PM UTC
That tail doesn't taste as good as it looks
running in circles to see what's ahead
Breaking backs contorting to accommodate
what is too big for one man to contain
A trail of kibble leads a line of zombies
lost to the truth you pretend to be
16 personalities for 16 needs
and the line grows to criminal proportions
following the hope of a smile
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
Seven whistle
and he came to bristle
A rat catcher
a colorful stature
a pest to the town
in just a blow they drown
when he's about to pay
no money in his hands to lay
all of his air
but the mayor is not fair
He came with a green suit
to get all their precious fruit
a felicity sound
that takes them nowhere to be found
Kids gambol around
didn't notice they were eaten by the ground
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 8:37 AM UTC
I'm conflicted by addictions
Choices to be made
Some come with restrictions
The piper must be paid
A small drink after dinner
A smoke out in the yard
Conflicted by addictions
The choices are quite hard
Temptation's round the corner
It's where ever you may look
You're a small fish in the ocean
And the devil baits the hook
Choices are wide open
There are many to be made
But, no matter your direction
The piper must be paid
Compulsive interactions
May drive the train you ride
The devil's the conductor
And he's there right by your side
The devil's in the details
And one day the bill is due
You have to pay the piper
For the choices made by you
He doesn't want your money
He hooked you, that's his goal
Your addictive interactions
Cost you dearly with your soul
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
"Your sadness..
And your Poetry and your Passion and your Rage...
And your... Infinite, Luxurious Ugliness...
I'll Lick Your Sins Away!"
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
Forlorn beauty-child
Living in my night
Crying in your dream.
Sounds of sorrow
Linger in the morning mist
Of subdued consciousness.
Troubled water falls
From awakened red eyes
That searched inside loneliness
Only to find more.
Now...
Behind my faceted face
Your countenance lingers...
I glance quickly within,
You disappear!
Your gaze lit my shadowed mind.
Your presence was there waiting
For me…
A Sonata…
A Fantasy
A Major key bright-shining
Singing sunbeams to lift me.
After the music...
Shards of shattered dreams
Scattered like felled icicles
lying in the sun, melting into mulch
They dawned bright green
Pipers on Scottish dew.
The mourning moon is
Catchlight in your eyes
Bright Bird...
Captivating sailors
Reaching down evoking vulnerable
Aspects held so long secret...
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
.
*"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter"
John Keats, Ode On A Grecian Urn.*
.
I'm never sure how I should take his silence,
It's not by choice, that much I know.
For he is a piper painted on porcelain,
Left to inspire a dreamer in an Ode.
His immortal canopy never sheds a leaf,
But offers no shade - frozen in time -
And as it was written, he never came to life and played
His fair maiden her melodious rhyme.
It sits on his lips as they chip and crack;
A dry mouth, a pipe for melodies made.
Sadly for the piper, I don't share Keats' hope
As he said of his maiden, 'She cannot fade'.
This brave boy's riff will remain dormant,
Haunting and quiet - laid on porcelain,
As I can't help this overwhelming jealousy
Of the notes he'll never play trapped within.
How they reel through my mind but leave nothing -
Not a sound or a ripple of waves,
Whereas mine float a while and decay with little grace,
The dotted-quavers left fading on staves.
I'm never sure how I should take his silence,
It's not by choice, that much I know.
Yet I envy more than words his lifetime in a moment,
In a world in which I wait and watch things grow.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC