The winged beast circle about.
More for presence.  
For pity.
There is no sport in prey that serves itself.
Yet draw blood regardless.
Taking small morsels of flesh with every pass.
And still no restistance.
As if dying slowly was a feat to cherish.
But isn't resilience a defining trait.
The Heros of every story.
Willingly go in search of new ways to destroy the body and mind.
Their deaths are held sacred.
Glory bestowed upon any who would courageously reduce to ash.
From the hellfires surging within a dragons innards.
At what point.
Does suicide.
Become heroism.
The tools are the same.
Fear.
Blades.
Resounding mental capacity.  
Resolve even.
the words and actions may differ every now and then.
But one fact remains.
Blood is blood.
One persons valiant deed.
May just as well be anothers.
Horror.

I was born of Clan Moffatt
Of Uranian-Gemini style
My wallet isn't fat
It hasn't been for a while
'Cause I have addiction
Running through my veins
A nurtured condition
The source a traumatic pain
I lost my youth and innocence
By the time I was five
Too young to make any sense
But I tried to survive
Got put on speedy medications
To try and calm my nervous mind
Diagnosed the wrong conditions
The real root they couldn't find
A little later I started abusing it
Just to feel any bit of life
Sick of being abused to ****
Tired of fighting through the strife
Of being used as a tool
And treated like a slave
Judged as a gay fool
I tried my best to behave
But being constantly persecuted
For having a Jewish heritage
Makes your perception deluded
Immense stress for my age
I lost my mind for a moment
Alright it may be several
So into psychosis I was sent
Time for a mental overhaul
Removed myself from her Den
Of torture, malice, and neglect
Thought it better back then
To move in with a schizophrenic
At least it gave me the foundation
To find myself some steady work
And to finish secondary education
Music and Love were my handiwork
They were nothingness and unity
When they became one I did embark
On a spiral journey of golden purity
Through the lower Sephiroth dark
I put my mind and spirit through hell
Consuming every psychedelic insight
Drinking deep and long of the well
And fell into a slumber of the dark night
Dreaming of Dimethyl Dreams
Delving endlessly deliriously
My consciousness bursting at the seams
The experiences changing rapidly
I dreamt until my mind broke
And into a silent abyss I went
Until by God's grace I awoke
And saw how much life I lent
To sinners and saints alike
How much love I had left
Not even enough to grab the mic
This expresses of a deeper theft
Routed in unnecessary self deprivation
Thinking always of what others need
Forgetting about my own self preservation
I thought those were my hearts to feed
All through His golden light
Did I finally return
To fight the good fight
Saved my *** from the burn
Of Hellfires and earthly desire
Baptized in His Holy Spirit
Finally in Him did I inquire
What I should do if he see fit
"Lo and behold my son,
All you need to do is look inside,
Your gifts are a burning sun."
In my heart His talent doth reside
To speak in musing tongues
To play a Lyre's healing tone
If only I could climb these wrungs
Then His talent I could hone.

Fill my morose heart with sorrow,
So I can wake up in grief tomorrow,
To be chased by agony's harrow,
And in screech in pain of love's arrow.

Fill my cup with bitter wine,
Drink until I am numb or fine,
The grief has my heart to dine,
When my sun sets, does it shine?

Fill my ears with somber criers,
And surround my body in hellfires,
To forget what this heart inspires,
And to banish love's wretched desires.

My burden is heavy;
My soul, it tires,
As I'm forced to march
Through these hellfires.
How much I long
To let all go
And float to a heaven
I have yet to know

Rocks fall with each bey and beckoning
That stone hands shutter, dying
Rigid time, makes bone brittle
Pebbles of broken pieces
Stain crimson into the urn of the Earth

Chanting inaudible death hymns
The mother of rubble weeps
Her tears churn, with blood
And the sediment of the fallen
Into the blackened mixture
Exploding with fire and magma

Rising now, half broken and devil
With a narrow cage of brimstone
Twisting to a swollen brow of madness
Reigns down hellfires and Infernos
Laughing as the ancient muses
Strum the Fire God's Libretto.

Serpentine of hard green sheen
Born in hydrothermal’s spleen
Where pressured, metamorphosed plate,
Converged at boundaries’ Vulcan gate
To lay in tumbled disarray
Where octopi and dolphin play.

From olivine and pyroxene
Derived the crystal serpentine
Through Hellfires’ metamorphic fate
Now crystalized to Greenstone state.

There lying in the golden light
Of mountain stream in tumbled sight
Refracting in the morning sun
That glint of green since time begun.

M.
That glint of green, a jade boulder
in the tumbling mirth of a plummeting
mountain stream in New Zealands'
wild Southwest.
Jacksons Bay
Fiordland National Park
June 2017

She pours in slowly as I watch from a distance
A darkened tone the reflection of a life well lived
I watch her splash and swirl
I watch young men's hearts fill with courage
I watch old men relive passed moments

Set down beside me I catch the softest scent of vanilla
An icy touch reveals to me the nature of our relationship
Slowly she leans into me
Pressed against my lips and tilting forward
An eternity passes before I'm allowed to drink her in

Sweet.. She ain't that
No sir this is something much more real
Full bodied and biting
Tearing away every ounce of ego
Devouring all that isn't me

A warm glow spreads from my chest and down into my belly
The senses of comfort and abandon take hold
The pain of past hells that normally haunt are pushed backwards
In this moment there is only her
In this moment I'd do anything for her

Shes gone and I already miss her
Hellfires spark catches flame and spreads
I try to stand but my knees disagree
The floors a good place to sleep
Maybe I'll dream of her

moving mass morphed myopic
homogeneous heaving humanity
killed 'n culled in catastrophic
hatred, hostile enmity

six million souls pulled together,
stuffed into a devil's mouth
reached out from the nether
to quench unending drouth

red-brick nostrils belched black smoke
blood dripp'd from barbed fangs
in iron fist a throat did croak
emaciated body now lifeless hangs

still the cavern was not filled
still his hellfires burnt and grilled
till there was no man left breathing
save a mound o' skeletons wheezing

and 'neath the pile of thousand shoes,
'neath heaps of bodies, black and bruised,
'neath the filth, the stench'd refuse
earth wept wet for those lost Jews

tried to light a candle
a flame by the window
squashed by a sandal
an ogre and its shadow

dark like the night,
where the black is bright,
in favourite haunt
his prize he taunts
his suffocating air,
of decay and blight,
in web of hair -
i've lost the fight.

lost the fight 'gainst invincible darkness
envelops all, the heart, and heartless,
***** the life with nonchalance
blocks all light from ambience

hanging, gaunt, i sink still further
hellfires cackle with glee and fervour
lick my soul with blackened tongue
from lifeless body hung and strung