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Duke Thompson Oct 2014
We speak, or rather you spoke
I listened

You'll be fine, you'll do great
You've got so much going for you

I never understood why you said that
Maybe just placating
Weary little broken boy toy me

What good was I, could hardly speak
Or look at faces, just shoes
All shame rotting away
In death trap little future overdose room

More ***** than brain
Felt skin sloughing off
Hair falling out dead anyway
While cancer ate away ulcerous stomach

When looked in mirror
Only saw death, reaving reaper
His scythe my smashed absinthe bottle
****** X marks the spot where
I drag everyone down with me
Mark C Feb 2013
Red
…rain, rain, red rain, scarlet rain, ochre rain, incarnadine rain, rain driving in torrents unseen in millennia, pounding the desiccated earth in a frenzy of hydration...

I... I never dared hope to see this.  In the last days...  let me see now...  this is so difficult that even my recollection grows dim...  

In the Last Days,  Council met and planned.  We exhorted the brightest, challenged the greatest minds.  We sifted through aeons of knowledge and philosophy, searching for the key to our salvation.  Plans were made and discarded.  Theories expounded... and proved false.  In time, we came to the inescapable conclusion.  

Our seed had grown thin.  Hundreds of generations of advancement, fine-tuning, and engineering had taken its toll on our people.  We had become threadbare; the canvas of our soul stretched beyond the limit of its frame.  We had become a doomed race.

(...rain from pole to pole, reaving nature through force of Will, rain into rivulets, rivers cascading into falls, scouring terrified hillsides, on an unstoppable charge to the lowlands...)

The inevitable demonstrated beyond doubt, some lost all reason.  Others chose their own end;  marching calmly, in ones and twos, or in families, into the hopeless portals of Ra’k Tanar.  A few of us chose to carry on, in the hope that something might be salvaged.

(...rain like the fury of a spent people, a whirlwind railing against futility, rain coursing and surging, hungrily rediscovering its soil, its flood-plains, its oceans, rain urging defiance, blood-red rain on blood-red clay, a million screams and a million years out of time...)

And in a way, we forged a kind of victory.  Ruined as we were, we were not without Craft.  Our best we gathered to the Hall of Treasures, under the icon you have only just uncovered.  We laboured hard, so that even with our passing, the land would not forever wither.  The seeds of your future were planted long in our past.  You are coming into your inheritance:  now, under the deluge...

(...rain like a thunderstrike echoing through the centuries, life-giving rain, angry rain, rain like the tumult and violence of all the wronged and lost, breathing, raging life into possibility all around, and with one last, weary, sigh, I leap into the heavens, rise up, become one with the sky, one with the rain, and fall in a billion crimson teardrops
Rob Sandman Feb 2018
Berserker
=========

I'm a deviant heathen leaving villagers grieving.
Dilligently pillaging, killing and reaving.
Something wicked this way comes.
I herald the battle with the sound of pounding drums.
Deep tones. Hit with thigh bones ripped from foes.
Limbless, skinless. Endless woes.
Death throes of those who rose to me throne.
Now exquisite corpses frozen in repose.
I'm insane. Mansbane.
Scarlet rain. Too late you found..
..there's more to the story. I'm bound in gore and glory.
Visceral imagery, belligerent allegories.
Demon of death.
Diabolical deeds, ***** streamin', hard and wet.
Wargasm. I shudder and fall.
Into the chasm of chaos and now I'm ******' for all.
All hail the ever prevalent assailant
I wassail and tell tall tales of the violence.
Raucous ribaldry amid the misery.
Me axe cracks backs, hack it out. Now you're spineless.


Chorus 1
------
Ber-ser-ker ! A terror on the battlefield.
Come see.
Ber-ser-ker ! A maniac in the killing fields.
You don't wanna battle me.
Ber-ser-ker ! A terror on the battlefield.
That's me.
I'm a Ber-ser-ker ! A maniac in the killing fields.
Pray you don't meet me.

I've been swathed in every form of armour made,
from rags and ragtag leather-to Mail and Plate,
My Bearskin Cloak always warms my back,
til my blades unsheathe-then even Kin Stay back...
Skilled in every Weapon from Claimh Mor to Cleaver
Been called a Chief, a Thief-and a Reaver,
Fought to the top of a slippery *****,
Steamin' with Blood and intestinal rope,
Madness infectious wraps me like Mist,
me giggle tickles and Trickles through skulls til britches get ******
don't Run Son-you'll only Die Tired,
Sun-Day comes I light a Church on fire,
Step back enjoy the Pyre-eyes Dreamin,
Souls pour from Holy Spires Screamin',
Drink 'em in Flesh burning is my Oxygen,
Bathed in Blasphemy-Scars Criss Cross my Skin,
til even my Tattoo's Writhe in silent pain,
Morose til the Battle gets Close-then erase the Stain
Of a Former life-Former Son and Wife,
Hack their Names in your Skin with me Butcher Knife


Chorus 2

Ber-Ser-Ker burnin' Monks out of Round Towers,
til the Stones Bleed Gold
Ber-Ser-ker-throw the Cash to the paymaster,
I'm paid Souls,
Ber-Ser-Ker Breast fed by the Morrigan,
Lap the Blood from your Chest,
I'm a Ber-Ser-ker-the Terror of your Campfire
Born(e) on a Shield on the Field of Death!
The First Verse and Idea are from my Bandmate and sometime Berserker Jay Byrne,
the second from myself,
more to come...watch your backs!
Nick C Jan 2012
…is a rolling river running round and round
the ages, rough and ready, reaving
the unwary intellect and cleaving
raw the wounds of yesterday.

I’m rugged. I'm wrought. I’m wrecked.
...is also a superb song by The Stranglers, which you should listen to if you haven't done so already.
Corrinne Shadow Dec 2019
Entertain my broken brain
Numb me till I feel the pain
Swirling, whirling agony
In my blank stare.

Anaesthetic, my aesthetic,
Curled up in a ball, pathetic.
Surgically remove my fears;
Does anybody care?

Interweaving, spirit-reaving,
For my peace of mind I’m grieving.
Nothing matters so I scream,
“It’s just not fair!”

New beginning, used to winning,
Patience with the world is thinning,
Failure strikes, though through the years,
Protection has prevailed.

Codependent, my defendant
Is betrayed by my resentment.
Coddled by the Understood,
My lack is now unveiled.

My decision, hooded vision,
Heart and Will engage in fission.
Thus the end will soon begin,
With both my halves impaled.
My mental health impacts my grades, and my bad grades impact my mental health. College is such a vicious cycle.

— The End —