Rebirth

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty six

Try to forget.
Attempt to remember.
Everything's blurred when seen through the embers.

Through eons and eons and eras of pain,
I've suffered through hell and risen again.

Tortured and wallowed in pits of despair.
Life is a game,
rigged and unfair.

Last night the moon set,
and with it I died.
I lay down my weapons,
surrendered and cried.

But whens the sun rose,
and heat hit my ashes,
a quick spark did stir,
igniting my passions.

The great flames arose,
for a phoenix can't die.
Spread wings of new hope,
reincarnation of flight.

Today is a birth,
like days long ago.
Christened with flame,
and cradled in smoke.

With vision and dreams and strengths set anew.
The phoenix will fight,
and break into the blue.

Princess Mononoke & Haku

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty five

The Road Home

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty four

red lights

glitter rain

deep bass beats beats into my brain

soft voice

engine thrum

my life is taken by the drum

wet streets

fever ray

this mind awakes at end of day

white noise

silent hill

i raise the speed to taste a thrill

black sky

open soul

tumble tumble, endless hole

The Man With the Matchstick in His Hand

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty three

This one’s for those with fires in hearts

I’m calling to those that reach for the stars
clutching the flame, a trillion small parts.
they pulse and they burn, destruction is art.

We follow the man with matchstick in hand,

his lantern of dreams alone in the land,

it eats up and burns the Utopian sands,

a blind man can see the lies on demand.

This one’s for those with fires in hearts,

who lash out and scream and break through the bars.

pulsing to sin, with demons depart.

A tip of the hat to souls who have scars.

The reaper of light, he exudes pure command, 

leads us away from the holy land.

but neither is hell part of his plan.

he travels to limbo, taking his stand.

This one’s for those with heat in their eyes,

the spirits who in the darkness they thrive.
Never to follow, they grasp their own light.

Lone werewolves and soldiers posed for the fight.

 A master of men, a leader of troupes

he gathers the weak, broken and abused.

Under his cape he hides broken slews.

He’s darker than night, this Nosferatu.

This one’s for those with heat in their eyes,

the arrows of lightning, not fearing to die.

with dagger of flame we fight through the night

alongside the demons, defeating the blight.

 This man who has stolen all of the used,

he comes upon those who have broken through.

With all flames in hand, his face can be viewed.

the tales of his sins, on his face are tattooed.

Romanticism Done Wrong

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty two

The only bullet in a barrel of six,
the way his eyes see through my tricks.

The match that lights a body ablaze,
the woman that walks into the haze.

A lone wolf that stalks his pitiful prey,
The weapons used to finish and slay.

Skin tattooed with art as ink,
the mind that teeters upon the brink.

A pale horse that rides in times of dusk,
The deep scents of angels covered in musk.

A song that bares the soul for taste,
the blood that’s spilled in fractured haste.

The tree with hands of skeletons,
the water through the desert runs.

These things I find as beautiful,
as painted lips on porcelain skull.

Clever words are my disguise,
trust not who romanticize.

All Hallows Eve

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty one

Welcome to all hallows eve,

when the demons roam the streets.

We dress as ghouls and peeves,

so we blend in with the fleet.

The crack of fireworks above,

like shotguns to the teeth.

I take this coloured candy,

just to know what walks unseen.

The flashing lights are noted with,

the running children's screams.

The parents drink their alcohol,

as teens sweat to the beat.

A night of guise and masquerade,

true natures seen apparent.

For every monster dressed in false

another's seen transparent.

The veil between this world and theirs

is nothing but a net.

The holes between dimensions

fail before they catch.

A knotted night of twisted fears,

when chants are sung, and kids eat peers.

There's nothing that holds them at bay,

just run until the light of day.