Wither MagicWhence you speak of sister silence
in the dawning of the sun.
There can be no beginnings
without fell deeds being done.
When it springs without winter
as breezes melt into the fall
shall son dissolve into the father
as oceans devour all.
There is sea upon the air
as is thrown up by the stone.
The burning cold can bite
upon your brittle bones.
The haunted screaming newness
stilled in lusting days
of the magic once was known
a straight road through a twisting maze.
Tangerine ChildrenTangerine children
float high in the sky
o’er mandarin cockroaches
who wriggle and lie
down at five 'o' clock
singing the blues
while the swans in the mire
are braying the truth.
Watch her standing there
hands in her head
she's crying out tears
for the lives that she's led.
Screaming and marching
to unending doom
for the pangs of adulthood
are one song too soon.
The skies are of bureaucrats
clouds are red tape
but I'm raining down love
into puddles of hate.
walls made of gold
for that paradise lost
the canons will roll.
Make the Master BowWhen dreams sprout legs and walk away
more tears on that day
than are shed in his name.
And when the blood drips
and empty words fall from cold, dead lips.
When earth shakes and moon cracks
the world as we know it are breaking their backs
holding up the sky with iron slats.
For air is steel and clouds are lead
the man in the man in the moon has broken his head
because he refused to take his meds.
Sleep now, child
dream dreams so wild
they'll leave you with a peasant’s smile.
When angels fly far away they must
they'll abandon you without a crust
when marching to glory is upon us.
Leave you, me now
lift your might from this brow
and make the master bow
Adulterer to Mother NatureListen to the birds, singing in the trees
while the forest gleams with retribution.
Watching all the saints, bringing in the sheaves
while beating down the unclean masses.
And looking out the corner of your eye,
you might see a man go by.
His sunburnt face and cool dark hair
and bright green eyes do ever stare.
There adulterer to Mother Nature.
His name's not time, she loves another.
She follows him to kiss his fate.
She's the sun so bright, it burns his face,
He's ever young, as cursed as Gray;
mortality shall never stain
his crimson skin and Christmas eyes
beyond the sight of Father Time.
A daft old man, who lives in clocks
and only speaks in ticks and tocks.
That Girl in Green he loves so true
it'd break his heart if he only knew.
Her heart belongs to someone young
who's requiem shall ne'er be sung.
For those three gods, Earth, Time and Fate
are trapped inside this world of hate.
For they know more ticks, death, and tide
that what they feel, themselves, inside.
The Queen of NonsenseThe breathless extension
of moreover invention.
The man with the plan,
getting kicked in the can.
The blood on your brow
that you shed with the plough,
seeding fields of rakes.
The more you know, the less you see,
but all I want is sympathy.
Talking to me out a mouth of soap
but mono i mono has lost all hope.
Now you step without a walk.
Now you speak without a talk.
But, shut your eyes now girl.
You ruled the world with bits of string
to make the servants and the people sing
from dancing ninny upon a pin
to the strong of limb and mighty wind
that cracks upon the silver snow.
The more you see, the less you know.
Generation NextWe try to make our in a world
that doesn't want us to succeed.
Cramming food down our throat
off the plates of those in need.
Keeping safety under lock and key
for those who buy a password
and blaming those who lie in cradles
while cursing the blind for the unsightly.
We attempt to carve a space
in a burning burning walled up planet.
As we try to hide ourselves
in our prison's darkened place.
If we are ridiculed to know nothing
it's because we've heard it all.
We're raped right from the womb
and the empty babe gets the blaming.
We scream at the empty void
mocked for vanquishing the earth.
We fear the sun and shun the night
so we live beneath the greenhouse light.
There is no room for us upon the land,
but there's a torrent on the sea.
How dare our need to breathe
when there are profits to be planned.
It is not our fathers who bear the load.
It falls on them to commit the sin
and smear the blood upon our faces
and choked our mouths and tongues are slowed.
We may not fight our battles.
Trapped by SkinTrapped by skin
and singed by blood
between the raging storm
and weeping flood
who's crawling forth
and hurting after
in the eye of the hurricane
so rises the father.
With sin on his hand
and a scream in his soul
he has sunk to his feet
as the mud starts to pull
him down towards the starving earth.
One day he'll be swallowed
by the lands he did birth
Crime of ViolenceHe lifts his hands in celebration
and brought them down in exclamations
of pain from the mouths of the dying,
This blood shall be the story
of his hands bespecked in glory
to his current victims' end.
He strikes his hands about the face
and tastes their pain, his heart does race
to know them to be crippled.
He mercifully took the eyes and nose
ear are next on what he has to dispose.
He'll rid them on each sense.
For this he feels no guilt
to make his conscious twist and lilt.
His only crime is violence.
Mouths of MonstersSeeking words of comfort
out the mouths of montsters
to bleed their false prophesies
into any listening ears.
Letters of truth
form the heathen of lies
not beleiving the facts
that are glued to the eyes.
They tell you they love you
though you should be no more
while all else becomes fiction
a world of fairy tale lore.
The creature of shadow
all made up of whisper
cite what they give up
to be your private monster.
They break off bit of themselves
to cram into your mind
and weld into your thoughts
an eternal bind.
Their words are they bodies
each poison to the taste
though sweetened with honey
so you drink them with haste.
Once they're inside you
they fun may begin
to rip you apart
a storm under your skin.
They now live within you
they are a part of you now
they'll peel your lips into a smile
ignoring your need to frown.