Magic Puppets

warning: long. :)

WINGS

Before you come with your ideas

and monsters, your dark version of creation,

your inglorious destinies

and shallow seas

(too shallow to sail in)

                          I was here,

fevered with a red pain that seems

to fall from the heavens, just for me.

So I move accordingly,

like a dying star, falling without

crying, towards an emptiness

soon to be filled with your uselessness,

my ghost wings fading,

pushed out by knives now, daggers,

reaching out of black windows, directing me

through doorways, empty hallways,

bending to discover your absense,

holding in my claws, traveling with me,

your fist, and pausing now,

sitting where I've landed, so broken,

to converse with you

only you haven't arrived yet.

Here my daggers continue

to seek

you

out.

 

WOLF

Stolen, hidden in a world of exile,

(sweet exile!), excited and blushing,

chosen by the head-hunter, wolfshead;

Laugh for me, he whispers; his being

is new and set in token of my loneliness

and sad jouneys, departing, my childhood.

And our world's joker deals the cards,

counts them, watches us and our hands;

I lose, he leaves and commits

his own personal suicide.

He dropped a letter by my door,

when darkness melts to darkness,

pleading furiously for my forgiveness,

and falls asleep in the heart

of a character

possessed.

 

HEIGHT

Remember this: the moon

forwning up at us, the verses,

mother-words spat at me;

the sky is filled with feathers

and touching; my angel trying

to love and cuts like a knife;

and all too well, I know your wings

can never stay so white.

They force us so far, so high, I die.

Fist in my claws, falling savior,

his accusations so close to the truth,

storms farther from the moon and Heaven.

What else can he do

with such distance bewteen us like this?

 

VICTIM

I have discovered the ability to lure.

I like to stab at the lonely boy through words.

Murderer, I speak again; story-telling.

He feels for me, waiting out the temptations,

trying, defenseless, alone, yes,

in sleep, striving to get

a

grip.

What's the boy to do?

I could have robbed the liar of life

and innocense.

My eyes opened and I still couldn't see him

beside me, instead wolves were

ending us.

 

FLESH

I don't struggle to escape the Man,

or Boy? His skin craves my claws,

his diceiving calm, eyes on me;

he is warm,

he is edible,

he pays,

he is taking over,

but he is faithfull only to his instincts,

he is never here,

he is Man, or Boy?

He refuses to be two.

He uses the knife, my knife.

I will remain; he's cut himself off.

Where I'm cut free, the blood on my lips

sizzles and hisses like a demon.

I yearn for enlightenment.

What is this?

Life falls from me.

Who are you?

There is no cure. You are Man

and Boy.

Author's Note

could also be called 'A Jounal of My Past Lives'

Reviews

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

Damn! This is Epic work.
I'm at a loss for words....

[dreaming dame]

Wow, I love this, like... I can hear astory told that has never better uttered by man, or woman...