Where violins welcome you home

Self destruct someday

Ashes scattered over all our remains

You will not find me then

Were you to return, you will not find me

My brother says it gets better

If we’re responsible for another

I told him I was responsible everyday

Responsible for you

You see there are places on this planet

Where the blood seeps through the cracks

Of the ghosts of long past

There are monarchs on their thrones

And warriors without homes

And you’re either one of the two

Or you are just not

I suppose I am not

There’s a temple in japan

Where the blossoms wither and bloom

And a wishing well

And a little girl

And watering streams

And death’s at their door

There’s a bloody trench

Somewhere in Germany

With drying leaves strewn about

In patterns of terrible stories

There’s a man in india

With a rose water grave

And tilting bells into the sunset

Resounding in the fray

There’s a prince from a far off land

That lies heartbroken in his bed

His dreams trouble him

His sword unsheathed

Lies stained with blood

There’s a street in new orleans

Where the violins welcome you home

A witch playing with her dolls

and the balconies with the whores

Singing songs of those who always fall


The Cold Nation

Our amours were made of the frozen cold

And the snowy rivulets ran in our blood streams

There was wolf, a bear and a hound

There was a hammer, a sword and a war horn

There was this war that swept the nation

And there was death that stalked us the minute we were born

The Middle of a War


Oh my god

We’ve landed right smack

in the middle of a war

Born into it, blood and body intact

Our souls sold to its tragedy

Heavens above

Our nations have traded into this

Into this massacre of sorts

My Gracious Lord

What did we do

To be born in soil

Soiled from the blood of those coming

And those who left

Oh my God

Look what we’ve done

Chosen our paths

Picked up our weapons

There’s no running


Oh my God

We’ve landed right smack

In the middle of this war

My lord

We cannot build our homes

Not without these charred bones

The trees will not grow

In dead tainted sands

Strewn right and left

With the Bodies of the unknown

My God

When we pray

Our tears will run red

And our hands will shake

Because our salvation is dead itself

Our hearts betrayed.

A gun. A mace. A sword. A dagger.

A gun. A mace. A sword. A dagger.


The weapons were lined out for us to choose.

A gun. A mace. A sword. A dagger.

We were supposed to set out to war.


Because the ones who left before us never returned.

Our hellish demons of sorts.

And we had to be wherever they were fated to be.


Because once we had a dream.

Trudging thought miles of ancient wood.

Smothered green in lichens and warm showers.

We were right behind us.

Garbed in black uniforms.

An array of weapons we did not choose hung by a belt.

A bleeding gash or two.

Pronounced limps and breathless lungs.

Walking fast in pursuit, calling after someone.

The Angel on Fire

The quest is not over for you

It never will be

Not even when you die

Your mind is on fire

Your heart is on fire

Your soul is on fire

And unless you end up in the fiery pits of hell

Your whole life will be mapped out in sequences

Of unholy fights and delights

Of blasted glories and rusted swords

Of hidden requiems and bad dreams

And your death will be ascension into combat origins

Your entire existence is an array of cogs and pieces

Of Joints and limbs

Collectively an automaton of fire

A soldier on fire

An angel on fire

It will never end.


Palpable but Hidden Aches

Transcending alliances

Of the angels retreat

The gathering winds

Placed below and underneath

And the failing abyss

Of strange foretellings

All the broken toys you used

To put up the best of shows

Straying far and wide

With wind and tide

The raging, frantic ocean

That misses you when it’s still

The blistering night of heated deserts

That’ll someday lie cold and dead

The changing world and its horizons

And the sifting shadows of thought and process

The central origins of malformed beasts

The filtered ray of the apocalyptic sun

Your fellows and fiends

And my martyrs and their white steeds

All creatures of shallow hearth

All became palpable but hidden aches

Hidden aches the only your touch unearths

Your Dress of Pearly White

I’ll lure you in.

Spin you around

and catch you in a turn.

I’ll make my mark, leaving no scars behind.

I’ll settle in your soul,

making a home.

Yours and mine.

I shall engulf all of your epiphanies

until there are no thoughts, no regrets.

Just you and me.

We’ll stray far and wide,

take the world in our stride.

And in my moments, I’ll taste a sweet madness.

Not tainted with sorrow.

The winds will sway,

your dress of pearly white.

And I swear, this time

I won’t be so far behind.