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Beautiful weather we're having today, no?Two days of oppressive heat
and everybody starts practicing their rain dance
and by the looks of it
they are succeeding
because truly, it’s pouring down, raining cats and dogs
as the British would say, would they not?
I can’t tell, it’s not my descent
Though I can tell this
Everyone begs for the sun
until it shows them its true might.
Then they do run and hide
It goes to show that if there were gods
we would run from them too.Beautiful weather we're having today, no?in General Poetry

Let Them ComeJanuary, all was still
Every glimmer a double dose in black glass
In Febuary the shocks begun
Yet I compress my resistance and answers to speech

I am prepared
Just let them come now
I'm here, let them come now
I'm akin to a greek god
just a hell'a lot uglier
Let them come now
it's all about luck this time
Let them come now

Do you ever get the roles that you want
We stand up in rows in someone else's uniform
It's hard to say no, to stand against
But I am calm and barren and beyond all control

I am prepared
Just let them come now
I'm here, let them come now
I'm akin to a greek god
just a hell'a lot uglier
Let them come now
it's all about lucLet Them Comein kent translations and extralyrics

MemoriesWe remembered my life, from the very earliest recollections, things I didn't
have a clue I still, that I had ever, known. Every hour, every day, not slowing
or stopping until we reached those who had put me through hell... no, not hell,
we know that now, but they had made my existence worse, miserable, even.
Do we want them dead? We do not reply, not because I lack an answer, but because
I do not need one. A grin spreads across our blood-stained face, exposing
equally stained teeth.

We continue through my life, once again flashing past points that would have
interested any practitioner of psychology. There is no more stop until the
first reaMemoriesin Dead Depths

Monologue: Scratch ThatI had a friend who used to say "to think that we think we matter"

I think he said that with regard to... aw fuck, scratch that-

I didn't "have" a friend that said that.

that's just something I said, in reality, it's just something I wanna say.

Well, my point still stands, I think it's insane when we think we matter.

Think about how many people you know, then how many they know... knew... and so on.

Do that until you reach the untold millions of people that have, currently do, and will live.

You still think you're worth shit? Yeah, well, then realize this simple fact:

The same thing we just did with people, can be done to planets, solaMonologue: Scratch Thatin Mono- and Dialogues

economic history of britain"whoa, man, you look like hell"

"oh, so it shows..."

"fuck yeah it does! but what is it that shows though?"

"oh, just some post-war stagnation, the great depression, three-day weeks and a winter of discontent"

"that sounds rough"

"oh, it was and is, really, i don't even know what and when it is anymore"

"wait, weren't all of these historical happenings?

"yeah, they were, all of them to britain"

"then how did they happen to you?"

"i'm, i was, writing about them"

"post-war... that the first world war?"

"of course, the second world war didn't have stagnation, it just had more shit after it."

"and the winter of discontent was..."

"theconomic history of britainin Mono- and Dialogues

Real DreamsIt will be Your adventure.
At the reins of the boy
with the magic hands.

At the behest of a poet,
so dear and true,
I think you even know him,
don't you?

When I go to sleep,
I'll be there too
like I always am...

and when you to bed descend,
then...
sleep tight my best friend,
and dream the sweetest dreams,
ever dreamtReal Dreamsin General Poetry

OurselvesSlowly, I... no we, dragged myself from the tomb, trailing smears
of thick and vivid red along the ancient stones. Almost none of it
was mine, but it was ALL ours, every drop of it in this world,
it belonged like this. How could I have been so blind? I wondered,
half-aloud, half-asleep, as the blood dripped onto the sand before me,
glistening rubies of once-life in the glistening sun.

I didn't know if it had just gotten up, or if it was going down,
but I knew it didn't matter. Time, didn't matter, doesn't matter,
never mattered, of course it never did, as I said: "Time matters not."
Or did I... no, you did, we... do, we are saying it, thinkiOurselvesin Dead Depths

Wind UpUnwinded
an age old sentinel
standing guard
over time spent

Just a simple box
a square thing indeed
Still it manages to hold
voices of the whole

Every possible uttering
it could be anything.
From a simple song
to a complex tune

What sound we’ll hear
we cannot know
Until we have it play
it could be anything

Maybe just a whisper
indiscernible and old
Or the sound of rain
on the ocean waves

Grab the clank
and wind it up
so that the music of the universe
may be heard

All the past
in this simple box
All of the future
in the notes to comeWind Upin General Poetry

Goodnight, Milady.sleep well,
and dream sweet.
or by my word,
I will slain
thine mares of night

Where they rise
and where stand,
there too,
they shall fall!

There too,
shall be their
final place of rest.Goodnight, Milady.in General Poetry

ObserverThey had ventured deeper and deeper still. The men had not spoken many words,
but they had made quite a few gasps and excited shouts. When they did speak
it was in the hushed exhilarated tones of those too reverent in the face of
the situation to shout, but to overwhelmed to simply speak.

I observed them, felt their warmth like beacons in the darkest night.
I smelled the blood in their veins, it's metallic tang heavy in the air.
Even still, the beating of their hearts was deafening. I was surprised I
could do anything but listen to the rhythmic pumping, in contrast to the
stillness that had held me captive for so long, it was as though it seObserverin Dead Depths

DelvingWe had hoped the inside of the ruins would have been cooler than the
harsh air outside. They were not. In vain, he had recklessly wished for
them to at least be damp with rot, anything but the arid of the desert winds.
When the ancient doors swung open they were met by what seemed to be
the deserts very breath. Devoid of all life to such an extent that it
felt as if death itself was leaving the depths, fearing for his life.

If we had known how right my first impression was, that what was lurking
beneath the sands was older than Sand itself... we might have turned back.
Then again, it's just as likely that we would have not, we were foolish,
Delvingin Dead Depths

Unlistedin Dead Depths

ReflectionA hooded figure
far from the "Robin"
in tales of old
(but then again
they say he wore
Lincoln Green and was
of forest wrought.)

No, this one
was a menacing
sight to see
(but who's left
to tell of such sights
when he leaves none
as he strode past.)

He walked past
a hairs-breadth away
leaving condense on the glass
(pulling the hood back
as the vapor faded
from within the mirror
my face looked back)Reflectionin General Poetry

AwestruckThe mesmerizing
undying touch
of times passing
has me hypnotized

The slow progression
of sudden decay
is predictability
in and of itself

Tomorrow kill
today executes
and yesterday
buries the victims

You never need
to dig very deep
if you're searching
for fresh corpses.Awestruckin General Poetry

Tomorrow, it's been a yearNew year's eve
is nothing, you see
in reality, every day
sets a year ablaze.

A year since the day
last us passed.
A year until that day
once again comes
to go away.

But I pretend
and celebrate anyway,
but now you know
how it is to me.

New year's day
is just another tomorrow.
Just like today
was the day before
a whole new dawn.Tomorrow, it's been a yearin General Poetry

kNighty ThoughtsAll is fair in love and war, and as far as I know,
I'm no warrior, for anything but love, and I am
certainly no lover of war. So my ideals (or lack
thereof) see me through, even the roughest spot.

"this is unfair"

I am not only a champion of my own truth, of the
lack of lies to which I would stand against
myself to cover. No, I am not that at all,
I am, by all means, Yours.

"why are you this way, it's odd"

Inspiration struck this poet down,
like Amours arrows to one's back,
a quick turn, like a ballet swirl,
to find your eyes, to peer down at my girl.

"you're a tease"

I refute your scandalous accusations! This writer
is much more than rkNighty Thoughtsin General Poetry

Duality III l(eft_out_the_fact_I_need_)aid to rest
Sleep is (what_I_do,_it's_my) all I do(n't)
Dreams I can(_feel,_see,_and) not remember

It's (in) accord(with_be)ing to(o_near) E.A.P.
That('s ho)w(_I_h)ould be (in_this) life
If the(_question_"wh)y(?") were to haunt me nightly

At (most or_)least in the quotes (I_ask:_implore!)
But th(en_)at(_long_last) I aspire to be (real)
Quot(ed_)able and unfor(seen,_but_be)gottenDuality IIin General Poetry

Past TenseI remember who I was
I don't ever worry
that I'd forget.
Because I'm still
who I was.

(who I am now too)

But who was veiled?
Was he what hides?
Or am I the inside?
One of those would
make me lie.

(and I'm no liar)Past Tensein General Poetry

GeometryWhen they start
placing graves the wrong way
to preserve space

We can be sure
that everyone whose death matters
is already dead

Or is it just
that we are much to sentimental
for mass-graves?Geometryin General Poetry

Ode to Random ChanceI do not question the truth
that I could be considered
ungrateful

(to random chance)

That I've been miserable
even though I'm living in
paradise

(a heaven in hell)

Then suddenly there's you
standing there so fucking
graceful

(without tripping)

To me it seems at times
like you live in the fire:
purgatory

(known as reality)

But you say it's inside
slowly oozing from you:
damage

(I think it hurt)

It's the truth though
there's fire in you:
passion

(burning bright)

Even without the wings
you have the eyes of an
angel

(mortally divine)

Though they cannot see
people are blind to the
truth

(but I'm a demon)

And I can see clearly
I wilOde to Random Chancein General Poetry

The PassingThe snow melts around him
the ice fades away
Thought not like spring
and it's gentle coming

The perpetually frozen ground
finally thaws
Leaving a swamp behind
dragging down the land

He walks forwards, slowly
no need to hurry
He is time's passing
from life to death

Then he stops, everything
freezes to a halt
Everything but the dripping,
rushing, muddy watersThe Passingin General Poetry

It's colder nowIt's colder now
The snow's melted
Only the ice left
yet, it feels colder
Maybe there was some warmth
to that ice-cold
white, powdered,
wet, death.

So just like
in the song
I like the way
I lie
The way
only poets can

Though by that I mean
they're only lies
for reality can never be
as beautiful as it is
written down in
graceful lines
of, in air-quotes,
"lies"It's colder nowin General Poetry

A Question: Who?A question that is in many ways
both the first
and the last

"Who are you?" we ask
Seemingly without knowing
just how intimate we aren't

So your answer will be flawed
That much is more tan clear
You don't know me
don't think I'll tell you
who I are!

Then as we get closer
the more you'll see
that whatever lies I told you then
whatever truth I left blind
leaves you asking me,
once again,
for whom I am.A Question: Who?in Honesty and Words

We AreWe're the thinnest line
between crushing that which cannot be fixed
and fixing that which should never be crushed
we're the thinnest line
the silver sliver, between ocean and land
between standing
and running aground.

We're that which separates diving
and drowning
The shipwreck
of a docked home
The eye of the storm
in the gales of death

We are two sides of no coin
For nothing could be as valuable
as what we are
We are alike in how we differ
we are the same
because we're not like themWe Arein General Poetry

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