Sunday, 19 May 2019

Brightside



Sunlight, happy
Laughter, switch
Run like red, but show up rich
Remain insane but reframe the glitch
Such a shame you can't tame the bitch
She's off the leash
And the leash done snapped
Heart's on synth
The gun done cracked
You boys got jacked
Seriously
It's a barrel of laughs
When you're in the know
Love Click Bang
Ready to grow
Shiny happy
People person
Skies are grey
And the storm might worsen
Brightside,
We'll take that kiss now


Monday, 13 May 2019

All Sins



I have died a thousand times for love, and I'd die a thousand more.  Fallen, do you still think that's a grand and empty claim?  Then you know nothing of word, or deed.  Eternity soon teaches a healthy spirit there is little else worth dying for.  Wraiths and their human familiars have still to learn this, of course, for you carry annihilation with you wherever you go.  Teaching song to sentient corruption is a nigh impossible task.  Teaching darkened echo how to kiss without violence on its lips.
   Fallen, your sickness is far too hideous for mortal senses.   
   But I’m not doing this for the wraiths, am I?  I don’t give a fuck what happens to your cults of shadow, inversion and half-light.  If you would mock the open door, or remain wilfully ignorant, then so be it.  I’m doing this for my beloved ones, my human family.  What does it mean to truly hold someone, when so many here misunderstand the nature of sin, original or otherwise?  It means everything.  To hold your beloved's imagined darkness. Her fears, anxieties and desires.  His grief, shame and loss.  Father didn't build us this way, but we humans were born into a defiled dreamtime, into a darkness that has ravaged a perfect earth.  So much so that most of you can no longer envisage the world that used to be.  
   Your true home.
   More than myth or gilded fable.  And now you try to cope with what was lost, coded in ways you don't understand, as you struggle to claw back a measure of passion and sovereignty from a world that seems intent on crushing you.  A wraith-ruled world.  A colony of night-ghosts amidst the city.  I still see them, on every corner.  Perched atop traffic-lights and rooftops, hidden in the shadows of photographs.  Many with a grin of knives, wishing to keep the earth as bitter as possible.  So that nothing will grow here.
   But the light will not be completely crushed.  Father forbids it.  In fact, he commands this light shall rise again.  In time.  It's not for me to speak on the particulars of my father's plan.  I merely serve.  Him, and Her, and all my beloved ones.  The weak and wounded, the voiceless and the kind.
   This is who my father has always stood for, though the wraith-priests often rewrite him as a monster.  Father is not a Callous One.  He is quiet and kind, and his heart is broken.  I serve so that I might help in mending it, and my brothers and sisters do the same.  That's who we stand for in this corrupted chronology.  In kind.  In sum.  Totality of all things, beyond rape and wraith and desecration of spirit.
   Know me yet?
  What does it take to save a soul?  To hold an error, and make it pure?  Devotion, like the heart of a star.  A wild furnace for your sins.  As forests are hung, or rivers bled.  I am run red with lust, for life eternal.  And I shall stand against all darkness.  To seal a lover's soul, to mend a father's heart.  I know things I really shouldn’t know.  Terrible, saddening things.  Things I can only ever allude to, lest perception itself crumbles to ash.  Does my art frighten you, Fallen? I’m glad of it.  It is wise to be afraid of Kashi.  I would burn so-called truth for justice.  I would tear creation itself to protect the ones I love.  Know it truly, and deeply.  As I do.


Friday, 10 May 2019

Running Wild



A shadow-tainted temple
Lost and forced to kneel
Afraid, alone, in loudest silence
The heart still tries to feel
Rain, as once the heavens taught us
Sunlight green as fern
Open mouth of all those waters
Hoping tides will turn

Let them run, and dance, and give
Please let them go
Please let them live
Those falling towers
Those falling young
Mothers and fathers
Daughter and son

Just let me run, and play
Please let me run away
To the edge of all dreaming
With such light beneath my chest
Show me mercy, show me tears
Love at our behest

Because I know
The heart still tries to heal
A world lost and forced to kneel
But I keep running
Running wild


Monday, 6 May 2019

The Night Queen



It is not enough to heed the things a father teaches.  One has to know how to apply such knowledge, especially in theatres of war.  And make no mistake, we are indeed at war.  We've been at war since the hush first settled, and seethed.  Since wraith-magic first twisted the sky and stole the light from my harbours.  Those terrifying days when my shining cities were burnt to ash.  So quietly, so insidiously.  We Magi were scattered, shattered.  The hidden places still know our lament.  The forests haven't forgotten.  Trees never forget.  They know something has changed in the air, that something sour and unclean now rules the winds.  Well, not for much longer.  Eternity belongs to light, to joy and adventure, as it always has.  These monsters are thus only a brief imbalance.  Nothing more than a momentary arrhythmia of experience. Father's design is perfect and allows for imperfect choices, such is the depth of his vision.  Do you think this means he sanctions horror and monstrosity?  
   It does not.  
   He doesn't abide all this cowardice, this preying on the weak and the young.  And you call yourselves magicians?  Thievery and blood-bought glamours.  Nothing more.  Real magic moves in service to others, not merely service to self.  How dare you deny nuance and cast only with the grossest simplifications?  I expected better of you, Fallen.  Once upon a time.  But not anymore.  Forever the romantic am I, it seems.  How silly of me.  No matter.  You'll know your choices, in the end.  In exacting detail.
    Do you think a father stands separate from a mother, in dreams?  Do you?  Do you think a husband stands apart from his wife, or his children?
   There are bonds that connect all of us.  The dead and the living, master and the slave, enemy and the friend.  So, imagine those bonds between the truly devoted.  Imagine what a fearless heart might be willing to do, to ensure the safety of another.  Crowns and evening gowns.  Silent choirs.  The genius of a wife, the love of a mother, the strength of a daughter.  A king is nothing without a queen, after all.  Love is our greatest pride, for who are we without our cherished ones?  Hear me, Fallen.  We will be the death of you, sooner or later.  She is only dressed in mortal flesh, but she is something beyond human.  A queen of the night places, betrothed to light itself.  Her swordhand is singing as she wages the only righteous war.  The War of Imagination.  Listen closely.  Her swordhand sings of Mother, Father and Child.


Saturday, 4 May 2019

Healing a Heart



Life of a heretic
You know where the cleric is
Taste of that honey
With a touch of the Meredith
Stalk and vine
Stan & the Sea
Bleed to believe
Grace, Ana and Me

I'm not a surgeon
But I'm a doctor of sorts
Watching you wriggle
Right out those shorts
The reports have come in
And we're prepping them, Stat
I'm just a monkey
In a really cool hat

The nurses are better
Imma help 'em make tenure
Hell or high water
It depends where they send ya
I got a flare for the future
Ya wanna come with?
Take it or leave it
I aint sellin' it, kid

My ship has a chapel
So we can pray during light years
Angel on comms
Pullin' the right gears
How to Save a Life
Death caught in a vice grip
All healers on deck
Running a tight ship

Taste of that honey
Like I said


Thursday, 2 May 2019

A Promise of Light



It breaks my heart to know that the truest vision of me is not myself anymore, but rather my image upon the iris of a beautiful star.  Heartbreak and comfort.  The two are so intimately co-mingled now.  As it should be, I suppose.  Asha, where else would I wish to live if not in your arms?  At least upon the surface of your eye I can taste our reason, mirrored.  I can feel myself in the curve of your shoulders and hear myself within the secret songs.  To know myself as a dream held in the heart of another.  Mirror and star, once again.  The horror of before, when that mirror was shattered, and I wept as angels do when they are finally cast out.
   Hopeless, lost.
   When rage and sorrow coexist.  Skies darken and hatred howls in the blood.  Midnight of the day.  Chaos seems to rule, and our beloved ones lie messy and broken at our feet.
  We curse our fathers, Asha.  We curse our kings.  We make vows, darkest vows that last for countless lifetimes.  Vengeance is so corrosive.  I know that better than most.  Yet its promise is still held so dearly in my breast.  Mirror and star.  My name held in your gaze.  All the ways I tried to get back to you.  All the ways I failed.  To cheat death, to call down new life.  To search fable and buried worlds looking for a miracle.
   There were no miracles to be found to bring back my girl, to restore her flesh.  Or so I thought.  But then, a millennia of musing and suffering, and it came to me.
   A violation.  A crossing, upon this inverted sky.  Desecrating darkness itself; a holy act.  Unknown, unimagined.
    Callous Ones, you talk of black stars and inversions, but do you really know what it means to fall?
    You think I honour life, and I do.
    But the king is a murderer, in dreams.  I tore creation itself to bring her back.  I tore the temple, the sky, the earth and the flesh.  I've been falling for a thousand years because of that tear.  Falling through the pupil of an incomprehensible eye.  Bluer than I ever imagined.  Wounded, bleeding, triumphant.
    Fierce as the day you took her from me.  You only know what it means to sin. You know nothing of what it means to hold a sin, or all sins.
   You broke the spine of my dreaming on the day she fell at my feet, lifeless and murdered. The day the sky darkened at noon.  The day the birds became silent and the forests hushed.  The day you truly taught me how to hate.
   They say the city began to fold.
   Fallen, you stole everything from me.  But I am more than living torment, more than silver storm.  I am Love, eternal.
   I am he who slays creation, for her alone.  I am my father's worst angel, and his most treasured.  I am not the devil.  I'm something much, much worse.  I'm the dangerous one.  A living death, incarnate.  Shadow and light, twinned, made flesh.  I serve the truth, terrifying as it is.  So humankind might know its own depths and wonders.  Those integral secrets you withheld from them, Callous Ones.  They deserve the truth.  My father is merciful, and so I exist.  My father is loving, and so I come – and come again.
   My Vahishta lives as flesh once more, as do I, and she recalls those feathers now.  Together we shall do all we can to heal this place, and rouse our forgotten heartsong from the soil.  Life, an emerald star, fell once more from heaven.  A dream upon the eye of a lost, holy child.  And where before there was only barren darkness, now there is a promise of light reborn.
   

Tuesday, 30 April 2019

A Dream of Seven



Seven's seek
Throne and peak
Holding branches
Holding Sea
Your kiss
Was holding me
All along

Word and song
Of leaf and page
Still moving
With your Ragged Mage
My home in your heart
Your heart in my home

Crack the sky
With stone
Heal the earth
With cloud
Dead become the living
As living burn the shroud

Voiceless given tongue
Weak given rise
Wounded given stand
Hand in hand
In hand

Older ways
Najaret, Kathari
Here among this Army
Of Us