Real World

I'm struck still where I stand, as the low Autumn sun shines bright, in all Gods glory and wonder.
 As I take in such frightening beauty, on my future, I ponder.

On this hill like my life, I hit a blind summit. Feelings of the past are sad.
Though I trust there's increased beauty down the the road to be had.

No honest work is beneath me, but in coming this far I know I can go again.
They're no better than me. We all just men.

Underneath this tangerine sky I'm called into action. While my soul is caged. 
  My minds enraged.

I slashed my way through the underworld, but I will not wait for the afterlife for my liberty to be unfurled.
I trust in you, now show me the real world.

Her

The suns light beams through the branches of the tree tunnel
you entered.
Like her, beautiful! Like your lies you invented.

She smiled as the birds were singing.
Fantasied, as in the distance the same church bells as today, ringing.

Into her life you came.
Feeding and living from her pain.

Freedom, no longer waiting.
As you gloat in her death, we long for love, we can't let go of hating.

The Blade

I guess I was just kid back then. But I now know why you hated me so much. 'My weak mind.' It coudn't have made sense to a man like you.
It's hard still now to say aloud, that you once made me cry. I didn't realise what you were doing. Maybe I still don't. 

By the way I hated you too. But I look back with respect.

The last or maybe the only real piece of advice you gave me, only means something to me now.
I was stood to attention and you looked at me with those stone cold eyes and said...

                "Before that blade touches your face each morning,
                 be able to look the man in the eye who's staring
                 back at you."

It's now many years later and with the responsibilities I've chosen to burden I can tolerate him, infact I'm proud of him. And still so much more to come.

Thank You, you cunt.

Into The Light

From obscure realms the whisper of my conscience
mutated into screaming.
Only gathering my cross carrying the load
when the soul cried out for meaning.

As the sun I arose the hero of the day,
victorious from the dark night's fight.
Beaming away insanity, 
like a baby emerging into the light.

Butterfly

The violins cry out for cultural identity. As bullets still fly from klashnikov's.
"The cold is coming." Sounds the whispers of suicidal writers.
Innocence is manipulated, developed, then kills.

Released from hate. The defiance, awe inspiring.

As caterpillar to butterfly, let the metamorphosis happen.

In a white stoned building I see lions in crowns moving in the flickering of candle light.
What lurks in such beauty? I ask the night sky.

Beauty draws lines, matures then dies. 
I'm released from your resenting eye's. As a golden thread is plucked from the fabric of an empire.

He isnt anything or he's everything. As nation stands by, upon their King.

As caterpillar to butterfly, let the metamorphosis happen.

Dead In The Water

My spirit meets my body when I pick up this pen.
Does truth always win or should I go again?

The beat goes on, as I watch the man in the Union Jack sing.
I picture Nietzsche dancing and dream I am a King.

It's once again just me and you. So this poem I'll rhyme for you.

I have visions of long lost lands and all that I could miss.
So soften your heart or they will submerge like the 10 cities of Atlantis.

I know you don't mean it, but it's still manslaughter.
When your pride leaves them all dead in the water.