Inside the Worm Page 2
So indulging,
Was there such a love as I?
Did deep fire
Once dwell within you,
'Fore you opened wide the gate?
Now it threatens
To undo you
Since your love has turned to hate.
Man of might,
What hope can hold you,
What emotion bring to flame
All that smolders
Deep within you,
Hearts unburied, love untamed?
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Man's Conscience – Shadows in the Wind
"What are we?" they whisper,
"Only shadows in the wind.
Flitting shades of ebony
In secret haunts of men.
Hidden deep in their hearts,
Gazing sadly through the dark,
What emotion can we stir
From places bare and stark?"
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Modern Women
The blush upon the cheek, the stolen kiss
So shy and yet so warm received was this.
How tragic was the sound of anguished sigh,
For just one touch of such pale tiny hand.
She smiled silently behind her fan
And held at bay his passion with one glance,
While keeping him uncertain of his chance.
Times changed and so did women it would seem.
They've given up their femininity
And thrown away all chance of mystery.
They're rude and crude, disgusting bits of slush,
With filthy mouths that make a sailor blush.
They flaunt their nakedness for all to see
Proud of their lives of immorality.
Oh, give us back the girls of yesterday
Who understood the subtleties at play.
Take back these plastic women so enhanced
And let us live the era of romance.
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So Beautiful
An angel to look at,
So beautiful, she,
With her paleness of flesh,
Her hair ebony.
Her lips were as scarlet
As the lies she told
And her eyes were blue ice,
So empty and cold.
Her manners were haughty,
Her laughter was cruel;
Her pleasure was making
All others the fool,
And though they despised her
They bowed to her will
For the crown on her head
And scepter of steel.
But the day that she died
They all breathed a sigh
And nobody bothered
To tell her goodbye.
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Steven
Steven came in the dead of night
And touched her cheek in the pale moonlight.
Like stone it was, so cold and white.
Like stone in the pale moonlight.
He swore a vow upon her blood;
He swore he would crush them in the mud.
Revenge swept o'er him like a flood.
Revenge and death in the mud.
There was no hand that could have stayed
This reckless youth who rode unafraid.
Swiftly he rode; his heart was grey.
Swiftly he rode unafraid.
And death came pounding o'er the hill.
Pounding on horseback with sword and shield,
But Steven grasped the silver hilt.
Steven rode 'ginst sword and shield.
The night birds cried above the din;
The clash of weapons, the roar of men.
Death to the villain and his kin.
Death to the villainous men.
There's none that fought as well as he,
Ten to the right, to the left were three.
Blood in his eye and wounded knee.
None to the left, to the right t'were three.
Challenge him not, the battle's done.
He lay in blood in the rising sun,
At death's door, but the battle's won.
Death came with the rising sun.
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The Arctic Expedition
There was ice in the wind
And it stung the face
As they knelt in the snow
To offer up grace.
They were all that was left
Of the hearty band
Who set out to explore
The arctic strand.
In nineteen and thirty
They sailed to the north,
A doomed expedition
As they sallied forth.
On dog sled they traveled
Across the vast waste;
Through blizzard and ice storm,
The dangers they faced.
'Til sometime in April
The food had gave out,
There was nothing for miles
But frostbite and doubt.
Five died in the first week,
The second week four.
The third week went the guide
And seventeen more.
'Til at last they were six
Down to ragged bone,
With ice on their fingers
And ice on their toes.
Death hung over them
When at last they spied,
Far in the distance,
The city of Clyde.
The storm had just started;
Ice pelted the men,
Still they offered up praise
They'd survived with their skin.
That night they slept soundly
In warm feather beds.
The death far behind them
In the snow and the sleds.
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The Battle of Thorny Glen
Michael lay in the damp of the leaves
Under the claws of the barren trees,
His cold grey eyes peering through the gloom,
Watching the path, silvered by the moon.
His bow was of yew, the bowstring, taut,
Cradled the long, sturdy arrow's nock.
While from his belt the thin dagger blade
Pressed sharply against his hip and leg.
Close by his side the rest of the band
Were ready and waiting, weapons in hand.
Off in the distance, banner unfurled,
Rode Sir Reginald, the evil earl,
With twenty men, all royally blessed;
Warriors chosen from the best.
They rode with pride, for they knew their skill,
Each ready to fight, willing to kill.
Closer they came, the clang of their shields
Echoed hauntingly across the field.
Closer they came and the wind grew still;
The screech of the owl shivered and thrilled.
Twigs snapped underfoot, crackling leaves
Announced their presence among the trees.
But Michael's band lay quiet and still,
Waiting breathless in the dark and chill.
A moment more and the trap was sprung.
The battle cry, as in legends sung,
Rang out like a bell against the night.
Death to the earl's men; 'twas death or flight.
They fought like fiends in the woods that night,
Blood on the leaves in the pale moonlight.
Blood on the leaves and death in the air;
A blow struck for freedom everywhere,
And the shouting rang 'cross hill and dale;
The cheering sounded above the bells.
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Though only one battle had they won,
And the war had really just begun,
They flocked to Michael, ready to fight,
Fueled by the fire of justice and right.
Zealous, determined to live to see
A nation reborn; a people free.
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The Black Knight
The black knight roared into her life
And he made the day seem bright.
Then he used her and he left her
In the coldness of the night.
He turned all tongues against her there,
Though she spoke no harm to him.
Still, they branded her a harlot
And abused her for the sin.
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The Death of Fair Balderin
The grey of dawn stung the eastern sky
As fair Balderin laid down to die,
The wood of the yew in his shattered breast,
But his heart was calm in the face of death.
His mild eyes gazed through greenery
To the distant peaks beside the sea
And his thoughts wandered back to days of yore,
To pleasures of youth on that sandy shore.
The white sails against the purple skies;
The slap of the waves and the sea bird's cries;
His mother's warm smile, his father's stern brow
And a maiden's eyes filled with tear drops now.
How hard to stop fighting, let it all go,
Grasping for life when there is no hope.
While darkness is falling, dying alone,
Far from the loved ones still waiting at home.
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The Desert
The desert wind was howling,
Throwing stinging bits of stone,
While out on the horizon
Sat a rider all alone.
And far off in the distance
He could see the caravan
Slowly be devoured
By the tons of moving sand.
It covered o'er their bodies,
Lying face down where they fell;
The burdened camels tried to run,
But they were lost as well.
The storm passed on beyond them;
Leaving not a sign of man,
For the desert hides its murders
'Neath the raging shifting sand,
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The Dying Warrior
Far across the dark moorlands
The whippoorwill cried,
While the man in the moon
Had tears in his eyes,
For the scarlet clad soldier
So lonely did lay
With the wound in his shoulder,
His face white as clay.
His musket lay broken
Beside his numb hand
And his legs were all shattered,
His mouth dry as sand.
As a light mist fell o'er him,
His tatters were soaked,
Though his mates had all left him
Wrapped tight in his cloak.
And they'd spoken with kindness
When bidding farewell,
Still his heart felt bitter,
He'd wanted to yell,
To deny he was dying,
To beg them to stay,
But a soldier has duties;
They went on their way.
Now the red mist was growing
Before his dark eyes.
Though he shouted in panic,
No one heard his cries.
His heart gave one leap
And then it was still.
The young warrior laid dead,
Alone in the chill.
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The False Prophet
He came to the world with a sword in his hand
And he brought forth the doom of mortal man,
For his tongue was fire, but his words were sand
That crumbled away in their hands.
He was false and unreal, but he looked the part,
So they followed their heads and ignored their hearts,
Providing credentials through symbolic charts
And other mysterious arts.
He rode on the waves of a passion unleashed
And crested at heights no prophet had reached,
While their natural walls of doubt he breached
With his comeliness of speech.
But, say, was it he who led them astray,
Or were they deceived 'cause they wished it that way?
Sometimes the motives of a handful of clay
Is impossible to say.
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The Forgotten Wife
The pale mirrored reflection smiled
As she gazed through her darkened eyes
And on her pallid cheeks a tinge
Showed madness creeping 'round the fringe
As the blood on the blade dripped down
In tiny droplets to the ground.
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The Gunfighter's Truth
"My greatest regret," the old man said,
"Is all the young men I've left dying or dead,
Down in the dust, beneath the dark sun,
Because they were proud of their skill with a gun.
A man's a fool, who digs his own grave,
Who carries a gun as a tool of his trade,
And looks at the world through haughty eyes,
Intent that his name be immortalized.
And for a while he gets all the breaks,
But sooner or later he makes a mistake.
For though he's a bully, he's short on nerve,
Still he's given a glory he doesn't deserve.
Convinced he's the best there is around,
He basis his challenge on judgment unsound,
And gives up his life, once more to prove
There's always a better man, faster than you."
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The Jester's Soliloquy
There are no more songs left unsung;
No stories left untold.
The flickering fires have all died out;
The hall is dark and cold.
The table, laid with courtly pride,
Is flung with careless crumbs.
The dishes cracked, the cups o'er turned,
The feast naught left but thrums.
While from the roughly cobbled floor,
Where dogs and lords mingled,
Arose a jester, cap in hand,
His face sadly wrinkled.
He spoke to all the slumb'ring hosts
Whose faces, flushed with drink,
Betrayed the brute within the man;
How low the creatures sink!
"Behold! Before me lies the gents,
The nobles of our land,
Those wise and gallant lords who rise
Above we lesser men.
Can you not see distinguished brow?
The wisdom in the eye?
O' are they not a handsome sight
Who with the curs do lie?
Had you but seen them earlier,
Before their revelry,
I'm sure you never would have guessed
At their debauchery.
Yet there they lay in silk brocade
All stained with their deceit,
These saintly men who moralize
With hypocrite bleat.
They drink the toast, they eat the feast,
They bed the maiden, fair.
r /> Their talk is crude, their manners rude,
No cruelty is spared.
They taunt their neighbor, mock the weak,
With laughter they do roar,
'Til overcome, they tumble down
To curl up on the floor.
What pompous frauds to claim their lives
White as alabaster.
It's hard to tell just who's the dog –
And who is the master."
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The Marble Maiden
In the harbor
Stands the statue
Of the maiden
Clothed in white.
In her hand the
Rusty saber
Symbolizing
Truth and right.
And her eyes stare
At the future,
Seeing all that
Lies before.
She is watching,
Ever hopeful,
For the light of
Heaven's door.
Know her justice,
Sing her praises
Guardian of
Gladden's shore.
Every warrior
Swears allegiance,
Undefeated,
Evermore.
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The Nazi
There were eyes that stared in the hazy gloom;
Hostile eyes across the room;
Eyes that cried out for his doom.
Revenge! Rache! Revenge!
His white, puffy face oozed depravity;
His eyes were cold with cruelty;
Master of brutality.
Revenge! Rache! Revenge!
His god was hatred, destruction, and pain;
All races met with his disdain;
Black and evil son of Cain.
Revenge! Rache! Revenge!
Though many years have passed, he's hunted still,
Cold dreams of vengeance to fulfill;
Vows sworn in the blood he spilled.
Revenge! Rache! Revenge!
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The Prophesy
Beware, vipers, for his time is at hand
And all ears listen for his approach.
He cometh like the wind of Dorman,
Fierce and wild, like a storm from the desert,
His gaze shall shatter the strongest walls