Manslaughter

Manslaughter 12/2/2011


My mind is like a dark mansion
A house with many rooms
High on a rocky cliff
On a silent mountainside.

It is a house of splendor
With crystal chandeliers
And deep velvet curtains
Heavy tables and silver candelabras.

But it is also a house of horror
Haunted by the ghosts of the past
Both the living
And also the dead.

There rooms full of boxes
And the boxes hold memories
Some of them left opened
And some of them closed.

It is full of hidden treasures
And secret rooms
A refuge in times of trouble
And solitude for the soul.

Its walls are made of stone
Thick with history
Impregnable
And steep.

In the great hall
The hearth is burning
And my conscience sits before it
Brooding about the day.

His eyes reflect the fire
But his mind is somewhere else
Visiting the past
And haunting the future
Full of regret and sorrow.

The weapons hang on the walls
And torches keeps the passages lit
Because here it is always night
Blacker than black.

In the depths of endless winter
A remote and icy fortress
With blood in the mortar
And horror in the cellar.

Some of the rooms
Are quiet and dusty
Left exactly
As they touched them last
A silent reminder
Of love and loss.

But in the dungeon
Rests the deepest darkest self
Locked down tight
And straining against the chains.

He has suffered
And cries out in agony
Tortured by a thousand cuts
And planning his revenge.

Waiting and waiting
For what it seems like forever
Waiting for the guilty to visit
So he can devour them whole.

I have the secrets
And I know the reasons
Hidden in oak chests
Unsearchable and safe.

I know when
And I know how
The secrets that were hidden
That they think no one knows.

The secret is the proof
And the proof can make you sick
The kind we always wonder about
But then quickly
Suppress the thought.

I know what was done
And I know how
But the worst is the reason
Just as simple as it is low.

I wait by the door
For the lid to come off
When all of this passes away
And truth rises
Justified at last.

I am pale as a ghost
And blood is smeared on my face
But my eyes are burning
And my heart is solid iron.

If war shall come
Then I am ready
And if God should bless
Then I shall smile.



Trash 12/2/2011

You can make it look pretty
And you can teach it to speak
But you can never make noble
What is dead in the heart.

You can take mud
And mold it into something
But only God can give it life
And summon a spirit.

The world is full of mud
And we sit on mountains of trash
Empty, wasted and dead
The lifeless and the putrid.

You can make money
And you can establish law
Setting up little kings
With titles and glory.

But you can’t make a man
Out of nothing
And no one can give them humility
Or wisdom.

This ship was built to sink
And all the towers shall fall
Built to hold the temporary
Just for looks
And just for show.

Disposable reminders
Of temporary existence
Here today
And gone tomorrow.

We can make excuses
And we can praise the foolish
Lifting up fools
And putting down the good.

But all is fake
And make believe
The truth behind the lies
And the lie behind the scenes.

Though we are thrown away
And ridiculed
A man is never wasted
If he keeps his soul.

But a man of deception
Though he may bask in glory
Is nothing but vanity
Empty and useless.

I have lost more
Than I have gained
But I am not the only one
And I am not the last.

But what I have lost
Was never mine
And what I have gained
Remains forever.