magic-and-metaphors

[magic-and-metaphors]

-Downsizing-

"At least seven tenured faculty at SUNY Potsdam have been told their jobs will be eliminated in one year." - 7 News Staff

It's maw dripping with the Blood of our dancers and actors And soon our authors and poets

The crimson blood, mudding It's once pristine coat as The prey stops twitching

Stops fighting for its life Because it knows the end is Inevitable

Now here I'm left to Cower behind my plastic veil Without umbrella, 'neath a personal

Thunderstorm, salted tears washed Away with artificial raindrops Both sliding down my cheeks

"I do not take this lightly" says The beast as it crushes the Windpipe of the lamb

No, you don't, of course It's not your life on the line You get to live for free

[magic-and-metaphors]

-Isotretinoin-

Leaping through hoops like a circus lion Running a marathon through various checklists

Yet still blocked by hurdles who know Nothing of my situation

Walled in by barricades dressed in Pressed suits and wielding fountain pens

My sprint that began with a stethoscope waved like a flag Halted in its tracks by a chasm in my wallet

Expected to spend more than a mortgage Just to not suffer from a lack of self-confidence

Insurance companies can go to hell

[magic-and-metaphors]

-The Hellp Desk-

Death. Stillness. Awakening.

A line longer than you could imagine And at the end of it, a desk full

Of bored and tired demons checking Restless souls into their various afterlives.

You know what you did, and you know Where you're going. You just haven't

Accepted it yet. And now you're here And you're going to make it my problem.

Head down to Level 9.

[magic-and-metaphors]

-Don't Make Me-

I don't want to write about death and damnation. I don't want to write about book burnings and beatings. I don't want to write about riots and rights. I don't want to write about protests and police. I don't want to be a poet.

I don't want to be a martyr, writing battles on a page. I don't want to be a harbinger, scrawling warnings in my blood. I don't want to be a critic, hoping people understand. I don't want to be an advocate, a voice for people I don't even know. I don't want to be a poet.

I don't want to describe blood spattered on the pavement. I don't want to describe blue and white flashing lights. I don't want to describe liquid eyeliner mixing with salted tears. I don't want to describe mothers crying over graves. I don't want to be a poet.

I want to make a world of my own imagination. I want to make a picture in a reader's mind. I want to make a place for people to escape. I want to make a snapshot of my mind. I don't want to be a poet.

I want to write about fantasy and magic. I want to write about feelings and nature. I want to write about creation and destruction. I want to write about characters and personalities. I don't want to be a poet.

I want to be an author, a creator, a writer. I want to be a painter, a sculptor, a maker. I want to be the builder, the architect, the designer. I want to be the reader, the viewer, the occupant. But I don't want to be a poet.

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Hallowed Masquerade~

Gossamer gowns give Shields of silken sheen

Disguising decaying deceased Lurking under lace illusion

Socially acceptably visible Hiding bones and rotten flesh

Half-corporeal specters can Crawl out from the shadows

Donned in alabaster suede One night to feel alive

This Hallowed Masquerade

Even those not yet undead Can show their truthful form

Whether fangs or claws Or withered wings

No judgment shall you find Since everyone's disguised

These costumes that you've Donned upon this bitter eve

Allowing mingling with mortals Both seen and yet unseen

During this Hallowed Masquerade

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Falsifying Sanctifier~

Gossip, hearsay, fabrication Scandal, story, lie, suggestion Different words for condemnation

Lawful murder, truthful liar Bind me up and spark the fire

Haul me from my sanctuary Bind my wrists with hempen rope Drag my feet and rig the gallows

Call me wicked, fuel the fire Falsifying Sanctifier

Sisters hanged from silken rope Some like me thrown on the pyre Smiling through the smoke and burning

Vote conviction by committee Which of us is truly guilty?

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Silvertongue~

His hair like dark waves crashing Along the coastline of his spine Sword as silver as the tongue He used to make him mine

At the start, 'twas but a game A battle of wits 'twixt him and I However, the longer it went on The more I disdained to say goodbye

Our first meeting was Unorthodox to say the least Silver tongue, blade-to-throat Sure one of us would end deceased

Slowly my impression changed Aggravating became endearing Who knew we'd end up dancing In the moonlight, in a clearing

In a forest full of monsters That we know we'll have to fight But for now it's just the two of us For now . . . there's just tonight

[magic-and-metaphors]

~What Makes A Human?~

I wish I was a robot Full of circuitry and wires Not dealing with all that "human stuff" That makes living life so hard

It's not the body that I'd want Or even a computer brain I'd like myself a metal heart To save me from the pain

Human emotions hurt so much Even the so-called "good ones" They lead you on until you find You're back at square fucking one

Happiness is messy And love isn't much better They bot often leave You merely angry and bitter

I'd rather be ambivalent Life would be a breeze My fleshy heart can't take this Where every breath's a wheeze

To try and say everything right And not get misconstrued I'd rather be a robot This heart is of no use

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Ursus Rubrum~

From the woods, the beast returns Scavenging for crippled prey It's hunger must be sated

Gnashing fangs dripping with Blood as ruddy as the fur on its Hide, claws clutching a callow lamb

Milky curls of wool stained Fleshy pink and red Thrashing in its maw

Standing by for far too long Believing I was invulnerable Only finding I was next

Cowering behind my plastic barricade Beneath my personal thunderstorm Salted tears mixing with the artificial raindrops

My advocates have months to live Fighting for their life wielding Pens as sharp as swords

And yet the beast will come They will inevitably be consumed And I'll have nowhere to go

But home

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Patina~

Shattered window, broken glass Rusting green and orange-brown Crumbled mountain made of steel

Vines of green in concrete dirt Gardens made of iron beams Dandelions prosper here

Towers topple over time Stairways rotting through their boards Step too hard and you'll fall through

Stone-made giant's creaking bones Whispering their final song "Let me die, please let me go"

Forests forged of iron grey Metal branches reaching for Equally grey sky above

All the color to be found's In the weeds, and roses here Lie upon this giant's grave

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Inkwell Serenades~

Amidst the vaulted ceilings, an echo lingers, In a tapestry woven with whispers of old, Where parchment sighs and inked fingers, Compose love's sonnets with words untold.

Columns of wisdom, stoic and grand, Cradle volumes in their time-worn hold, Their spines, a testament, proudly stand, In the romantic theater that stories unfold.

In dusty alcoves, treasures repose, Aged manuscripts with tales to impart, Each folio a witness to passions that arose, In the silent embrace of the bookish heart.

In quiet corners, a scholar reclines, Lost in the verses, a romantic embrace, Pages turned, where ardor entwines, In the old library's cherished grace.

The fragrance of antiquity, a symphony sweet, Resides within these venerable walls, Where souls enamored with prose meet, In a love affair that forever enthralls.

Oh, let the pages speak of ardor's dance, In this sanctuary where literature thrives, Romancing souls with each fleeting glance, In the hallowed archives where love survives.

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Secrets~

In a land shrouded in night's embrace Where shadows dance and spirits race A manor stands, a haunting domain Echoes of whispers in melancholic refrain

Gargoyles leer from weathered stone A testament to tales long overgrown Ivy-clad walls hold secrets untold In the abandoned halls where mysteries unfold

Cobwebs weave their silken lies Veiled portraits with vacant eyes Tapestries whispering of bygone days While the moon casts its ghostly rays

Creaking floorboards croon their song A haunting melody lingers long Footsteps echoing in corridors unseen In this labyrinth in the macabre's sheen

Gothic arches frame the moon's cold glow Harboring secrets from long ago Where specters dwell in ethereal flight And spirits haunt the endless night

In this realm where darkness thrives Linger tales of the dead's archives A somber saga, a tapestry's thread Woven in shadows, where the restless tread

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Druid's Oath~

When you get your magic from the land The blood of the land flows through you Only then, may nature you command

Your power comes from the stone on which you stand And the mountains from which come your window view When you get your magic from the land

Dig your toes into the grainy sand Stare out into the sky and ocean blue Only then, may nature you command

Tall and strong, like an oak you must withstand Your arms the boughs through which ravens flew When you get your magic from the land

Sow the seeds so the forest may expand Tell the industrialized world, their tithe is due Only then, may nature you command

Make industry bow to nature's demand It will eventually collapse and be made new When you get your magic from the land Only then, may nature you command

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Wholly Unholy~

Faint memories of golden light Ivory wings and halos glowing A tear in reality, like rotten wooden floorboards And she fell right through it

She wakes to waves wrapping her feet The iron taste of blood filling her mouth A gentle, salty breeze brushing her face Above her, birds circle and caw

She wanders the coastline aimlessly Cliffs adorned with tales etched in stone Steps heavy and stomach-starved Nearly dead before stumbled upon by her savior

Nowhere else to go... No one else to turn to... He lets her stay, mentors her, Becomes the father she never had

As a powerful practitioner of the arcane, He teaches her to harness her power. Her celestial source paves the way for her sorcery She becomes the daughter he never had

In the dust of ages, he roams A sage amidst the ruins and sand. Seeking truths in ancient tombs, Until he disappears without a trace

Nearly two years later, and yet He still has yet to return. Now, She wanders with a band of outcasts One of whom has captured her heart.

She will find her father, she must... But she must also help her friends. She knows that they will need her But her gaze will ever drift North

She will not lose this home too.

[magic-and-metaphors]

~I Dreamt I Met A Rabbit~

I dreamt I met a rabbit and He said he knew me though I'm not sure that I believe him His eyes . . .

Her eyes as dark as midnight I could stare into them forever The way she looks at me I feel like I could fly

Her hands, as soft as rabbit's fur- I dreamt I met a rabbit and He talked to me about my home But it's a home I barely remember-

Our goblin friend is talented, he Can turn into so many things- The knight we travel with Turns into someone else sometimes

He's not as nice to me then, but sometimes Sometimes I remember where I Came from, home . . . the grass The color of lagoon water and

The sky shades of violet The trees with bark that is Pitch black - her eyes are black Black as midnight, but warmer

Warm like the sun's rays But dark as a starless night Night . . . the knight . . . Our knight and his . . . friend?

The rabbit called me a friend And he called me a different name- A different name like when The knight becomes something

We no longer recognize- Like I didn't recognize the rabbit . . . I don't want to think about that I'd rather think about her

Nails sharp as dagger blades But never piercing skin- The crystal that controlled The knight's mind was under

His skin, I should check To see if she has one too Maybe we checked already? I'll check again . . .

Just in case

[magic-and-metaphors]

~The Song That Silence Holds~

Ashen skin and midnight eyes Abandoned young and knows not why Lived her life among the dead They've always served better than living friends

She mutters a somber song of sorrow But knows there will be life tomorrow The body buried 'neath the earth Will give its life for floral birth

Goddess of death, winter and fate Chosen disciple to bear the weight Bodies buried in ceremonial attire Others light the flame, she worships the pyre

Despite her alarming demeanor Her personality is much serener A living antithesis as a friend In this strange troupe, she helps defend

Her love is vibrant as the autumn leaves And longs to swim in the open sea Her arrows sharp, exact, and swift Yet her attention floats adrift

Her friends are strange and have their quirks They try their best and oft it works The moral compass may not always point North Still, they draw their blades and venture forth

The road ahead is dark and long Her friends, they try to right their wrongs Silence is nature's favorite song So take a moment to sing along

Sing a song for Silence

[magic-and-metaphors]

~Inner Dichotomy~

My head is filled with contradiction Nothing is as I thought it was Which of us was here first? Me or you - you or me?

You were a lowly vagabond Thievery and murder All to make some quick coin The knights found you They made you right

Yet my friends tell me other things I was a knight before My first memory is a shallow grave And a simple pine box

You were killed for your misdeeds in A shallow grave, the side of the road The knight order found you And decided to give you a second Chance . . . not that you deserved it

I have a mother, a seamstress And a father, a knight They know me, they know I've changed These things cannot be false, right?

Your so-called "father" works with The same knights that found you You think they would not ensure That they could weave that fiction? You pathetic, naive boy

I am not pathetic, nor naive These dreams, these visions Those cannot be faked What happened under the fortress?

You speak nonsense, boy These dreams are nothing more Than hallucinations, meaningless When have your dreams really had Any significance? Never.

My old friends, they were there You seek to twist my thoughts Your words have no basis I have seen the scene of the experiments

YOU KNOW NOTHING You do NOT understand that Of which you speak You understand NOTHING I am the reason that you're alive

I would be dead without you That much is true, but you forget I was dead before we met When I died, I died alone

I was in this body first YOU are the hitchhiker in MY body And yet YOU let that wench defile MY body, all because she cares For a parasite

I have seen what they did to me I have seen the products of their Twisted experiments, mindless assassins Blank white eyes, that strange crystal

What have you really seen? What can you truly believe? The words of near-strangers Or the person who's been with you Since the beginning?

No... you lie... I've seen everything That vile stone room, the dried blood Covering the ground, the tables, the straps Those prison-like rooms, numbered like inmates

... you're insufferable and I hate you. I hate that wench that you've Attached yourself to, you are a Disgrace! No wonder you found Yourself in a shallow grave.

I'd put you in one myself if I could...