We Evil Few

Thru damp and dark city bowels where missing children
Call and howl,
We chase the dream of one more score,
Not trusting fate to open doors;
A life of grime is ours to own where wicked deeds place
Kings on thrones,
The shining knife or blunted wood,
The tools that break the great and good;
No sun will see us evil men for darkness is our
One true friend,
It hides our acts of villainy,
Those things that even Gods don’t see;
For we are those you fear to meet down alleys black and
Dead end streets,
The cutthroats and the deadly few,
Who in the night may call on you;
So lock the windows bar the doors and softly tread
upon the floor,
We evil footpads are abroad,
The night is ours forever more.

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Footsteps

It’s amazing what can pass through your mind in the quiet minutes just after dawn. This one came to me this morning. Hope you like it.

The beat of footsteps
Echo loud
On floor of weathered wood.
You’d hide away
And not be seen
If only that you could.
But even breath
Exhaled in fear
Is heard by clever ears
And though you cower
In the dark
He knows when he is near.
A shadow long
Precedes his step
And in it darkness blooms
The fear you feel at
Slow approach
Is caused by coming doom.
As closer now his
Hollow tread
In time with thumping heart
Creeps ever near to
Where you wait
For terror soon to start.
No more a dream in
Which you’re lost
Reality comes calling
You close your eyes
And hope to stop
The night from slowly falling.
His first cold touch
Of hand on skin
You know now fate is sealed
And as you look
Into his face
Your evil is revealed.

Judgment

I was not going write and introduction or explanation to this one, but I think I ought to. I am not a religious man, but this poem does have a ring of ‘final days judgement’ to it. It was not the intention. I wish I could take you along with me on the creative process that sometimes hits me. These words just flowed from me, no thought about where the poem would go or anything. If you think this piece of low standard, you can see why! Thank you for reading.

Miles and smiles have come and gone,
Yet here alone I stand.
Before the great and judging eye
That plays before me life gone by,
And paints me as I am.

Promises those made and broke,
Hearts damaged by my hand.
In all my innocence I lay
The reasons why I did betray,
And cause such hurt to land.

Selfishness the living word
By which this life is planned.
No empathy for souls in pain
Just grabbing all that I could gain,
With greedy grasping hand.

Who knew such evil could exist
Within the soul of man.
A coldness deep within the heart
A blackness keen and wicked sharp,
Such cruelty to withstand.

So now I stand in judgment harsh
My life in detail scanned.
What punishment should so befall
For blackened actions one and all,
What end befits this man.

Reblog : All Hallows’ Eve

Well, as promised when I originally posted this poem, here it is reblogged in honour of today. I will admit to not being a big fan of Halloween, but that’s not to say I don’t understand what kids see in it. I hope you like (re)reading this piece, and happy Halloween to all who celebrate it.

In collusion with these spirits,
Dark deeds are thought and done,
While wicked dreams a-plenty,
Will take free reign and run.
Amongst the whispering branches,
The wolves will chase the moon,
And in the ears of children,
The devil plays his tune.
Stars will turn in pity,
And screams will fill the air,
As horrors from the blackness,
Stand strong with evil glare.
The chill from open caskets,
The stench of rotting bones,
Will once again be welcome,
In victims hearths and homes.
For in the grip of Autumn,
When Summer’s warmth has died,
The twisted and the tortured,
Will own the world outside.
And those who be most foolish,
Caught abroad when day is done,
Would best be on their metal,
Be ready with a run.
This night is seen in glory,
To the wicked and the wild,
And terror is the watchword,
Among the the meek and mild.
So be not calm and trusting,
And do not be naive,
Unless you learn the horror true,
Of this All Hallow’s Eve.

Born To Hang

Another throwaway one for you all. The first two lines came to me on my walk home from work this evening and the rest came from there. Hope you like it, throwaway or not.

Born to hang
Or a legend be
The man with the glint
Of a thousand fires
In eyes that hold hard cruelty.

Born to hang
Or a saint to be
The man with a grin
Like a shark on the prowl
Patrolling the depths of the sea.

Born to hang
Or a lover to be
The man with a word
That can turn heart to stone
And cause men of power to flee.

Born to hang
Or a hero to be
The man with a voice
That oozes like oil
Filled with lies and dull misery.

Born to hang
From a dead rotten tree
A saint nor a hero
No legend to live
Nor saving redemption for me.

All Hallows’ Eve

This is a bit early, granted, and don’t be surprised if it’s re-blogged at the end of the month – but I wanted to publish this today for you all. I hope you like it.

In collusion with these spirits,
Dark deeds are thought and done,
While wicked dreams a-plenty,
Will take free reign and run.
Amongst the whispering branches,
The wolves will chase the moon,
And in the ears of children,
The devil plays his tune.
Stars will turn in pity,
And screams will fill the air,
As horrors from the blackness,
Stand strong with evil glare.
The chill from open caskets,
The stench of rotting bones,
Will once again be welcome,
In victims hearths and homes.
For in the grip of Autumn,
When Summer’s warmth has died,
The twisted and the tortured,
Will own the world outside.
And those who be most foolish,
Caught abroad when day is done,
Would best be on their metal,
Be ready with a run.
This night is seen in glory,
To the wicked and the wild,
And terror is the watchword,
Among the the meek and mild.
So be not calm and trusting,
And do not be naive,
Unless you learn the horror true,
Of this All Hallow’s Eve.

Reblog : Generosity

I’ve re-blogged this to take part in today’s Daily Prompt – “Train stations, airport terminals, subway stops: soulless spaces full of distracted, stressed zombies, or magical sets for fleeting, interlocking human stories?”. Hope you like it.

The train station was as busy as ever on this cool November morning. Commuters rushing to make their habitual seat on their train to work, others arriving into town ready to attack the day anew and survive another day at the grindstone of employment.
Mixed in with these station regulars were the people travelling for other reasons – some good, some bad. The woman on her way to meet her lover, the guilt etched in her face as she thought of her husband driving home from the station with a smile on his face, not knowing the truth of his situation.
The young man and woman off to the airport for their first holiday together as a couple, he only thinking of the sex he can’t wait to have, her thinking of only of how close they will be after spending a whole two weeks together.
The older man, dignified and almost military in his bearing, travelling to the funeral of a friend, finally taken by the weak heart that had plagued him for years.

Into this cauldron of humanity walks a smiling man, with a large tray suspended round his neck in the manner of ice-cream sellers in the cinema. Contained in the tray, displayed in rows like jewellery on velvet cushions, were an assortment of pastries. Pain au chocolat, croissants, danish pastries, cinnamon swirls, all glistening with sweetness.
As this man walked toward the centre of the concourse, the intoxicating smell dancing among the people around him, eyes began to follow his progress as interest was piqued. He stopped, and in a voice tinged with mirth loudly announced,
“Ladies and gentleman. Greetings to you all on this fine morning. As a token of kindness and to help you on your journey today, I have here some fine pastries. Please, avail yourself of them, free of charge of course! I only ask that later today when you think back to this moment, you maybe think about how a small gesture of generosity and kindness can bring a smile to even the gloomiest of mornings”.

Several people began to congregate around him, looking into his tray to select a pastry for themselves. Once the first person took one (an account manager for a plumbing supplies firm, on his way to meet a potential new client), other people took it as a signal to pickup their own selection. They were pastries that are dreamed of. Warm to the touch, plump, the filled ones heavy with sweet chocolate or syrup, the croissants light and buttery. As each person bit into their own pastry they could not help but smile, and offer small noises of satisfaction and enjoyment.

After twenty minutes or so, the tray was empty. Those people lucky enough to get a pastry were left feeling a tiny bit happier than they had been before this smiling man had arrived.

The man himself stood with a satisfied grin. He had come to the station this morning in the hope of brightening peoples day. As these people set off on their commute, or their walk from the station to their offices, they would begin to feel more than happy, more than satisfied after eating these gorgeous treats. You see, within each pastry he had put a small dose of LSD. With no taste other than the rich, dark chocolate or the sweet sugary cinnamon, it had been consumed completely unawares and now, for the rest of the day, some of these people would experience a rather more interesting time than they first thought they would when they got up this morning. “Yes” he though to himself, “it’s good to give”.