Pain Train

So the world is your playground

Or at least that is what you think

Swing from the bars with the simians

Until the day turns into darkness

 

Taken for granted everything that matters

As they lay so many roses at your feet

 Business as usual until your stepping stones

Become a path that leads to your tomb

 

Others wish to see you find your way

By providing safe refuge from the inner storm

That very storm now destroys everything in it’s wake

As the horizon brings signs of trouble on it’s way

 

Far too much maelstrom to be reversed

As there is no one left to pick up the pieces

A precious pearl of perfect disaster

Left all alone to wallow in your solitary misery

 

Wading through the corpses you have piled up

Without a second thought or heavy conscience

One day the dead will rise and hell will be paid

You will recognize each cold face of retribution

 

So be wary of the times when things feel calm

As you make your way through the wreckage

You feel the warmth of the light approaching

But do not be so foolish as to ignore the rumbling

 

There is only one certainty in this world for you now

Light at the end of the tunnel is most assuredly a train

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Storm Brewing

 

Raised on a razor’s edge

With quick trigger to match

Seen a world of adversity

Came through without a scratch

 

Have your way with danger

Walk that fine line if you must

Bring trouble from every direction

But what I say,  you need to trust

 

When the winds begin to change

And the horizon’s growing dark

Be not leisurely seeking shelter

Or watch my lightning find its mark

 

Take from me all or nothing

From this wisdom I present

See yourself in the sites of reprisal 

 Feel a fury of wrath Hell bent

 

So make your exit now with haste

As a storm brews within the beast

To cross my path with bad intention

Would see a rage unknown released

 

Rethink the malice you wield so freely

Self preservation you should not forsake

To look directly into the eye of this tornado

Sure to be the last mistake you ever make

Wrath Of Retribution

  

Hardwired by the blunt reality

Of a world underneath the surface

What the privileged refuse to see

And the ignorant cannot believe

 

Fugitive of a wildly desperate mind

Escapism not the only tool of my trade

Back me into a corner and observe

A side that many are lucky to never see

 

I keep it hidden in the name of tranquility

Hoping against hope it is an obsolete necessity

Never again needing to succumb to its violence

Always a swift and definitive distribution of justice

 

 I suffer now from the darkest premonition

Of a time when I will be forced once again

To conjure this unruly beast back to battle

Annihilating all that bring pain to my pride

 

With revenge as my weapon I stand loyal

Onyx and Blood adorn my coat of arms

I am a warrior of both shadow and light

Test my allegiance and taste my wrath

 

One….Last….Time….

Doll Collector

Looks can always be so very dangerously deceiving

Playing tricks with the images our eyes are receiving

I once knew a lady, seemingly so quiet and unassuming

No tell tale signs shown of the menace closely looming

 

She climbed within herself for her own preservation

Spent childhood as a victim of ridicule and predation

Now a young woman her escape can be found in books

Living inside stories, blind to strangers spiteful looks

 

Obsession with the written word became her new elation

A book found by chance one day became her true salvation

A tome of times gone by, and the southern most traditions

Leather bound and heavily laden with fact cloaked as fiction

 

A thick and tattered volume replete with ceremonial ritual

Told her of a remedy from misery’s grasp, dark and spiritual

To find another pass time, and become a collector of a kind

Crafting miniature likenesses of her tormentors left behind

 

Crudely made dolls of people who have long gone away

The ones who left their marks, her pain was here to stay

She’s been hard at work, has amassed quite a collection

One for each antagonist, following books direction

 

One for every wicked child that taunted her at school

Because we all know that children can be so very cruel

Another for the man in her youth, one that she called “DAD”

For all the secrets he made her keep, just so sick and bad

 

More for the others who made her frightened and afraid

And the rest that just looked away leaving her betrayed

The time has come, the book foretold, to finally be avenged

Finding creative ways to take her “pound of flesh” revenge

 

Gathering up some needles, pots and pans, candles and the like

She comes frenzied with torturous plans of retaliation’s strike

Needles in dolls of the children, their words were sharp as pins

Candles burn the ignorant, she looks away, they burn for their sins

 

She has dealt with each and every one, her tyrants of times past

All but one remaining, she purposefully saved the worst for last

Forgive me “Father” for I have sinned as down comes a rusty blade

To he who gave her life, life in living hell, a debt must now be paid

 

The doll it cuts so easily, and the sharp blades sever through

Pins slide right into the eyes as his daughter’s pleasure grew

The puppet seemed to scream in pain when doused in boiling oil

She has one last thing in store for him, with an evil grin she toils

 

Now grabbing makeshift father, at the feet she starts to pull

A frightening ripping, tearing sound, retribution plan comes full

The evil grin that crossed her lips as the doll was split in two

Far beyond mere words, Ancient evil scripture dubbed it Voodoo

 

This woman I spoke of is long since gone and so very far away

If you listen closely you can hear her laughing to this very day

She went completely mad and quite willingly lost her timid mind

A book was the form this evil took, A book I hope to never find.