The Cleric

The pounding on the door wakes him with a start,
He jumps to his feet, the doors fling apart,
Villagers rush in looking scared and crazed,
The things they mumble leave him slightly dazed.

Dark things are seen coming this way,
Singing songs of chaos and decay,
A rumble is heard, down far below,
Storm clouds gather, the wind starts to blow.

Lightning flashes with a thunderous roar,
The dark things are here, as the rain starts to pour,
Fires alight, the flames climb high,
Shadows are moving, they dance in the sky.

Soon it’s over and the damage is done,
The dark things laugh, they think it all fun,
But through the rain, there walks a man,
To stand where villagers had fled and ran.

He raises a cross, and speaks into the air,
And calls to his god with a powerful prayer,
The rain it stops, the clouds they clear,
The dark things tremble, in cowering fear.

The cleric he smiles and casts his spell,
He’s going to send those creatures back to hell,
He lifts his arm and the sun rises high,
The dark things scream, and then they die.

No Answers

Where is the manual for humanity,
The how to find me within me.
Should I look outward or inward,
What is my own truth or my own lies.

I feel I can never learn enough,
As I unlearn new things everyday.
Science and Theology lack what I need,
And society helps me lie to myself.

Where is the other option for truth,
That other place to shed our lies.
Is it right here in these moments,
These times we write out our souls.


The stars spin never-ending dreams
And life passes slowly through the multi-verse,
Soon time is next to night
Then destiny cries aloud;

The comets give birth to neurotic paranoia
As frogs stop eating flies,
Gravity fails to be lawful
While ladybugs crawl on the underside of oceans;

Mud turns into rivers of silver
And the colour red stops working,
Later water moves to wood
But one human speaks the undivine truth;

The pay-TV channels unscramble
As smart phone clocks flash “maybe”,
Apples look like oranges
While haters make peace.

A Prison Of Sound

The voices down the hall echo
With a silence that shakes my soul,
I am not ready for this emptiness
Of being so alone;

People talk and yell and shout
But never to me,
I am alone in a sea of people
Where sound becomes a prison;

Are they shutting me away
Or am I hiding myself away,
With fewer and fewer connections
My world comes to a stop.