Thursday, December 7, 2017

The Chronicles of Lady Death - Olga of Kiev

The three horsemen smiled,
One by one she called their names,
Rise they did, from graves forgotten.

Pestilence my friend, she would sing,
As men burned in the bathrobe,
The best of their land, burned to ashes,
'No more suitors', the Pale horseman sang.

The wise and righteous of the land folcked,
War smiled, as he sharpened the swords,
Bidding her cry for revenge, patience a fools virtue

Patience paid its wage, in her court,
As he wetted his blade, bathed in blood,
Olga smiled, as five thousand lay dead,
Soldiers sheathed their swords, so did the Black horseman, 

Her long lost love she mourned,
Olga wailed, as her love lay drenched in crimson.
The lure to mourn spawned the empire.

Famine hit the twenty of the best, 
Dirt rose high, life smothered till the last breath.
The White horseman raised his sword,
As he stole the dying breath, of the men who came to mourn.

My son shall live on, Olga chimed,
For a price of pigeons and sparrows, three a piece,
Fire rained from heavens, Gomorrah witnessed its end.

Death devoured her love,   Drevlian murderers,
She mourned long and hard,
As she became the last rider of apocalypse,
Thus was sang the chronicles of lady death,

The chronicles of Saint Olga of Kiev's

St. Olga of Kiev - Wiki

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Nightingale's Wail

The curtains fall, an applause follows,
Her flamboyance seconded by the moon.
The lights dim, her pride wallows.

Countless are her adeptes assidus.
Men flock, boys swoon, at  the tender voice,
Yet guarded she stands, her hands perched high.

The night is young, she says,  a perfect choice,
She picks the one with the shiniest bag.

The crack of the dawn, sets the stage,
She clears her throat, smiles, shies away.
Her smile hides the infuriating rage.

As the night fades, the morning bird sings,
She collects her toils of the night.

Gathering the little garbs off her wings.
She flies home, walking the walk of shame
At length, home, and the comfort of her mirror.

Her beauty faded than the day before.
She clears her throat once again.
A crackled voice, of a girl in pain.

The wail of a lost nightingale.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

The Traveler-6: The Black Plague

"Will you cleanse the world for me", the Devil drawled...

I remember the night of the rain,  the shards of nature's fury,
Hitting across my face, as I rode.

I remember the night of the trade, an enticing piece of apatite,
The night I traded all pains for my soul.

The devil dressed in a purple haze, a dream I wished weren't true.

The words echoed, his voice glared, the darkness shrank to a corner,
A diabolic deal did I make, the devil smirked.

In exchange for my soul, I took a bite out of the forbidden knowledge,
I disappeared, as light engulfed me.

The devil dresses in a purple haze, a dream I wished weren't true.

I find my self seated, centre of attention, the spotlight of the day,
The future I present, the devil storied.

The future was bleak, wars, I recall, misery I try to forget,
The future is bleak, but a deal is a deal.

The devil dressed in a purple haze, a dream I wished were true.

One particular instance I do recall, misery he did foretell,
Death I do promise, he said.

A man I was introduced to, a traveller the devil, I recall,
A traveller from the silk route.

The devil dresses in a purple haze, silken dreams, I try to forget.

I talk to the man, devil incarnated, an apatite for destruction,
I was immortal, he would sneer.

Did you make a deal too, I would ask, a grin for a reply,
I hated him, for the knowledge foretold everything.

The devil dresses in sheep skin, a purple haze I try to forget.

I brought the sickness in my ships of immorality, ships of false promise,
I was a merchant of death, I hated his soul.

I brought death to the world, I cleansed the un-clean,
Do I hate him still, may be, I sighed.

The devil rides the chariot, the chariot of a purple haze.

I cleansed the world of wickedness,  or so I was told,  he chimed,
I cleaned the sin out of the world.

My immortality I traded for a better world, but at what expense,
A million souls lost to the darkness.

The devil reigns over your dreams, a purple haze.

I cleansed sins, the traveller sang, I cleansed the world.
I ridded the world of immorality.

I had a liking to him, wars were of a past while the plague lasted,
People turned to God, the world was better.

The wolf among sheep, a purple dream of haze.

Will you cleanse the world for me, the Devil drawled,
It has turned to wicked ways, he sang.

I was inclined to say a no, but what is immortality without power,
You are doing God's work, I was bribed.

The devil dressed in a purple haze, a nightmare I wished weren't true.

I remember my choice, as I became, one of the travellers,
A traveller in the Devil's catalogue.

I remember my choice, as I flew in a metal bird,
The deliverer of God's wrath, on a folk of innocent horde.

The devil tricked me, tricked me in my purple dream.

I remember my immortal pride taking a plunge from the skies,
As the cleansing of an era took toll,

Millions died, futures saw a distorted dream, I am guilty,
I am guilty, I sang, as the devil sew me to his soul.

The sheep in wolfs cloth, a dream of a purple haze.

-Scribbled by Tim

The Traveler - 1

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

When the grass is always greener

On the other side, ...

Apples grow on the tiny blades of grass,
Butterflies plant new trees,
Birds chirp a new anthem.

On the other side, ...

The water is crisp, blue color of glass,
Allies rise up in arms,
Kids slurp on the candy cream.

On the other side, ...

Shrilled songs of love, sung by highland lass,
Prize antelope hung by the pyre,
Little twerps, sing their fabled rhymes.

On the other side, ...

Life is always cute, live by the crass,
Cacophonies of a dreams lost,
But alas, the other side, is the other side.

On the other side, ...

The weed is the greener plant.

Saturday, September 9, 2017

The Mirror of Scars

The box creaked, as beautiful dream bid farewell,
The velvet walls, broke the bliss,
They broke the silence.

'Sleep', said my spirit,
'Sleep, the nightmare will pass',
The wooden cage creaked,
As the carriage rattled down the stony path.

Yesterday I had seen the sunrise,
Today's just a dream.

The horse neighed,  repose to the hearse
A slow rumble on the cobbled stones,
Sang the shingle, 'Ahoy, and alight'

I heard the box creak again,
Through space I moved,
The squeeny voices of people I knew,
Drowned the being in me.

Yesterday, her face flushed with fear,
Today its a pale smile.

I heard them speak,
Concoction of lies, I sighed,
'They can't hurt',  My spirit replied.

My sins were forgiven, the soul obligated.
My ticket bought, kings I ride with you,
A purple robe sewed for me waited,
'Sleep, as long as you may',

I tried, I failed, the sleep eluded,
I tried, I failed, as dirt hit the box.

Am I dead, I asked,
'You are but asleep', says the preacher
I live, enslaved to trust.

I heard the knock on the wood,
The key clicked, the shambles untwined,
Light dawned, as I walk,
I was finally free, I sighed.

Monday, August 7, 2017

The Chronicles of Lies

I listen to the ghost of my past,  scribbling words of wisdom.
In my head, the voice is recast, in shades darker than my soul
End, closer than before.

I see her grow more than a horror,  love that never gave me repose,
My mind transpired to her mirror, the paintings captured the reflections. 
I disappear, she remains.

She held my hand in vain, an affection lost to the winds of morrow,
I kissed her lips in pain, her ghost lingers in my thoughts,
She appears, I fade.

The promises act their roles, in the theatre of lies, I play my part 
Her smile inspired ballads, retold, heroes die, villains die, but my love oh dear,
Play ends, the curtain falls.

Shades darker than the grey, as the clouds gather, her smile fades,
I hear the little angel say, despair my friend, is your mistress,
She fades, the lies continue.

I play my part, in the self woven lies,
I play my part, in the chronicles of my life,

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

The Symbols in Chaos

The ten tales, gold platted fables,
Hand picked, polished, and let to fly.
Ninth of a piece, twirling in the wind,
The never seeing eye.

A dangling clef, tremolo plays,
Quivering voice of sleep, they fade.

The eighth fable, fabricated in white,
The seventh a sin to foretell.
Crackling fire kindles a remembrance,
Bereaved toll of a forgotten bell.

The pitch vibrates, lets out an angst,
Faith lost in the sinking carpal.

The beast from hell with head count of six,
Break one, form one, divide your fear,
The clock hands made a five,
The all seeing eye, doesn't hear.

Timber of faith, quivering sound,
Southern wind heard a faint cry.

The division bell toll four, morning, and night,
Amber lit sky hit a chord of three.
Pondering the everlasting meaning,
The sky lays, staring on earth, never free.

The tempo rose, sky the limit,
Heart beat along, match they say.

At two in the noon, the sun would smile,
Down at that one lily flower.
I wonder what the sun ever thought,
Locked in an unseen tower.

- Tim