Scratches and Scribble

The humming light above my head

Reminds that imagery is a facade.

Like words that speak across our eyes

Through the cool pressed fabrics of reality.

Sweet scented lips that brush wildly against our senses

And drag us down out of the monotany of the expected.

I trade my ragged brown coat, with its stub tail and bloody sleeves

For a blue suede Jacket, glowing cufflings that streak the air as I walk.

What sparkles I can play upon your ears and eyes

With but some scribble, I become the master of your mind.

I am

I am that shadow that never quite leaves the corner of your eye.

That memory you can't remember and can't forget about.

I'm that wound in your soul whose pain lets you know you're still human

I'm more than a metaphor.

I'm out of your mind.

And intrinsic to your reality.

Its a very serious game I play.

Because I am your greatest piece of wholeness.

And the embodyment of all that you are missing.

I choose to be chosen.

I die every moment that you live.

We are one...
two...
three.

I are eternity.

Kingdom of Two

Leo stood on a hill, he stared at the grassy field before him, marveling at its life. Here and there patches of flowers sprung up along side mushrooms now fading from the previous nights glory. Birds called to each other from neighboring trees, wishing good welcome and good morning. A new sun breaking through leaves and feathers to chase away the dew of the grass. In his heart, he begged their apology. For their place of life, their sacred home, would soon be consumed with the flow of dying blood.
"Is this to be our field of battle sir?" Marcus, Leo's second in command, asked. He was a no nonsense soldier, though he had been learning from Leo since he was a youth the ways of leadership, he could never grasp his teacher's philosophic ways in the same manner that he could grasp his tactics. Leo turned his gaze to him.
"It is as poor of one as any we are going to find." He said. To his credit, Marcus was beginning to take his commander's cryptic expressions in stride.
"I shall inform the captains." Marcus said, and paced off. Leo brought his gaze back to the field, the beauty of the flowers again filling his thoughts. He knelt down awkwardly, his sword made it difficult, and plucked a single blume from the ground. His eyes grew sad as he studied it.
"A White Lieana." He whispered. " Remarkable." The noise of a horn broke his musing. He lay the flower down over the spot where it had, until previously, grown. The horn reminded him in its ever faithful way that today was not a day of reminisce. Today was a day for bloodshed. He turned and walked away, following his lieutenant, back to his army. Back to his fate. There was another battle to be won.

Poetry

How intricate this asylum is. The human mind. We shut ourselves up tight, and never let our ideas stray to wider places, for fear of being lost. But why shouldn't we explore the wastelands? Why shouldn't we go out into the plains of temptation. Does our knowledge of all heresies weaken our conviction for the Truth? No, for Truth is pure and holy.

Thus we must seek the light in the darkness, and when we find it we must take it to our safe haven, and go out again to find yet another pinprick of sacred Truth. And when yet we have found enough to fill the earth, we will go again into the darkness of space to retrieve the stars. For this universe deserves the Truth. The Logos. And we will find it through in our sifting, we will break it from the dark earth, and bring the light our of darkness.

This is our noble purpose.

-Castle Woods