A bit of dark fun

Or Perhaps We're Building Rome

I’ve heard it said by wiser souls

That no one is an island

So why is the only dry land

What’s underneath my knees?

Everywhere else is buried

Below empty promises and tears

Beneath locked cellar doors and shears

That attempt to trim the madness

When I only wish to be set free.

I’ve seen the ice in late December

Frozen glass and dying embers

Keeping broken dreams alive

Optimists trying to imbibe

The final dregs of hope

That they can cage the best of me

Then let the beast run free.

But whom do they exist to save

Or prevail toward to convince

There is no innocence

Incubating in the common sense

None left to tell of glory.

I’m the antagonist in my own story

The villain in my own domain

The picture in the tarnished frame

The wolf that howls at windows

For it knows you’ve barred the door

It’s stalked you here before

With blood lust's teeth and snow-burned eyes

Lurking under darkened skies

It leers at you with hate

Lingering just beyond the gate

And daring you to flee

Oh they thought to kill the best of me

But the beast is free, my dear

And I hear death is nice this time of year.

Aye! Avast! And a bottle of rum!

Jolly Roger

I often wondered when I was younger
About life, and faith, . . . and truth
And whether bathing on the roof
Could change the course of fate
If someone were a little late.
But then I put such thoughts away
As the mere ponderings of yesterday.
Today I think much stranger things
About duty, destiny and wedding rings
And if the rope that raises spangled flag
Is a noose around our necks to drag
Us to salute a modern Jolly Roger
Until we mistrust every potential lodger
And we lock ourselves away.
I oft wonder what it's like to pray
And believe that someone's listening
That my tears and fear aren't glistening
Upon my face near my smile of desperate doubt,
This fatal falling out.
I wonder if deception is itself deceiving
Because if I'm the only one believing
I think I'd much prefer an honest lie.
Our gluttonous appetites increasing
I wonder who it is we're fleecing
And if we've got an alibi.
I wonder if we hoist liberation's banner
Or if those we host in this named manner
Equate liberty with dread
And think us taking liberties instead.