...they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions

[Field-A Vision] [Like A Slap in the Face] [Message in a Bottle] [The Passive Facist] [The Secret]

~*~

In the middle of nowhere runs a road
A normal, paved road with a yellow line down the
middle
The day you come along this road is a sunny one, the
sky a clear and cloudless blue, it looks like and
feels like summer
Hot enough that when you look into the distance, the
air shimmers and blurs your vision
No matter though
Straight ahead is the same nothing you have seen for
what seems like ages now
But to the East and West, far, far off in the
distance, are mountains
This place though is so indistinctive that you could
be anywhere,
Anywhere at all
No road signs, and no indications
To your left and right are fields of tall, waving
grass
The grass is not green, but rather a golden color
Like that of drying cornsilk
On your right, immediately next to the road, runs a
strip of wildflowers
This strip is about ten feet in length and it varies
in width, some patches being as thick as a foot, while
others are thin as a mere inch
In this field, along which wild flowers grow, a large,
grey boulder sits
In the other field, this one to your left, there is a
knarled tree
The boulder sits about fourty paces into the right
field
While the tree seems to be near a mile away
Your friend is standing next to you, in the middle of
the road
Nevermind how either of you got there
Wordlessly, you both turn and began to pick
wildflowers
Your friend is wearing a hat and a long sleeved shirt
They remove the shirt for the son is began to beat
down on their back
A sudden gust of wind comes, tearing the shirt from
your friends hand, and lifting the hat off their head
as well
The hat goes sailing to the left, and you both watch
it as it settles in one of the branches of that far
away tree
The shirt blows off to the right and lands on top of
the boulder
Your friend and you exchange a glance
You tell them that you will go fetch the hat, and they
go fetch the shirt, for it's a longer ways to the tree
They argue, saying that they will go get the hat, you
the shirt, after all, it's not your problem, is it?
But you insist, saying that's what friends are for
So you part from the line in the middle of the road
where you had stood arguing, you heading in the
direction of the tree, your friend, the boulder
The grass makes a soft, swishing noise as you tramp
through it, looking at your feet, not wanting to look
up at the sun
Some time has passed, how much you're not quite sure
You look up, and to your amazement, the tree is the
same distance as when you started
You quicken your pace, your gaze firmly fixed on your
target, but it only seems to get farther and farther
away
You turn back, the road several paces behind you
There, on the yellow line, stands your friend, the
shirt in hand, looking at you
They open their mouth to speak, and their words are
lost on the wind
You turn to go back to your friend and began to run,
but you go nowhere
Any distance you run, is lost, almost as if you were
running in place, or, not moving at all
You are trapped in this field
Vultures circle overhead, trilling their hungry death
cry
You were only trying to be a good friend, to go and
get the hat
They say the road to Hell is paved with good
intentions

~*~

Like A Slap in the Face

~*~

Like a slap in the face it came
When he told me he loved me that night
That simple phrase had been playing itself in my mind
for many months
But mostly it snuck up on me
Out of nowhere did it come
I stammered when he said
Unsure of how to reply
This moment that I had been waiting for
But all I could manage was a sigh
My voice had been captured by someone
In a witch's bottle did it rest
And this one simple moment was putting me to the test
I saw him fall and crumble
When I didn't reply
I saw him fall and crumble, it was clear in his eyes
And I felt my heart breaking to pieces
Because love is all he wanted from me
And I never knew till that moment
That I was incapable of giving it to thee

~*~

Message in a Bottle

~*~

Found him on the beach one day
Between several rocks
He was reading a book
We began to talk
I couldn't really hear
Anything he said
The waves were too loud
But I could read his lips through the glass
He said his name was Message
I told him mine was Obscure
Then we weren't strangers anymore
Message told me there was something dangerous
Within me
It would bring death
Worriedly, I asked him what
But he became silent
Angrily, I uncorked his bottle
And hurled him onto the ground
Mildly he looked at me
And began to brush the sand from his hair
He told me that Obscure was no longer my name
Instead it was Black Madonna
He said the thing growing within me
Was a Child
Named Damian
And come time
It would be my life or His
And should I choose my own
Than the very world would end
Message's eyes gleamed with something bad
I didn't like it
I asked him how this could be fair
The life of mother or child
He only smiled and shrugged
And I asked though
What should happen
If the child should die before it was born
His glance was puzzled
He did not know
But thought that it might be bad
I picked up a rock and smashed Message's bottle
Alarmed he looked at me
Reading my thoughts
He tried to stop me
But I picked up a large shard of glass
And swallowed it whole
And I felt it cut apart my insides
And the Child that was inside
And I felt it scream as it died
But I only slid to the ground and smiled
As my vision grew dim and red
Message began to shout
But it was too late
I was dead.

~*~

The Passive Facist

~*~

The passive fascist will give you the gun
Yet stands back as you shoot
These kind of people are dangerous
Because they are a walking contradiction
To the movements they claim to support
I say we kill them too
It's all or nothing
Don't bother being half-assed
If you pull the pin,
Throw the grenade
Or die
Worthlessness
Imbecile
You make me sick
Make a promise
Break a promise
Sacrifice your life
Or I'll do it for you
Cowardice
You eat it for lunch
Powdered courage and strength
You'll buy it in a bunch
Foolish
Terror kills the innocent,
Orginization those who deserve
To die
You better hope this world doesn't shape up
Or you'll be eaten too
The passive fascist
Is a waste

~*~

The Secret

~*~

Humanity dances in a circle and supposes
But the Secret sits within and knows
It smiles at our ignorance
And we frown upon it's pride
Humanity trys to grasp the meaning of life
It gloats in its love affair of rapture
And we weep for the one we don't have
Humanity spends time trying to figure out each other
I however spend time trying to figure out myself

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