The Melting Pot.

The Melting Pot.
_____________

The World
certainly has
it's ups and
Downs.

This Melting
Pot of Lovers
and Clowns.

Yet I Love
to Love, and
Be Loved.

(despite the
smiles or frowns.)

I give My
Heart in small
gestures, intending
to make waves
in Shallow Minds.

Naked to The
Absurd, but
clothed in Tender
Vestures;
Looking Forward.
(lest I fall Behind.)

We could share
all of this; as
Loveable Clowns
in a world of ups
and Downs, who
find solace in a Kiss.

Or Stand back
Watching Life
with Shallow Frowns.
(Beauty's Own Abyss.)

(to be continued?...)

j.s.h.

As The Pen Drops.

As The Pen Drops.
_______________

As The Pen Drops,
New Life Begins;
Then I Stop.
(and It
Ends Again.)

I've discovered
that while pushing
myself to the Limits,
there are None.

The Pen rains
down Comedy,
Tragedy, Love,
Hate, Pain, and
Joy on Everyone.
_________

These are Not
My Memories;
(but they belong
to Me.)
Nor is it My Fate!

(but I control Art's
Destiny.)

I do it in my sleep,
and when Awake.

Turning ripe,
Fertile Land into
Nightmare
Dreamscapes..
(Or Realities rich
in Anti-Gravity
Space.)

_______

Before the Pen,
Experience was
immediate, and
soon forgotten;
New Teeth biting
into my Festering
Brain.

(then quickly
growing Rotten.)
__

I am Truly Nothing,
which I shall remain
until My End;
yet none the less,
this Pen makes me
Something!
New Art which
shall Forever Live
and Die.

(Time and Time
Again.)

J.Stephen.H.

The Season For a Jolly Mask.

The Season For A Jolly Mask.
__________

I wear A J
Jolly Mask
of Seasonal Joy;
(to conceal my
Grim Indifference.)

Watching presents
getting opened by
The Boy.

(who already
strives for
Independence.)

More Dead
Relatives
means less to
Cheer about;..

with another
can of beer
down.

(and 20 to
go until the
rantings all
pour out.)

Tis The
Season
isn't  it?

To Mock,
and Praise this
Commercialistic
shit!

The Season
for a Jolly
Mask.

(which conceals
my Grim
Indifference.)

j.s.h.

Fears Eventual Fading.

Fears Eventual Fading.
______________

Still  waiting,
for Dark Times
to Pass, and Fears
Eventual Fading.

Looking at Memories
through the Minds
Muddled Glass.

Shouting Wishes
Up Above!

(while below
the devils desecrate
me with their Laughs.)

It should have been
Simple, right?
One well placed
word to pierce the
Veil of Night!

But Nothing Good
seems to make a
Ripple in My Sight.
___________

All that is Left
Of Me...
Scarred Skin
Covered poorly
in Prison Ink.

Pretty testaments
to the Ugly.

( these Stones that hit
the Waves and Sink.)

I'm Still Waiting..
For Dark Times
to Pass..
(and fears Eventual
Fading.)

J.Stephen.H.

Gone Are The Days.

Gone are The Days.
___________
Hope is lost
for starlit skies,
and soft beams
that served as
backdrops to
The Sunrise.

Take this Cup
that Runs Red
With Madness!
(Live in your
Artificial Pardise.)

How to Kill
a Killjoy?...
Two drops
of Love, one
razorblade,
and an eternity
of Silence.

See how much
Smiley Pete Smiles
now!
(without his cartoon
world of Violence.)

Gone are the
Days when Men
were Men.
When People
laughed because
something was
Funny and not
Dying.

Gone are the Days
I Cherished in Youth.
(and they're never
coming back again.)

Gone is my ability
For Crying.
______________


j.stephen.h

The Bad Ones.

The Bad Ones are
often Bright,
and Society is the
Deer standing frozen
in the headlights;
knowing it should
turn and flee,
yet conquered by
a greater curiousity.
(to feel the shine.)

Were they born
differently?..
Those Monsters
who possess no
sense of mourning?
With heartless faces,
and soulless eyes!;..
concealing dark minds which
perceive this horror
story to be, a mere
comedy kissed by
twisted lips of tragedy!,..
portraying dreams that
never were, yet shall
always seem, like the
repetition of instinctual
human sensories!
 (as we evolve
from beasts.)

Is there salvation for
any of them?
When the concept
seems absurd to have
a lover or a friend?
Or do they all pretend?!
(to find the means by
which to feel again.)

The Bad ones are
mostly bright, as
Society plays the
deer standing frozen
in the headlights;
knowing damn well
that it should flee!
(yet attracted to the
artificial light in me.)

j.s.h.

Chaos Strikes A Tragic Chord.

ChAoS StRiKeS A
tRaGiC ChOrD.
__________________

It only took
one word,
for Chaos to
strike a Tragic
Chord Within
My Heart the
Darkness heard.
and Love left
Hatefully then.
(never to return.)

To be more
than what you
are (it said),
you must first
destroy everything
you were,..
(becoming legion
instead)
or commit Suicide
By Star!,...
which echoes
through the
Universe.
(and screams
in every Head.)

Then
I laughed so
loud that
DarKness
WepT DeAd TeaRs
it's never wept
before; awakening
Shadows that
once Slept!
(but now roam
the earth in scores)

and it only took
one Word!!
For Chaos to
Strike A Tragic
Chord..
within My Heart.

(God never Heard.)

J.Stephen.H.

Farewell Sanity.

Farewell Sanity.
________________________________

Ah...Sanity. That thin line
between illusion and fiction
my razor mind has severed.

The point of no return, I
would'nt dream of retuning
from! ( a time barely remembered.)

There is honesty here...in this;
My Reality.

This world of fearless whispers
who would never lie to me!

Thus never again shall I call
upon Loves primitive ghost;
or write petty wishes upon
My Hearts bleeding walls.

One must sacrifice the Life they
wish to Live the Most!;
(in order to evolve.)

So Farewell Sanity...fleeting illusion;
poor mans fiction used to stifle
restless truth!

(I cannot say I'll miss you.)

J.Stephen.H.

my two stones worth

My Two Stones Worth
____________________

There is a Madness in my Words 
which creates ripples throughout 
the universe; like pebbles tossed
into a stagnant wishing well by
mischievous children.

Yet even good intentions are
often laid to waste by those parasites
of the day, who dilute our finer
undertakings with negative interpretations
that ensure our meanings will be seen in
a darker light.

Individuality is not a thing embraced.
It is a threat to those making a
flock out of Good Souls who would
better prosper as collective individuals.
"Give Rocks to starving men in want
of bread!" 

( tis a motto of the slave
masters.)

Opinions...what are those?...why,
they are what countless zealots kill
and die for. Everyone is entitled to them.
(yet death is entitled to them all.)
Just be certain that your own conform in
some way to others, lest you be cast
into the social-madhouse and discredited
as a fool.
(for any new insight intended to see the
world prosper in some way, is first considered
A Doomsday Prophecy.)
_____________

So here I find myself...wasting away
Another day...casting Thinking Stones
into some Strange New Universe full 
of mischievous children .

(who were likely insane long before I
ever tossed my two stones worth into
the wishing well.)

j.s.h.

The secret that is You.

the secret that is you.
___________

Once, long ago...
this Secret Swine cast
Black Pearls before the
People;..and The world in
turn became A Trough.
A pit of Sloth, and Evil.

Centuries passed, and philosophies
grew. Evolving backwards while
accelerating lies blindly accepted as
Truth.

And Through all of this.
The Swine Laughed.
(keeping the secret that is You.)

jsh

To: Old Souls in Human Guise. (a socractic lamentation.)

To Old Souls In Human Guise.
_______________

To: Old Souls
in Human Guise,
(seeking to prevent
their Spirits Fall)

We must Laugh
often at the Tragedy
of Life!

Otherwise one
never stops Weeping!

(Haunted By the Horror
of it All.)

I spent My Youth
attempting to be Wise, ..
but was poisoned instead
by Mortal Ignorance.

So that Now I admit
a Fool Reigns Inside!

(and strangely enough
the Gods  proclaim me
A Genius for this.)

Irony!..daily thine essence
humbles me, as I set upon a
noble course, an in turn receive
the opposite of what I was
Expecting!

How can a loser win
against such self-defeating
odds?

(aside from seeing in
each loss the Potential
for a Future Victory.)
__

You ask me why I
laugh My Dear...
and Rage against
Tradition  as I
carry bold the torch
of Human History!

why...it is To prevent
my Tears!

(which to the world
shall remain an Endless
Mystery.)

J.Stephen.H.
______________________

Lovely regret

My Lovely regret,
_____________

(Who isn't Dead.)
Let not the ghosts of
Temporal Time wreak havoc
on your Haunted Head!

I'm still Here,
keeping Pace.
laughing through
Frozen tears!
(with a bittersweet
smile upon My face.)

They cannot find it
within their capacity to
defeat us.
Those who seek
(in vain)
to destroy Immortal
Loves Tranquility!

For at the Gates of
Death these Devils wallow
tortured in The Dust!
(as Angels open their
Arms in greeting.)
___________________


J.Stephen.H.

In This. (My Nothing.)

In This. (My Nothing.)
________________

This isn't the way I imagined
Doomsday To Feel;
like a Broken Man standing
at the edge of a once-round
World, naked and exposed
to the Endless Absurd.
( hoping for more Time to Kill.)

Neither Demonic Legions,
nor Angelic Flocks,
can contend with This Nothing.
An Abyss ticking
(despite the absence of Clocks)
into a Bleak Eternity.
(resembling the face of a Proud
Devil reduced to blushing.)

I think I would be more content
with other Fables;
blown trumpets calling up
The Dead and Damned.
For in This, (My Nothing)
I find only Doomsday...
everyday!
(an irrevocable product of Man.)

J.Stephen.H.

The Streets.

The Streets.
_____________

The Streets are
an interesting place,
full of variety;..
Hark! The Happy
Hookers Sing!
(laying poisoned
by the scurge of
Society.)

Dirty young Women
(with filthier souls)
sell small pieces of
themselves one trick
at a time...

"Amazing Disgrace!"
"How indiscreet thou art!"
(No One Here even
remembers the Next Line.)
__

Watch Sam The
Sad-Sack Shepherd,
sit mumbling on his
rusty park bench;
talking to Voices in His
Head.

"I believed in Angels!"
(once.) he cries..

(but now I
believe them all to
be Fallen or Dead.)
__

"Spare some change?"
Chester Molester asks
anyone he comes into
contact with.

"Candygirl you're My World!"
(until he find another Kid.)
__

Taken in the abstract,
this hell could be one
of countless other Hellish
places;..

but it's Your Hell,
This Hell!
This sea of Motley
Misplaced Faces!
__

These streets are
an interesting
Place,...
full of Variety.
Hark! The Happy
Hookers Sing!

(laying poisoned
by the scurge of
Society.)

J.Stephen.H.

Darlene The Destitute Damsel.

Darlene the Destitute Damsel.

(in self-distress.)

______________________________

Darlene The 

Destitute Damsel

in Self-Distress,
floats (like a Ghost)
down Hairspray

Scented Halls.

(in Her Finest Dollar 

Store Dress.)

She feels more

sated and Alive

at Night.

(looking for
Dark Minded

Men to caress.)

__

Cheap Makeup

does a poor job
in covering up the

bruises on her Face,..

(but it buys Her 

Soul a Sense

of Sympathy no 

Courage in Life
could Hope to
Steal.)

I find it 

Heartbreaking 

to Watch This
Dance.

(She thinks
it teaches Her

to "Feel.")

______

Darlene the 

Destitute Damsel

in Self-Distress,

craves a certain 

tenderness in the
Fists of Hateful
Johns.

(Who see Her

as an Object.)

I love her for 

everything She
seeks to Be.


(yet Despise
what She is
NOT.)

She is a
Living Dead
Tragedy.

(when viewed
in Retrospect.)

Who's Soul is 

surely bound
to Rot!!

(Walking these
Hairspray Scented
Halls.)

J.Stephen.H.

New Beneath the Moon.

Everything is New Beneath The Moon.
_______________________

Everything  is New beneath The Moon;
Since Darkness breeds a constant Variety
while the Limited Sun Recycles.
creating Chaos, Death, and Gloom.
(with the bones of Weak Ones tossed
in Piles.)

I cool myself in this Hellish Summer Heat;
(looking across The Field of Gore.)
with a pair of Fresh Picked Angel Wings.
(which won't be flapping anymore.)

And for This, ..my travesty. I shall be
A Silent King upon the Throne of Ages.
On a stage with Misfits ever clapping!
(regardless of my many Rages.)

Everything is New in this Moon Within
Me;
since darkness breeds new variety while
the Limited Sun recycles.
Chaos, Death, and Misery!
(with the Bones of Weak Ones tossed
in Piles.)

J.Stephen.H.

A Beauty rare in Form.

A Beauty Rare in Form.
________________

I appreciate a Lady,
aged like Good Wine;
who's Heart is still Sweet,
and not yet bittered by
the grim experiences of Life.

Some beauty is but a
clever mask,
worn by Ugly Souls,
or a Handicap to Conceal
the Defects of those who
are pitifully mindless.

Hers is a Beauty Rare in
Form, because of it's
Innocence.

With a "to the point"
Wisdom,
(born of simplicity)
she has opened up
New Doors in a dusty
heart where iron bars
once firmly stood,
blocking out potential
joy for fear of eventual
despair.

And For this she deserves
my undying gratitude.

J.S.H.

(for: my new friend Olivia.)

Somewhere State Road.

Somewhere State Road.
__________________

I've walked for miles down
Somewhere State Road,
haunted by the horrors of
this mysterious world;
watching the cars come,
and go, while imagining
this sweet unsmiling girl!,
who's face alone could
ease all sorrows!
(and remind me there are
beautiful things worth waiting
for tomorrow.)

Lately I must confess,
My restless mind has died
1,000 deaths;
torn between A Promise in
Her Eyes,
and the security found
in Loneliness.,..
which keeps my
Soul from contemplating
the misery wrought by broken
Heartedness!
(alas, the Mother of Demise.)

This is Not a Road of Concrete Fate,
but rather Possibility;
potential outcomes which may change,
for Good or ill depending on
inner Truths conceived!
( my own Hearts ability to become the
Man she Needs.)

Thus I pray
(to an ever-changing Universe)
May Somewhere State Road eventually
lead me to that place I wish to Be;
Somewhere better than Now!,
or Yesterday!
(where she remains a Hopeful Dream.)

J.Stephen.H.

In the span of 31 winters passed.

In the span of 31 Winters Passed.
          ______________

In the span of 31 Winters passed,
I have come to know nothing but
a series of good and bad dreams,
of Love, Hate, Sorrow, and Joy.
(though the good things seldom last.)

I have looked deeply into the Eyes
of night, but kept the Sun buried in
my Mind. To somewhat keep my
thinking bright.
(and store treasures in my Heart
to find.)

I pray,..may the beauty of this world
be a thing I always appreciate for its grace.
Even when the majority of life seems dark,
and thick by ugliness stained.
Otherwise let me Die!
(or remain in this dream of You
with a smile upon your Face.)

J.Stephen.H.

As A Passenger on this Sinking Ship Called Hope.

As a Passenger on This Sinking Ship
Called Hope.
___________________

At Times it's hard to stay afloat,
as a passenger on this Sinking Ship
called Hope;
watching the crashing waves consume
everything I hold so dear,
while darkening the once sweet musical
wind.
(which is now a devil singing wicked
thoughts into my Ear.)

If not for the People I Love and know,
who have stood beside me through
thick and thin,
I would have surrendered long ago!
(and let the Darkness Win.)

I can never tell one second to the next
if this moment will be the last;
but lately death seems to terrify me
less. (than the memories from my
 past.)

For it's hard (at times)
to stay afloat, as a Passenger
on this Sinking Ship Called Hope.
Watching those I Love move on,
as I stay behind and "Cope."
Drowning in the Mysteries of
Myself.
(where I sink,
 or swim Alone.)

J.Stephen.H.

The Butterfly.

The Butterfly.
_______________

In My Dreams I see this small boy
walking through an endless field of
monarch butterflies;..laughing joyously
and flapping his arms to mimic the motions
of their flight.
His eyes are bluer than the sky.
(his Smile is pure delight.)

"I want to be a butterfly!" he screams.
Running faster into the distance of an
unforeseen plain, where (seemingly at
his waving arms persistence) the landscape
seems to shift and change.

"Come back!" I yell. filled with a sense of dread
so intense it makes me cry. And (blinking
through tears) I am suddenly overwhelmed by
a brilliant light coming somewhere from the sky.
Then I open my eyes (gasping) to discover that
I am awake in my own room again.
(and at the foot of my bed sits a monarch butterfly.)

J.Stephen.H.

(because good things do not die. They only fly
to Better  fields.)

A cleverly concealed Madness.

A Cleverly concealed Madness.
_____________________

I watch in awe as The People confuse their Sickness
with a Cure. Greedily licking the remnants of Poison
from their cheetoh stained fingertips, in fear of wasting
the slightest drop. Why is it that no one sees the Irony?
How this World is a Runaway Train that will not Stop.

At times I wonder whether my Art is a cleverly concealed
form of Madness, or if this Madness is simply a cleverly
concealed form of Art? as I sit twisting words like a
Noose which seems senseless on the surface, but reveals
The secrets of My Heart.

The People love what they are told to love, and I hate it.
They would hate it too if they understood the lack of control
involved. Yet who am I to destroy the comforting illusions of
the Mass? (  Life for each is a puzzle lived, or solved.)

And Hell, for all I know maybe the Sickness is the Cure?
If only we could learn to appreciate the Madness in anothers
art; perhaps we could all be Saved?

(from the boredom of ourselves.)

J.Stephen.H.

The stains of each Transgression.

The stains of each Transgression.

__________________

A Face void of expression,

will none the less carry (within)

the stains of each transgression.

For No action is without consequence,

or predictable, or "free."

(some just pay more dearly for their

lessons.)

I have seen many Low Men,

sitting on the Highest Horses,

in positions of Rule.

Some will eventually seek

Redemption.

( most of them are Fools.)

And I have asked myself,

"what is the World?",

but a collection of greater

and lesser parasites constantly

feeding off of eachother.

Weakening so they can strengthen,

strengthening so they can weaken!

I hide from them and make myself 

small ,..hide so that I am not eaten!

(but in the end I will be eaten by them All.)

I am The Face void of expression.

Choking on the stains of each transgression.

The lost.

The found.

The damned.

(for whom there is no Redemption.)

J.Stephen.H.

The Great Self Debaters.

The Great Self Debaters.
(A Contrast of Dual Perspectives.)
_________________

They hate the view I Preach,..
for it suggests that We Are Beasts.
Frolicking around in Natures
Playground, attempting to be Freed!
from a Death which Robs all Destiny,
and leads (in itself) To Nothing!

For stating this, (which should
be obvious even to the Blind.)
I am despised by The Majority
of Mankind. And thus find it
pointless when I "Try".

( exposing the Myths on which
they rely.)

The Puppets Hysterically dance,
Lost in the Greatest Self Debate,..
(torn between Freedom and Fate.)
while I merely glance.. halfheartedly
at History's Broken Slate..
Certain we never had a chance!!

(to steal back Destiny.)

J.Stephen.H.

On The Shadow. (embracing the Darkness to find our Inner Light.)

On The Shadow.
(embracing the darkness
to find our Inner Light.)
______________

In Jungian Psychology, the "Shadow" refers to
an unconscious aspect of our personality which
the Ego does not recognize within itself. Often
because we reject or remain ignorant about the
less desireable aspects of our personality.

The Shadow is largely negative, but there can
be positive aspects as well that remain hidden
within the shadow. (especially for those with
low self esteem.) It is a link to the Primitive
Instincts.

(source: carl jung. Phenomenology of the Self.
pg. 147 of the Portable  jung by Viking press.)
__________

To further advance along the path of
individuation, it is not only important
for one to recognize their shadow, and
become intimately familiar with both
the negative and positive aspects within
themselves; but also we must Learn to
embrace the negative qualities within
ourselves and attempt to use them to a
better advantage. It should never be about
simply repressing, or suppressing the
negative qualities, but rather attempting
to restore Psychic balance between the two.

It is also important to realize the things
within ourselves that we project onto
others unconsciously. Though in breaking
with traditional Freudian, and Jungian
ideas about projection, (which they define
as the  misattribution of a person’s
undesired thoughts,  feelings or impulses
onto another person who  does not have
those thoughts, feelings or impulses.)
I feel that there are also forms of projection
in  which the Shadow Self projects it's
own personal  wishes/desires into others.
( thus in this context the process of projection
ceases to be a mere defense mechanism or
expression of ones shadow impulse, and becomes
the unconscious minds attempt to fulfill a wish,
or validate personal feelings by assuming
that they exists in a majority others.)

Therefore I cannot stress enough (as a mostly
unbalanced man) the importance of trying
to find as much balance as possible in
the World. For With balance comes growth
and more positive development.

The problem is that (myself included)
we tend to be predominantly prone towards
one extreme or the other. This creates a
stagnation in our Self and furthers the illusions
that cloud our minds from perceiving the
reality we could be living in. (if only our
minds would create it.)

SO , In Short, the Shadow does not
have to be the Enemy of Self. It is just
another aspect of it. Part of an interesting
and often hidden Trinity of Consciousness
that exists within us all, and makes us both
Unique, yet ultimately all connected to the
same Primary source of energy which
on a vibrational level is the Same Fundamental
source of All Existence.

We Must Embrace the Shadow,
in order to Completely
find (and see) The Light
Within Ourselves.

J.Stephen.H.

Here We Are.(The Heart of Matters.)

Here We Are. (The Heart of Matters.)
_________________

And so Here we Are,
at The Heart of Matters.
Intent on examining the
Nature of what makes us
Two Wretched Things.

Nature itself,
Whorish and Cruel?
Scant Sleep, and too
much Caffeine?

I think I'll spin the wheel
and let the audience decide.
Or put my words out there on
The Electric Waves, and see
if any useful suggestions come
back.

What could it Hurt?
My Ego has been bruised before.
And I've been on the receiving end
of countless Character Attacks.
Yet here I am, Healthy as a Dead
Horse Grazing In Toxic Pastures.

(trying to pierce the Heart of
Matters.)

J.Stephen.H.

The Oddities of This World.

The Oddities of this World.

______________________

She tells me Normalcy is overrated,

yet seems to go out of her way to be

what she considers normal; 

putting on Her daily mask to conceal

the sweet reality behind those haunted 

Eyes.

Anyone else would be labelled a Poser,

but when I ask her about the postured

veil She is "only in Disguise."

(irony, thy name is Love.)

Not that I'm one to Judge another for

wearing Masks. 

I have so many that I often forget where

the mask Ends and my Face begins.

Big Brother Lost in his Own Darkness,..

Loving Son with Demons trying to Be

Better on His Spiritual Path.

(I guess it just depends on which Devil
you happen to Ask.)
_

The difference between us is that I admit

to, and embrace the Realities of what I Am.

The Oddities of this World are My Normalcy;..

Beautiful in their own tragic way because each

of them tell their Own Story.

(even if they are uttered from the Lips of

The Damned.)

Still,..whatever makes you Happy My Love.

It's your Life, and your Mask. Therefore your

Burden Alone to bear.

I only Hope that eventually the Burdens make you

stronger.

(since you will Be burdened
By Me No Longer.)

J.Stephen.H.

Beneath Gray Starlight.

Beneath Gray
Starlight.
______________

Since you are Here,
(holding me tight)
I will not fight my
suffocation;

By the Restless
Hands of
Constant Midnight.

Even if I die!,

for what matters is
we have "this time".
(sharing kisses beneath
gray starlight.)

Your lips have stained
my soul with agony,
yet (for you) I would
dip 10 fingers gratefully
into Fates Acid Cup,
and consider drinking!
(the moment those haunted
eyes lit up.)

For since you are Here,
(holding me tight)
I might enjoy my
suffocation.

(By the restless hands
of constant midnight.)

J.Stephen.H.

(very old one I wrote
when I was 15.)

Sister my Sister. (whem a Hero Climbs.)

Sister, My Sister. (when a Hero Climbs.)

______________________

My Sister is a Beautiful Soul,

young in feature, but mentally

old; who has (on many more

than one occasion) brought me

in from the Spiritual Cold.

The astute observer would notice

the way her ancient eyes change

with moods, and know that she

is a force to be reckoned with.

She is fair, and kind to those she

loves; but also the straight-forward

type who dosen't take shit!

I've broken her Heart many times,

but never has she given up faith in

my ability to be a Better Man;

and for this reason I will always

try to honor her any way I can!

Oh, Sister, my Sister!

Can a fallen Hero ever climb

again that Ladder of Grace?

Or somehow turn the tides of time

back to a Better Place?

when two kids were innocent,...

like kitty and woof woof,

with smiles on their face!

(I guess it depends on Faith.)

J.Stephen.H.

________________________

This is for my Sister Stefani, who regardless of my many faults and drunken

mishaps has never once abandoned me, or given up faith that I have the ability

within me to be something better than what I am.

Love you sis. Thanks.

To: The Children of Atlas.

To: The Children of Atlas.
_________________

To the Children of Atlas,
who hold the weight of Worlds
upon their weary backs:
Do not drop the Globe
just yet, for there is Hope!

No burden is too great when
thoughtful minds exist to battle
the increase of mortal despair;
and Causes become Lost only
when we choose to Abandon
them!

The Path to Noble Deeds begins
with the insertion of positive thoughts
by Those Farmers of Psyche;
(who plant mental seeds which grow
into shared beliefs.)
Yet the same applies to All Sons and
Daughters of Life's Destruction!
(for every battle begins and ends in
the collective-mind.)

Therefore We must hold firm this weight,
till the Burden of Our World becomes
lightened by More Positive Thoughts.

(Otherwise we shall lose ourselves in that
Abyss of nothing, which waits to consume
those who lose Faith in The potential
for Change.)

J.S.H.

Poisoned Bellies and Starving Minds

Poisoned Bellies and Starving Minds.
_________________________

What does one do, in a Society where
poisoned Bellies Feed Starving Minds?
And 80% of the Food in a supermarket should
(by all rights) come with  Toxic Caution Signs?

When those elected to maintain the security
of a Nation are seduced  by greed to allow
the poisoning of this Society, How does one
 protest against The Puppet Masters?

And is it agreeable to assume that those who do
nothing, or refuse to protest, are really saying that
it's O.K.?...I don't mind that 10 years from now my
children might have tumors running through their bodies,
or become obese to the point of morbidity, because I
didn't think it was important enough to critically examine
the nature of my current World!?

If that's the way you feel, you might as well grab a sprayer,
and join in. Keep pumping those insecticides, and injecting
hormones into animals. God forbid Ludabelle the cow doesn't
grow at a dangerously accelerated rate, fast enough to feed
the wallets of the greedy while you suffer.

How many have to die, or become sick before someone
grows a pair, and starts sincerely doing something about
it? The sad thing is it's not even a matter of Wolves in Sheeps
Clothing anymore. Most are Willing Sheep who march to
the wolves with their hands out just for the relative convenience
and false comfort provided!...knowing damn well that they are
lambs led to slaughter.

I for one will speak out against the puppeteers, and no longer
allow myself to be a slave to the tyranny of such false comfort
and short-sighted convenience.

Will you?

JSH.

The Secret Life

       The secret Life. 

              ________________

       The Secret Life is The Real Life;

       The unsmiling Face behind our
       Happy mask, which grins, yet craves
       the Knife.

     

       A Fool trapped somewhere in his
       own head loudly screaming the lyrics
       to "Don't fear the  Reaper"; while remaining
       silent in his heart,..hoping the Reaper does
       not hear him, or take  the time to listen as he
       wanders in the Dark.

      

      The Secret Life is an expression of Reality
      that others hide from their Family and Lovers;...
      knowing most could never understand such
      absurdity.  (The absurdity of a Love which allows
      you to breath even as it chokes and smothers.)

      

      The Secret Life is Not my Life;...

      I am the unsmiling Fool who's Mask

      was Lost.

      My Life is the gray between
      shadow and Light.

      ( this doomsday device I can't
      Turn OFF.)

      

      Yet Strangely enough my secret is this:

      While Others are happily singing "Don't

      fear the Reaper" drunkenly in my ear;...

      I feel ashamed.

      (because its LIFE and Not the Reaper
       that I FEAR.)

      

       J.Stephen.H.

And Time is Just a River.

And Time is Just a River.

_________________

There are Things
hidden in the Night,

which tell a story
older than Time.

Sometimes seen
with Secret Sight.

(Spirits from a Realm
Sublime.)

I keep this Knowledge
deep Within Me, in a cave
filled with Better Memories.

It seems to be the Safest Bet.

(to avoid the Sting
of Mockery.)

It's Amazing how
thoughts  become
so Real; something
anyone can Feel.

But terrifying when
they Run Astray!

(and worse if they
lead Good
Souls to Kill.)

Reality is not made
of Concrete Things.

It takes Shape from
the impressions We
Deliver;..Like A
Phantom creeping
out of Dreams!

(and Time is
just a River.)

J.S.H.

Forever or a While.

Forever or a While.
__________

They Sadden Me,..
those Hopeful Eyed
Lovers in Wait, who
speak of Romance like
Optimistic Astrologers,
reminiscing about Sacred
Moments shared beneath
A Blanket of Rebellious
Stars.

For Love is short,
and Good Things
Fleeting!

(leaving only
Memories
and Scars.)

But they are
also inspiring...
Anyone Bold
enough to look
Pain in  the Face,
and still crack
A brilliant smile!!
Grateful for each
second spent In
Love!!

(whether it lasts
Forever or a While.)

They are The
Reason I have
Not Surrendered,
(nor my lent Soul
to Darker Things.)
and allowed my
Heart to be
Dismembered!!

(By The Devils
in My Dreams!)


For since Love
is Short, and Good
Things Fleeting..

(it makes them
more worth
Cherishing.)

J.Stephen.H.

Everybody Falls.

Everybody Falls.

______________

This is One giant rabbit hole
we all Fall down...

(eternally asleep.)

Never to Hit the Ground.

Walrus and Carpenter
would be duly amused..

but their laughter wouldn't
make a sound!
(nor touch that Endless Deep.)

The Queen of Hearts
isn't much for 

words however;

she's much too busy
tearing the faces

off of Flowers,

and bitching about
the Weather.

( shouting curses
at her Mat-Hatter

Lover, who breaks
heart 20 minutes

after promising
Forever.)

I've Been Here,

stayed There,

and rutted
Everywhere!

(never ignoring
Natures call.)

But.. Don't be
scared Alice.

(everybody
Falls.)

JSH.

As most reader of this who are familiar with Lewis Carrol will have already figured
this is a parody tribute to Through the Looking Glass/Alice in Wonderland more or
less.

The Madness of Loves Ways.

The Madness of Loves Ways.
_________________________

This is How it always Starts.
A glimpse of Beautys Smile through
some smoked peripheral haze;..and
then comes the Madness of Loves
Ways.

I abandoned long ago This Pop
Cultural Craze, and declared that
I would put Logic in it's Place;
but the Irrational Heart Wants what
The Irrational Heart Craves.

(and gets what it does'nt anway.)

It wont be long now, before I'm a full
fledged maniac who's mind can only
lend itself to dream of hopeless things;
for already I can feel the pulsing powers
in me crowd!

(around My bitter Heart where
Chaos Sings!)

This is how it always starts;..
with a glimpse of perfection
that will likely lead to Loves
imperfect End!

The Madness of Loves Ways!

(which I will crave in Secret
till it Ends.)

J.Stephen.H.

Hot. (by the Way.)

Hot. (by the way.)
__________________

Oh yeah..you're hot by the way.
Lovely!..I'm sure you touch dead
Flowers and they return to life long
enough to Laugh once more at this
Hateful World!

Suicide Bombing Birds crash headfirst
into Windows to get a glimpse of your
Face.

And Your devilish Smile incites the Jealous
Rage of Every Angel!

(I admire it from the distance of this
Place.)

J.S.H.

You, My Love. (Alone.)

You, My Love. (Alone.)
_________________

It's You
(my Love)
who sees beyond
the Postured
Veil I wear;

and You
(Alone)
who can
Own Me
with a
Stare.

You, who
makes me
feel more
Free, than
I ever did
with other
Loves who
led My Mind
To Slavery!

(or Pain
eventually.)

You bring
sense to
A World
I formally
viewed as
a Pit Deprived
of Meaning!

and You,
My Love
(Alone)
are the Reason
My Heart is
Beating.

J.Stephen.H.

Lonely sits My Love in Wait.

Lonely sits my
Love in Wait.
    __________

Lonely sits
My
Love in wait,

down  by
The
Razor-Willow
Tree

where

we gathered
to congregate.

I haven't
been
there for
a while,..

but fear
I left
too Late.

+

Too Late
to
banish
Memories
of a
Timeless
Season..

spent
Laughing
like
Maniacs
at
Sad
Faces on the
Moon.

Too Late
for
lending
my
Heart to
Reason!

(that we
will
meet again
there
soon.)

×

My
Thoughts
skip like
Stones
tossed by
Children
across
Dead
Waters.

Here for a
moment,

then gone
Somewhere
the next,

never to be
recaptured.

Here in
This
Prison of
Fallen
Martyrs!

Bound by the
Ghosts
Of True Loves
Laughter!

(those many
Faceless Phantoms
who create
my Souls Disaster.)

+

oh

Never has
my
heart bled more,

than when I
lost my
sweet adored,

and never will
it
bleed again!

(to the depths
it
bled before.)

++++

So Lonely
sits
True Love in
wait.

someplace
better
than Here with

Me.

Down by That
Old Tree
where

we gathered to
congregate...

Now Gone
Forever!!

(except in
Memory.)

J.Stephen.H.

I AM (The Metaphor.)

I aM. (The MeTaphoR.)
______________________

From You ,
(and ThiS wOrLd
of ScArS)
I hide My Feelings
behind clever
Metaphors;

because I cut myself on
The STaRs!

(grasping at Truths I should
not have
looked for.)

This once sweet soul
(clothed in
midnight-skins)
became a Stone;

Life's worst example
of the human
condition.

Cursed to walk Alone!

With a name the angels
dare not mention!
(such as Perdition.)

and Gladly I would
have chosen Fate,
had I known the Grave
I would
dig myself with Freedom;

But now it's too late!

( for the Stars are
dead at the hands of
Heathens.)

I AM the MeTaphoR,
who hides from himself no
Longer.
Opening Hell's Door!

(that could've been
Heaven
had I only been stronger.)

J.Stephen.H.

in this present darkness

In This Present Darkness.
_______________

In this Present
Darkness,
Things once
Beautiful have
become Ugly to Me,
so
that I gnash my
Teeth
in grave
response to True
Loves
Smile!!

(turned grim
and
bittersweet.)

Hope is a
now
Nightmare
awakened,
by Promises
made..

(but soon
forsakened.)

and Life
itself is
a fleeting
Dream!

(created
by
Some Lonely
Fools
Imagining.)

In this Present
Darkness,
Love was Killed by
cheap words,

and
Drunken Midnight
Thrills;

until I chose
to be
Heartless!

(instead of a
Prisoner
Of Her Will.)

Here no Joy is
Found,
except in strains
of
an Angels Crying;
as
I stand on unsteady
feet..

(unable to conceal
those
Hateful sounds.)

Cowering before
this
Beast who
Lurks
within my Heart!!!

(Unbound.)

JSH.

The Valley NoMore.

The Valley NeverMore.
___________________

Down the Hall,
and through Lifes'
Door,
(across a Field of
Razorblades.)
Waits
The Valley
NeVeRmoRe.

( where lies
my once
True Faith.)

No Angels have
come to see
The Clubhouse;

(but apes still chitter
amongst themselves.)

it remains a whisper
in My mouth!!

(keeping Secrets for
Heaven and Hell.)

+
so
When I ask the Moon
to show its Face,
(even on a perfect Day)
it always responds
with a Leering Grin,
that chases the Sun away!
(back to some Dark,
Unsmiling Place.)


Every
 aspect
of Life's Mystery,
(which others deem
a Hangman's Noose)
is but a Truth swimming
the Depths of Me!!

Though Yet to become an
Absolute.

Because
My ' Truth"
lies
down that Hall..

through
Death's
Door.....

(across a Field
of
Razorblades.)

J.Stephen.H.

Cursed Be the Man.

Cursed be The Man.
___________________

Cursed be The Man who
plays the Part of Hero and
Villain equally well!...
there is No Place for Him
in Heaven, or in Hell.

It is He of whom the Angels
speak distatefully;...and the
Demons are no more impressed.
He Who walks Dead amongst the
Living, and knows the Living Best!
( he, incidentally, who will never
know a moments rest.)

What becomes a Man who carries
Good and Evil within Him simultaneously?
The Man with a touch that can Heal
Broken Hearts, or Destroy A Strong 
Mind Randomly!

No wonder Angels turn their heads
with Hate, and Demons mock scornfully!
There is No Place for such a Man
Cursed as He!

J.Stephen.H.

By The Sorrows of their Season.

By the Sorrows of Their Season.
____________________________

This is the Land of Reason,
where Hearts in Winter are
Frozen By: The Sorrows of
their Season.

As the mind, with a sense of
history explores, its own passage
over Deaths GriM Shores;
and still (in greater curiosity)
implores, but to see the "End!"

it is
Here the Fire fades, becoming
dull ashes that remain; to feel
once more Life's Soothing Warmth,
yet no longer be That Amber Flame!;
which burns and raves (then dies
away) like fruitless dreams thus
dreamt in vain!

now

The Ghost gives tremble unto
the Curtain;..sighing deep in electric
breath,..and looks outside though
still uncertain that what it sees is
"Death".. peering back through eyes
twice burdened!

(at a Life it never Left.)

J.Stephen.H.

The Laughter that Killed the World.

 The Laughter that Killed The World.
      ___________________

Curtains raise, and every
voice in The Crowd becomes
silent.


Yet the silence itself reveals
a Presence;..thick and menacing,
like a Predator licking it's teeth
in wait.


He can't remember his lines;..
he can't remember anything,
his fear is so intense.


The weight of their judgement
becomes an anvil in his chest,
complicating the simple act of
breathing.


"They hate me." he mutters.
"200 Fools who paid good
money to witness my Fall
from a Grace never climbed
nor felt!"


A snicker breaks the silence...
The Laugh heard round the Room...

Another snicker follows...

(The laugh that kills the World.)
______________


He wakes up in a cold sweat,
Heart racing,..and pounding
in his ears.


Still looking for the hateful
audience that always devours
him in his Nightmares.


"They hate me." he mutters.
Those Countless unsmiling faces,
snickering at my Destruction!


He laughs,..
more laughter
follows...


( The laughter that Killed
the World.)

J.Stephen.H.

Dear Imaginary Love.

Dear Imaginary Love,
 ______________________

You are the cause
of many Sorrows.
(and yet my only
Joy.)

The Sun Rises in
your tear stained
eyes!!

(as Nights Shadow
sets upon my Face.)

When the rest of
Our World is Long
Forgotten,

and the Stars melt
into a Bleeding Moon,
in this Cemetery

(some call Heaven)

I will wait for You!

+

For though I was
Murdered by Your
Shattered Smile,
( and left for Dead
In a tomb of tears)
you've remained
inside my head!
as an image I both
"love" and fear!!

(yet no longer
know.)

+++

it seems pointless
searching for
you in Stone Gardens,

or down the halls of
every Old House
that sits Haunted
by some Lonely Lake,

with each passing
day my Soul grows
Darkened!!!

and soon My Heart
will no longer Bleed
Your Name!

(since the only thing
it bleeds is but a Mystery
Which Inspires Shame.)

You have
transformed My
Inner Storm into an
Earthquake,...
So more or less Life
remains The Same.

I'm still A Wanderer
of Dark Restless Nights!

in This Cemetery
Driven Insane!..

And Long
Forgotten!!!!!

(By Heaven.)

J.Stephen.H.

+++
Authors
End-note:

Amen..?

so
was
Love a
mere
Prayer ?

Or Fluke
that
Wont Occur
Again?..

Which
makes
The
Human
Heart
A Slayer ?!!

(Of Fallen
Men.)

Mocking Icarus.

Mocking Icarus
________________

I gave up flying  early in life,
(shortly after a second leap from
the milk stained coffee table)
my Paper Wings did not mock
Icarus well..

Nor did that dirty, soiled carpet,
reflect the Grace from which
I fell!

I remember ( clearly) picking
myself up from a face down
position on the floor,...while
proceeding to wipe the blood
from my knees, then screaming :
" I shall try no more!!"

( and I have since pursued Reality,
unanswered by Strange Gods
implored.)

Grounded,.. I must get higher
somehow.

Even if the sun (again) melts
my waxen wings, and the feathers
all fall out!..

Perhaps I could fly by the
light of the moon?!
And never look back down!

(into the ocean I once
drowned.)

 J.Stephen.H.

A Cigarette scented Kiss.

 A CigaReTTe
ScenTed KiSs.
______________

The
Burn
reminds
me Life
is DaRk.

(one of
many ways
ThE
JoLLy
MonsTeR
MaDe
His
MaRk.)

PaiN...

A
CigaRettE
Scented
KiSs!!!

(how it
stains
the
HaLf-DeAd
HumaN
heaRt.)
___

I
aM
Judged
by
Laughing
Marionettes,...

WhO
paiNt
White
WalLs
with
CrimSon
FooTsteps.

There are
ThirTeeN
danciNg
beLow
The OLd
GrandfaTher
Clock!!!

(seeking
HarMony
in Life and
DeaTh.)
_

But YouR
HeLL is
A ChiLd's
CaNdy LaNd.

(compaRed To
ThiS PrisoN
iN My HeAd.)

I nO longeR
seaRch fOr
iT!!!

(LoVe WaS
HeRe aNd
NeVer LeFt.)

J.Stephen.H

Mr. Jolly freeze more Hearts!

Mr. Jolly Freeze more Hearts..
________________________

Mr. Jolly freezes
every Heart he
touches;...

(and turns black
each white embrace.)

you're such a
prick jolly,..
such a prick..

But Mr. Jolly
knows they love
it!

( it distracts
the mind from his
Ordinary Face.)

+

Mr Jolly
wonders
if the world
is square;

(why else
would Life
be this damn
grim?)

A
Dumpster
floating in
The Air!!!

(littered with
Trash that looks
like Him)

You're such a
dick jolly...
such a Dick!
_

Mr Jolly
should get
out more
often,..

and 
See

Society..

(that Endless
Coffin.)

yet whatever
could he do
to fill The Void?!..

but walk 

Lonely
gravel streets
of toys!

(Mr. jolly,
don't do this.)
_

Mr. Jolly
Hates All

he Loves 

with
Equal
Passion;..

(the
contrived lust,
and interaction.)

Yet whatever
should he
do

to fight
The
Dark..??!!!

(Mr Jolly
freeze more
Hearts.)

j.stephen.h

since life is all in jest

Hopefully if i begin to slowly
lose all of my sense,
humor will be the last to go!
I can live without drama,..
or suspense,...
but I must have a Champion
to battle sorrow!
(and enlighten morbid romance.)

Almost anything can be amusing,...
the old guy in black and white falling
down the steps,...
that cartoon bandit looking for
hamburgers to steal...
even death!
(but Only death that isnt Real.)

So when people tell me I joke too
much, or have a
sick sense of humor...
I tell them they just don't laugh
enough...
or should have laughed sooner!
(since life is all in jest.)

J.Stephen.H

Whenever you speak the Name.

 Whenever you Speak The Name.
_______________________


I think it would
be more interesting
having the world
wonder who I am,...
moreso than knowing
with certainty
all of the things
I'm Not...
I am not the Hero
who saves the day.
(I am the Villain
Time forgot.)

I am the Wind
that Blows like
Demons breath...
along the darkened
path; (where a
crossroads waits
at every step)
I am rage, and
I am Wrath!

I am Not the
Reason people
Cheer...

or The Purpose
given to proceed...
I am the Meaning
which they Fear...
(That Nothing all
encompassing)
peering from the
Broken mirror...
immune to my
own My Suffering!

I'm not the Lover
of Mankind..
or even the Hater
who hates in vain..
I am the anonymity
that you find..
(whenever you
speak the name)

J. Stephen. H

Olde Scratch

Olde Scratch.
_________

Olde Scratch is writhing
in my brain Tonight.

(but
oddly he's a most
comforting Parasite.)

Oh, where have you
been my Only Friend?!

(probably plotting the
Destruction of Starlight)
_

No more Faces
Melt in the Sun.
(Their time is spent
and Done.)

They could however
come back again!

(if The Darkness
ever Won.)
_

He becomes
A Shadow.

(of my Eyes
turned Cold
and Hollow.)

Inviting me to
follow into That
Land of Fiery
Brim!

(where Undead
Angels Worship
Him.)
__

Olde Scratch can
feign a Smiley Face,
(while planning
evil deeds)
and has Always
known the Perfect
Place.

(To kill you in
your Dreams)
_

and I feel
 it in my
head Tonight,..
(an intense hunger
for this Parasite)
Oh,..what shall
we do My Only
Friend?!!!

(probably Feast
upon The Starlight)

J. Stephen.H

Do you Believe in Ghosts?

Do You Believe in Ghosts?
________________________

When she asks me if I believe in Ghosts,
 is it wrong for me to lie and say "no"?...
(to prevent her from discovering that she
is questioning a Ghost concerning belief in
itself.)

It would hardly be the first time someone
has asked and been lied to by a ghost;
and it likely wont be the last. Most simply
aren't ready to be enlightened about the reality
of the things they question. And their curiosity
is a product of that Pop Culture Mentality which
constantly seeks a distraction from the monotony
of daily life.

She ( even in suffering) is beautiful. In one of those
tragic ways that tears at your heart and makes you
feel demented for admiring the perfection of anothers
Despair. Yet thats the reality of it; and I am the maddest
of all madman holding on to whatever hope I can (in death)
because it makes me feel alive again,..or part of something
greater than the nothingness of self that every lone soul is
doomed to eventually know.

I wonder at times If I will ever tell her the truth; or
discover the truth myself?...Is it possible that I am
deluded by arrogance in assuming I know beyond
a doubt the nature of Ghosts?....It's plausible that the
dead are the most deceived of all, since We are
(as far as I can tell) just as in the Dark as those
who question our existence. To the point where the
lines between the living and dead are not only thin, but
braided..or entertwined so much that those living
often haunt us as we haunt them, and the cycle repeats
itself perpetually with no rightful distinctions made
between living and This Void.
Hell..maybe "I" should ask Her???

DO I believe
in ghosts?....
DO I believe
in MYSELF?....
(do you?)
___________________________
J.Stephen.H.

The Enemy Time.

The Enemy Time
_____________

Oh Time!,...
You are the Enemy!..
Yet I would
do Anything
to have more
(or all) of you,
and turn you back
to recapture
those fleeting
moments of Joy
I knew in youth,
when I caressed
you like a Newfound Love.

The Days grow shorter,
and more Cruel.
The Hours cut like
Razorblades, as each
second becomes a harsh
slap to my haggard
Face, leaving marks of Age.

I grit my teeth against the
Clocks grim ticking,..
screaming for it to freeze;.
(only to be mocked by
the continuation of the tocks
which further madden
me.)

How long before I cease to
watch the hourglass of
my life pour senselessly down
into a fathomless bottom?
And can we ever start over again,
perhaps trying a new
course which leads to more
permanent Joy?
(or will you always
be the Enemy?)

J.Stephen.H.

Gravity has left the Building.

 She enters the Room. (Gravity has left The Building.)
_______________________________________________

She enters the room and captures my eyes;
 her Presence like Gravity.
And I soon find myself daydreaming
that she's smiling for me, instead of
at me. (yes, theres a difference.)

Strangely enough, breathing dosen't seem
 quite so necessary as maintaining
my stare for as long as possible. It's
 my way of trapping her Sacred Image in
My Mind, so that the memory of this
moment will last until my heart stops
beating.

I consider saying something; but a mere
"Hello" feels inadequate, and "I
love you!" seems both premature,
and bordering on Psycho. So I break the
stare, and pretend to find interest in the
glass of water sitting in front of me;..
imagining her Face in the icecubes...
warming me in such a way that only irony
can.

She pays for her drink and leaves the room
abruptly;..such a simple act, yet the
sun itself may as well have been torn
from this world forever. Gravity has left
the building Folks!...and then I return
(once again) to floating in the uselessness of
my cold, logical thoughts. (perhaps a mere
Hello would have opened the door to
Love?)

J.Stephen.H.

The Angel Who Leaves Pennies.

 The Angel who Leaves Pennies.
     ____________________

He was a Small, Happy Child,
that saw The World through a
Magical Lens; obsessed with
Pennies, and Butterflies.
(who made Everyone his
Friend.)

Though his Path was cut short
by Tragedy, his Spirit was set
Free to Fly as an Angel; still
watching over those he Loves.

(leaving pennies
for the Faithful.)

It's true, that Life is often sad,
but never let your Heart grow
Hardened; just remember the
Good Times that you had!(and
those little footsteps in The
Garden.)

For Nothing can take away the
Joy of Sacred Memories,..and
that small, happy child who
was everyone's Friend, is now
An Angel.

(who Leaves You Pennies.)

J.Stephen.H.

Salvation in Her Craft.

   Salvation in Her Craft.
      ________________

I admire Her Strength. Anyone else would
have probably surrendered by now, or went
completely insane. And though I realize She
likely gives up, and goes crazy (inside) 100
times a day, the Amazing thing is she always
comes back from it somehow; enough to Face
The Day and whatever Chaos comes Her way.

As an Artist, her Creations are the immediate
products of an internal Pain that she magically
transforms into works of Beauty and Wonder;..
Angels,..Butterflies, Shadowboxes,. works of
Victorian Antiquity. They are Her Heavenly
Realms that successfully combat the Horrors
of this Ugly World. And in Her Craft, I think
she  finds some small degree of Salvation from
the Grief which haunts her Pretty Soul.

If I could be Half as Strong as her, I think this
World would know a better Man.
(and I would possess a brighter Spirit.)

Hope is such a hard thing to maintain when life
seems to  be working against us. It is often the
hardest  thing to gain and the easiest Ideal for
one to Lose. But I know with a Certainty Beyond
Hope that there are Angels who leave pennies,
and the laughter is Not all in our Heads!! For
Good  Things Never Die,  and Those Left Behind
are NOT  abandoned,...but are simply waiting for
Better Worlds to Come.

So Do NOT give up Hope Beloved.

J.Stephen.H.

"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby
some have entertain Angels unaware."

Hebrews chapter 13 verse 2.

The Wolf Eyed Shepherd.

The Wolf Eyed Shepherd.
____________________

The Lost Sheep
always graze in
Wolf infested Pastures,
caught in the gaze
of Promising Eyes;
that fill their heads
with humor, and Laughter!
(to forget they only Cry.)

and
I feel their
stares upon Me.
Even as I rest,
I sense them
Watching,..searching,.
trying to get inside!
To The Place where
Innocence sleeps,
and breeds, then Dies!,
as it falls Victim to a
Nameless Grave!
(which was previously
 unoccupied.)

I am not of
Sheep however.
Nor do I dream
the Dreams they
Dream.

The darkness paints
my Heart Forever,
as I sit within this
pit of screams!
(and nothing but
those wretched
shrieks can define
Reality.)

I am the Wolf
eyed Shepherd.
From out of my
Parched, and Parted
Lips shall come the
"Truth" that there
 is none...This Life
is a Lie! And soon
you will realize that
your Paradise is nothing
more than Hell's Disguise!,
that leads lost Souls to
their demise, and in the
Mind makes Faith surmised!
Without one fact!
(that it was Justified.)

I am not Good,
nor am I Evil.
I am a Product
of The People.
Their Dreams,
Ambitions,..
Desires!

The Lands they
conquer by Fire!
The Cities and the
Street ways low
beneath that Gold
Empire!

All of these and
Ye are a part of me...
your Reflection looking
 into you as you Drown
 in Me...blindly!
Corrupted by your
own sick need to Be!
(like some God you
don't know personally.)

The Lost sheep
 always graze in
wolf infested Pastures,
caught in the gaze of
promising Eyes,
that fill their heads
with humor and laughter.
But in the End
you only Cry.

(and Fear defines the
Substance of Mans Faith.)

J.Stephen.H.