Saturday, February 23, 2013

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.






Thursday, February 21, 2013

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.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

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.

Monday, February 18, 2013

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.



Saturday, February 16, 2013

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.


Tuesday, February 12, 2013

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.