Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Fire and Water Until The End


Fire and water till the end,
In a world that will never mend.
In the times of darkness,
Where no one lives to confess.

I walk along a narrow path
Leading forever downward.
I shall face the wrath
Of the sickle sword.

Orpheus my predecessor
Master of the angelic lyre,
I see myself in you…
Like in a surrealistic mirror.

Caught in a web of decay,
The road gets forever darker,
I walk in an acid spray,
Looking for some lonely marker.
One that will count off the miles
That I wearily travel.
Through tribulations and trials
That I seek to unravel.

Leading those who will follow
Into the abyss below.
In our fantasies we shall wallow,
Putting on a disgusting show.
For those who examine from the reality above,
They crowd to get a closer look
While they push and shove
Like gawking at a nasty book.

I do the dance of the Shaman
I wear the mystic rings
Master to the layman,
I compel them to do awful things.

I push past all reason,
Offering them sweet rewards,
Inviting them to treason
Turning them into mindless hordes.

I have become the deity of the ages
I have eaten from the tree of knowledge
I am respected by all the sages
For I have tutored them in my college.

I am consumed by the Dark Side.
I have escaped the blue veil of mortality,
By taking this loathsome ride.
Leaving behind all morality.

And the road I continue to take
Still leads down that dark pathway
My sanity I continue to fake,
As I live where death lays.

Stealing what is not mine
Living on borrowed time.
Frustration is my distant friend
And with Boredom I must contend.

As I walk through the lightless tunnel
Wondering aimlessly straight,
Caught in an ancient funnel
Not worrying about my fate.

My fate is never the same
It is always different
Depending from hence I came
Sometimes twisted, always bent.

I have met the Crimson King,
Master of ancient powers
Wielding his White Gold Ring
Ruling from secret towers.
Of sorrow and fate we talked,
And of the concepts of the moral
He gestured as we walked,
He handed me his crown of plastic and coral.

But I possess the mystic signs
Of probable dimensions and impossible lines.
I have no use for a gaudy crown
Nor the role of the tragic clown.

A ring of fire is so enticing.
But water can be more exciting.
For there are my only friends,
With me until the end.

© Robert Barbere