Continuing the winter/forest themes.

Originally, I only planned to write this much:

If you look deep
You will find
A solitary winter's rose
Hidden
Beyond the lonely path
Of love's trail

But I added a bit more.

...

If you look deep
You will find
A solitary winter's rose
Hidden
Beyond the lonely path
Of love's trail

Glimmering in frost
But a bloody shade beneath
Like that of the beating
Lover's heart

Both grow veins
Both exist the same
But this is a rose
Not thorny
Nothing to prick the skin
And extract the blood

It sits in frozen complacency
Untouched

But I wonder when
The petals shed
And the flower rests
For another bloom
And why creatures
Do not wish
To tempt tastes of its fruit
We're not to know the truth

All it remains
Is the solitary
Winter's rose
Is all it remains

The Ladies of Sorrow (wrap-up)

Well, I've managed to finish up one of my bigger attempts to write something.

It started as the first entry in here, as well as being the first real big effort of my own to write something...different.
edit: http://gabrielgrub.blogspot.com/2008/10/ladies-of-sorrow-unfinished-dream.html/ (Since it effed ish up.)

And it wraps up...here

...

While Madonna moves
With woeful grace
The Third will leave blood
In her trace

And the Second Sister
Sighs her weary song
Her gentle weeps, the melody
The Third cries out unholy screams
And bitter cackles
For her trickery

She breathes fire into lungs
From heavy bosoms, hidden
Behind black, draping locks
And lips cold,
Frozen
Like midnight
On a first winter's eve

Her dance
Is for the Mysteries
That haunt us
Long after
Laid to wake
And her title
Is The Youngest
Our Lady
Of Darkness

Praise the Ladies of Sorrow!

As there were three Fates
There are three Ladies of Sorrow
For three Graces,
There are three Furies,
Just the same
Their laughter is unheard
Their songs, unsung,
They speak the symbols,
While we dream the words..

Untitled woodland number

And I've walked the darkened woods
And heard the shadows speak
Seen them twist and contort
Through different shades of night

I've seen violence in the girl
And pity in the man
Fingers outstretched
Like the desperate,
Brittle limbs

They crave the cold and dark
The bite of winter's frost
Shades of grey
Shades of gloom
Far removed of warmth
The flowers have no bloom
No existence

And in the fading sun's light
I wonder if the shadow
Walking beside me
Is that of my own
Or if it has a companion,
A woman never there,
To brave the unfamiliarity
Of this stark forest
Where the vibrant reds and oranges
Lay their final rest
On dirt-ridden paths

Is anything as it
Truly seems
In this forest of
The dead trees?

A Dream (Cathedral)

What is this dark figure
Which stands before me?

Ominous and black,
But vibrant hues
In its hind

A building,
A church?
Ruins of praise?
Why do you stand before me?
Why appear in my mind?
What message do you tell?
What point to convey?

Your glass is stained
Reds and greens and blues
Otherwise, I don't
Make much of you

Black and tall
Sinister brick
A bell tower,
Abandoned
As water drips
Through the aqueducts
Through the gutters
Into the streets
Rained down from Heaven
The clouds that approach nigh
Behind this foreboding building
This menacing figure

What do you say?
What is your symbol?
What do you mean??

...

[Yes, I know I fucked something up the first time. Don't worry.

Recurring dreams..]

A Love Song, A Ghost Story (cont.)

Breath is stolen
And the tension builds
Oh, baby
Yours is the kind of love
That kills

What is a ghost?
A tear that falls to open palm?
Drifting melodies writ in song?
A familiar voice heard in a crowd?
Mem'ries familiar, kept in shroud..

No exact answers
No right or wrong
It's different for everyone
But they come along

They come and go
As they choose
They come and go
As ghosts do

Is it real?
Is it true?
Neither option
Matters much
To you...

Breath is stolen
And the tension builds
Oh, darling
Yours is the kind of love
That kills

...

(almost there...)

Apologies...

If I don't update this thing too quickly. As you probably noticed, most of my writing isn't entirely complete (one of the reasons I ask you not to jack anything from here just yet, at least). I start up one, and move onto an unfinished verse in another.

Rest assured, though: I'm still going to post things in here, periodically.

Just wanted to start it off with a bang.

...

[More later]

Untitled, but Happy Halloween anyway

Go to the back of the red barn
The one that's falling at the hinges
Get there at dusk
When the mist just starts to sit

He's gonna be there

A man's gonna be expecting you

You won't see his face
And his name, unmentioned
Only to help you
Is his only intention
Your secrets he knows,
And your dreams as well

Back of the barn!
Back of the barn, kid!

Feel that chill up you back
If it's the wind, you can't tell

Back of the barn, kid!
Back of the barn!

Eerie sights
But there are no sounds
Eerie silence is all around
He'll take your hand,
And hold it tight

'Everything will be alright
You're in dire straights,
I'm here to help.
In your darkest hours,
My presence, you've felt
Ask me a favor;
To your aid I will come.
But there's gonna be a price, boy!
Oh yes
There is always a sum.
Let's see that finger.
Just a prick of the thumb..'

Back of the barn!
Back of the barn, kid!

Is there blood on his hand?
O, god!
Why is it red?!

Back of the barn. kid!
Back of the barn!

'There ain't no pain, child
But I'll need your name in blood.
It'll ink our contract,
Or else our deal's no good.
Do you see the storm,
And hear the rumble as it arrives?
Are you a believer of omens, boy?
Do you believe in signs?'

...

(later)

Making Graves (Gabriel Grub)

He walks down Coffin Lane
And he makes the boys cry!
Grub
Grub
Gabriel Grub!
He proposes a toast
To those soon about to die
Grub
Grub
Gabriel Grub!
He makes a living by
Making Graves on Christmas Eve
Grub
Grub
Gabriel Grub!
A natural born sinner
Too unapologetic to believe...
Grub
Grub
Gabriel Grub!

Death is pretty
Very, very pretty
To Gabriel Grub
To Gabriel Grub
Graves are a living
Making Graves is a living
To Gabriel Grub
To Gabriel Grub

Another hole in the ground
Another coin in the pocket

Gabriel, Gabriel
Whatever will become of you?
Snarling at children
And mocking the dead
Your road to Hell
Is all that lies ahead

'Fuck your pretty posies
And your pretty words, too!
Making Graves is what I do!
What's more, it provides the means
For bottled company I keep
On the bitter nights
I plant you all to sleep!
All comes back to the grave!!
From your bodies
To your posies
To your loves
And your hates
All, my friend,
Come back to the grave!'

Death is pretty
Very, very pretty
To Gabriel Grub
To Gabriel Grub
Graves are a living
Making Graves is a living
To Gabriel Grub
To Gabriel Grub

'A stone at the head
A stone at the feet
A juicy meal for
Worms to eat!'

What man wonders among graveyards
On a night such as this?
Grub
Grub
Gabriel Grub!
While others make merry,
Who makes the graves?
Grub
Grub
Gabriel Grub!

...

(continued, later)

[This was inspired by the story by Charles Dickens from his Pickwick Papers)

A Love Song (unfinished)

Do you believe in ghosts?
Have you felt the presence behind you?
The tickle about your neck?
Oh, how those moments are fleeting
Those close encounters
Those deathly meetings
Come and gone
Come and gone

When the hand of flesh
Meets that of the spirit
Oh, there are no words
Emotions, indescribable
But to feel that
Unearthly realm
If for a moment, only
To not be alone
Oh, the strangest feelings
Shaken to the bone

Breath is stolen
And the tension builds
Oh, baby
Yours is the kind of love
That kills

The Werewolf Song

NB: This is a metaphor for being gay in a small town. They can treat you as a monster, and my favorite happens to be the werewolf.



A man of virtue by sun
A wolf by moon

Darkness approaches our small hamlet
Humble in its way
Redness in the sky fades to gray
These are the last remains of the day
There is a moon
There is a moon rising
There is a blood moon rising

"Hide in your homes!
There is a wolf at bay!
A demon by night,
He is a good man by day
A curse is brought upon him
Through the werewolf's bite
Man, woman, babe alike:
The wolf shall prowl tonight!!"

At dusk it takes hold,
And I don't quite understand
Why it is, the next morning,
I have blood on my hands
I can only recall
A scream and a yell
Nothing after
The darkness fell

It's when the blood moon is raised
And my memory becomes hazed
A pain inside will arise
I haunt the forest,
The moors,
And the crypts, alike
YES!
The wolf does prowl tonight!!

They say
You can spot the wolf
By the mark
They say
You can spot the wolf
By the mark of the moon
On the flesh
On the flesh

The Ladies of Sorrow (an unfinished dream)

Three sisters dance in the distance
They are temptresses of darkness,
Of night,
Of sin
They dance in the midnight garden
Whizzing and whirling around the roaring fire's light
Smiles spread wide in honor of the dead
And magic
And spirits

As there were three Fates
There are three Ladies of Sorrow
For three Graces
There are three Furies,
Just the same
Their laughter is unheard
Their songs, unsung
They speak the symbols
While I say the words

The first-born is honored with the title 'Madonna,'
Our Lady of Tears
Her dance is for lonely cries
Heard in the night
She haunts abandoned lovers,
Restless in the dark
Hers is the company of misery

For everything holy, there is something unholy
This is the essence of temptation

Oh, and the second sister
Our Lady of Sighs
She dances in the moonlight
For the sadness never brightened
For those whose hope is waned
She sings in whispers
Heard only in dreams

Tossing and turning in bed
You are left to wonder
What is pure,
And what is in vain?
Visions haunt you,
Just the same
You awake to call out a name--
Unheard--
Only to drift back
And dream of The Third

Ah, but the Third One?
The Third One?!

You listen, friends,
And you listen close
This Third Sister
Is no ordinary ghost

...

(continued later)

[Break between verses 3 and 4 is from "The Omen"]