Gryg
page 6

Road to Nowhere
01/04/01 09:00 AM

Glistening black in its relentless crawl
Over hill, through valley and town
Wide pavements cluttered, wall to wall
Always snaking forward, left, up, down

Cluttered with technology’s miracles
Lying dead, powerless beside the dark tar
Cluttered with sheaths, needles, Popsicles
Scattered thoughtlessly by tourists from afar

Millions of feet, stomping up black dust
Flinging it all around, left and right
Arms pumping furiously, eyes full of lust
And everyone always ready for a fight

Forward it snakes, never ending
Forward they storm, stampeding
Rearwards they slide, unrelenting
Blindly following, walking, running

Hearts full of false faith and hope
Believing the end to be so close
Imbeciles hanging onto thinnest rope
Like bulls, led by the ringed nose

There, in that world, earth lies flat
Edgeless eternity expanding still
Forever growing, from this to that
From here to there, at own free will

Chasing that receding edge, always
Glistening black in its relentless crawl
Over valley and hills, till very end of days
The road to Nowhere leads Man to his fall

© 2001 Garry Grant






Fairies at the Pond
01/04/01 10:39 AM

*g* Don't even ask where this popped from!

Through the mist of half-a-sleep
Awareness did its dreamy creep
Outlandish giggles, splashing water
Penetrating my lazy slumber

Basking there, unclothed, in caressing rays
Enjoying the slackness of no school days
Now eyelids fluttering, mimicking their little wings
Listening wonderingly as their soft chatter sings

Half a dozen droplets, splashing sparkling blue
As lustrous as a diamond, or even two
Flawless little bodies, tumbling from flight to dive
Splashing in and out of the cool water, so alive

Purest milky skin, touched only by the full moon
Now reflecting sunrays, warm orange and maroon
And I, peeping, smiling at this wondrous chance
To hear, see, feel, these little fairies dance

© 2001 Garry Grant



Reload
01/04/01 01:48 PM


Blood curdling scream, broken bones
Pushed to her death, so effortlessly
From the edge of the sky-scraping cliff
Down to a lonely death, extremely far below

Now, let’s try once more, with a sigh
Slow walk, palms sweating, dripping
Hop back, run and jump, yeahhhhh
Cursing softly at the sound of her yell

Sprint like hell, run baby run
Straight into the arms of death
Where once a lovely young body
Now lie a boulder mangled mess

But never fear, resurrection is close
Quick push of a button, and all is well
Miraculous recovery, whoops, in an instant
She’s ready to die again, very soon, by my hand

Imagine life as a Playstation game
We could repeatedly save, then reload
Bypassing every idiotic mistake
Just as if it never ever was
And never ever again will be

© 2001 Garry Grant

Dedicated to Lara [as if that'll make up for all the times I 'dropped' the bi.. uhm... lady!]




Addicted
01/05/01

Cursed by the day
That day, so very long ago
That very first day we met
Oh, if only then I the future did know

Cursed by your addictive lips
Tarred yellow by your stinking breath
Painted slowly by deadly tendrils
Sucked from the very pit of death

Cursed by your pasty white skin
Burned by your own scorching heat
Slowly crumbling to grey ashes
While dragging me closer to defeat

Cursed by that brainless day
Long, so very long ago
When I took my first rattling gasp
Oh, if only then I the future did know




Blown to Dust
01/08/2001

Vacant boxes, driven by the wind
Rock and Rolling down the street
Leaves, branches, new-born trees
Bungee tumbling to the mountain’s feet

Mournful groans of our howling friend
Careening around corners, over trembling roofs
Jumping and diving, dodging many curses
And rattleslamming doors in aggressive moves

Ripped cotton wool, pushed flat onto craggy rocks
Crawling ponderously over the mountain’s spine
Wet streaks, like trails, left on sun-dried rocks
Painted by their pink tinged brushes so fine

Smell of pollen-nated dust twirling around
Invading passages, settling, sifting, down
Transforming, slowly, all objects in view
Airbrushing them in pale shades of brown



Muse
01/08/01

In deepest slumber she softly touches
Twirling sleek fingers, filling my mind
Kissing and caressing, ever so gently
Then leaving, leaving nothing behind

In darkest midnight hour, late, she comes
Unannounced, welcome, just suddenly there
Ready to continue, and I with sleepy lashes
Inspiration touches, then dashes Elsewhere

Times, I wonder, almost half-awake
Will I then never see her lovely face
Always wondering, receiving, selfish
Touched so often by a Muse’s grace

© 2001 Garry Grant



Hot Chocolate at El Forno
01/08/01

Music vibrating gently, hidden somewhere, above
Filling the air with the pulsating sounds of self
Mixing softly, merging with shyly drifting aromas
The very essence of Roman dishes and herbs

Venetian water hanging on plastered wall
While beneath, pitch brown, covered in froth
Warm chocolate, cupped in my hand
The purest nectar, gift of an Italian god

Long white trails, dripping down Frangelico
Candle’s burning wick casting magical spells
Illuminating softly, flickering yellowish white
Here, in Al Forno, this very first October night




Extinguished Light
01/09/01

Thoughts and dreams
Covert passions
Suddenly quiet
Forlornly lost
Muzzled

Frantic soul perusal
Deep into self
Searching
Digging
Finding
Never

Passions
Lost and gone?
Swapped now
For lurking dread?
Crawling slowly
Relentlessly
Deeper

Fear, yes
But not of Dark
Fear, yes
But not of Evil
Fear, more
For the demise
Death of Good
Fear, yes
For the loss
Extinguished Light

© 2001 Garry Grant




Fool
01/09/01

Inspired[?] by something Rodney Dangerfield said.. *g*

Oh, what excitement
Her lovely voice
Whispering
Enticingly
At last!

Why don’t you come over
Hmmm, Sexy?
Tonight
Now
Nobody is at home!

Frantic brushing
Teeth and hair
Frantic running
Knocking
Waiting

Sigh
I hate April
Sniff
Especially the very first day

Her promise was true
Oh, Yes, Indeed
Dang it! Grrrrrrr!
NOBODY was at home!

© 2001 Garry Grant



Ravaged Friend
01/10/01

Before her locked eyes memories display
Gentle moments torn, ripped from yesteryear
Bringing with them a pondered fear
The throbbing pain, child of that horrible day

Inside her, kicking and screaming loud
Evidence of that day, many months ago
And now, as her warm tears start to flow
She again broods among memories abound

Once friends, the very best she ever had
Trusted with her dreams, hopes, love
Together, like a hand inside its glove
Until that day, the day he went mad

Inside her, fruit of his cruel seed
Evidence of that day, months ago
And as the child continues to grow
She cries, victim of a friendly rapist’s need

Once friends... or so she hoped, truly believed
Once trusted with dreams, hopes, even her love
Until, like a thundering cloudburst from above
His hidden lusts exploded, forced onto, into, one deceived

© 2001 Garry Grant



Get Lost
01/10/2001

Be gone, you that like me not
Join those other ignored fools
Those that have so much more
[Especially debt!]
And frown because I do not
[Yet!]

Be gone, you that prance in pride
Stuffed to the point of combusting
Wasting all your time conniving, buying
[Without real money!]
Yet, without any loved ones by your side
[If you have any!]

My every moment, every single day
Too precious to simply waste
Rather to be used, loving back
Those that love me too, OK!

© 2001 Garry Grant




Revisited
01/10/01

Ancient friends
Quilled down
Revisited

Emotions conceived
Cultivated
Ripened

Now merging
Blending
One with their litter

Born-then passions
Breathing anew
Refreshed




Void
01/11/01

Shiver-trembles surround this Void
Sensing grave vacuum invasion
Stuffing me, from crown to heel
Leaving spirit pilfered, no vacancy

Null empty space it never is
Possessing power to possess
Rendering spirit obsolete
Totally filled, devoid
Utterly spaceless
Allowing no emotion



Echoes
01/11/01

I can’t find myself
SELF SElf self
So thoroughly lost
LOST LOst lost
Screaming for help
HELP HElp help
Receiving only echos
ECHO ECho echo
Thrown back by molehills
HILLS HIlls hills
Not yet mountains
TINS TIns tins
Yet growing fast
FAST FAst fast
Fed by the fear
FEAR FEar fear
Of being alone
ONE ONe one



Cruel Artist
01/12/01

Surrealistic attacks on silver landscape
Revealing more than it ever should
Painted by emotion-free hand
Depicting starkest truths

Mirror cruel, abandoned on faded bastion
Just once, now, soften your diabolical stand
Rather paint with pinches of compassion
And restrain your self-righteous hand

© 2001 Garry Grant

All Copyrights Reserved, 2001. All text and poetry copyrighted by Gryg. All graphics copyrighted to Full Moon Graphics.