Dark River (Switzerland) Contact the author
Contents
Poetry
Prose |
 |
ANGER
The dusk it crawls over my skin
The oceans drink the sun
The night is gently closing in
The shadows leap and run
Great mother moon shines down on me
Shines pale, shines cold like bone
The stars they keep her company
But I, I'm all alone
A storm is brewing in the sky
I turn around and see
That I am standing in it's eye
It's center it is me
The rain is falling down on me
The clouds they cry my tears
The wind speaks of my agony
My pain, my loss, my fears
And then it whips the ocean's face
The waves rear up in pain
The leaves they ride the wind with grace
All wild as if insane
The lighting strikes down in a tree
And sets its branches aflame
My eyes are blinded but I see
I'll never be the same
My aching heart is filled with rage
My eyes all wild and wide
Emotions I kept in a cage
But now no longer hide
And thunder, lightning's brother roars
Throughout the valleys deep
And I roar back my voice all coarse
To stir the moon's fast sleep
My clenched fist t'wards the sky above
I curse, I swear, I cry
"Just why am I denied her love
Just tell me, tell me why"
The lightning sets the woods aflame
Down from the lofty height
The smoke goes whence the lightning came
The flames lick at the night
I look up to the silent moon
And silent it remains
But I, I won't give up so soon
my blood boils in my veins
I'm wet I'm cold I'm all alone
But burning deep inside
My heart it feels like made of stone
I spread my arms out wide
The very earth beneath does shake
Does tremble, shiver, moan
Destruction I leave in my wake
The path I walk alone
The leaves caught fire from a flame
A flaming dance of fire
The rain it tries but may not tame
The fire's fiery Ire
The very land it feels my loss
It shivers, cries and burns
And in the winds my voice I toss
The ring of leaves it turns
"She is the only thing I crave
I long for and I need
And since the day my heart I gave
Forever it does is bleed
Her smile it makes the flowers bloom
Her soul as pure as snow
Her presence lights the darkest gloom
Her eyes they seem to glow
I need her gentle soft kind voice
The bright glint in her eye
I feel that I'm left with no choice
I feel as if I'd die
I need her touch, I need her near
Her eyes her scent her soul
There's nothing that I hold more dear
My heart burns like a coal
Is there no justice in my life
I ask you, mother moon above
In vain was all my pain and strive
My passion and my love.
I'm left with nothing but my grief
My never ending sorrow
It feels so cruel I believe
That I need no tomorrow."
And crying I sink to my knees
A heap, a hole, a husk
Amidst the storm, the burning trees
Awaiting my own dusk
But dawn it crawls over my skin
The skies they drink the sun
The day is gently closing in
The day it has begun
Back to Top
BROKEN
I am broken, I am torn
I am weary, I am worn
I am a wind that does not blow
I am a stream that does not flow
I am a flame that does not burn
I am a page that will not turn
I am the rain that does not fall
I am the voice that does not call
I am the rock that turns to dust
I am the tool that‘s full of rust
I am a leave that falls in spring
I am a bird that does not sing
I am a seed that will not grow
I am a light that will not glow
I am the sun that will not rise
I am a sage who is not wise
I am the moon that does not shine
I am the water made from wine
I am a dawn without a dusk
I am an empty, hollow husk
I am a tale that’s never told
I am a child already old
I am a dream nobody dreams
I am a gem that never gleams
I am a sword without a blade
I am a stain that just won’t fade
I ‘m a disease that has no cure
I am a hook that has no lure
I am the clock that does not tick
I am the glue that does not stick
I am a game without a stake
I am a risk that you won’t take
I am a kiss that’s never kissed
I am a loss that’s never missed
I’m a horizon without sky
I am the void behind the eye
I am a smile no one returns
I am a coin nobody earns
I am the song nobody sings
I am the bell that never rings
I am a lock without a key
I am a sight you cannot see
I am a never felt caress
I am a pawn who’s playing chess
I am a never sheded tear
I am the anger born from fear
I am a night without a star
I am so close and yet so far
I am broken, I am torn
I am weary, I am worn
LAST KISS
With flowing hair with velvet skin with lips who are like roses red
Your voice it sounds like birds in spring you sing to sleep me by my bed.
Your words they are so sugarsweet, enchanting is your lullaby
I shiver when our eyes do meet, yours are so bright they shame the sky.
Bring me a glass finest red, my last glass among mortals here.
When they ask what I last said, tell them it was a drinking cheer.
I wither, fade and slowly die. So kiss me, love, don't hesitate.
For one last time our lips shall meet, be quick before it is too late.
So seal my lips with crimson fire, bring your body close to mine.
For this is my last heart’s desire, your lips, your warmth, my glass of wine.
I see a tear run down your cheek, I look up in your eyes so deep.
I kiss these lips so soft and meek, I smile and then fall fast asleep.
LOST HEART
What is endless can't be ended
What is broken can't be mended
What is lost can't be regained
What is set free can't be restrained
My love is lost and so am I
Emotions all in ruins lie
All wounds they say the time does heal
but my love does not doubt nor reel
Your look it makes me hurt inside
My hopes rise like the ocean's tide
And like the ocean's tide they sink
I don't no what to do or think
True love it does forever last
My will it is in iron cast
I miss you more then words might say
My days seem empty, stale and gray
I feel as if I'm ripped apart
A hole is where was once my heart
It is so sweet and soft a pain
So endless, sad and all in vain
LURKERS ON THE ROAD TO HELL
Silence is the tongue of sages
Silent are all those who know
Secrets we have kept for ages
Secrets of the dark below
We are hidden in the shadow
We are hidden in the dark
Whispering truth completely hollow
Whispering lies sweet like the lark
We are watching we are waiting
We observe and listen well
While your steps anticipating
While your steps lead down to hell
Once you notice it‘s far too late
Once you’re here our work is done
Open wide the brimstone gate
Open wide your eyes and run
Run away, feel free to run
Run away it matters not
Every way it leads down here
Believe it or
Believe it not
MASKS
I am wearing my mask
As a king wears a crown
Or perhaps it is more
Like the face of a clown
I’m hiding my sadness
My loathing and fear
Behind a soft smile
A laugh and a cheer
Thick smoke and bright mirrors
Are veiling my core
A heart of black onyx
All bleeding and sore
Outside I seem calm
And all in control
But deep inside gnaws
A gaping black hole
My essence is stained
In black and in red
A storm of confusion
Rages in my head
I am wearing my mask
Like the face of a clown
Or perhaps it is more
As a king wears a crown
Back to Top
VOICES
I am insane...
Neither do I say this to confess, nor is it my intent to warn you.
It is merely a fact and as such I will treat it.
I am insane...
I hear voices at night, some whisper, some sing, some scream.
They speak of truths and lies forgotten.
They urge me to do things... but these days I hardly ever listen to them.
They want me to kill, ...strangers, friends, loved ones
...myself.
But I don’t listen to them anymore. I don’t know who they are, and I don’t want to
know. Many voices, a few I recognize.
Voices of people right around me, urging me to kill them.
Voices of people I knew but are dead now.
Voices of cartoons... silly I know but it is true.
Voices of things... trees, animals... knives.
Voices of ... other things too.
My voice...
My own voice is the worst... I only hear it when watching myself in the mirror.
The lips of my reflection move as it speaks and I am never quite sure if my own lips move too.
Usually in the bathroom... it knows where I keep my razorblades, it knows everything.
The first time after it started talking I brought a kitchen knife to the bathroom because I was afraid to face it.
This was a mistake... now it has a knife as well.
I tried to stab it but it parried my strike easily.
Of course, it’s a mirror. When I want to leave it tells me to stay.
It says that it will stab me in the back with the knife when I turn around without it’s
permission. So I spend eternities in front of the bathroom mirror, listening to it.
We smoke cigarettes together, I bring my own and it does the same.
After some time it allows me to leave...
I don’t know what it does when I turn my back on it, and I don’t want to know. Of
course there are other mirrors too, although they never speak.
But the... thing is always the same, no matter which mirror.
It watches me... and it always has the knife with it, and the razorblades.
It’s getting dark...Soon the voices will start.
Gladly I am alone right now so they will be little more than a whisper.
Only the voice from the bathroom is clearly audible.
After I lay down this pen I will go the bathroom.
I believe I have found a way to kill it.
It requires my own knife...
THE PRIEST AND THE DEVIL'S WHORE
A priest was walking late at night
In hands he held a candle bright
The forest's trees their shadows threw
But t'was a road he fairly knew
The road was long the night was dark
Somewhere afar a dog did bark
Then he heard a scream for help
That soon turned in a dying yelp
He looked around the scream was near
Wide were his eyes from shock and fear
Oh, but his eyes grew wider still
As he perceived there on the hill
A woman dressed in blood and silk
Her flawless skin as white as milk
The candle's barely brightening beam
Fell on the screamer of the scream
A farmhand on the grass there lay
His neck not meant to bend this way
The man was dead t'was plain to see
His empty eyes showed misery
His lips were stained with primal red
As she bent down to kiss the dead
Then she looked up, smiled at the priest
And licked her lips from previous feast
"Good eve, dear Father, out so late?
What luck for I just lost my mate
Come closer, do not be afraid
This lad and I a bargain made
He kept his part and I kept mine
This contract here I made him sign
He promised me his very soul
If he might stick it in my hole"
She winked and licked her fingers clean
The priest was shocked he'd never seen
Such beauty and such perfect grace
So charming sweet a woman's face
He finally found his voice at last
His hand reached for the bible fast
A quick kiss on his cross he placed
The first time with a demon faced
"I think I've heard of thou before
They say ye are the Devil's Whore
Leave me alone, vile spawn of hell
At no price I my soul would sell
No matter what a spell thou cast
Just be assured, my faith will last
Go, return from whence ye came
I send thee back in god's good name"
She smiled and walked a bit more close
To tap the priest onto his nose
"Do not be foolish, little priest
T'requires more to tame the beast"
Her voice alone it was a sin
Her hands they traced the bloodstained skin
She smiled, pushed up her ample breast
To lick away of blood a rest
"See my nipples ripe and stiff
If thou were not a priest, yes, if
See my skin as pure as snow
I see ye want it, yes I know"
He closed his eyes for she was right
She was what man dreamed of at night
She traced his face, opened his eyes
They showed her wanton and despise
"Feast thine eyes upon me lad
See my flesh is barely clad"
Come and taste my crimson lips
Feel the rhythm of my hips
See my breasts, come have a bite
The two are yours for all the night
I'm dripping wet and hot like fire
Come give in to thine desire
She took his hand and made it rest
Upon the left side of her chest
"Feel my heartbeat racing fast
Can't you see no spell is cast
You crave my touch you need it now
Just tell me to and I will bow
I will suck and lick and blow
Under that robe, yes down, below"
She smiled and leaned real close to him
His faith and candle flickered dim
He swallowed hard and shook his head
Remembering the farmhand dead
"You failed to tempt me, now I go
Send greetings to your lord below"
He turned around to walk away
But somehow he just had to stay
She shrugged, her lips went in a pout
"Ye want me there can be no doubt
All my body's yours to taste,
To leave me now'd be such a waste
But if you want, be on your way
There's nothing left for me to say"
Her lips let out a silent moan
"Then I'll enjoy myself alone"
She took the candle from his stand
And made the flame out with her hand
Just as the priest turned 'round his head
She sat down with her legs wide spread
The darkness made his pupils large
And he could see her body arch
All lustfully she did recline
If this was hell it was divine
She trembled slightly, a soft sigh
It made the poor priest give up nigh
Kissed the smooth shaft with her lips
Slowly bringing up her hips
The shaft traced down between her breast
Then traced down deeper, did not rest
A moan was every breath she took
As pleasure's waves her body shook
The air was filled with moans and sighs
She parted wider still her thighs
The candle finally found it's goal
The priest, he almost lost his soul
Drew back his hand and shook his head
She just looked up and faintly said
"Sweet Irony, do you know why?
Because your candle you envy"
A wicked smile adorned her lips
As back and forth she moved her hips
And back and forth her hand she moved
But still the priest his faith he proved
She took her time she did it slow
Her wicked eyes they seemed to glow
The priest he thought that he'd go insane
That all his faith would be in vain
He made a step towards the beast
Oh just a little kiss at least
She smiled and spread wide her arms
He succumbed fully to her charms
But then he heard a distant shout
For all the peasants have marched out
Searching for the farmhand lost
To see what t'was his life him cost
The Devil's Whore rose to her feet
A second both their eyes did meet
She did not try to run or hide
The gates of hell she opened wide
The candle she threw to the ground
Descending stairs deep downward bound
A final wink and blown a kiss
The gates of hell closed with a hiss
The priest went home and led a life
Of praying, labour, faith and strife
But something from this night he learned
A little pleasure easy earned
A guest he had in every night
A special candle shed its light
POWER
The air was hanging heavy and stale over the jury as the pictures of the crime scene made the round. Beads of sweat kept appearing on the judges forehead. He wiped it off with an already sweat soaked handkerchief, like trying to clean something with a dirty towel. sick. Gordon Leary became a judge because he believed in the thing called justice. That day he was proven to be wrong. He still believes in Justice today but now in a way grownups believe in Santa Claus... They think that it would be nice if it were true. The photographs wandered from jury to jury. Gordon noticed how odd the change of the facial expression was as the pictures were passed down from right to left. The people on the left looked curious, much like those bystanders hanging around a driving accident or similar incident. People seem to smell blood and they gather around it. They didn’t really wanted to see the scene but somehow they had to. Though in this case a driving accident, no matter how horrible, would have been a delightful sight compared to the unutterable things on these photographs. The people on the right who had already seen them looked shocked and confused. Many shook their heads, some prayed silently even. A young woman almost fainted and sat there crying until Gordon asked an officer to escort her to the bathroom to calm down. There was this big, fat man, sweating in his cheap brown suit. Gordon had seen him eating a large tunasandwhich and a bag of chips during the lunch break. Seconds after he had seen the pictures he stood up and tried to get past the rows of people to hurry to the bathroom. He made it out of the courtroom but not to the toilet. They all heard him throw up just in front of the door. Nobody blamed him. sick. The most disturbing thing was the expression of the person who was actually looking at the picture. The eyes grew wide, the brows started to twitch and their mouths opened in disbelieve. Many moved their lips. One didn’t had to be a trained lip reader to recognize the words „Jesus“ and „oh my God“. Some of them looked away as soon as their minds grasped what they saw, when they recognized the...parts, others weren’t able to look away at all. They had to be told to pass the pictures, some two times. sick. Gordon had already seen the pictures yesterday and in the night that followed as they haunted his dreams. The press wanted to see the pictures too, they always do. „The man is caught and admits to be guilty and the victims can’t get any deader. There is no reason to keep the photos hidden any longer, the public has the right to know what happened.“ they said. Eventually the police distributed the pictures... the public was never told what really happened. Not one newspaper dared to describe the scenes of this pictures. "A massacre of so far unknown cruelty" was all they printed, no details. sick.
The
man who provided the subjects of the photos was sitting idle on his chair. Yes,
Dennis Lomax sat in his chair totally relaxed next to his advocate. The verdict
was clear before the trial even began. Society could not allow such a man to
live. The problem everybody was faced with was the fact that the man to be
judged looked so perfectly normal. Gentle facial features, calm and in control,
a working-class man. A man whose neighbours probably said to the media: "He
made a totally normal impression on me. I would have never believed that he
would be capable of such a terrible thing." Gordon knew that this was not
true. Lomax's neighbour, a young student, was with a psychiatrist right now. She
found the... corpses. She hasn't spoken to the media yet, she hasn't spoken to
anybody yet. For some reason she desperately tries not to blink. Still unable to
speak she wrote a little, scribbled note to explain it to the doctor, tears
pouring down "When I close my eyes I see them in the darkness, them and
him.". sick. He was well shaved, hair trimmed and combed. He wore the blue prison uniform, handcuffs, cuffs for his feet too. He sat upright, his gaze
lingering somewhere far, far away. Nobody knew where or what he might see there
but all who watched him were sure that it was no place they would like to come
even near to. His face showed peaceful indifference, but somewhere in this eyes
was a hint of something sharp, something dangerous. His hands were folded in
front of him, a mockery of a praying man. Gordon did not want to know to what
kind of god Lomax would pray to. sick. Lomax had a steady job as a car salesman.
Not married but in no way sexually frustrated or anything like that. The two
girlfriends he had during the last two years were with a psychiatrist too. sick.
The psychological tests showed that Dennis Lomax was fully aware of his actions.
He knew none of his victims, never saw them before. He took no money, didn't
rape them, nothing. He gave simple answers to the prosecutors questions, seldom
more than a yes or a no, but he remained silent on the subject of his motives.
The little man in the suit next to him, thick glasses and already receding hair
fiddled around with his papers nervously. Lomax didn't care who defended him so
an advocate was assigned, nobody envied him. Lomax didn't deny anything and
confessed to be guilty of every crimes they accused him. He added that they
could accuse him of a lot more if they wanted to, it would not matter any more.
He knew that he was going to die but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
sick. The trial was short and unsatisfying. This was not justice, Gordon
thought. He brought down his hammer. This was sick. The doors to the courtroom
where opened and fresh, cool air streamed into the room, almost visible. The
people poured out of the room. Those who saw the photos would be forever
changed, the others would be forever grateful that they didn't have to see
them. Gordon tried again to try his sweating forehead in vain, welcoming the
fresh air and drawing it in feverishly. He felt a bit dizzy as he walked down
from his seat. Two policemen waited for Lomax to stand up, somehow they didn't
dare to touch him. Lomax rose, calm, proud. sick. He turned and walked with the
policemen, one to the right and one to the left as Gordon found his voice.
"Mr. Lomax? A minute please...". Gordon's voice was trembling
slightly. He was a judge, his voice never trembled before. Lomax turned around
his head and watched Gordon, his gaze was hard to bear. The judge swallowed
hard. "W...why did you do it?" Lomax arched a brow and a thin smile
adorned his lips, cruel and sharp. His voice was merely a whisper but clearly
audible in the emptied courtroom. The lack of volume did not diminish the impact
of his words. "I did it because I was able to..." he turned around and
walked to the door slowly, leaving the judge and the two policemen behind, wide-eyed
and mouth opened. The guards finally took him away, he was smiling
gently as he looked back a last time at Gordon. He sat down on the accused’s
chair...and sat their for another 10 minutes
The judge has never met a person more powerful, more mighty more free than this man...
sick.