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Music of Life

Darker Poetry
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This poetry is reflective of those times when life seems to be a bit more unbearable than other times .....

A Eulogy To This Life
 
You wake weeping to the light and sounds of a new day
Somewhere you've gotten lost along the stormy way
Troubles seem to roll of all the others back's, come what may
You try to ask God for help, but you know you've no say.
 
For years you stay strong, always having faced your fear
Then you realise you have lost all that you held dear
All the pain and anguish to your heart it did sear
And the masque you wear then becomes sheer.
 
Looking to the four corners, you choose which way to go
But in the end, all paths lead you back to the one you know
The hunter stands, armed, waiting to shoot this doe
Clinging to life, you turn to run and hope that hunter's slow.
 
Everywhere you turn that angry hunter is there
Sometimes, fearlessly, you stop, look, and stare
Looking into those cold and murderous eyes that just don't care
Running and hiding it is your life you hope he will spare.
 
At the end, the hunter, seeing you, fires off one round
You know your life's in danger, you heard the sound
The bullets pierces the flesh and you drop to the ground
You hope death finds you quickly, so the spirits no longer bound.
 
Even though I'd had hopes to one day be your wife
The hunter began to clean me with his uncaring knife
I can't take all this pain, I beg him to end my life
For not another day do I want to live through this strife.
 
Perhaps one day I'll meet you on the other side
For now though, it's on angels wings I do ride
Now I don't have to live in fear; I don't have to run and hide
Whoever said that life is grand, well, they lied.
 
Copyright 2004 Heather Callaway
 
 
 
Diablerie's Chair
 
Death has come for me, my love;
The darkness and emptiness awaits.
Who can say no to the fates;
As they open up the shadowy gates,
With wing'd demons peering from above.
 
In the darkness beyond I see some trees,
Snow's falling and shrouding all life;
A frozen icicle shaped like a knife
Falls, piercing the flesh of your wife
Through the heart, forever to freeze.
 
I stand in one place hoping to feel,
What once I felt so warmly, your heart;
But now my soul's been taken apart
And mantled, a display for the black art
That once I dabbled, the devil's deal.
 
Shrieking noises resound from within
As it rips apart my tormented soul.
Looking down I see a cavernous hole;
Though my evil deeds the demons extol,
Tis God's payment for my treacherous sin.
 
No light nor love will be admitted,
And the cold is more than I can endure;
Remunerations pain, there's no cure;
Eternities suffering they wish to ensure,
So in hell's where my souls forever committed.
 
I stand at the foot of the abysmal hollow;
I'm wanting the torture I feel to end.
Jumping without thought, it's my soul to send
To the bottom of this cavern, I choose to rend
My soul from the evils that now are soon to follow.
 
There is no escape from my evil deeds,
As now, I feel all that in my past I've done;
All the anguish and torment, sparing none,
They cast upon me, and now they've won,
For now they've planted their wicked seeds.
 
Everything that once was me, is no more;
I've found a home in the heart of a serpent,
For long last, I'd found the heart absent,
Void of all pain and sorrow, only allicient
My evil ways to it's own bloody core.
 
It's no longer my will keeping me there;
They've captured all that I've felt, cornered in guilt,
Voluntarily I allow the blossoms of my heart to wilt
In this void and wintry hell that they've built,
As I take my seat on the diablerie chair.
 
Copyright 2004 Heather Callaway
 
 
 
Giving Up
 
The tumultuous storms are passing through my soul,
Dark foreboding clouds are hanging over my head;
A razor cuts through me creating an abysmal hole,
One that could never be filled, I'm the walking dead.
 
Fuck this world that's only brought me misery and pain,
There's nowhere left to turn in this hell that's been created;
All emotions have to be flushed down that spiritual drain,
Hoping to lighten this heart that's been heavily weighted.
 
Time's moving so slow that one might think it's stood still,
I can't move from the past and into what's to be the 'now;'
Everything is so fucked up and I've no longer got a will,
I wish I could change everyones’ heart, but I don't know how.
 
Think that I'm destined to remain forever in this isolation,
Never finding peace within, living in perpetual damnation,
I am searching my eternal soul in fervent desperation,
For it’s the only way to remove me from this baneful situation.
 
The light that shone has ceased to flourish in my life,
Leaving only a sense of dread that cannot be shed,
Now the insufferable pain is nothing but a searing knife,
Cutting away my happiness until all that I love is dead.
 
Demons are standing at the gates to this intolerable hell
They welcome me into this wicked den of pain and fear;
My bare feet walk upon the fires as I enter the barred cell,
Locking the door behind me, and I accept this without a tear.
 
Can I suffer through all this agonizing pain and torment?
Will I be able to persevere through the suffering felt this night?
Is it the loss of my eternal soul that I'm forever to lament?
Will I ever find it within myself to stand and put up a fight?
 
God has abandoned me and does not hear my plea,
So now I see that there's no other way for me;
I'm giving up my life, so that I can be eternally free,
Slashing my wrists, my blood soaks the mighty oak tree.
 

Copyright 2005 Heather Callaway

 

Falling Walls

The greyish stone mass that was erected,
Looked stronger than any fortress ever seen;
Now a blanket covers it, painted all in green,
One would say that it has been neglected.

The stones began to crumble into powdery ash,
Bound together only by the tight woven moss;
Requiescat in pace engraved in stone for it’s loss,
And now is nothing more than a mere storm sash.

The storms are infrequent, but are violent still,
Protection is needed, so I stand within the walls
Meandering through the forts colossal halls,
Hoping that it’s not me the storm is going to kill.

The wind and the rain have battered the stones,
I see these wide apertures beginning to form
As they cannot hold up to the puissant storm,
I feel the chill pierce straight through my bones.

Fervently I sought a thing to bar the iniquitous flood,
But the Gods deemed me fit for a daunting task;
My eyes cannot face this evil adorned with a mask,
So I slash my wrists, hoping to drain all my blood.

Copyright 2005 Heather Callaway