between the rains

between the rains

one sits marooned on ones rock where sirens once sang
one could build a church but one doesn’t want to hang
all day ones scales are pecked at by squawking gulls
all ones got left is an old soul full of drunken skulls

between the rains

in one’s chained cupped hands one contains the rains
holding ones mirror one sees how the old moon wanes
the storm clouds burst over ones masked pale face
striking one’s pocked marked face like a spiked mace

since time became a god, one will sacrifice every second
since god became the judge, ones execution is self-assured
&
the daemons wings shall flay ones skin along the process to be cured
since time begun the empty cross has always silently beckoned

between the rains

one slept the night in the eternal womb/tomb of a cave
as the sun rose one headed into the world dressed as a knave
as the sun ascended one climbed the towers twisted stairs
to take ones place on one of the turrets coveted checkered squares

between the rains

one stood above the devil’s empty crossroads grave
at the end of the contorted path one’s shadow did pave
one tries to leave the past behind and heads out west alone
yet still one’s shadow stretches back upon the cross to atone
yet still one’s shadow gravitates back into the void to atone

since time became a god, one will sacrifice every second
since god became the judge, ones execution is self-assured
&
the daemon’s wings shall flay ones skin along the process to be cured
since time begun the empty cross has always silently beckoned

between the rains

time had given one the knowledge which one used to douse the light
then while the kings slept one used flames to win the fight
across ones battlefields echoed ones victorious fleeting breath
till all the drunken skulls within ones soul quoted Macbeth

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow ….”

between the rain
upon ones rock one stood defiantly before the reapers hordes
at ones feet lay all the conquered pieces ceremonial swords
&
from these swords they fashioned ones chains
to hold one to ones rock
where commencing on each enlightenment the gulls flock to feast & mock

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow ….”

since time became a god, one will sacrifice every second
since god became the judge, ones execution is self-assured
&
the daemons wings shall flay ones skin along the process to be cured
since time begun the empty cross has always silently beckoned

©bg 2017