Writing: Diversions

The Body Pyre
by: Keith Judge and Carlo Garcia

Heaven's eyes asleep
The Strange air of god
Whips of wind
The holy strap
Passing through my transparency

Pleasing as perfunctory sex
Not at all and with much strain
The heaving of my hellish vein
Spurting greenish lick of flame
Drip Colonel wesson's oily smile
A crooked grin to spew my ire
The easterlies feed the flames to torch the pyre
The air and light embrace with fire

Breathe
Down... slow...
Plumes of orange Monarch
Swarming blooms of rosy flower
Grasses dancing in shades of auburn
As the ashes of god sail on the devil's wind

Mind's Own Enemy
I need to get my mind off this feeling, or is it because my heart aches to feel. GUilty as one may be. I wish myself stength to fuel my resolve, and give myself life rebirth, and born again to a happy plane, and allow the discourse of reason overwhelm my brain, with thoughts of euphoria and glam, and kiss the hand of my soul's torch... and light the way which I must endure... To be freed of my unhappy condition and breathe new power into my life's mission, my life's destination...but wait, maybe I... Or do I inflict my own damnation, to which I am guilty for my own tormentation, to be easily fooled, confused, and riled up to fight a power not worthy of a drop of our majesty's golden cup, which poureth out into our mouth's a new level of being, understanding, and resolve... the strength in numbers, or fool's paradise, ask yourself is the battle your winning really worth the fight, and if it is I beg you carry on, but one day you will realize those you fought will all be gone, and you'll be left with a empty destination, no enemy to fight, and loads of ammunition, and the irony lies in your blood, icy and cold, and lacking of love... maybe you have forgotten why you began in the first place, and now you are the sole survivor of this immortal rat race... and this leaves you all alone, no pretty girl at the finnish line, with pigtails, big breasts, and a bottle of wine... No celebration for there is no one around to witness you fashion your glory crown... for we are all dead, you killed us you see, and have you forgot that you even killled me...with no narrator alive, your own victory will expire, as you slowly lose your mind...you will fade and you will die, maybe you should have kept some of your enemies alive.