The mark of words

Some work with tools, I'm just a fool playing with words.

Month: June, 2015

The Cold is there.

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The Cold is there
Warmth is nare despaired
With it, you’re lost in it.
Warmth is there, like anything else
But Cold, Cold let’s you know its there.

The Cold is there
Like the biting of the flesh
It slips between you and your dress
In between your sweater and your vest
It creeps into you

The Cold is there
Clutches to you and your breast.
Slips into you, catches your breath.
Nothing takes it away. It stays right there
But it takes with it, everything.

The Cold is there
Struck by arrest
You feel it hold you about your chest
You struggle. It is a test.
No, the cold does not let you rest.

The Cold is there
And it makes it hard to bear
Soon it leaves it all like splintered glass.
And then it’s gone.
At least warmth leaves it in ash.

I’m no light-worker any more.

I put a halo on my head
I fought for good
My struggles on the path
Deserved recognition
And this prized O was to be it.

I’ve started to detest the halo
Because it does worse than horns
Let me not be mistaken
The evil are evil, but the good should be more feared
For in their vain conceit they are so very blind

They strike up their pomp
And act with such an air
As if they were god’s gift
So worthy of distinction
That we should put down our tasks
And clap at their recognition
Of being such a good, good, person.

Good on you, you didn’t throw the stone!
Instead you watched as they were stoned to death

These good men are frauds. Afraid to take responsibility
Afraid to fight. Afraid to die for what is truly right.
They will not take up arms, because it is not ‘good’ to do so.

But when their devil comes and gives them a scare
Then with one mighty prayer, God sets all right.
This is their divine rite. How almighty these beings be!

They’re scared rabbits, afraid to be cast as evil
So they throw their lot in with the good
But have no intention of picking up any responsibility as such
And they drain vigour of truly good men.

They dare not take responsibility,
They dare not act,
It is with the ‘good’ that the might of life is sapped

An evil man can achieve more than a good one, why?
Because they do not need to keep everyone happy
If you want to get something done, pick the evil man.

More than this, good men are weak willed.
They can stand up against evil only for so long
Before their courage leaves them
And they hide their tails between their legs

Good men are untrustworthy
You can trust an evil man to be evil
But when has a good man ever be so
Other than when in direct light
He acts so… divine. Any soul can worship the divine
But to advertise it, ugh. To be better than the average man,
Because you are invested with goodness.
You are such a fucking fraud.
Give me another sign as to why
Good men deserve to die.

I am not evil, I have my code of morality and that is that
But I will not be good, because this a weakness
A weakness in the hearts of men that lets tanks roll over them
I spit at good men, I call for just ones instead.
Because when evil comes, I’d rather have them by my side.