SOUL RAVENS

Tuesday, June 24, 2008
9:54 PM

This is a tribute to George Carlin. I never knew you personally, and i only watched a single stand-up of yours. But that one show was enough to inspire words in my head in memory of you. God bless you man. Try not to make him laugh too hard.

What larks! A light!
In Man's form!
It wanders here and there,
Flitting 'neath the drowsy lids
Of dark green olive leaves.

Light-hearted laughter permeates the air.
A soul that lives lightly,
Barely treading the roads of life
And yet,
Leaving a bigger impression than most.

From jests to doubled meanings
And subtly humorous hints.
Words have never spoken to a Man as such,
And never was there one who paid more attention
Than this one here.

The one who now lies,
In quiet jest of life,
6 feet under.

Romulus Demonicus

Wednesday, June 18, 2008
9:38 PM

What is Hate,
But the darkest recesses of your mind?
The great fire that will never abate,
A hidden power within to find.

Burning into your veins,
Like a living flame.
Thoughts, no longer sane.
But by you, power reigns.

And who could contest such a life?
When all melts at a touch,
Even your tortured heart's strife,
Withers without a fight. Much.

Your enemies fall at your feet,
Limbs and minds hewn apart.
But where are your loved ones?
Dust. Floating upon the Raven's craven beat.

All ashes.
Burned.
Incinerated.
By reckless Hate.

Power incarnate.

Romulus Demonicus

What a paradox is this life i live!
Where 'tis in the capacity of a Man
To Hate,
'Tis equal power to Love!

The very opposites dance afore my eyes,
Like glittering stars that fell from
The behemoth of heaven.
A crudish waltz, of sorts.

How, forth from the flames of
A raging, careless Anger,
Inflammed with reasonless passion,
Can Concern, unconcernedly, emerge?

Why, Unheard of!
Almost, like spewing water from a brazier!
Or mining gold from tender, woven silk!
Absurdity and profound jest!

For know that, even as i say't.
Pity the fool who earns my enmity,
For his dismay will come upon him swift and hard,
And end not the sooner.

But even so,
My love, to whomever it may so be laid upon,
Will kiss with passion so soft, and yet so wild,
Seemingly infinte in all possibilities.

Perhaps there the similarities lie?
In the difference??
On tip-toes,
A piroutte.

Romulus Demonicus

Saturday, June 14, 2008
5:29 PM

I used to pray for you
To keep me from feeling.
I used to beg at nights
For you to help me shut it all away.

It's quite a bit too late now.
I've lost all control that
Humanity was ever gifted with.
Your little present to Man.

It engulfs all now,
Everything that i do.
All this hate and raw hurt,
Spewing from the work of my hands.

To love, one must hate.
But i'd be content, if you'd just
Take it all away.
The good and the bad.

Shut me down, permenantly.

Romulus Demonicus

Wednesday, June 4, 2008
10:09 PM

I speak of love.
And all it's intricate complications.
At times a sweet snow-dusted dove,
At others a serpent; a vile politician.

It is the morning dew.
The sunbeams streaming through.
The passionate kiss that few
Could ever rue.

It is the night-black grief.
The raven's oily plumage.
Like foamy waves crashing on puckered reefs,
Wearing contentment as it's visage.

But it's true.
For few can escape it's nets.
On Love's angel wings we flew,
And it's devilish counterpart, we too have met.

Live to Love.
Love to Live.
'Tis a pleasent arrangement. By Jove!
To each other, this gift we give.

Romulus Demonicus

Monday, June 2, 2008
8:27 AM

I will deviate, just a little from what i normally do on this blog. That is, to post a poem straight out. For today, I'm going to say my piece afore i lay down the fruit of my mind's ponderings.

I havent been very well in the head, these past days. It's truly like an illness of the mind, more so than of the body. For my body has never been better, but my mind rankles like rusted chains, a loathsome maggot hole. Sleep has eluded me these past nights, laying me bare to night's slow passage, as if Time herself has little presence there. But what is the cause?

Jealousy. Fear. Hatred. Doubt.

All my demons seem to be congregating within to do me uncalled for harm and damage. As if i needed them to do this now. My exams are within 2 weeks. Concentration and focus have already been lost, need they plunder it further? Merciless scraps of demonhood.

Even now, as i type these words, the demons grow. making themselves apart of me more and more so, inseperable. like siamese twins. to cut one off, is to deny me life.

And so. i end it here. with a poem. familiar are you with a poem that goes "Oh how do i love thee, a hundred ways"?

i ask blind questions. questions without hindsight, without reply. without hope of ackowledgement. i've been a fool for so long.

The twinkling twilight,
The perfume of rose beds.
All merge into a collage,
A pleasent painting.

How do i hate thee?
Oh a hundred and one ways.
All the little things in the world,
That mount to larger things, beyond comprehension.

The glint of the evenstar in your hair,
Your scent that seemingly lights the night.
Oh and your voice!
One may be lost in't for an eternity.

Sweet demon, how do i hate thee so!
Innocent rogue. Beautiful villian!
Oh the pain ye have caused me so!
Like a dagger in the heart, beside Cupid's dart!

Fare't well, balmy breath.
The glow of your face that has cost lives of Man.
Trangress'd love is manifested in thee,
Of which, i will play no part.

How to i hate you? Oh what is the number?
One hundred and one ways it is,
Or in better manners,
In as many ways as i love thee.

Romulus Demonicus