Alone amongst Blurs

Sitting here, surrounded by sound

Voices of people and music invade

My ears and my spirit moves in slow motion

Acknowledging nothing

I’m sitting alone in a crowded room

Where the world and its people come to sit

To escape the hectic and dive within

Into their souls to see their true selves

Solving their problems, aligning equations

Losing their souls in masked invasions

To find a completion to all of this mess

And to place themselves

Where they just might feel blessed

As they sit and stop and search to find

They give blur to the truth and lose their minds

And as I sit alone in a crowded room

Without a soul to caress my lofty heart

No consolation to find for my plagued soul

Alone and lonely and broken apart

From a world of people who look to solve

The problem of pain and the earths resolve

As I sit alone and move in slow motion

I condemn the blurs and masses around

Breaking my soul… that tearing sound

As I seek to solve the problem of pain

But I have all the answers in my brain

Yet I am going insane as I try to solve

The mysteries of them, and the earths resolve

And the circle lies within my eyes

As I sit and peer down from statuesque seat

Unto the blurs of the lost, blind, wandering feet

And I discover why my soul feels so incomplete

Cause I sit and peer and I point at the meek

And I rest amongst the blurs as they are trying to solve

The problem of pain and the earths resolve

When I sit upon the truth, upon my statue

Knowing the truth, yet scared and broken

Until I walk, not lonely again

The circle appears and I feel the sin

Of the circle itself as I wander again

In the sea of lost souls as they are seeking to solve

But I bring clarity there and I bring resolve

To the searching the wanting the desire for truth

As my statue is shattered manacles let loose

And the slumbered awake but the world remains slow

But the blurs are now clear and I see without fear

But the circle has power, and I cannot win

But the strength of the beauty that now lies within

Is that I am not alone, nor broken, nor dim

But a lamp being used to bring light unto him.

The King-Slayer & Snakeskin

The King-Slayer

Who am I? Define my image.
What has been etched on the walls
of my soul? A beautiful corsage,
though life springs forth as it falls
on the wrist of a beloved,
is dying. So what facade
is my image revealing?

Doth my heart resolve to seek what is dying?
to betray myself with fear,
to give into this esteem so blinding,
do I align my fate with that of Lear?
Shall I force away my one pure love
to boost my pride, to find foundation,
and become blind to the devils masked as doves,
until betrayed, I am entirely alone again?

Shall my hair be cut, or sanity lost
whilst in this sea of troubles
I'm turned and tossed?
For the strongest kings betrayed themselves,
for a love they would never find
If they should fall, then to what Hell
should my soul be lost and bind.

Snakeskin

The skins of my path hath been shed.
They lie intact, though they lie behind
the skin is dead, what's said is said,
yet to look upon it, I'm still inclined.

Like the serpent leaves his common case
to freely move with a fresh exterior
his prints are left and you can trace
the scars and marks that he once bore.

So the dead skins of our past do reveal
the mistakes and pain we've left behind.
It speaks truths about us, and though we've healed
Our fingers trace the jagged lines.