Scribbles from a Word Slinger (part one)

Time for something differen’t guys.

Many moons before I began Blogging I used to scribble lines of verse to keep the very mediocre artist in me awake.  I have recently found my original workings, dusted them off and laid a couple down below for your perusal.

The Sentence
Cross the bridge and ask the man the question you have brought,
Give your gift, lay down your arms – what knowledge have you sought,
Stand a man, be judged up close for soon you’ll know your fate,
A final destination looms with this in mind please wait,
… The wait now over step up close and stare into the eyes,
For eyes can tell the difference from the truth and from the lie,
Possess do you the character to stand against your fears,
Release all that you can produce and throw the moral spear,
Now all you can is stand aback and go on bended knee,
The time does tick, the heart does pound, the eyes no longer see,
For this is what it means to live so have you made the grade,
The vision sent – a plot of land, a tombstone and a spade.

J a c k
Safe by day but change by fall,
Once a mother’ s joy now the Devil’ s tool,
Back to a time of rings and roses,
Where children grew up around pockets and poses,
The stench in the slums from corpses and rats,
Gave birth to a new plague and they called it Jack,
Deep in the Chapel this man he did dwell,
Poverty and despair twinned it with Hell,
This man was an artist and art was his life,
His palette was murder, his brush was the knife,
His canvass was women, drunk and abused,
Who sold natural goods for shelter and food,
Five of them suffered, five premature deaths,
With their throats sliced wide open they gasped their last breaths,
Removed were their stomachs, along with their souls,
The Boss could do nothing – Jack had control,
The mind of a madman, unknown but alive,
Encaptured by passion, his method contrived,
The alleys stay dark, the streets remain light,
And with history calling he fades ‘to the night.

The Hero
Fallen angels chasing dreams amongst the fabled clouds,
Conceived in love yet birthed in hate, the spirits now aroused,
Compelled by visions standing tall, the dream catcher awakes,
The future now a canvass blank, its time to raise the stakes,
A reign of fire from within now steps a weary soul,
Is this the one that leads us to the light from in the hole,
Apocalypse must surely be now sound the horsemen four,
Call upon the armies of the South and of the North,
Bring the legions of the West, unite them with the East,
The circle full its now the time for man to face his beast,
With swords a clash, with flesh a scar, the battle now alive,
The blood is spilt and bodies slain still victory we strive,
And as the carcass falls to ground and sun begins to rise,
The victor stands a lonely man, at feet his bloodied prize.

If you were even a touch captivated by the above then please look out for Scribbles from a Word Slinger (part two) coming soon …

If you can’t wait for your next artistic fix then please check out the following blogs/sites from some of my very artistic and talented friends:

Art – 

Fashion/Photography –

Gossip & Reviews

Latino777 – Its our time down here


Posted on May 17, 2011, in Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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