THE TRICKSTER



It is as if an evil Trickster, possessed of otherworldly stealth,
whilst you're not aware, slowly steals away your mental health,
just to see how you'll fare.

He smothers you from behind with a blanket so dark and thick,
eyes blinded to what others see, dark thoughts and images stick,
your mind locked with no key.

You cannot fight it with sword or scalpel, there are only drugs,
which are often merely a curse, you feel nothing from loving hugs,
yet admire a passing hearse.

All that once sparked your passion and interest is suddenly taken,
nothing has any reason, tragedy and fright leave you unshaken,
living a life out of season.

It is a puzzle to you, the worry and concern felt by those who care,
nothing ever matters you explain, that you're happy to sit and stare,
plotting to end the pain.

It hurts the most when you remember the person you once were,
and hate the pathetic wretch, that your mind now seems to prefer,
and often tries to fetch.

Whether you are enjoying life or if your life is suddenly stalling,
in this or any other land, the evil Trickster can always come calling,
dark blanket in his hand.

IAN
( in memory of Ian Curtis, Joy Division, uk band)

Did you take one last look around this final place,
warm memory to find. Did your fingers subtly trace
the air, in vain attempt to still your mind.

Could your words in song not caution you to pause,
to fan a final ember. It was never about the applause,
for you it was enough to remember.

I guess you feared life more than you feared death,
your illness made it so, I hope with your final breath,
a smile was the last thing to go.

Have you found the peace you had always fought.
Your verse dark and deep, from anguished heart wrought,
and tormented soul did weep.

We discussed your private hell with the arrogance of youth,
detached curt critique, saying your prose revealed the truth,
that death and misery create mystique.

In cliched form, you remain to us forever alive and young,
your presence and voice, the entrancing vocals you have sung,
I know you had no choice.

DO NOT FEEL SADNESS


Remember me once in a while, when clamorous mores do briefly wane,
conceding brief repose, and picture past glory that will forever remain,
though time continually flows.

Do not feel sadness, let not one tear of grief sweet countenance mar,
for life should beguile, and at it's end look back, see you've travelled far,
then meet death with a smile.

My passing is of no import, as I slip fading corporeal bond all is clear,
there is no puzzle to solve, for though my presence will no longer be here,
life will still evolve.

You must let me go, forbid mournful heart to still your zest for life,
save me from grey void, with laughter and song ignore insidious strife,
do what we once enjoyed.

There is a place I have to be, and so you must in me believe
know my words are pure and true, as now I take my leave,
with love for all of you.