Immortal Words and Intestinal Swirls
A long time ago, ten years ago in fact, I wrote this:
Loki
You descended acid scored
Cried tears from ember eyes
I remember every word
Penetrated each disguise
You insist on placing blame
Your torment is all your own
Every scream strengthens your chain
As you waste away to bone
You dread the day when your cup runneth over
I know it hurts
I'll rue the day when your sentence is over
You know it hurts
You'll ascend no longer whole
With hellfire in your eyes
She joins you to slay the world
A cursed blessing in disguise
You'll be forced to take the blame
Even though it is all my own
Bound and broken, even shamed
While you waste away to bone
You dread the day when your cup runneth over
I know it hurts
I'll rue the day when your sentence is over
You know it hurts
You'll be revenged you know it hurts
Reading it back now, it's a awkward. I do like parts of the wording and the basic structure. I think I'm going to go back and improve it, and write a compantion piece tentatively titled 'Baldur'. This is what happens when you cart a copy of Alan Moore's Top Ten around with you all day.
I have an idea for a new project. It started with a title, and then I thought maybe it would be a story. Then a story with pictures. Now I think there might be poetry involved, and there might be performance poetry involved, and maybe music, and now I think it may end up being a large sprawling project whose final form is yet to be determined. All I know for certain is that it's called 'The Murder Girl'. I've been drawing more, a lot more. Some kind of new style seems to be taking shape. 'The Murder Girl' will be painted. The poetry will be visual as well as disjointedly lyrical. Something will happen though, I'm sure of it. I'm wondering what.
Loki
You descended acid scored
Cried tears from ember eyes
I remember every word
Penetrated each disguise
You insist on placing blame
Your torment is all your own
Every scream strengthens your chain
As you waste away to bone
You dread the day when your cup runneth over
I know it hurts
I'll rue the day when your sentence is over
You know it hurts
You'll ascend no longer whole
With hellfire in your eyes
She joins you to slay the world
A cursed blessing in disguise
You'll be forced to take the blame
Even though it is all my own
Bound and broken, even shamed
While you waste away to bone
You dread the day when your cup runneth over
I know it hurts
I'll rue the day when your sentence is over
You know it hurts
You'll be revenged you know it hurts
Reading it back now, it's a awkward. I do like parts of the wording and the basic structure. I think I'm going to go back and improve it, and write a compantion piece tentatively titled 'Baldur'. This is what happens when you cart a copy of Alan Moore's Top Ten around with you all day.
I have an idea for a new project. It started with a title, and then I thought maybe it would be a story. Then a story with pictures. Now I think there might be poetry involved, and there might be performance poetry involved, and maybe music, and now I think it may end up being a large sprawling project whose final form is yet to be determined. All I know for certain is that it's called 'The Murder Girl'. I've been drawing more, a lot more. Some kind of new style seems to be taking shape. 'The Murder Girl' will be painted. The poetry will be visual as well as disjointedly lyrical. Something will happen though, I'm sure of it. I'm wondering what.