Le Père des Mensonges

Written by Kay

Times of my bloody tears and my crimson love
have left me and yet I remain drowned in the anamnesis I cannot escape.

Not with total awareness I walk where the path has been worn
by dancing heels and rubber soles of dreams
as mists of foggy ancestry greet me with blackened curses
throbbing with the beat of life.
A stream runs red as arias of weeping violins choke the sky
for I am Macbeth King of Men yet ruler of nothing driven into the gray shadows
of my life by the same temptress who in her glorious light beseeched Napoleon to her breast
and I cry “Woe to Josephine and woe to my own!”

Lured by the poisoned words of a honeyed whore I tread softly
through this hellish black wood that I’ve fabricated
thinking “What, this Inferno? What of my pardon?” but then I see
no Virgil to guide me as the harpies of reason nip at the raw heels of denial --
denial with which I still cloak myself blind to its tattered uselessness.

Yet this sinner still wonders why the winter cold chills hollow bones.

And even as I walk on shards of broken love and brush away thorns of false smiles
the Dark Castle above thunders silently with comforting ruthlessness
up on the hallowed hills in which I've sought refuge for so many empty years.

Will I accept the rose of salvation that will guide me from this tangled wilderness?
The hag extends her withered hand to offer me a red red rose
a rose with the power to take away power and tumble the Dark Castle of my dreams
and I turn her away into the freezing winter gloom --
forgive me hag for I am a beast, a beast still shackled to my own chain of desire
whilst I choke on the remnants of my dreams.

And still as I continue my journey I lose myself in the endless void of my life and think
times of my bloody tears and my crimson love
have left me and yet I remain drowned in the anamnesis I cannot escape.

finis