Valhalla 7 - 1986

A scythe arches over membranous wings

Of some devilish horse, its rider's face

Hard and bony beneath a dark cloak

Shrouding distant memories of a past long forgotten

History come back to haunt me

The reaper leers beneath the legend

'Desolation', like my life

Abandoned even before I began to breathe

Deserted when still in the womb

Ironically deprived by life

A 'Desolation Angel' riding through the clouds

With cruel weapon, ready to cut me up again

Like so many childhood years, watching friends with their fathers

Having fun whilst I stayed at home

Tearful and lonely

Now, unexpected, he reappears

A phantom who makes my heart pound

At the mere mention of his name

Like the utterance of the Angel of Death

Labelling me as his own

With this gruesome image, painted by his own hand

Unholy retch, does he have thought or feeling

For the people he hurts along the way

When cutting through life as he pleases?

Can no emotion touch him?

Chilling chords of harsh music

Rock – not my genre, but still

The titles are reminiscent of fantasy stories

Of vampires, demons, ancient races

Is this from whence my creativeness comes?

Desolation Demon, whilst you cling to your hellish rock

Your daughter mourned your absence

Shrouded in her own world of mysticism

Of fantasy stories, poems in an ancient language-

A fictional balm, not quite healing the wound

Of many father's day's with cards unwritten,

Each birthday like a twisted knife

Each Christmas a torturous experience

Tears fell like Angry Rain amidst the debris of paper

She was the only one without a father

Can you imagine the pain when she realised you weren't

The Unsung Hero she imagined, childish daydreams

Of a smiling man, come to fill in the spaces

In a life devoid of meaning

The missing pieces of who she is

Evil Possessor, you won't free her mind

Every day that passes, you're there like

The festering wound that refuses to heal.

A cancer she'll battle her whole life long –

This time most deadly in its absence.

Return to Valhalla, Spirit of the Deep

It's too late; she's a woman now

You've missed her first shaky steps

Into a world blighted by your absence

You missed that moment when she learned what it was

To be missing a father

Written about my father, singer in a rock band called Desolation Angels - who abandoned mebefore I was even born. Thanks, David Wall, I owe you so much :rolleyes: