The beginning was an image of all A modern miracle held in mystified awe Until life's illusion lost its intensity And the desire for death grew in complexity
The face of horror pulls at mankind As though in this darkness we would find The shadows necessary for man's story And in the blood, mankind's rotting glory
Death is found between the audience's gasps Often times we have found it plays for laughs The angst felt as we seek to somehow persevere Is the substance that makes us come to fear
This is the big bang that perverts the universe Into the world's horror at the charmingly perverse We too often seek the mirrored twin of salvation As we have become somehow fascinated with our damnation
Diabolical forces are just around the corner of night And are only kept from us by the power of light From the leaves of the Book of Satan we learn to read Of all those things that life tears from us but we need
The crucifix becomes the talisman that provides protection Interestingly wrapped in the eternal punishment of imagination Good and evil seem forever limitlessly bound together Creation and destruction are joined in making life better
The spirit of darkness is invoked to show itself As we draw literary greatness from life's shelf If only we might finally know what it truly means Why the children of the night come to life each Halloween
Mephisto himself creeps up to rise each passing year And tread darkly on mankind's worst, bringing us tears Each metropolis holds evil at good's close proximity As our desires claw at us drawing us to immorality
(c) October 31, 2024 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Is it true that only fools Cast aside all the rules? And what kind of wreck Does life become living by the deck?
A spooky basement points the direction That reveals the cloth of divination Hand painted arcana mixes with astrology It is needed to forecast what becomes our history
Candles are lit and the reading begins These are the risks taken between friends As twelve cards are circles in a zodiac reading It won't be long until the friends are barely breathing
A thirteenth card is centered between for clarity The cards are then shuffled with tainted sincerity As the High Priestess looks and patiently knows That drunken children will suffer horrendous blows
Each child gathers in wait of their own story Nonbelievers find humor in this painted glory The cards begin to lay out the demonic tale Only the High Priestess knows who will prevail
There's always one who cannot wait Opening doors to curiously investigate A magician's bag of tricks brings deception A lack of control snaps through the connection
Impulses should be resisted in the name of trust Keeping close to those with whom we surely must Following the wrong light to a false track Can take you down a path from which there is no turning back
Some of us are prone to pour gasoline on the fire Talking more than listening as we're led by our desires Love might be the death of two becoming one But the power of the two can make this path undone
It you're brave enough to face your fears It doesn't mean you won't shed true tears Step by step, the evil known patiently grows When you play with magic, there are crushing blows
The Devil plays along without sympathy While his High Priestess knows no pity Quietly, she creeps in death and darkness You cannot change fate, or its harshness
One by one their lives are taken When you dare the magic, you are forsaken Evil comes at you like a runaway train The things seen leave their traces on the brain
Accidents that align are more than coincidence And point to murderous design incident after incident We stretch to make our readings come true Crazy is as crazy does is one point of view
There is a dark design behind our waiting fate The stars align with Hell in their equal weight Astrology and tarot are the most powerful combination When it comes to the dark art of divination
(c) October 30, 2024 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“The only maxim of a free government ought to be to trust no man living with power to endanger the public liberty.” – John Adams, 2nd US president (30 Oct 1735-1826)
Sitting in church bringing our last weeks To hear the Lord as the pastor speaks Emotions felt can be good and bad The moments of life can be happy and sad
Moments of sorrow rock us to our core These are the moments that become the door These allow us to enter and to know the score The Lord comes to tell us, we can handle more
Sometimes, we have to let life fly It's okay to fall down and to cry Whatever our conditions that we know These are the ways of life that help us grow
These are the times we will need to pray Uncertain of exactly what we should say Even the pastor breaks down in sorrow Knowing life presses on into our tomorrows
(c) October 29, 2024 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along
