Quieter Role – (old post)

When I was a young Tom cat

And my thoughts were all of cream,

Id slash and claw at all I saw

And take by whatever mean.

 

When I was a rabid dog of a lad

And red did cross my eyes,

Id foam and bite at all that passed

And all that I despised.

 

When I was a raging bull of a man

And brew was in my soul,

Id fight and duck for rages luck

And pay no mans toll.

 

But now I am a quieter man

Who seeks a quieter role,

I have met my love, my darling dove

Who quietened my angry soul.

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Wailing Man of Blinded Stick

The wailing man of blinded stick, clatters the alley, scratches the brick,

Mumbling his mumbled prayers.

With black of sight and worries plight,

Alone with beaded prayers.

 

Though he walks through shadows of evil, in this alley he fears but none.

In his valley the evil do rally and darkness has already won. 

No need for sealed or squint the eyes, he looks already to darkened skies, 

And black is their oiled tone.

 

And with wetted lips he recites the fumbling of his youth,

Before the black fading, the longing of greyest tooth.

When all the trees were split and wails did shake the Pidgeon roof,

And cooed the neighbour’s calls. 

 

When all the summers were raging lit, between the duvets where budding trees spilt,

And spilled their altered wine.

With fumbled fingers he peeled the bark, to taste the buds in flashing dark,

And rose his breaking morn.

 

Now in the dark of always night, since clouds closed to greyest the sight,

He sticks the forward slab.

Only plagued by one last sight, in oiled dark of constant night,

The sight of his fleeing love.

 

She did get wise to distance cries and flight she did but take,

Now on floor with wetted knees, her coo falls from distance trees.

How he longs to make it right, alone he wanders in always night.

Her love, a distant dream.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Burn On My Friend, Burn On!

Burn your internal light,

Use its warmth, its guiding light

 

Burn that flame, flaming bright,

Burn worries soul, her lingering plight

 

Burn the flame in you whole,

Burn into your unconquerable soul

 

Burn the moon and the stars,

Burn your worries, your memories scars

 

Burn the pain and the plight,

Keep that match burning bright

 

And in the dark of coldest night

Watch your demons cower and flight,

For you have fire in your eyes

Watch your fire burn and rise.

 

Burn on my friend, burn on.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

I Care Not

I care not for your daily tales,

The sound passes through my worn ears

Like wind through tattered sails,

Like holes in a fishing net

The words pass through,

Escaping the sounds

The dull hums of you.

 

Drown me over board,

Cast me no line,

I’ll forget your words in the sands,

Of my sinking time.

I empty my lungs and sink into the black crush,

Don’t pull me back to your vomit of words

Your tedious gush.

 

I care not for your inverted commas acceptable version of events,

No smile will break my cheeks

My dead pan face

Frozen in place,

Lost in sand grain stars 

And all their endless space.

 

Suck me into a black hole,

Void of interest I feel only darkness towards your insipid matters,

You puncture my mind with your worm hole drawl,

As you grind out your mouth soil

At slowest grinding crawl.

 

I care not for your watered down yarns,

The slow turns of your materialistic wheel

Spun by your constant uninspiring spiel,

Turn the wheel to release the noose drop,

Let the trap door open

Let the teeth clattering stop.

 

Clattering with rusty tracks screech,

The constant need you have to give unwanted speech,

Your tongue flapping like a runaway train

Whistles in my tunnel ears 

My tinnitus brain.

 

 I care not for your holy sermon preached from on high

By the grace of God go forward say I,

Preach your gospel

Your enlightened views

To ones that would, and do so choose.

 

So as my dead eyes stare back at you,

Lost black ships abandoned in their milky pools,

I remain anchored by your conversation rock

Longing for time to speed its tick,

And hasten,

Its tock.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Quieter Role

When I was a young Tom cat

And my thoughts were all of cream,

Id slash and claw at all I saw

And take by whatever mean.

 

When I was a rabid dog of a lad

And red did cross my eyes,

Id foam and bite at all that passed

And all that I despised.

 

When I was a raging bull of a man

And brew was in my soul,

Id fight and duck for rages luck

And pay no mans toll.

 

But now I am a quieter man

Who seeks a quieter role,

I have met my love, my darling dove

Who quietened my angry soul.

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Vampire

I am the vampire in your life, causing pain and supplying strife.

Sucking the core from your soul, taking your life and consuming it whole.

No cross or spike nor illumination light, will help you against my worry, my pain, my plight.

I am the vampire who takes control, contorting and reshaping your helpless soul.

Hold your bible close, say your prayers, your in this nightmare now, with all my cares.

The vampire you see is not me, it is a mirage of the man I used to be.

Feed I will on your light, consuming and fading your inner might.

But stay strong, resist my will, fight back and battle still.

The night is long but so is the day.

 Have faith in me.

Set me free.

Bring back the man, I used to be.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.