Two Souls

Two Souls
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

A fate of two souls,
One made of light,
The other of black, evil, night.
One will give his friendship freely,
The other horde’s his own.
One will give his place to others,
No matter if his need is great.
The other steals the joy from life,
Growling at society’s rules.
And yet they are one.
They share the same mind and heart.

The light cherishes his family,
While the black one hates the strife.
Both would die for freedom.
One for freedom’s sake,
The other for glorious death.
Even on love they agree.
The good soul worries and protects,
The evil soul denies and refuses.
There is joy, tenderness, and love of life.
But not love of the heart.
The souls deem it too much to risk.

I am those two souls.

How can that be a bad thing?

Some current food for thought...


Ever since I've been going to the Steadward Centre located at the U of A, I've found myself thrust back into the dark reality of my situation. Sure, going to the Steadward Centre has been the best thing to happen to me in 5 years of horrid depression and hard times. Yet, at the same time I'm once again being overexposed to the multitude of beauty that exists in this world. (The U of A is like that.)

Now, you're going say, "How can that be a bad thing?"

Well, the truth is I don't connect well with women. Oh sure, I can get along just fine with women I'm not particularly interested in, but that's not the the same thing. Not by a long shot. The truth is that if I discover an unbridled attraction to a women it becomes consuming emotionally. Now, I'm not talking instant love or anything. I'm a whole lot more in control of myself than that, damn it!

I'm talking about lust, passion, envy, sadness, and angst. Usually in that order.

Lust is easy. Everyone lusts after someone at some point in their lives. My problem is that is isn't hard for me to lust after women. And it's never just one woman at one time. I have a very strong lust radar. I'm into women of all shapes and sizes. However, I have a real weakness for women who aren't like the girls I grew up with in Forestburg (i.e. country girls). I'm talking exotic women - asian, black, spanish, eastern european, and indian. I'm talking women who are a little out there - gamer & goth girls, women with tattoos & body piercings, and those who just stand out in a crowd.

Passion is the next logical step in my cycle. Lust isn't enough in this world. It will only take you so far. Passion is where real feelings of desire and wanting come into play. Passion shows you a woman's faults as well as her obvious assests. Beauty is only skin deep and I'm never passionate about a women based solely on looks. After all, I don't go for the traditional or the waif look. A women must be strong in heart and spirit, but doesn't need to be extremely fit. (That doesn't hurt though.) Passion teaches me to see all of a women and I usually like what I see. (Smokers don't usually get past this stage.)

Next comes Envy. Now, this where I differ from most. I tend to covet women that I can't have. Whether she is married or in serious relationship or is obviously out of my league. A friend of mine once told me it's better to aim high and strike out then aim low and be unhappy with the results. The truth is that I have self-esteem issues up the ass when it comes to women. I never see myself as being good enough for anyone. I always believe that a women could do better than me. This comes from those adolescent years of being teased/tormented by both my peers and by myself. I try to not let it hold me back, but so far the pain has been too hard to let go. anyway, the end result is that I end up envying the man (or woman) who has her, or who is working towards having her. (I've been known to sit back and let another man win a woman's heart, while I torture myself saying "it is for the best".)

The next logical step is Sadness. The cycle would never be complete without it. Here I dwell on the past, and take to heart the torment of those words of worthlessness from my youth. I often fall into a depressed state (more than usual) and shut myself away from the world. I listen to music meant to tear at my soul and lose myself in the pain I have come to be addicted to. Depending on how much I like a women, this stage can last a long time or drive me right into the last stage.

I wanted to say the last stage of the cycle was anger, but that doesn't really describe it. Anger entails getting mad and shouting out to the world that life isn't fair. That is not what I do. I do things like what I'm doing now (writing this). I take the sadness and pain to another level. I push the envelope of self-torture. I walk into that dark place in my soul and mind, which I know I can never be free from. Angst has led to madness, grief over the loss of innocence, the ability to love, and a "I do not care anymore" attitude about wanting to know joy, happiest, and hope for the future. My soul is cold place, best left alone in the darkness. It can feel but often those feelings simply frighten all who come into direct contact with it. It is here that I have contemplated ending life, but then I remember I am a coward who fears death. In this stage I lose who I am for days or weeks at a time.

The truth is that I am more than the dark place I've built for myself in the shadows of my soul. I know there is more to my soul and heart than pain and misery. The problem is that I've beome too good at living a dark, twisted way of life. Like I said before, I am addicted to pain. It isn't all that I know, but it is comforting, in dark & twisted way, to know I can always go back to the pain inside.

So, to answer the question, "that is how".

More poetic transfers from the Crossroads...

The Question
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Thought and said.

Yet, so meaningless to me.

Abused and confused.

What does it all mean?

Tell me please.

I do not know!

Is there an answer?

No, it’s a mystery.

Is it real?

Yes, poor reality…

Am I guilty?

Completely...

------------------------

Those Eyes
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

It’s like losing yourself in perfect pool of water.
It’s not the color or the strands of hair hanging down.
It’s not even the perfect blending of shadows and light.
It’s that look…

It’s that penetrating gaze that dares you to look away.
Music is playing… but it’s not her voice.
Zeppelin… Stairway to Heaven…
No, it’s the look…

You feel as though you’re slipping away.
The energy is being siphoned out of your body.
Drawn away through the eyes of a goddess.
It’s like being powerless before a hurricane.

Those eyes…

Yes, those eyes could pull away a man’s soul.
Live now… Lightning Crashes…
‘I can feel it’ resounds through the air.
Those eyes… pulling me down.

Knightfall

Something new, yet inspired by older events...

Knightfall
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Imagine a dark road,
A knight and his mistress,
A tournament won,
The prize – renown, honor.

The forest is bleak,
Near the edge of the boarder,
A rider appears,
A forlorn knight in dark.

He was just the enemy,
A tournament lost,
He announces his intention,
She will accept his largess.

Nay, says the protector,
He will not have his way,
The favor of darkness,
Will not touch her.

Swords drawn,
Battle joined,
Experience versus youth,
But the tide turns to darkness.

The lady cries out,
A distraction,
At the right moment,
Saves the protector.

He rolls away,
While the darkness,
Lunges at his throat,
A sword bites deep.

The forlorn dies,
His aim his downfall,
Blood upon the ground,
The largess crushed beneath.

The protector rolls the dark,
Away to smite the gift,
But only a sundered box,
Holding a black rose.

Crimson stains the petals,
The lady weeps for the dark,
The protector,
Can only find fault within.

Proper burial,
Marked with honor,
Here a knight fell,
Chivalry died with him.

More poetry transfers from the old Crossroads site...

The Beast
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

She stood alone under the streetlight,
Unaware of the danger that stalks the night.
Evil in the darkness...
Spawned of a nightmare.

Mine.

A beast, best left to the shadow,
To look upon it is worse then death.
It has her now...
Tearing, rending, snapping.

Blood.

Hunger is all the beast knows.
It is never sated,
It is always hungry...
Down the street it goes.

Silence.

It hears joy approaching,
A young couple laughing.
Love is like that...
The beast could never understand.

Howling.

The woman screams, running in panic.
The man... no, the boy is frozen.
Fear takes his soul...
The beast eats his heart.

Beating.

The beast can smell the woman’s fear,
She hasn’t gone far.
Never far enough...
Terror always makes the kill.

Hunting.

It finds her lost and alone,
Surrounded by steel and glass.
This is the jungle...
Only the strong live here.

Click.

The gun came from out of nowhere,
The shot resounds through the jungle.
The beast dies...
A bullet through the skull.

Peace?

The woman watches in horror,
Beast shifts to man.
Smoking gun...
She sees the face of evil.

Mine.
-------

The Emotion and the Pain
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

To understand my past is difficult for most.
The way I lived was full of shadow.
My family was my strength, my reason for existing.
God was my only true friend, so caring and understanding.

But I was never complete.
School was a joke, I never fit in or cared.
There were never any good times that I can still remember.
But the worst of times will haunt my dreams.

Society was the enemy, I hated it and myself.
It fed off my emotions like a carnivore enraged.
And the more I fought it, the worse it became.
I was helpless.

A weaker person may have rolled over and died.
But I knew that there was reason for life.
Some day I would find my place in the world.
Even if I had to conquer it first.

Yet as time wore on I cared less.
I was more interested in surviving.
My home became my fortress and my heart, black ice.
I cannot tell you what it was like, living only with hate.

And then a voice from outside the darkness called to me.
"Walk with me, my friend," it said.
Is it God’s holy messenger or the Devil in disguise.
I could not let the doubt, allow the chance to pass by.

At first I was hesitant and suspicious of the voice.
But it showed me a world that I never knew.
And life began to have true meaning at last.
There is a place for me.

While my heart will always remain dark inside.
And my eyes will always have a haunted gaze.
The past that I lived and hate.
Will not destroy the promise of the future.

Yet, I’m still not complete inside.
And while life has some meaning now.
Nothing can help me with my remaining pain.
I have always been alone.

And there I stand at the edge of the world.
Torn between the promise and the pain.
Doomed to an Eternity of life.
My heart has died but I must live.
-------

The Nightmare
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Last night I dreamed of what cannot be.
Through the haze of sleep
I see the dreams of youth come to life in my mind.
The dream of a white picket fence... conforming to societies expectations.
At first the nightmare seems almost joyful...
I am part of it, yet unseen, like looking at oneself through a one way mirror.
The man I could have been is tender, loving, and whole in mind and spirit.
He never went though it, he never changed inside.
He never saw how he would be living a lie to exist that way.
His heart did not evolve... the soul did not see the truth.
I have to show him the truth...
He must know what his life is really about...
No matter what the cost...

I shatter the glass that clouds his mind from the truth.
Everyone in the nightmare turns to see the true reflection...
He stands there and looks at me for an Eternity of seconds.
And then sees the lie he has been living for years.
He knows, he understands...
A woman I’ve never known in my life tries to turn the other me away from the truth.
This woman is the catalyst for the vision.
She is this otherworld’s matrix - she holds it together.
In order to be free of this lie, she must not be here.
He hesitates for a second trying to decide if what he’s about to do is the right thing.
I put my hand on his shoulder, reassuring him this isn’t the end.
It is simply a new beginning...
He nods and reaches out towards her.
She seems to shrink away in size and is soon only this fragile, porcelain doll.
It’s time to stop playing with life...
He shatters the doll with his bare hands and the nightmare ends.

I wake to a warm sunny Saturday morning.
The birds outside have been up for hours, children laugh somewhere in the distance.
It’s a good omen.
I reflect on this dream and what it might mean.
But then I quickly realize that I already knew what it meant.
It was about the truth.
It was about the choice I made to live the way I do.
To live the only way I can and retain what’s left of my soul.
I call it a nightmare because it is a reflection of something that I do not want.
Not any more...
It’s not about faith, love, joy, hate, or anything to do with what I might be missing.
No, it’s as simple as three little words from a song I know.
I AM I...

A few more poetic transfers...

Night of my Mind
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

The darkness around me while I sleep.
Does not compare with the shadows of my mind.
Follow me now into those shadows.
My soul runs through a darkened landscape.
Yet no real life lives here.
Headstones, shallow graves and desolation,
Consumes the soil.
Horror and evil wanders the shadows.
Dying over and over again each night.
Resurrected by pain.
It runs to free itself.
Through countless fields of torment,
And endless hills of haunted dreams.
I pray it can outrun the darkness. It cannot.

How do you outrun your own darkness?
My soul feels the darkness take control.
It collapses to the barren ground.
The chase is over.
The transformation has begun.
Its breathing grows heavy,
An eerie glow consumes the eyes,
A low growl passes through its lips.
The ground shifts and cracks,
My soul transforms,
The bones crack and flesh tears.
Wicked claws, course hair,
Jagged teeth, form of the beast.
The soul body reforms,
Into what even the shadows fear.
The creature.

It is the master of the darkness of my mind.
It howls its defiance to the shadows.
Smoke billows as it breathes.
Fire burns in its core.
It calls forth its prey.
Millions of the dead,
Crawl from the gravescape.
It howls again.
The dead memories of the past,
Shiver in fear.
It is their own fault that it hunts them.
They created it.
They gave it form and purpose.
Every time a harsh word was whispered.
Every time wicked laughter stole joy.
Every time a cold shoulder killed love.
Dark power.

It begins its hunt.
Mercilessly tearing through the memories.
Good or bad, it doesn’t matter anymore.
The night screams.
Now it is their turn to run.
None will escape this night,
They never do.
And beyond the shadow lands of my mind.
My sleeping form shivers and moans,
In the darkness that surrounds my unrest.
The nightmares will be vivid this night.
My heart races with each death of memory.
The beast inside roars and the body thrashes.
And again and again,
All night, every night,
For as long as I can remember,
The beast has stalked the darkness,
Killing my past,
In the night of my mind.

Remember Shadows
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard
I found myself in the shadows, staring out at the place.
Why do I come here?
It’s late, past midnight I think…
I went to the 7-11 to get some pop.
And then I found myself across the street from it.
Oh sure, I’ve been back…
But I’ve never seen her once…
I don’t want to see her… do I?
I guess there’s a little part of me that misses her.
A middle aged couple walk by.
And then I realize that I should leave.
But I don’t…

I cross the street towards the back of the building.
I run my hand along the cement.
I walk around to the other side.
And lean against the building.
I take a drink from the Sunny D I bought, like it.
I close my eyes.
And remember…
I should have stayed.
No, I never should have taken the job in the first place.
She was everything to me.
And yet, I didn’t really know her…
Not like I should have.
Damn, why do I do this to myself, it isn’t worth it.
She never cared.
I should leave.
But I don’t…

I wait and drink my juice and then I wait some more.
Time passes, I don’t know how long.
I think I cried, I don’t remember.
Then... I left.

Shadow Dancer
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard
The lights, the smoke, the stage,
The show will begin shortly.
Coke for me, beer for my friend.
This is his night out.
I’m just here for the show.
Tight bodies on the unattainable,
Women of the stage,
Dancers or strippers,
Call them what you will.
Tonight they are all goddesses.
Why do they do it?
Maybe for fame, or for money.
But tonight they dance for me.
Oh, I have no allusions,
Only my senses to guide me.
Each will be as spectacular as the last.
I wonder…

Why are there so many women,
Who are completely unattainable?
And not just here in this place,
But everywhere,
At every moment in time.

The announcer breaks the music,
Another beauty for the stage,
Too lure money away from the masses.
Men hoot and holler,
Some women in the crowd as well.
It just shows,
How much our world has changed.
The dancer is haunting and yet distant.
Tall, blonde, dressed in black,
She is confident in her walk.
I am mesmerized,
She is willful in her movement.
Seductive and arrogant,
Tender, yet fierce.
A woman who has lived her way,
And made hard choices in her life.
I wonder…

How did she become this goddess?
So feminine and yet edged,
Like a masterwork sword.
This form in the night,
This… Shadow Dancer.

A few poems transferred over from The Crossroads.

Madness
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Pain.
Depression.
Isolation.
Killing me day by day.
Impossible nights.
The whispering comes.
Comes to steal my soul away.
Pulling me into darkness.

Restless.
Sleepless.
Agony.
Tearing through me.
Ripping away coils.
Of my mental ball of yarn.
Like a shadow cat.
Its claws bloody.

Struggling.
Surviving.
Fighting.
Can't let it.
Take me back.
To that soulless place.
Five years ago.
When madness almost claimed me.

Faith...

---------------

Mistakes
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Mistakes… I’ve made my fair share over the years. And now…
Her name is Karen, or Cricket, as she likes to call herself.

I’ve met her online and something about her intrigues me.
But she lives across the country in a place I’ve never been.

I’ve drawn this wonderful image of her in my mind.
She’s beautiful… destined to break a thousand hearts.

Like I said… mistakes…

Even if she is half the dream I see when I close my eyes.
How would I ever win such a goddess?

I’m nothing to look at and who knows how’d she react.
Too say nothing of the fragile condition of my heart.

And now she’s being… I don’t know… playful I guess.
And my words are caught in my throat.

How do I tell her that she’s become something more in my mind?
That I’ve risen her to the heights of goddess in my soul.

Mistakes… always mistakes.

I can not go back now… I can not start over.
I have lost myself to the dream again.

---------------

Never Again
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Lust in the dark.
Torture in the soul.
Fire burning...
For a jewel of passion.
And an existence that betrays.

Troubled thoughts.
Bare my heart wide open.
But I know...
It is not love.
It can never be that.

Never again...

Once I had the desire.
Dreamed of joy, oneness, love.
But now...
Pain incarnate.
My eyes are tinted windows.

Angst rules my nights.
Judge me by soulless rage.
A car did this...
While body didn’t break.
The soul shattered.

And now I see this angel.
Light versus my darkness.
Heaven sent...
To test my courage.
Break my will with desire.

Never again...

I pull the shadows around me.
A cloak of darkness.
Must protect...
The mind shields away.
What the heart must not feel.

Never again... never again.

Love or Kin

So I'm writing something here, simply to write.

This blog feels like it needs a theme, or at least some direction. Yet, I'm too scatterbrained to come up with something. I could write about personal issues, but that feels too much like venting. I've been 'porting over my poems from my website but that can't last forever.

Case in point...

-------------
Love or Kin
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Darkness surrounds her, the chill of the cascade binds her to her knees.
A soft glow rises from the water around her as she waits under moon.
He’ll be there soon.

Just as she closes her eyes, his huge, scarred hands clasp her shoulders.
Instantly, she is warm against the course hair that covers his body.
Her gentle love.

They are of different blood, divided by centuries of war and strife.
Mortal enemies for as long as both races have existed in this world.
Tonight’s their last.

He must fight for his lord on the morn, against the kin of his beloved.
Not even her love can save him from this day of bitter glory.
A death of honor awaits him.

He wishes to tell her his heart, but the words fail his simple mind.
She is from a different world, how could he ever make her understand.
Why, he must die.

She pulls him closer waiting for him to embrace her like every night before.
Instead he pulls away, leaving her to wonder why he has forsaken her.
He hears her cry.

She cries out and cries out for him, hoping he’ll return to her loving arms.
Yet he leaves her to her future, for they could never have been together.
Elf and Orc.
-------------

That leads into the idea of using the blog as a development journal for my D&D campaign settings and fantasy writing. Yet, that might be too complex for just one blog. And I'm not up for starting another one.

And I'm definitely not comfortable using it for any sort of business purpose.

I could use it to index links to websites I like. But I can just as easily do that with a standard HTML document.

I think I'm just going to wing it. Maybe write a series of article like journal entries about my life, with opinions and such. Who knows at this point. Lord knows the stuff I've written so far hasn't been all that compelling. Even for me.

Ah well, spilt milk and all that.

Time to close this post and start another one.

Current Thoughts + Poetry Transfer

Ok, time to write something here. (I do have another outlet for my writing, but I update that even less than this.)

Mainly, I've been busy writing material/new stuff for World of Kulan, as well as for my story hour at the EN World Messageboards.

I've also begun a health and wellness program at a place called the Steadward Centre, which is located on the U of A campus. This is nice, as I get to check out some eye candy, just before going inside to work on gaining strength. Plus, I've lost some weight too. (Bonus!)

I haven't done any 'professional' writing in the last while, as On-Site and the Steadward Centre are taking up all my time. Not that I'm going to On-Site, physically, much anymore. However, I am working redoing my website, The Crossroads.

I'm going for a more streamlined version using Cascading Style Sheets and a better layout, as well as color & graphics. Right now, I'm learning about CSS on my own. The fact that writing style sheets is similar to the C language has helped.

Anywho, just some current thoughts... + another poem transferred over from my website.
----------------------

Lost
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard.

Today is a day of mourning.
No one I know has died.
No great tragedy has befallen a loved one.
No… it is something else I mourn.

We’ve all heard the expression,
‘I should have stayed in bed.’
But for me, sometimes, its worst then that,
Sometimes… I wish death had come.

Everything that has ever been wrong,
Surfaces from my subconscious.
My heart, my soul...
Shuts down.

I cannot think.
I cannot see the world.
My skin freezes worse than from any wind.
Sorrow, pain… unbridled rage.

Some would call it depression.

I call it being both alive and dead,
At the same instance in time.
All I can do is lay in the dark,
And pray the hate inside passes.

Sometimes it goes as quickly as it came.
Other times it lasts for days.
But isolation is only prevention.
There is no cure for being lost.

I Remember

I Remember
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard.

It’s like I’m still standing there.
The driveway seemed shorter,
Then the first time I was there.
Of course, it had been summer then,
The trees were green, alive.
Not sleeping on a cold evening in February.
The driveway had been lined with cars that day.
I remember…

A picnic table… there it is.
The house… seemed larger the first time.
A wooden porch… looks worn and old now.
Cat… more than one.
A path… surrounded by green and flowers.
A pool built into a deck… in the back.
But most of all… I remember the view.
I remember…

Trees spread in every direction.
A meshwork of green and brown,
That captivated my soul…
Or at least what was left of it.
It was at that moment that I knew,
I never had a chance.
My heart would never leave this place.
I remember…

It wasn’t the view I loved.
No, that was just the final nail.
And here I was again,
Standing in front of the house.
A message went from hand to porch.
I did not go to the back.
I did not have to see it.
I remember.

Goodbye

Goodbye
Copyright 2003 (C) Robert Blezard.

Last day,
Thirteen painful years were about to be over.
I should have been happy.
I was never more sad then I was that day.

She never knew,
At least that’s the hope I always clung to.
I hid it for years,
Afraid of the shadows in my mind.

Last test,
She finished way before me.
I thought that was it,
I’d never see her again.

Heart-broken,
There wasn’t anyone to blame but myself.
Heart beating,
How I ever passed I’ll never know.

One thing left,
Just have to clean out my locker.
I should have know,
I was never lucky in thirteen years of hell.

A door opens,
She comes out of the washroom.
Fitting and funny,
That place hadn’t finished flushing away my soul.

She spoke,
Time seemed to slow as my fear rose.
What and now,
It’s all I remember her saying.

Behind me,
I keep my back to her so she can’t see the pain.
Don’t and know,
It’s all I remember saying in response.

Then it was over,
I left my youth and heart in that place.
Goodbye,
Part of me I’ll never get back haunts those halls.

Final Night

Final Night
Copyright 2003 (C) Robert Blezard.

The beast races through the night its eyes burning with amber hatred. It stalks the prey through the night, driven by passion and a lust for blood.

The trees of the Morrowwood pass by as nothing more than a wind of leaves and branches. It leaps and swerves through the mist and shadows of dusk.

At last it comes to the edge of the Valleywode and pauses just long enough to catch the scent of its prey. With teeth bared and a snarl the beast lunges down the valley rim.

It knows that the prey has gone to the Widdenloc to try to soak away its scent. But not even the water can hide the sweet smell of racing blood.

It nears the lake and slows to follow the trail more carefully. It can sense the prey, breathing heavy and shivering in the cold water.

The beast finds the prey hidden among the watertails, its eyes wide and fearful. It growls deep down within, hungry for the kill.

She is the perfect prey, flesh so soft and tender. It can smell the hot blood pounding through her veins.

And yet... it pauses unable to strike, something about her reminds it of what it once was. It howls with rage and torment, for it knows it cannot destroy her.

So perfect is her form and grace as she bolts away in fear. The beast, unable to follow, hangs its head in despair and pain.

The beast urges its starving frame along the shores of the Widdenloc. Its last hope for survival gone with the retreating mist.

It drags its hollow body upon a low stone and waits for the morn. It catches the first light of dawn off the Widdenloc in its eyes.

The beast knows that it has hunted the perfect prey. It knows that it has truly lived as it drifts away into the darkness.

Faith

Faith
Copyright 2003 (C) Robert Blezard.

The Lord is my Shepard...
No, that's not it.
My faith's not like that.
It's more like.
The Lord...

Is my Shield.
He protects me from the darkness,
That I face each day and night.
In my soul.
Faith...

Is my Sword.
Sheathed in His radiance.
To fight the madness,
Tormenting my mind.
Love...

Is His gift to us.
His greatest weapon,
Wielded by all who believe.
His humanity at its best.
He...

Is my strength unleashed.
Driving me to live.
To fight each day,
God's soldier in the darkness.
I Believe...

The Lord is my Shield.
Faith is my Sword.
Love is His gift to us.
He is my strength unleashed.

Electric Atmosphere

Electric Atmosphere
Copyright 2003 (C) Robert Blezard.

It happened the first day,
I stepped out of the elevator.
I knew it would be eerie.
I close my eyes and drift back.
Eight years in time my mind travels.
The memories are just as vivid.
I remember the first day.
New friends,
New experiences,
Rock thunders soul.
The mind expanded,
The heart explored.
Inhibitions lost,
Chances taken.
I began to live.

I began to see the world around me.
I see her and knew real passion,
Powered by electric atmosphere.
Every sense awoke to her presence.
She inspired the words of,
Darkness of the Night,
My muse,
Of the Emotion captured,
And the Pain torn away,
She rebuilt the bridge,
Of imagination,
The Dark Heart,
Took hold of me,
In this place.

And in this place it happens again.
I can hear her alive spirit,
Her presence is strong.
It infects my entire being.
Returns with a vengeance of heart.
It burns the mind,
Electrifies the soul once more.
I write again,
I sense everything,
Every word spoken,
Electric air,
Shocks the skin.
No one can see,
But I experience it,
The past is alive.

Darkness of the Night

Darkness of the Night
Copyright 2003 (C) Robert Blezard.

They say that life is like the road. Full of curves and rocks and holes.
That each of us must decide the way to go.
To choose between the quick and easy path or the long and slow.
And while this is true of the life most lead, I say there is more to know.
For the road turns left and right.
And one must decide between the paths of darkness and light.

While it might seem clear at first, too enter the light.
More than many that I have known chose the night.
Then it came time to choose my own way in life.
I could not choose the light.
Instead I chose quiet darkness to guide my soul.
Now some say only evil exists in the dark.
Untrue says the burning fire within my heart.

So when you reach the crossroads of life.
And cannot decide whether to go left or right.
Remember...

Our souls may cross in the darkness of the night.

Dark Heart

Dark Heart
Copyright 2003 (C) Robert Blezard

A heart is a shadowed grave.
Life is gone.
A soul lives to be turned.
Cold fire purifies.
Freedom stands afar.
Fate intervenes.
Just a moment too late.

Breath is living soul.
And love is the only way to fly.
From the cradle to sky.
To everlasting life.
From death of soul.
To love of strife.
Humanity is my home.

A vision of devastation.
Fighting mine.
Hand to shade the light.
Burning rain.
Break the back of hope.
Its ghost resurrects.
Into the world again.

A finger points at hate.
Sword cuts deep.
Might by pen to flesh.
Falling down.
Run to the edge of Heaven.
Hot air.
Drowns the saints.

Poetry Transfers Start Here

Ok' I'm going to use this site to archive my poetry from the section on my website called The Shadowdark. I'm going to repost them here alphabetically. I'm also hoping to move some of my other written material here to free up space on The Crossroads.
--------------------------------------------------

Battling the Past
Copyright 2003 (C) Robert Blezard.

It tears through,
To the core of knowledge,
And the physical being.
It rages through heart.
Unchecked darkness,
Makes it strong.
I feel it everywhere,
An army of anger,
Invading my soul.
It howls, it cries,
It torments.

Close your eyes,
And you will see.
Lightning flashes,
Through vein,
And electrocutes love.
It moves from core of heart,
Through blood and bone,
Touching every limb,
Burning the senses.
Boiling the blood,
And charring strength.

Kneeling there,
In the other realm,
Is my soul self.
Hands raised to sky,
Defying the torment,
As the lightning,
Tears its core.
It cries out,
Thunder not voice,
Echoes through my soul.
The last battle has begun.