The Journey...

The Journey….
 
I recall the days of ashed-frost
sun-blacked and terrifying
weeping mothers mourning for their children
feral gangs wandering and haunted
we were so innocent we laughed
unknowing in our sleevless hearts
they were impossible days
the days of ashed-frost and
sun-black horror
 
dominoe cities shook and fell
one by two by four
anchored by news we sat rigid
'it will be over soon' we believed
and it was....all over
as flames consumed our intellect
we pleaded to the skies  
as they rained our mortality upon us
a 21st century Pompeii
 
Musicians played Titanic style
the performance of their lives
nothing held and never more truthful
while resurection choruses alongside prayed
to the congregation of a generation
the weeping gained in calamity
humanity bleeds to death tonight
and the rubble is our new playground
pinned glorious with images of the dead
 
feverishly we ran  
in ragged and broken attempts
to be the ones to beat the hoards
with west turned faces we dragged our lives
thro damnation and despair
to indifference and defeat
accepting our fate was easy back then
we still believed it would end soon
back when we still had hope
 
twixt barracades and ambushes we strived
the weak resting along the wayside
left as carrion's excuse
and lost to their nightmares
whilst the beads become frayed
from St James to Dante
never was such a purgatory inflicted
a living testament to hell
on earth as it is
 
the black of day births the endles pit of night
gimlit sun screams heavy and dies  
each epitaph bleeds scars to each and everyone
and we pray for forgetfulness  
thro these days of madness
these nights of pitiful rest
a simple suicide would perhaps suffice
and there are many we glimpse
clutched together in blissful finality
 
with private miseries abundant
the old school begats a new breed
and the new badge is one of ultra-violence
there is never a question but always
a demand for food for water for life
this dawning age of intimidation
lowers all possible possibilities  
think only of yourselves
and do unto you
 
and so the great sickness came over us
as if so far all this was just merely a test
the fallen became the fortunate
most others became scarred and twisted relics
the sweet smell of decay permeating thro  
with no escape from its grasp
old gods pick and eat at our fears
and new devils are made of mankind
but they were always within us from the beginning
 
so few these days so very few
the last gasp breath of a dying world
shivers and rasps its life away
the burning rain leaves little
and what little is left is consumed by other needs
any life bows its head as in
a final supplication to anything that will listen
but deep down we know and we understand
we accept there is nothing left
 
from city destruction to scattered town
between burned and scorched farm to
rack and ruined village
we move along still and silent
looking and seeking anyone or anything
it seems in this desolation we still need  
another's touch and voice....another's comfort
for in these days of ashed-frost and
sun-black horror we still believe it will all end soon