Haunted ShoresHaunted ShoresGracing the beach with her ethereal presence, cloaked in silk and sea foam all the sameWater pooling in every silhouette and every footprint that’s not left behindSee her there, singing with lungs made of the breeze and vocal chords of reedsPlaying with the crabs and ‘gulls like a child, whilst giggling a burbling stream of waterTaking off in flight and pursuit of something more than the waves that she lovesOnly to disappear into the drift and the sprayYou’ll sit there, mouth ajar full of honey and sweet words you’ll never utterHeart beating your ribcage with a baseball bat and throwing itself into the trunk of your carSaltwater springs rushing back to the sea; your eyes are the sourceHands reaching out towards the vanishing pointTry to break free of their captors, but your limbs’ chains are too heavyLimbs like trees hold you back in the carTurn on a dime and look at the powder blue sky, clouded by whiteFarther away soft red glo
Grasslands Ch.1 W.I.P. In the Canadian Great Plains, situated in the province of Manitoba, there is a wind farm. A wind farm that oddly enough, is privately owned. And on that farm, there resides a man. Not a particularly interesting man, though yes, he did have his hobbies. Nor was he a fine example of a man, you see. He didn’t have the twitching muscles of a well oiled farm bo-….Well oiled? No, that’s completely wrong. He didn’t have the twitching muscles of an Olympian engorged on steroids, nor did he have the intellect of a master chess player who drank but a few too many Red Bulls. Nay, for this man was just your average Technical College Joe who had inherited his land the way many Technical College Joes do. From an estranged great uncle who decided that lung cancer was not enough, and wanted everything including the kitchen sink to be thrown at him. Sad, really. In the end the old boy died of 34 different types of cancer, including Ovarian. You try and tell
TesseracT: Altered State - ReviewTesseracT: Altered State - ReviewWelcome back, fellow babies. It’s time for another sweet and salty review from yours truly; the man in the shades, the dude in the fedora. Yes indeed, it’s time for another Metal Monday! I know I’ve been missing for quite an obnoxiously long stretch of time, but I’ve not really had much of a free schedule as of late. Yes, yes, I know, you don’t want to hear about my life story. Too bad! You’re going to listen to me whine, and you’re going to like it!...Actually, I’m all done whining, now.Onto the review, eh? Well, as you can probably tell from the title, which you just so miraculously clicked on, that this is going to be about TesseracT’s brand new LP which goes by the name, Altered State. Before we get into the meat and gristle of the video, let’s go over some of the band’s history, shall we?TesseracT, circa 2003, was originally a creative outlet for guitarist Acle Kahney that would a
Free Write at MidnightShe's got an agate in her shoe. All sorts of different colors that you can see through. See you, really, for what you are. A scared and lonely boy who just wanted a damn hug when he was 9. Not from mom, not from god, hell, not even from the prettiest fourth grader you could find, who, by the by happens to be Jane 3 doors down, and wears the pretty green dress. He wants a hug from the world to know that he's accepted. Because he hates the idea of walking through life with that shadow of his doubt cast over the skies of his path. He claws through the murk he steeps in, hands outstretched and grasping onto anything he can. Hand slips from pipe, broken bottles embedded into the walls, and nearly punctures his every present smile with a needle, but there. Sent down on a halo of stationary trees, and dinosaur bones comes that hand. Soft, supple, inviting. It's warm and proves that his shadow doesn't mean anything, there's nothing to doubt. Look ahead, little one, those nurturing hands
Long Sentence Release ExerciseHe always lied about his security, you see – it's something he had to lie about – never letting his fear or inexperience show and act cool as if playinh a role for a camera, problem was, no camera, lights, or action, just her steadily swaying in a mesmerizing way in front of him, yes mesmerizing, but not sexually, because they were both at work – that would be weird – she swayed, hips rocking side to side keeping his gaze locked below the belt, but forcing him to stay keenly aware of the residents – “don't hit them you idiot”, he said to himself, or it's your ass on the line – back on the sway-er topic at hand, he rips his gaze away and locks the fantasies away in a closet – barred and chained – yes she may be his significant other, but his only experience was with someone broken by life and parenthood beforehand, not a beast, but a bird with a broken wing – this girl, no, woman with top honors and a creative and academi
Lighthouse InfernoYou decide to leave her. Stranded in the sea. Stranded like a small boat.Cast adrift in a sea of fire. The place is burning. Burning to the ground. Yet there you stand.Fuel canister in hand. Book of matches in the other. No tears stain your face. Only rain and soot.Don't forget the blood. Knowing Comes with grief. Also, relief from the pain. She'll never know the pain.Tormented by voices. That's what you are. To save her. That's why you did it. You're not cruel. No.Burning her alive is crazy. You're not crazy, are you? No Never. Voices are just somebody in the distance.Telling you to do it. Constantly. Never going away. Like the burning monolith. They will never leave this Earth.But you can. Doused in rain and fuel. Matches shaking in your bloodied hand. That's right.The voices can't follow you. Not into the abyss. Trial by fire. Trial by water.Which one is faster? Take that deep breath. Come to grips with what you've done. Strike your match.