words as photographs

The chemically induced joy, Is over. The sugar rush, Ran out. The rot that comes with the alcohol, Stays in. And now sober. And now deserted And now alone again I gather Perspective that comes knocking like a bad neighbour and Seven stakes nail me to the ground. One in my pelvis, another in my stomach One for my neck and the other four On my hands and feet, I am bound, Perforated and isolated on the floor. I ooze an ochre substance. It's not blood, but it tells a tale. There's a story in the rot. A tall, black rat observes me Nailed to the floor and covered in shit, I hear it breathing and I let myself feel Jumping on my chest, hurting my caved in belly. The nervous scratching, the heart pulsing And I think of you, my heart, my love, I remember memories that are not mine, Crafted by fear and abject judgement. Of my heart, my love, bleeding and making herself object, And of my heart, my love bleeding finding other obje...

In woods made so dark The angry men in grey and black invaded The sound of tank treads dwarfed the clamp of boots On stone and up the main street they came Windows broke, explosions set shops alight Soldiers holding rifles inside the houses Bringing out innocents out into the streets At the point of a gun, Not words, but shouts, To the middle, to the middle. There the weak, the defeated clumped together. Children holding parents for their dear lives The grim face of mother knowing this is the end. All knowing to be hopeless. Timeless, lifeless, painless. At the point of a gun, Not words, but shouts, Make a line, make a line And the weak, the defeated lined up Hands on hands, last lights in their eyes Looking up knowing they'd all go down At the point of a gun, Not words, but whimpers He died, she died, they died Boys and girls closed eyed Blasts in the distance Feeling the pull of their parent's body Stil...

This album made 2017 for me. As soon as "Awakening" kicked off I knew I was in for something truly great. A quick research online will show you this is a primarily power metal album, with influences from other subgenres weaved in, the standouts being melodic death and NWOBHM. Even if these genres don't truly do it for you, I'd still check it out. The hooks sink deep with great choruses (try not to headbang on 10K x 1), melodies (on Apex, Call Me Immortal, False Walls, Cleanse and pretty much everywhere else)... and the tone.

Is Jim's heart broken? Ladies, I'm sorry to say, it very much is. Many a time has crooked old Jimbo laid it on the line, sometimes mistakenly so we must admit. Hopeless romantic that Jim. Yet, lay it on the line he has, and we saw it getting crushed or discarded. The cynic in him fed on that violence and now a coldness drenches his bones he whispers to me and withers his flesh say his eyes. Where's the saving grace in all this? Go Crooked Good Old Jim.

So you can hear a different voice bubbling up inside yourself. So it isn't a fucking grey grind, day in and day out. Because creation is an act of love and you know it. Because it's a light, a beacon of thought in what comes to be mostly a mediocre world. So you arm yourself with a pen and a pint and sit ready to face all comers.

Money will buy you a bed but not a good night of sleep, a house but not a home, a companion but not a friend. Zig Ziglar