Horrorscopes for the xenophobe! Everyone gets it equally!
We send them off to fight.
Some die, Why?
Some are fated, Others sent,
Are they heroes, Shrouded in death's scent?
You'll be walking by one day,
and meet a Stranger,
who'll say, "Come my way,"
And off you go,
on your fated course,
to bring grief and remorse.
We used to send a
Bullet to each one,
Aren't We clever now that we can get
All of Them in One?
J.M.McGuiness, 1990.
He stumbled down the flame-lit strret,
His mind a mess, small green things slid out of the drains...
He wandered onto the road, which gently writhed at his footfall.
His eyes concentrating on the sodium lamp, he paused.
He swayed slightly, as spots developed in front of
His eyes. They were widley dilated, then darted away, like the furtive Magpie on a nearby lawn.
His right shin was bruised where
He had wandered, mindlessly into the kerb. It had tried to bite him...
His hand slowly trickled a thin flow of futile blood,
where the damp, uneven paving had grazed it. "Evil stuff," he mumbled.
The thin drizzle dampened
His gaunt face, already death-like in appearance.
He turned painfully around,
His little mind trying to remember where
He was..
Lost.
He then saw Me, and asked me the way.
The gleam deep in
My eyes gave me away when I said, "Don't you know anymore?"
J.M.McGuiness, 1990.
Tick, A blink, a gentle sniff.
Tick, His eyes, bright, they turned,
Tick, A dark hand did grasp,
Tick, At life,
Tick, it held, and gently pulled.
Tick, A lingering caress,
Tick, A move towards a dance,
Tick, a twirl,
Tick, a prance,
Tick, the seat, a quiet chat,
Tick, a longing glance,
Tick, A blink, a gentle sniff.
Tick....
J.M.McGuiness, 1990.
She waited,
He twitched - new life!
A sharp click in the dark,
"Kill it, Kill it!" They cried.
Ha!
But slyly and carefully he gently tricked Her...
They locked Her up - mad was She?
She bided her time and they tried to stop,
but nothing could prevent
Her prevailing, enventually.
They hunted and pried
with syringes and courting,
But Oh! did She not always thwart him.
Like a leach She held.
Like sand She had Time,
and Oh how his Sand was Ever so Fine.
"I'm going to miss you!"
She laughed insincere,
and he twitched in increasing,
desperate fear.
J.M.McGuiness, 1990.
There she stands,
dark, mysterious, Defiant.
Like a rose with black thorns.
Will I see her again?
What is she?
Some magical vision of the night?
And yet I see her,
again and again she comes to me
with her dark eyes full of mystery.
Will she let me see her again with my eyes,
or must I be reborn,
Only to join my dream-scape
and be forever imprisoned
by my mind that decays.
Yet am I mad to think
that she is trapped,
like a butterfly in a Killing-Jar,
which, as it cannot escape
its doom and destiny,
Flutters and struggles,
slowly using up its life-force,
and I look on in facination at its death-throes.
Can I set her free?
So she may live,
only to entrap me in her magic?
I must risk it...
J.M.McGuiness, 1990.
He was plugged in - NO FILTERS.
The data throughput is VAST.
The mind unknowable .. limits unreached:
To contemplate the vastness,
it takes the unhingeing,
the depth of Self,
not to be swept in the flow - otherwise you are lost in the
Onslaught.
J.M.McGuiness, 1991.
I am the Seer,
before Me - the Futures,
My Soul over them flies.
Each branches like a tree,
condensing from the Air.
I see the Futures grow,
their leaves blanch in the stale winds of the Past.
I soar higher.
Through Me the Glory shines,
and I rise,
to approach the Tree of Life,
which connects Heaven and Earth.
As I get closer I see an entwining, thin fog
- The Smoke of Souls,
who having given up on Now goto
When...
I look Up,
and wonder what the Clouds conceal.
J.M.McGuiness, 1991.
The scenery is
Bleak,
Sharp Shadows,
Contrast.
Sand lies about - People.
People are infertile to all but Hope,
which is weak.
Hope is futile - Hot Destiny blows;
they are grains of Sand.
Born ...
and sand flows
in the Hot Hour-Glass - no control.
Each grain expends
punny life on hope.
Collecting: Friends, ... Family just other grains.
A preordained role....
An unfamiliar land, is this?
And what of Life, my Friend?
J.M.McGuiness, 1991.
Sectioned Reality,
Fake light glistens off the black chasms between.
The clasp undone,
the realities hang by a Holy Bar.
The picture breathes fresh Air.
Around it some dark is hinted at?
Is each Reality really only one?
Split Universes, but with..
perhaps a hidden connection - a Two Dimensional pattern.
The hidden compexity
of Fractal Boundaries encroaches
into each picture.
An effect of Life?
And what am I?
J.M.McGuiness, 1991.
The Wind Howls, Doth the Living live in Fear.
For the Dark ones are about.
And when the screams pierce the Night air,
do the living pray for the Eternal Souls
of the taken as they are consumed in Hell by the Damned.
Oh! Lord be Merciful, and cut it short...
Amen.
J.M.McGuiness, 1993.
To the shrill tweet of the alarm....
Tired eyes, rubbed for nerves to calm....
Faltering steps to the bathroom are taken,
Ablutions done,
now for some coffee - the brain it aids waken.
Now to work - there's drudgery to be done,
more coffee, taken,
then lunch at one.
Coffee, again?!
Heigh-ho! Home....
More food - it's plain.
And the video store - again....
Tried eyes to rest, and thus to bed.
Is this the best that Life has for One?
J.M.McGuiness, 1993.
"The thrill of Speed," makes you do the
Deed.
It's a sudden Rush - a fear of Death,
or is it Life?
That adds the Spice....
Reiterate, for it does more than titilate.
And when you're done - Wow!
Wasn't that fun!
Consequences?
Never fear - there's no
One here?
J.M.McGuiness, 1993.
Don't let the light in....
Don't fear what you may see within.
Don't believe all that knocks in the night.
Don't see all the fears that crowd in.
Don't realise all the dreams that fail.
Don't do all those things you hoped.
Don't let the depression crush you within.
For if you do you'll want to give in...
Then will you have lost it all by the edge of Life.
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
Don't let the shattered bits in.
They cut.
Glass.
It gleams in the Sun.
Points of light - spinning in the Air.
Earth. Fire. Air.
All three - connect - disconnect.
Like lives in this world:
Shattering and leaving.
Touch and Go.
This is a Reality Attack.
Take Care.
Fasten your seatbelts.
It Moves.
Fast.
And this is your slice of life.
Where's the rest?
Left by the wayside.
By the highway.
The hitcher.
An Axe.
To chop.
Don't think - just do.
Fast.
End.
"Have a nice life."
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
The rain falls, like the emotions in my mind.
They bleed and pool on the desert of my psyche.
Feelings flower, briefly, but soon the water - the giver of life and love is gone.
And the flowers die.
Then they rot and decay.
I am left alone.
The Dust returns and I am left with the scars
and the haunting rememberance of what once was - fossils emtombed,
lost, forgotten and dead.
I stay barren,
I allow the heat of Destiny and Time to blow over - covering all with the Dust of Myself.
I Die slowly, ever so slowly.
I erode in the Wind and feel it in my face.
It is not good.
I am there.
That Place.
I want to leave but I have lost all.
No direction, no signposts.
It is my own Hell.
You cannot enter here,
As it is my place.
In My Mind.
My own Private Hell.
The one we all fear.
The Dust lies around - my cremated emotions.
Scortched in the furnace of my Mind.
My Hell.
I have no where to go.
Nothing to do.
I see the sky - blue. Ha.
The hot sun. It means nothing, gives nothing.
The ground. Sand... Infinite, like my Mind.
I know all. It is Nothing. There is nothing left to do but walk.
I go and the wind blows stronger.
I face it and feel the heat singe the moisture from my pores.
Furnace.
I am drying up.
I walk on into the wind...
The chasm approaches.
It is a fault, a flaw.
My flaw.
My Nemesis.
It is infinite and divides my Mind-scape in two.
Do not approach here.
It is not good.
The Face drops precipitously, infinitely deep and long.
I feel the Wind.
There is Nothing. To Me.
I am gone, lost. But I know exactly where I am.
I look down, At the edge. Of my life. My experience.
I take a pebble and throw it over the edge.
I watch it fall. And it falls.
Forever.
I follow it down in my Mind's Mind's eye.
I see the face pass, but the ground doesn't approach.
I contemplate following it.
Forever.
But I'm still here. Why... And it is still there.
Unresolved. Beckoning. Waiting.
My own personal Hell.
"Do not feed the Animals."
Who's experiment is this?
Mine?
I'll return. I know it too well...
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
Alien.
Foriegn.
Reject.
Reiterate.
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
It's quiet inside my head now.
I know it won't last.... The lids are shut, just. But wait and it'll blow.
The impact is terrible:
Hopelessness. Fear. Uselessness. Inevitablity.
There is a memory. Etched in. Forever: I walk down a dark street.
There are people around me - Voices I should listen to.
But I can't. I can't take the realisation of what is to come.
Mental Shutdown.
Emergency Abort.
The place is entered, the pace too fast.
From loved one to Demon, The change is complete.
All of It is there - for you to see, unavoidable, no matter how hard You try.
The emotional impact is Intense.
The white, searing heat of an atom bomb exploding in and around you.
Like a huge express train, all gleaming chrome from all angles,
lights and huge, powerful engines breathing fire as it bears Down on You.
And you're standing in its track,
Hand held up, a small voice saying, "Stop. Please...."
But it bears down on you, mercilessly, and Obliterates you.
Completely.
Inevitably. There is no escape. No avoidance.
You are left smeared for miles down the track.
There is nothing left.
No use, no purpose, no point.
But it hasn't ended.
The train is gone, but the track is there, the future unfurls.
You're still there.
Somehow.
Talking, saying, thinking, waiting, dying.
As it slowly fades, to nothing.
It's leaving you and again you are nothing.
You're presence is useless. Pointless.
All you're doing is hurting and seeing and hurting because it's fading before you.
Going, going, gone....
A Parallel to life. But this is life. The ultimate buzz. The Real Thing.
The be all and END all.
There is no escape. It's all over now.
But is it? It will never be.
Never.
I have changed. I cannot look back.
Or forward. I have no reality.
No future, no past, no connection to this world.
My reality is new.
The previous experiences, those of another.
I cannot cope at all.
I have no purpose.
I live from one moment to the next, but only because my heart beats of its own volition.
My mind is gone. It has been obliterated and died.
And I want to die.
But I can't.
Because others may need me.
But I'm not convinced in my heart.
And my mind isn't working to relate to anything people say to me.
I speak to people without thought.
I write automatically.
I'm no longer there.
I never will.
The reality for me is the Cliff.
But even that belongs to someone else.
Not Me.
I try to hold on.
To what?
How can you hold on to nothing?
There is nothing at all. Not even the familiar depression to feel.
Because I am no longer there. I don't know where I am at all.
I try to remember seeing and feeling the one good experience since...
But it is fading in time, the memory wearing thin.
My other experiences are strong, but they are nothing compared to what has come to pass.
May it end....
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
But no flowers grow.
Nothing lives here. Except Me.
Hello. I won't bite. I'll just run.
Don't follow. Leave me,
because I know where I am.
And the fossils may return and Haunt me.
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
The feeling, fearing, hoping, crying part - all the more fearful.
The lack of good and positive emotion had rotted it to Death.
The Avenger.
The Destroyer.
The Goddess of Destruction.
Kali - in My Mind...
Who was I to contain it? I could not.
The rampage of Terror goes on and on and on.
Until finally, all hope lost, I surrender my grip on life
and wish to feel the cool, clean Cleaving blade and
Merciful Release.
But it doesn't come.
My Nemesis is Dying.
Collapsing, falling at the altar of love.
One erected in my Mind by my companion.
She knows me and my ways better than I.
For she did the impossible and tamed me.
Tamed my Mind....
My Fear, My Doubt, My Loathing....
All my emotions.
Into this helpless, lifeless husk that now needs me.
I go to it in compassion - and it/I revive a little.
I hold it and suddenly my Nemesis holds no fear for me,
for together we can go on and live, not apart, as two
But One.
How to heal the rife? The story goes on...
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
Life is choices: Life or Death. Love, Hate, Depression, Happiness and more.
Many are passed by - life may be too fast, some too small.
Sometimes the fluidity of life solidifies at one, crucial turning point.
When passed, your life begins anew.
Cats have nine Lives, Humans Many.
A cusp, a knife-edge.
Occam's Razor of Life.
The Rubbish or Else is hacked off.
No compromise, no doubts, no Fear,
No Safety Net.
You are alone in Your Choice. It is yours alone, but it is done.
The consequences faced, for good or bad.
Life, or not, must go on.
Take care, for: This is Your Life,
You have but One.
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
The point focuses, the cusp converges, emerges.
You are there, washed up on the shore.
Your Decision faces you:
There she lies, silent, beautiful, peaceful.
Like Death...
But the chance is taken - an involuntary step.
You move, through syrup, but you are there.
You speak, echoes appear to confirm or deny,
But Confirmation is what you seek, need.
It is given.
You take it. Simple.
The cusp approaches as you near the sleeper, (Your Decision met.) who you awake.
She awakes, turns, the points merge, and sees you.
Recognition,
Reality invades.
But this is Your Life.
100% Real.
And She knows all.
All is Forgotten, all past is gone, all futures lost in the
explosion that occurs and the
Emotional release is Wonderful.
The warmth, depth and communication is intense.
The searing heat of emotion burns out all
Doubt, Fear, Hopelessness, all negative emotions.
Only Happiness, comfort, Hope are allowed.
This is no transient Orgasm of Pleasure.
It is a Reality Attack.
And you are hit hard, both Guns, full in the chest.
But it doesn't kill you because the bullets that have
Your Name on Them are made of Love, not Death.
It is not your time, yet.
Enjoy.
Relive.
Remember.
These don't happen often.
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
Complexity.
The borders between, conceal the theme.
Is what...
The chain sequential. Points complex
- The fractured lines seem to perplex.
Borders within, and in, and in
like chains entwining pearls
of thought for the Swine.
Points and flares - sparks of light promise to shine, so bright.
But promises broken - like
The borders between reveal nothing to the keen.
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
I know my road, but do I wish to follow it...
I konw where it leads, but do I want to go there...
There's a facination with danger, to court death, Or Insanity.
Curiosity did not kill the Cat, it was the Insanity obtained from the Truth.
Shame it had nine lives - to go through it again and again.
The walls shiver, things loom out of blurred vision.
Spectres appear on the edge of conciousness, things unseen and dangerous.
Sharp. Deadly.
The path is set and the journey begun.
The die is cast. Everything is unreal. Even thoughts and feelings.
Nothing can touch you now.
You've left reality behind and you're on your own.
It's all a wierd Dream. Maybe you'll wake up to your Sleep.
Wild.
It's like a Mobius loop - no way out once you're on it, because there's no outside or inside.
No reference. No North or South. No truth or lie.
Anything can happen and it's o.k. because reality is loose.
But you've lost touch with all - friends, family, loved ones.
Alone, Unknown.
Comfortable, but lost to all.
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
I see before me:
The Sea. The Coast. The blue, blue Sky.
The grey, grey heavy Clouds. And Rays of Sunlight through the breaks.
But the Clouds move and the Rays are evanescent, changing, never fixed.
I have lost all Hope,
like the Rays, of staying - happy.
I am the Sea, Waiting
to receive the Rain from the Clouds,
that cut off the Sun, which no longer wams me,
for it is concealed from my sight, my Life.
I gently wash against the Shore and Rocks,
Each time I take a little more of them with me,
so that I destroy all around but the Clouds......
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
like a person told by their executioner to pick their own death.
All wild eyes and beads of sweat.
We all live our own personal Hell, but never see our
Death standing behind us.
We turn and open our eyes
and stare at it, but our sockets are empty
and all that happens
is that blood trickles from the empty sockets like tears - A gutted sorrow.
Filleted and skinned, but somehow alive.
Without a reason to live.
No one told you the big secret.
God was silent to your prayers.
But somehow you stagger on and somewhere, somehow you know that
the Big Door has closed and yet another Nightmare begins.
You're buried alive.
J.M.McGuiness, 1994.
But gone. It is your slice, your Life, but never your own.
Bits controlled, parts lost.
A trashed car in a Desert. No Direction. Control is lost, pedals gone.
The place explored, but unloved.
You leave.
Alcohol does the Rest.
Mind dulled, senses controlled.
J.M.McGuiness, 1995.
drinking water from your hands - You get it and
hold it, it satifies thirst and quenches,
but no matter how well
you squeeze your fingers together,
the water always seeps between them.
Until finally it is gone,
all you are left with
is the coolness of it's touch and dampness,
slowly warming and drying
until even the memory is gone
and you're left with you head, bowed down and hands outstretched,
like a beggar relying on the pity of others to sustain him...
J.M.McGuiness, 1995.
I am told there is a Hell out there...
For my appointment, I know, the Devil, He waits.
Deep have I sinned - cursed Life for Myself.
Her Life reached out, but my Hand I withheld,
New Life, aborted, for personal gain.
Many other transgressions for which
only I am to blame.
Too many wrongs rest heavy
on my Heart,
for My Future - in Hell, needs no longer be fortold.
But Old Man Time ensures I grow old,
and His friend the Reaper is waiting to bring me in from the Cold.
For They both know
the Devil already has my Soul,
and my Life
to His Plot does it unfold.
J.M.McGuiness, 1995.
Fractured Life - Stop/Start The Mind.
In Time.
On and Off -
Spills the Dream -
Nothing inbetween -
The Boundary -
Light and Dark, So Fine, A Line.
Normal/Abnormal - The Insane Define,
Our Lives Entwine, Engage our Mind.
Define Restraint, Social Constraint.
Don't reveal the Feeling
Behind the Thought
between the Normal and Obscene.
Destroyers of Cities, of which We were so Proud.
Packaged Kali,
in a nuclear cloud.
No thought for the people enveloped in Death's Shroud.
One Nation's defence
murders the innocent of another,
while the Political Leaders are safe under cover.
The Bottle's bottom, has solace it lost.
Dregs in it remain, but my feeling are the same. -
Ethanol doesn't dull my brain.
Hell - my life - in it, no change.
I wish I were different, but as time passes by
my memories are Strong as ever.
All those Feelings.... I wish
I could cry, but my eyes are dry.
The emptiness of the Bottle. Like my heart. Dry.
Nothing. I hurt but
cannot express it. No words have the value.
And I have no credit, a loan is not the same.
Because someone else might be to blame.
I reiterate; and sob inside. Why do I hurt inside? Try and try do I - to find me,
Inside. Help...
If I could I'd die - but too many people on me they rely.
So I try to hold on:
"Don't let yourself go.... Everybody hurts..."
But I no longer want to carry on...
When the night comes down, Alone I am,
myself I can't rely.
I want a reply, but in My Life
Only My Fears Reply - and only I'm left to Try.
I see behind society's screen
to the things it hides
all a tissue of lies
The embrace of fashion
- the shame of passion,
of a body made to fit
for select society to please.
Not simply an
industrial disease -
but there throughout the centuries.
Based upon people's vanity
and their wish for others
to appease - please...
If I were to remain
what power would contain
myself & all that I am to blame.
If in this place I am to stay there
must be a person for me,
otherwise my life is not to be.
My undying love for thee
to desperation is lost me...
In the mind the quake
you hit the brake -
but they don't take,
and as life screams by
you start to shake
as you realise just how short is this take.
It's no good to fake
and have all the fun you can make.
My mind is a pool - dark & deep
within which danger lurks in my sleep
not for the unwary - stay beyond my reach
fractured nightmares in my mind
myself from others I keep
but in the long quiet hours does lonliness upon me creep
so in the end all I long is the
deep, deep sleep
Private Keep out
isn't that what you say
leave me alone
can't you accept me as I am
life is full of choices few right...
How much do you want to bet
that you get the right me? Huh.
The view is new -
a place unknown.
No maps,
no past only present & future.
A new reality to find & learn.
The old me lost & rotting
abandonded in a different Universe.
Turn & see. Look & learn.
The beasts still have claws -
they just look like friends.
Survival of the fittest always rules
but who is to say that I am in the fittest?
Time, time - fine enough
is the sign so tough.
Why so rough for the two of us
we don't want so much - just the touch.
After dinner conversation
is always a cause for consternation:
Sex, politics and religion
tend to cause too much friction.
Any subject too close to heart
are ready-made arguments -
just waiting to start.
Through the cigar-smoke
people glower
the taste of brandy turning sour...
Dreams are the psychotic ramblings of the mind by night that allow us to stay sane by day.
Anon.
Christmas tree, once cut dies
careless needles lie
to prick unwary feet they wait
the festering sores of presents
bought too late.
A present misgiven is unforgiven...
Listen to the Invocation of the Dawn.
Look to this day ... in its brief course
Lie all the realities, all the verities of life.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of beauty.
For yesterday is but a dream...
And tomorrow is only a vision...
But this day, well-lived,
Makes every yesterday a dream of pleasure,
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, then, to this day...
This is the Invocation of the Dawn.
- Sanscrit c. 4,000BC
This is where I live,
my place. My past weighs heavy,
I know what is to come,
but for now, I try to grasp at what I think is real.
A thin viel of illusory presence that does not abide.
An illusion so real, so persuasive I try to grasp it, hold it, need it.
But it inevitably will end.
And I know my Fate. For me no heaven awaits. No angels will sing my songs, hopes and successes.
The Damned know their future. That is why they are damned. Their curse.
The drugs I took no longer numb me.
Life, it's full glory is here...
That so Catholic sin that denied us eternal life - what a farce to live forever.
Adam and Eve gave us the ultimate blessing - a finite life.
Their God was cruel to them, they avoided it.
But our lives are our own - make not my mistakes.
Heed well my story, it's complexity.
Suicides choose to die - against family, friends and loved ones.
They are the strong, they make the ultimate decision.
We, the living are weak.
And these weak live to procreate.
Tell that to those who did not ask to live and regain your strength.
J.M.McGuiness, 2002.
Once, I saw it all.
All.
On that occasion it was so clear,
so pure, such an epiphany.
Once...
Now it is no longer there,
lost, impure, tainted.
Like boats in the night,
we saw, but the inevitability
of our momentum carried us on,
past each other,
so that we became
lost.
Once, I saw it all...
Once...
J.M.McGuiness, 2003.
All of these poems are Copyright © Jason M McGuiness webmaster at hussar dot demon dot co dot uk, 1986-7.