Viaticum (the complete series)

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For anyone who is interested (and has the patience) and for the sake of cohesion I have collated the previous nine pieces:

Mary

The sacrifice is on the table,

The gift I would lay down,

To dive into your ocean

Be swallowed by your swell.

But deep within your soul,

I feel rejection rise,

Taste the words from your mouth

Of unholy unworthiness.

Am I too pure, too perfect,

If only you knew,

How earth-held pleasures

Rise up within me.

I catch the tear as it slips,

Feel your touch at my feet,

But what words can I find

To unlock the truths?

What words can I find,

To show you the man,

Without the walls of your world

Coming crashing down?

 

 

Mother Ambition

Look at me now

Eyes blinded by pride

Stand tall amongst

Your allies

And shield yourself

From truth.

Your creation stands

Before the desperate fall

And voices cry

To feel the words

You could never

Form.

Does the image

Make the man so

Understated I stand

Arms asunder

Face so torn

From pleading.

And did I disappoint

From child to man

I fell

Drowned in expectation

Desire to do

Your will.

 Yet still they cry

Fuelled by your love

Your folly

The time I lost

I cannot set

Them free.

And look at me now

Eyes blinded by tears

Wept solely

For me

The failures of men

Your pride.

 

 

Wooden Hands

Knotted fingers work their skill

Sculpting nature’s giants,

As passion flows through hands

Designed to make things new.

Hematic flow from skin to grain

Rekindles life anew,

This touch like cryptesthesia

Animation from the dead.

And now you try to steal this love

To touch another’s flesh,

To breathe life within a kiss

And raise an amaranthine army.

These hands show dried and lifeless

Now splintered from mis-use,

Cut from weeping saplings

And drowned in blood of men.

 

Comatose

In catatonic catacombs you lay

As motionless as the temple,

Rising, monolithic, overshadowing,

Watching, guarding each mortal move.

Silent as the sermon’s words

Falling hollow from mouths,

Distorted by power, passionless,

Detached, unhinged, obsessed.

Led beyond the wailing

Imploring desperate eyes,

Hands as twisted as my psyche,

Grasping, indign, at flakes of faith.

Shallow chest, no sound no breath

Shroud pulled down from pallid lips,

My words, no meaning,

Crumble as they fall.

Moments crawl across the stone

I stretch a hand to leave,

A twitch, a blink; a rattled gasp,

In that misfortuned pause.

My feet fail as you stir

I have no place to go,

We walk as one, the jinx is broke,

Fate, it seems, is blind.

 

Sermon

If you would let your

Smothered ears listen,

And hear the words that spew

Like fire from my heart,

Wrenched like flesh from

Somewhere buried deep

Deep beneath the consciousness

That rises from the ground.

 

Let them settle

Grow within your mind,

At last to realise

That this curse that falls on you

Falls from another’s hand,

Take this severance

Permission to be, to leave

And not to cling to servitude.

 

 

In Love With You

This is the reason

That I came here

And suffered

At their hands.

The reason that

I stayed here

And followed

Scriptures road.

This is the passion

That flows in me

The blood and

Sweat and fear.

At times to see no

Other but you

My hope my

Life my fare.

And was I blinded

Eyes scarred to see

Eclipsed from truth

Meant for me?

Fell so far from grace

Another hand

Lost to me

In your eye.

This is the reason

I stayed for you

Impure

Love you knew.

The touch, your tear

The one I knew

A kiss of

Death from you.

 

 

A Final Feast

Take this bread

And break my bones

The suffering of a man.

Don’t drown yourself

As the wine is passed

But read me if you can.

I don’t want my

Words to touch you

Leaving inspiration.

Find your own path

There is no other

No promised nation.

In your heart

There is the spark

A door to make things new.

So take this bread

All I can give

And to your heart be true.

And you, my love

Will leave for me

And give to me my peace.

 

 

The Last Visit

And all of this is still to come,

You say with sharp and twisted tongue,

And set out scenes before the sky,

To bring salt water to dead eyes.

 

This hate, these lies, a swarming plague,

Reach out eternal in my sway,

Vitriolic fields of fire,

Single souls who walk the wire.

 

Reveal to me hopeless despair,

From those who chose too much to care,

And those who lay down in my name,

Wilful suffering for my shame.

 

And now you split the clouds with war,

Angelic host who keep the score,

And who will rise to heaven above,

And who will take the sacred cloth?

 

Then from another’s point of view,

You lift this faith with arms askew,

To shackle souls whose will will sink,

As from the sacred cup they drink.

 

Perception blurred, they walk again,

To find anomalies in men,

And raise the banner of belief,

A cut too deep to gain relief.

 

I search my voice and try to cry,

The road you show, it is not mine,

But what remains is your soft smile,

I cannot change this life must die.

 

And as you fade your arms are lost,

I cannot calculate this cost,

But you misunderstood my time,

Your name will bleed in time with mine.

 

Through My Eyes

Can you see how I’m pinned

Wear my heart on my sleeve

Bloodied and wearied

Down on my knees.

Can you sense this life wane

Feel the guilt in your core

Flow free like the wine

I’ll give no more.

Can you feel these tears burn

See the truth through my eye

Cold now as marble

Not asking why.

Can you see past this time

To dead futures to come

Reach out in regret

Know what you’ve done.

 

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Viaticum 9 – Through My Eyes

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This is the concluding piece in this series:

Can you see how I’m pinned

Wear my heart on my sleeve

Bloodied and wearied

Down on my knees.

Can you sense this life wane

Feel the guilt in your core

Flow free like the wine

I’ll give no more.

Can you feel these tears burn

See the truth through my eye

Cold now as marble

Not asking why.

Can you see past this time

To dead futures to come

Reach out in regret

Know what you’ve done.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

Viaticum 8 – The Last Visit

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And all of this is still to come,

You say with sharp and twisted tongue,

And set out scenes before the sky,

To bring salt water to dead eyes.

 

This hate, these lies, a swarming plague,

Reach out eternal in my sway,

Vitriolic fields of fire,

Single souls who walk the wire.

 

Reveal to me hopeless despair,

From those who chose too much to care,

And those who lay down in my name,

Wilful suffering for my shame.

 

And now you split the clouds with war,

Angelic host who keep the score,

And who will rise to heaven above,

And who will take the sacred cloth?

 

Then from another’s point of view,

You lift this faith with arms askew,

To shackle souls whose will will sink,

As from the sacred cup they drink.

 

Perception blurred, they walk again,

To find anomalies in men,

And raise the banner of belief,

A cut too deep to gain relief.

 

I search my voice and try to cry,

The road you show, it is not mine,

But what remains is your soft smile,

I cannot change this life must die.

 

And as you fade your arms are lost,

I cannot calculate this cost,

But you misunderstood my time,

Your name will bleed in time with mine.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

Viaticum 7 – A Final Feast

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Take this bread

And break my bones

The suffering of a man.

Don’t drown yourself

As the wine is passed

But read me if you can.

I don’t want my

Words to touch you

Leaving inspiration.

Find your own path

There is no other

No promised nation.

In your heart

There is the spark

A door to make things new.

So take this bread

All I can give

And to your heart be true.

And you, my love

Will leave for me

And give to me my peace.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

Viaticum 6 – In Love With You

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This is the reason
That I came here
And suffered
At their hands.
The reason that
I stayed here
And followed
Scriptures road.
This is the passion
That flows in me
The blood and
Sweat and fear.
At times to see no
Other but you
My hope my
Life my fare.
And was I blinded
Eyes scarred to see
Eclipsed from truth
Meant for me?
Fell so far from grace
Another hand
Lost to me
In your eye.
This is the reason
I stayed for you
Impure
Love you knew.
The touch, your tear
The one I knew
A kiss of
Death from you.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

Comic Death (excerpt) by Agyani

RECOMMENDED READS!
Delve into this marvellous anthology which is packed with original and unexpected tales.
Go on – you know it makes sense!

Raw Earth Ink

The following is an excerpt of the short story: Comic Death by Agyani, which you can find in the anthology Static Dreams Volume One. Inside you’ll find nine dark and twisted stories written by him and other amazing authors. I hope you enjoy this little snippet. Oh, and click any of the links below to buy.


“There’s someone who wants to hear your story, the way you died. He likes to hear stories that are…you know, different… people dying in the most ridiculous manners. I believe he will love to hear yours.”

“Why can’t you tell him?”

“Telling the story will help you get over it. I happened to be passing through the house where you died so I know your story. You’ve never discussed it with anyone, and I understand it must be difficult for you. But unless you talk about it, you won’t be able to…

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Viaticum 5 – Sermon

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 If you would let your

Smothered ears listen,

And hear the words that spew

Like fire from my heart,

Wrenched like flesh from

Somewhere buried deep

Deep beneath the consciousness

That rises from the ground.

 

Let them settle

Grow within your mind,

At last to realise

That this curse that falls on you

Falls from another’s hand,

Take this severance

Permission to be, to leave

And not to cling to servitude.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

Viaticum 4 – Comatose

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In catatonic catacombs you lay

As motionless as the temple,

Rising, monolithic, overshadowing,

Watching, guarding each mortal move.

Silent as the sermon’s words

Falling hollow from mouths,

Distorted by power, passionless,

Detached, unhinged, obsessed.

Led beyond the wailing

Imploring desperate eyes,

Hands as twisted as my psyche,

Grasping, indign, at flakes of faith.

Shallow chest, no sound no breath

Shroud pulled down from pallid lips,

My words, no meaning,

Crumble as they fall.

Moments crawl across the stone

I stretch a hand to leave,

A twitch, a blink; a rattled gasp,

In that misfortuned pause.

My feet fail as you stir

I have no place to go,

We walk as one, the jinx is broke,

Fate, it seems, is blind.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

Revolution (excerpt) by tara caribou

Raw Earth Ink

The following is an exerpt of my short story: Revolution, which you can find in the anthology Static Dreams Volume One. Inside you’ll find nine dark and twisted stories written by some amazing authors. I hope you enjoy this little snippet. (oh, and click a link to purchase from me directly (US addresses only) or here (global distribution).


Mark remembered the day he found himself here. That morning, so many mornings ago, had started normal for a sunny summer day. He was nine or ten, he couldn’t actually remember that part. Since school was out, he woke without an alarm and quietly pulled on a pair of moderately clean shorts and a rumpled t-shirt from his bedroom floor. He tiptoed past mom and dad’s bedroom and made his way outside. There was a creek at the end of their street and he spent most of his waking hours…

View original post 1,312 more words

Viaticum 3 – Wooden hands

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Knotted fingers work their skill

Sculpting nature’s giants,

As passion flows through hands

Designed to make things new.

Hematic flow from skin to grain

Rekindles life anew,

This touch like cryptesthesia

Animation from the dead.

And now you try to steal this love

To touch another’s flesh,

To breathe life within a kiss

And raise an amaranthine army.

These hands show dried and lifeless

Now splintered from mis-use,

Cut from weeping saplings

And drowned in blood of men.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019