When-This-Dance-Is-Over

My days as of late have consisted of migraines and new musical albums. Within Temptation’s absolutely amazing “Hydra” has been keeping my mood up as I fought through a severe strep throat and fun.’s “Some Nights” is finally within my hands. The past week has been ridiculously exhausting. Perhaps it was because I was sick, but I was busy throughout the week.

But the new week has brought on some exciting news: I am going to be contributing my lyrical abilities to an actual song by electronic artist Bentley Jones! He has been wanting to create a track with contributions from his fans since the year began and I figured I’d give it a shot. The style is unfamiliar for me to be writing for, but I am not unfamiliar with what is expected from a pop rock track.

Short update, but I felt I needed to talk about something aside from writing.

The Howling

Possibly one of the strangest things about my writing, whether songs or poems, is  the involvement of paranormal and fictional entities. My life has been filled with fascination about what might exist and what might not. I’m not ashamed to say I believe spirits and demons exist. But ghosts and Hell’s soldiers aren’t even the most common monster among these piles of writings. The fictional werewolf is the most common.

I feel that my interest in the fictional lycanthrope stems from a novel by Toby Barlow titled “Sharp Teeth”. It’s one of my favorite books, written in the form of free verse poetry. It’s well written and contains all the elements we expect from a werewolf-related novel: horror, humor, romance, and some melancholy moments. The plot itself revolves around a territory war in the city of Los Angeles among various “packs” of lycanthrope creatures.

Cover of Toby Barlow’s novel “Sharp Teeth”.

A few weeks before Christmas, I wrote a long, narrative poem titled “The Werewolf’s Musings”. Now that I own a functioning computer, I can post much longer writings and posts, and this is going to be the first of many. Please let me know what you think and check out “Sharp Teeth” by Toby Barlow!

“The Werewolf’s Musings”

The moon is my mirror

Full, shining against the sky of broken wishes and dreams

Signaling the loaded gun to release the lead

And my metal-made body emerges beneath the costume of skin

Shattering the face of a man who is not I

Icy winds howl

And my own voice returns the call

The sounds of freedom mingle into a song that sets me at peace

My lungs steady, my muscles ache from the transformation

Suddenly, the moonlight’s own song escalates

Into a cascaded demand fro the darkest of deeds and thoughts

Murder, blood, meat, fat, marrow, guts, bones, passion, rage, and freedom

Silly freedom

Only when the full moon prowls on the unsuspecting masses

Are we allowed out of the cage of battered brains and vintage ribs

But not for a personal adventure or to embrace nostalgia on the edge

But for a hunt with the pack

The lust, the hunger, has stretched into my very heart

An adventure does come

Through rat-covered alleys and cities of troubled men

Starving children, abused women, deadbeats, and other rats

But the miserable dance of life was forced to a bloody end

For a few particular beings within their own disconnect

The blood of a young mother spatters against my eyes

Painting a vision of a bloody masterpiece

Her body, her soul, radiant, as it found the stairway to the skies

Outstretched to absolving freedom

Trapped in the kiss under Life’s wretched veil

Locked behind tattered ribs and another false man’s blue eyes

‘Why not me?’ I beg the moon

‘But, again, why me?’ I never am returned the answer I seek

I almost envy them, the vile, twisted, fat creatures

With freedom branded onto iron souls

While chains bind my heart to the moon

To an undesired devotion

The lone wolf weeps among these hills of individual thought

Freedom; how easily the monsters shackle it around their throats

Just like the tyrant moon, tattooing their bodies with thick ink

But I’m tired of chains

And those tattoos are out of my claw’s reach

A month passes; in the sky dangles the full moon

My eyes his at after the venomous transformation

Winds press against my face and squall against my chest

Within is the echo, intertwined with a mocking tone, ‘Freedom’

My eyes bleed; the moon has ultimately given the answer

It will only tease me

Sharp teeth clench

Gums bleed; how badly I wish to bite and tear its hand

Angst and rage pound my heart like a black drum

Reteaching the lessons of anger and blood-lust

The true faith is shattered; I am a lunar slave

Envying the place where dreaming ends

And where only human dreams are translated

Written into an ancient script titled “Reality”

‘The Black Symphony’s Toccata’

“The Black Symphony’s Toccata”

The whole world is watching the symphony
The song is one of great vitality
Horns blare the screams frim the back
‘Run faster’
Drums on the dirt louder and stronger
And I run

The conductor’s wand gleams silver in the light
A red flare as he conducts the trio
Strings sing shrill melodies with winds fighting for glory
‘Heart will be a bleeding blossom’
The march is fading back to the beginning
Why are we running?

The parades fall slowly
Until only violas smoke under the spotlight
With traitors, composers
Watching as the conductor’s sharp baton swings my reckoning
And the strings freeze
Letting the scream hang on the air

.Werewolf at a Funeral.

.Werewolf at a Funeral.

There sits the werewolf at the funeral
Sixteen-dollar haircut, adorning shined coats
Teeth sharp, gleaming peaks a sore thumb among the damsels
Whom the man in the ivory box had known like nefarious drugs
The wolf’s wife being his most deadly addiction

And the preacher goes on
As white teeth carve a white crescent moon
Through a full-fanged smile

Note: My absence is due to the lack of a working computer. I have not given up on In Cities. Expect a few more short snippets soon.

Death-Dressed: A Four Line Poem

Stitch me into death
Bind me with life
If I’m repulsed in life
Please adorn me with death