Mothers Day

To all the Mothers who raised their children well
Who gave them unconditional love and support
We thank you
To all the other Mothers who didn’t
May you burn in a special Hell
After you die alone



The lamentations of a cross road demon

A soul is a terrible thing to waste. Everyone selling them on the cheap. It’s a buyers market with a sellers misinformation. Fortune , fame, and the dame. Funny how it comes down to woman more often than not. I can barely remember a time when it wasn’t one of those three reasons that called me out at midnight. The ever human need to feed, to satisfy the thirst of desire. Offering the precious for only a few fleeting years of the rapture. Before damnation drags them down. The bill always comes due. And I don’t run a dine and dash business here. Sure there’s always one or two who bolt, who flee when its time to pay that fee. Ask the blues man how far he got, oh wait never mind he’s been in box of pine since before ‘39. didn’t take long for the hounds to sniff him out and drag him down. Sold that soul for talent he already had.

Ya see that’s the thing about humanity always selling the one thing they got for something better without paying attention to the details. They think their lives are hell. Let me tell ya something that ain’t even seen hell yet. That’s where I come. I’ll tweak a few stars, twerk a few strings and give them exactly for their heart sings for.Pennies on the soul, Judas got silver. Does that tell ya about the state of economics with the human soul. Human souls are cheap. Barely worth the time, barely worth the rhyme. But a jobs a job and it’s midnight somewhere.

Crossing the River

Loud music

A cold bottle

Warm liquid

Becomes the norm

Awaiting the death rattle

Of a life that became toxic


Can’t find a vein

No blood left to drain

The needle breaks the skin

The hole begins to mend


Life fades away

Only the scar will stay

Another hit

Another line

Everything will be fine

So sick off it


Yet back for more

Always there

Always with a warm care

A haunting ghost

Davey Jones locker

Hurt locker

It’s what I call home the most

The digital street corner where I became a whore


Google earthing my way to hell

With no soul to sell

For the fix

That leaves too quick

And leaves my heart sick

As I cross the river Styx




The Mourner’s Song

Hello… Hello

Is anybody out there

Can anyone hear me?

Just nod along to the melody

Of the song I’ll sing


Listen to the words

And know the truth heard

In the lies I’ll preach

In my attempt to reach you


Let me bring you down

To where there is no sound

Float within the light

The Dead lights within my eyes

That shine so bright


In the dim world of reality

The soul of frailty

Breaks the fragile shell

Of a new born hell


I have gone to far

And been burnt among the stars

Now I exist in the only fashion left

A ghost in the machine


A cold chill that won’t go away

Here in the light of the sun

I see my breath exhale

Even though I’m in hell


The sweat rolls

As sin takes it toll

And once again I give in

To the  temptation

That leads to ruination


Yet freedom is found

In the disaster of the ringing alarms

The lovely sound

Of a love that harms


I feel no pain

As I go numb

And find the truth insane

As reality never will come