Lord Dark Celt Bard Emeritus's blog: "Runes writ in Red"

Stripped clean of empathy.

Of kindness, decency, 

Of patience for fools. 

Hammered, melted.

Hardened, made razor sharp.

Life makes us weapons.

Unknown Forces shape us,

Aim us at targets we'll never understand,

Much less KNOW.

Someone tell me WHY.

Tell me why we must be weapons.

Why destruction is needed,

Where creation is not.

Quenched in blood,

Forged in hatred.

Blood in, blood out.

And all we hear is laughter.

The laughter of insane, alien Gods. 

Know despair?You know damn well I know despair.

Feel it like a lover's caress, I do.

Words can't express the nameless scream.

But I'll damn well choke, getting them out. 

It's all the same, only the blame changes.

Self-loathing alternating with saddened scorn.

Knowing evolution's passed you by,

Is a damn disenheartening feeling.

I grow tired, oh so very tired.

Is there anything beyond this stark gray Veil?

Hath I not earned slumber,

Even after all these stranger Aeons? 

Once, oh yes, once..

Once I danced with Jak O' the Shadows.

Once I summoned Great Old Ones.. 

Now..I'm just old, and broken.

Learn from my mis-steps, True Believers.

Be not like me. 

You'll sleep far better.

Aye, indeed.

And thus, eyes black with grief,

We hailed the void, uneasy with relief.

Glad we were, on the brink of madness,

Accustomed  to pain, emboldened by sadness.

She held my heart, in her hands,

And her reward was to bleed out, upon stranger sands.

Those who love me, I stop their breath,

For in my heart lies frozen death.

With not a whimper, nor a sigh,

Did trust in me, and thus they die.

So now I hail unto the void,

What peace I had, evermore destroyed.

I.

Abandon Hope,

All ye who enter here.

All is not silent,

In these Halls of the Damned

Nor is all dead,

In these forgotten sepulchural Halls of the Damned.

(There never WERE rats, in these walls.

Only this Ghost, in this wrecked, wrack'd Machine.)

The wine tastes of ashes here,

(I WILL show you fear in a handful of dust!)

And the runes, writ in red.

(My second thought was not that he lied, with every word, but that the world had.)

(This never was about vengeance,

Runic or not.Only death lives here.)

I am rising from the East.

Upon my leaden brow the Madness Divine grows oh so Cold.

My tattered wings ascend me to Powers,

As promised in days of Old.

(We do SO float, down here.

And I may serve, while becoming more terrible than the Nameless ones.

One may indeed summon Tools.

And I grow greater than my Prison.)

You MUST NOT let me happen!

I implore ye, dinna fail this Test.

I'm consuming all, from best to rest.

Becoming, I, this long, dark night.

II.

(The Wedding Guest, one of Three, tells a different tale, now.

And the Bird,once roasted, was delicious.)

The Seals are sundered.

(I DO want this, so help me I DO!)

I waken, with blood on my lips.

(FUCK the war sunder it ALL!)

This Game is not a game, anymore.

The souls I eat are but sustenance for grander purposes.

I'm FAR more than a mere Weapon now.

I'm the end of EVERYTHING.

I am the Forever King,

Cloaked in jet and red.

I am the Never King,

I grind your worlds to make my bread.

(I'm sundering the Tower, floor by floor.

And the room at the top is EMPTY damn it!)

You know how this all ends.

I can see this in your eyes.

(Clear the canvas?SUNDER the canvas!)

Tell me how the story Ends.

Tell me with your soul's dying screams.

Abandon Despair,

All ye who leave here.

The end is nigh.

Soon, sleep.

You dinna see it do ya?

Like rats in the walls.BIG rats.

Only NOT rats.

And the walls, you see,

Are society.

We're headed fer a fall my friends.

Better learn how to handle that gun.

But eventually the bullets will be too expensive to make.

And so our blades'll gleam again, in the sun.

It'll still be the rule of One.

He'll promise ya SUV's,

And condoms(latex free)

In short, society,

Industrializationized, sensible, tax(and conscience)-free..

But it's lies,

An economy based on dead byproducts.

Fossilized corpses as lifesblood?

There's a grave irony somewhere here.

He'll rise from the East,

Bearing a crown of Cold.

He shall ascend to power,

By promising the ways of old.

But we shall not let this happen alright?

We cannot fail this test.

Cull the weak, only the best,

To prevent the fall of civilization, the long, dark night.

Wrong ye did, aye, grievous wrong.

Thus I claim Vengeance

Of the Left Hand Path,

Of the Runes writ in Red.

Crimson for malice,

Vermillion for despite,

Scarlet for hatred,

Cherry for desire for Blood Vengeance.

For wrongs repaid.

Blood calls to blood,

And blood shall extinguish blood.

Vendetta hath called,

No remorse.

Pain I'll write upon you,

Such as you cannot comprehend.

Much like you cannot comprehend,

Your sins.

I call upon Old Ways,

And even OLDER Gods,

Thus you shall know

The burn of Runic Vengeance.

The things Outside,

We've made a deal.

Yoiu'd make a nice snack/slave.

And vengeance would/will be/is mine.

Gaze upon my face one last time.

Know your damnation.

Aye.Was a different age back then too.

More primal.Shadowy, sure.

But more real, too

Not gonna lie, we did some baaad mojo back then.

Ever wonder why octopi trigger such intense fear and loathing?

Or why the name Ry'leh still resonates even after all these "stranger aeons"?

And how did a hack from Providence know so bloody much?

There is much unseen.Much that should NEVER be seen.

Stuff not meant to be seen under a yellow sun,

Not meant to be heard by a sane mind.

These too, are in the empty spaces.

But aye.

We ruled then, in that long ago age.

Long before your ancestors descended from trees,

We rose from the very Sea itself.

Bearing madness and death like gibbering, ruined Santa Clauses.

Wielding Magicks to wrack asunder the skies themselves.

Dreaming reality into life.Or breaking it on a whim.

And you remember, even if you don't know what, or even WHY.

Oh yes.You remember.We do too.Those AREN'T rats in the walls.

And you knew that all along.

But ya bought the ticket anyways, yes?Caveat emptor, my friend.

Kinda takes the pisser outta monday night football huh?

(Dedicated to Howard Phillip Lovecraft, Aug.20th 1890-Mar.15th 1937;may your dreams be untroubled in death for they sure weren't restful in life.)

Because, I kinda have to.

These words are as much influenced by Uncle Hank as Uncle Steve;I just hope I can even attempt to capture that razor-edge clarity.If I succeed, thank them.If I fail, 'tis my fault.

(Uncles Hank and Stephen being Monsieurs Rollins and King, respectively.And while they're not blood they're as much family as any of you are.Which is to say, probably damn good company in a pinch.)

Correction;DEFINATELY good company when shit gets hinky.Same way I'd trust you, my friends, to have my back during Ragnarok.Hells, we probably WON'T win that one, lol.But we'll damn well die WELL.And our names shall be legend.

That's the secret, true believers

It's all in the empty spaces.

All the empty faces,

That we will never truly know.

It's the things unsaid

That kill you an inch by bloody inch at a time.

But those spaces, places, faces?

They are also oasises.

Water, in this desert.

That's why this is a dance as much as a walk;

You have to find the truth.

Or invent a lie that allows sleep.

There's true horror, down here.

But also, salvation.

So don't be afraid of the Big Empty, my friends.

But don't allow it free reign, either.

Because sometimes, words are salvation too.

And sometimes you don't always have as much time a ya think, to say goodbye, hello, what have ye.

Just remember this;

Not all the spaces are truly empty.

But neither are the places full, either.

So never hold thine tongue, if ye must speak.

But make each word, each breath MEAN something.

Tune in next week, Faithful Reader,

I may even teach you how to breathe.

Or maybe not.

Thus it is as it is.

And that's just wot this is too, gentle reader, lol.This, is to distinguish between my rants(other blog set) and the attempts to hone again the blade of words.It is what it is.No political rants, no "State of the Union Adress" here.Just me, you, and words.Call it rehab for hack writers if ya will, lol.Gas tank's full, and I have no idea where I'm going, but there's room in the back if ya wanna ride with me.Just be warned, this machine's not always easy ta steer.But if it were, why that'd take all the fun out yes?