Skip navigation

Category Archives: poetry

It begins in a dream a simple thing, a figure in the dark, one that leaves no mark, just a memory of what had been in a life never lived. It’s a light where there is only black, a mingling of flesh with claws  along the back. It tears and I cry but I smile because I lie, and she simply moans as we both wish we could someday, like this, die. Her taste is that of a drug, her lips are like needles I roll along my tongue, I cannot stop myself for I am not myself for the two have become one. We mold together as was meant to be we pull back time from its seams and show the truth of ourselves a swirling of smoke upon itself for this is the end and I sigh for at the end there are no lines and fractions break us down into the sublime, but, there are times, when my senses become entwined, and I feel a feeling I thought that died. Time, is a rhyme for what I now know seems strange and I cannot tell the future from the past but I can still feel her claws along my back. To start again is the thing and try to hold that feeling until there is nothing left but ash and dust as King and by that day my bones will be old rust and I’ll remember everything. This is thy Kingdom as this is mine and let us settle this one more time as the sand runs dry and let the Angels sing, and in the End it will be worth everything.

There is a lantern that sits on a table next to me in this dark room.
Ive been put here for days, I don’t know where, I don’t know by who.
There is a floor of gravel that digs beneath my bare bleeding feet.
There is a door locked shut from the other side, the only word on it is “MEAT.”
Ive forgotten what hunger is in this deep dark hole.
How long I have been here I don’t really know.
Its been so long yet I do not think I have slept.
Yet nightmares and memories have come and at those I have wept.
This concrete ceiling that hangs above me, I know its sliding down.
I’ve been trying to track the path of its descent somehow.
My thoughts have become broken I think I may have gone mad.
I keep seeing things that are not there and remembering things I never had.
They have left me plenty of oil to keep this old lantern.
I wonder how big the fire would be and just how long I would burn?
It may be the only answer, I cannot take much more.
I cry out in rebellion but no one hears me beyond the Door.

The Gemini Moon burns the sky this dark night.
It reveals a dark shadow in the glorious light of life.
It moves between the spaces of time and spite.
This Gemini Moon walks with Old Death tonight.
It hangs in the sky like the song of the Piper’s Pipe.
It drives the feet forward with clenched fists of might.
It whispers sweet promises with the Priest’s insight.
And it breaks the spirit of the Godlike Christ.
So I walk with my shadow on this cold night.
The touch of the moon falls to reveal a new light,
A hidden persona kept from natures sight
A burning ember, a growing fire, burning bright
That will forever be kept in the soul’s Tomb of Strife.

Rich Brewer

Old Dog

There’s an old dog that sits outside and watches me.
I can see him through the windows or when I peek through the screen.
I can only guess its purpose or if he has intent
He barked at me once but I’m not sure what it meant.
My wife says he’s harmless, just a lonely old dog
She says it to me as I see him through the early fog.
I’m not sure what bothers me, whether it is curiosity or fear.
But those old dogs eyes sends shivers through my spine whenever it is near.
It is always there sniffing the air; morning, day, and night.
Searching for an answer to an unknown question, feeding my childlike fright.
There’s an old dog that sits outside and watches me you see
But things are going to change this time, to confront it is the key.
Ill walk down to that waters edge I will take my bravery to the ledge
And we will see just who jumps on that strange October night.
For me and this dog are connected somehow, an answer hidden from light
And if its Old Scratch then Ill be back after paying that horrible price.

Rich Brewer

The Blind Man in a Valley of Crows

A Blind Man walks in a Valley of Crows,
His feet bare and broken, but his soul hard as stone.
The Blind man needs no words nor sight,
He wanders forever in the eternal long night.

A Blind Man sleeps in a Valley of Crows,
His dreams of people he has never known.
They smile and cry and laugh and beg,
They dance and They fall until They are dead.

A Blind Man prays in a Valley of Crows,
He holds onto a faith that has left him alone.
There is no answer of hope nor despair,
Just the cold dark eyes from a black crow’s stare.

A Blind Man dies in a Valley of Crows,
They caw and they peck and tear at his bones.
They have waited long for this cold night,
For the Blind Mans death will finally bring him sight.

Rich Brewer

So this is the first Blog I have ever done but wanted an outlet for random writings and the such. Hope you enjoy, more to come.