Friday, September 6, 2013

The Butterfly's Bond

The Butterfly's Bond

Once I dreamt of a bond most strong
My swallowtail and I were enveloped in song
Her head was softly adorned with Gaia's embrace
Her frail wings they were bathed in blue and gold lace

We stood 'neath the waters in a grand crystal hall
where translucent shadowed water around us did fall
And life it did run through the fountains so clear
And love it did joyfully play as music to hear

The creatures they gathered 'round the great filling feast
Where they sat 'round the table both the greatest and the least
They raised up their glasses and shouted strong toasts
And then my love for my butterfly to them I did boast

My swallowtail peered in my eyes so intently
Then I bowed to her and kissed her sweet hand ever so gently
We walked 'neath the moon where it hung betwixt the stars
And we danced on the floor which moved like a mirage from afar

The band they did play the most romantic of tunes
My love she did sway as we spun 'round the room
she kissed me so sweetly and lit up my eyes
And my heart how it burst as her passionate gaze to me did lovingly rise

We stood on the platform of red velvet cloth
And sweet words were whispered by the grey old world moth
And the ring which was plucked from the deep of the fabled lovers cove
Was placed on the sweet finger of my lover betrothed

We walked hand in hand as the guests did disperse and scatter
And we bid final farewell to the March Hare, The Door Mouse, and The Hatter
We walked 'neath the stars and the moonbeam downpour
And we faded into the light to be joined forevermore

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013

Mixed Marriage - A Hemlock Tree, A Birch Tree and a Swallowtail Butterfly by C. Frederick Lawrenson

Saturday, August 31, 2013

Lament Of Innocence

Lament Of Innocence

Once again I awake as her shrieks abruptly shake
My senses and I am ripped from a world of dreams
Once again my heart pounds as I shudder at the sound
Of her cries as they turn from faint whispers to piercing screams

It happens every night my eyes wide with fright
As I behold my lost love's phantasmal form
Her eyes black as pitch with the crooked smile of a witch
She sways back and forth in a white dress well-worn

In life she was kind and sweeter than sangria wine
What a beauty she was to behold
Now she drags rusty chains and though her young form still remains,
Her face has waxed dreadfully old

'Twas three years ago when we took in a show
At the old district music box bijou
She was silken and fine and dressed to the nines
Her presence could do naught but please you

The players all bowed to the large, dispersing crowd
And the curtain was lowered to the floor
We walked in the rain down North Southport Lane
And we talked 'neath the steady downpour

We married that fall at The Crystal Garden Hall 
She was bathed in fine satin and lace
With our lives intertwined soon I would find
A horror that most could not face

One late Autumn night I thought that I might
Take a stroll to the park there close by
I left her in dreams 'neath the palish blue beams
And the glow of the streetlights outside

An hour flew by and as midnight drew nigh 
I made my way up the steep, winding stairs
My door had been pried, and my love how she cried
I had indeed caught the thief most unawares

I ran to my wife but found no sign of life
In her eyes as the blood poured from her chest
I fell to the floor then stumbled out the door
In pursuit of a most uninvited guest 

Only shadows remained as I struggled to gain
Some control of the vengeance that boiled
With the heavy heart which she kept I solemnly wept
For my life had been irreparably spoiled  

So here I must lie amidst my lover's shrill cries
And the sound of the chains on the floor
She points here and there, but I am left unaware
Of that which of me she does adamantly implore

But what could this be? She now speaks to me!
Her words are like whispers from within
She speaks of that eve, and with no merciful reprieve
She states that my sanity has indeed worn quite thin

'Twas I that had burst through the door and what's worse
Is that this I do not remember
'Twas her heart that I broke with one tempestuous stroke
On that cold, fateful night in November

She fixes her gaze on the rafters as she fades
Her spirit now able to sleep
With a rope I will hang for only my sins now remain 
And my heart, may the devil rightly keep

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013



Wednesday, August 28, 2013

The Horrors Three

The Horrors Three

The demons creep as I struggle to sleep
Fixed in worrisome fear
They dance and play chasing all hope away
As anxiety draws all the more near

Not to be outdone, my ghost often seen by none
Will arise with the purpose of perfection
In my heart where it lies, it will bombard me with daily reprise
Concerning the state of my own sad reflection

Last but not least is the terrible beast
Which eats away at the very core of my soul
For anger it seems should be less of a means
To manipulate that which I cannot control

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Of Promises Broken And Of Liars One And All

It is better to promise nothing and live life free of obligations than to promise everything and deliver nothing.

Friday, August 23, 2013

The Soldier's Wife

 The Soldier's Wife

Once upon a crisp Autumn day
While the winds were stirring and the children did play
Upon an elderly lass I did cast a swift glance
Whose eyes were brightly viridescent and as wild as chance

Alone on a well-worn bench she did rest
A tattered, old book pressed firmly to her chest
In all shades of blue she was beautifully clothed
On her finger shone a ring from her lover betrothed

To the birds she did speak as they landed quite near
In soft words she did speak to them, in soft words heard most clear
She beckoned to me as she motioned to share
Her bench so warm 'neath the cool, Autumn air

She asked of what memories I had hoped to leave here
In this leaf-littered park near the ocean so clear
Great pain and sorrow to her I did convey
Of a loss most shattering and of a life left most gray

With an emerald stare into my soul she did peer
And she saw in my heart her very greatest of fears
Of her dear loving husband to me she did speak
Who had left her quite frail, quite lost and quite weak

Of a war she did speak and of a draft most unfair
Of men sent away and of women left unaware
She then spoke to me of a summer most grave
When soldiers had come to tell her of a man most brave

My hand she did touch and she smiled so sweet
Many miles she expressed were left for my feet
The walk of life to me she assured was quite long
And my will to me she affirmed was quite strong

I inquired of her what life she had led
I inquired of her what man she had wed
Long after her love had been lost in the war
Some semblance of hope from her I did rightly implore

She looked away and her smile did solemnly fade
To the lonely pier her deep, verdant gaze did wearily stray
She told me of her sorrow and of her darkest of days
When her love was brought home and to rest he was laid

Of her loss of hope to me she did regretfully tell
When her life was a curse and her heart was impaled
To the lonely pier she did go one late Autumn night
And into an ocean of sadness her soul did take flight

I looked to the pier, then turned back to her
The bench was now empty and the wind no longer did stir
Save the worn book which in old leather 'twas bound
There was no sign of the woman to ever be found

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013

 Book on bench

Thursday, August 22, 2013

A Walk To The Gallows

A Walk To The Gallows

So long ago I washed the blood away
Why are my hands still stained?
They buried you beneath the ground
And still your ghost remains

One thousand voices scream
But still I hear you calling
Why can't I face you?

I spoke with a holy man
He said that God forgave me
He said Jesus saves
But he couldn't save you

When the ground drops out
And they cut me down,
Will they bury me
With the sins they've found?

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013

Circle Of The Nine

 Circle Of The Nine

O to dance with the devil and strike up a blaze
To do battle with demons and into the abyss, capture a gaze
To cast myself into brimstone and fire
To impale mine own heart atop the burning pyre

To traverse the pitch and fall to the nine
Engorging my belly with blood for want of wine
To feel the chill of the frostbitten lake
Four walls and infinity a prison does make

To be bound in chains and thrown into the pit
To be lavished with pain as the candles are lit
If ever I yearn for this and nothing more
on the winds shall I ride to arrive at your door

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013

Of Discovery And The Unfamiliar

Seek not the comfort of familiarity, for what adventure lies in the exploration of that which has already been discovered?

Of Solitude And The Departure

What of solitude? What of that hour in the day when time ceases to exist, and one becomes lost to a world of thought and dreams? What causes one to yearn for sweet silence? Perhaps it is a secret longing for the death that fate has yet to grant him...


Of Forlorn Regret And Feathers Out Of Reach

Let not belated uncertainty lead you to lay a jealousy driven claim on that which you have already tossed aside. Once you have released the feather from your grasp, the wind will work against any reunion.

Of A Thing Most Grave And Of Broken Wings

Never underestimate the power of gravity. It has the ability to rend your wings asunder and drag you to hell. Nothing is trivial and we must all give to the mighty pull of a thing most grave. For only within our inevitable submission do we truly find the despair that will facilitate the destruction of any irrational notions that we might possess concerning control.

Law of Gravity

Of Tact And The Absence Of Empathy

I feel that I must enlighten they that most assuredly lack the ability to speak empathetically. It is ridiculous to entertain the thought that if one conveys a sense of honesty, that any harmful intent is magically dismissed. Words pierce the soul, and one never knows how deeply one may wound another. Speak as you would wish to be spoken to, and if the truth must be brought to light, allow the recipient the courtesy of constructive criticism rather than blunt and destructive judgement.