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

   

 

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

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.

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


 

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.

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.

Of Sanity And Repetition

The definition of insanity is the repetition of a continuously failed act coupled with the expectation of a different outcome. If your choices in life have caused you great pain, it is only common sense to adjust your later choices to grant yourself a more conducive future.

Of Angels Bound And The Devil Who Waits

If I were to dance with the devil within me, all the more infernal would my song truly be. Though angels be found amidst the sweet sound, they lie 'neath the pillars to which they are bound. If hell is a comedy and heaven a tragedy, then I'll strike up a blaze and laugh with great levity.

 

Of Hubris And The Fall

One must never allow foolish pride to take precedence over that which was once a shameless love. The satisfaction of such a selfish victory is fleeting and not at all worth suffering the maddening ghosts of one's deepest regret.

Of Darkened Reasoning And The Loud Fool

Take care that your blind zealotry does not cause you to abandon reason in favor of offering evidence to support ridiculous beliefs.
 

Of Polytheistic Ambitions

The problem facing our society is the amount of value we place in monetary gain rather than cultural and philosophical growth. We measure value not by the quality of a man's character, but by the quantity of his acquired wealth. Women often seek that which offers luxury and comfort, not that which is emotionally fulfilling. Men seek to gain respect via the girth of their coffers rather than the caliber of their thoughts and ideas. We must find deeper value within ourselves lest we become as petty and superficial as the Gods themselves!

 

Of Visitors And Opportunities Passed

Perhaps that which you still seek, and that which you once held in your hands are one in the same. Such impending regret must be staggering indeed. Only a fool would protest upon the absence of that which they have turned away at their doorstep.
 

Things Such As This

Things Such As This

If I were to scream into nothingness, would the sound deafen God's ears?

If I were to converse with a star, would it embrace my thoughts? Or would it simply cast them aside for the brilliance of the Sun?

If I were to sift through the refuse of human memory, would I unearth some form of substance or would I find only broken lines of withered communication? 

I often think upon things such as this when reality is too grave to bear.

I often think upon things such as this when the storm of life grows heavy and wild.

If I were to touch the sky, would it shatter like glass and rain slivers down upon the earth?

If I were to fill my eyes with all there is to behold, would it staunch the river of madness within my head?

I often think upon things such as this when love is fleeting and time has ebbed.

I often think upon things such as this when my sanity slips and the hour nears.

By Justin Huskey copyright 2013

Of Obsolete Relics And The Illusion Of Progress

I grow so very tired of the elderly and their ever-adamant, albeit quite erroneous belief that morality only exists in the past tense. This empty claim holds no truth and affirms nothing but the fact that they are either unwilling or incapable of adapting to the changing of the times. Morality, as with all things, is relative to the massively accepted opinions on the subject within the time frame of the inspection. For instance while same-sex marriage was deemed immoral at one time, it is now considered immoral to deny an individual their basic human rights based solely on their sexual preferences. To insist that all that is good in the world existed only in one's own time period is ridiculous indeed. Advocates of the WWII era love to speak of a much more sound world with morals and standards which have greatly fallen today. I wonder if the persecuted Jewish people would feel the same were they alive today to protest. What of the African Americans forced to take a literal backseat due to the color of their skin? Would they share the same opinions of morality in the past? Thinking such as this is proof that these individuals have indeed outlived their usefulness in today's society. I must mention that most of the relics found spewing such ignorance are also themselves advocates of such "moral" behavior as racism and hypocrisy. It is a sad day for humanity when mankind seeks to justify such atrocities.

Of Haunting Pasts And Chained Regret

The ghosts of regret are ever persistent, but in all their chain rattling and frightful shrieking, they are still merely apparitions; remnants of grief and nothing more. The darkness of the mind and all of its irrational thought will sustain them, but the light of reason shall reveal them for the sheet-draped nothingness that they truly are.

 

Of Poor Thomas Paine

If there ever was a pitiable man in this world undeserved of his poisoned reputation, it would have to be poor Thomas Paine. He was abandoned by his former brothers not for being a raving lunatic, but for being the most sane among them. His "anti-Christian" views proved too embarrassing for his once adamantly unified brethren... With the exception of Jefferson, of course. However difficult this may have been to endure, he remained firm in his Deist beliefs (Which these days is closer to Atheism than Theism) and perished with his pride intact. Thomas Paine is an illuminating example of an intelligent man being persecuted for surpassing the broken reasoning of his society. It is for this reason that he remains one of my most constant sources of inspiration. If you have not read his book "The Age Of Reason" I suggest that you do. It is a masterful work of logic for a world conditioned to insanity.

 

Of Ghosts And Morality

One of the greatest misconceptions held by Christians is that Atheists lack morality. This is of course based on their belief that anyone who denies the existence of God MUST be morally bankrupt due to the fact that they do not have the "Holy Ghost" to regulate them. It is precisely because we do not believe in such nonsense that we are in fact better equipped where morality is concerned. We can make our own decisions based on common human courtesy rather than follow often contradictory and prejudice scripture.

 

Of Possessing The Freedom To Display One's Own Ignorance

I often hear various individuals protesting against the right to free speech. I believe the freedom of speech to be the most significant right we possess. Were it not for the right to express ourselves through writing and vocalization we would be unable to recognize the blatant ignorance of others. If people insist on living in stupidity, we should at the very least provide them a pulpit from which to display it. In this respect we gain priceless knowledge concerning who to avoid at all costs.

 

Of That Which is Inevitable

Love that is lost is seldom regained, but
Love that is found will seldom remain.

 

Of The Disturbance And The Freedom Within It

Fear not the disturbing of the mind, for all knowledge that is substantial must also in some way cause great discord within. They that exist in ignorant bliss can never know the liberating dissonance which accompanies truth. Embrace this discomforting uncertainty for in this inharmonious disturbance lies freedom unbound.

Of A Dancing Storm And The Fleeting Rays

Is it not better to dance amidst the storm? Is the experience of it not worth braving the thunderous danger which lies beyond the clouds? If one never learns to find joy in even the storm, what hope does one have? For what is life if not a series of storms amidst a few fleeting rays of Sunshine? 

 

Of Love, Passion And Courage

Love is passion without reason, but consistent reason is life without the passion to find the courage necessary to love.


 

Of Regret And The Fear That Binds Us

We must never allow regret to steal away our motivation and cause us to believe that we deserve not the chance at redemption. True regret is not that which was never achieved, but that which was never tried.

 

Of The Broken Path And The Vast Sea Beyond It

The Broken Path And The Vast Sea Beyond It


As I stumble to my feet my eyes drift upward to find the comfort of the Sun.
The smell of salt fills the air.
The ocean beckons.
How long have I traveled?
How many times have I fallen to my knees?
How many scars can attest to my resilience?
I turn to behold my trek.
It is a long and winding path broken, and it is wrought with destruction.
Many deaths have I faced.
Many battles have I won.
Perhaps if I were to sift through the rubble I might find a memory or two,
But I haven't the time.
I am nearing my journey's end.
The beach is desolate and serene.
The ocean is vast, and I am weary.
A voice emerges from the wind.
"So, you've arrived at your destination, have you?"
The voice asks.
"Look there, beyond the sea, The Sun is just setting over the horizon."
The voice states.
"Do you truly entertain the thought that this tiny moment of peace signifies the end of your voyage?"
The voice mocks me.
"You've walked the broken path, indeed, but the ocean brings with it new hardships."
The voice continues.
"You've fought so hard and you've been so adamant about reaching your destination."
I listen intently.
"You must now face the merciless depths... A task which you are not prepared for."
I fall to my knees in grief.
"Steel yourself! know that the ever-distant horizon is your true goal."
I stare at the warm, blue sky as it melts into shades of red.
"The ocean will send consecutive waves of infinite possibilities upon your head."
The voice fades off into the sea.
"Remember... The destination is of no importance... It is the quest that holds the true message."
I stand to my feet.
Overwhelmed, I peer out into the blue darkness.
I turn to the broken path.
I have endured much,
Yet I still live.
I shall endure much more.
I turn back to the ocean.
I slowly submerge.
"Steel yourself."
I hear the voice say.
I am not prepared for the horrors that lurk in the depths below,
But I will perish in the dark abyss with the knowledge that I possess no fear.

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

The Monster Beyond The Darkness

The Monster Beyond The Darkness

There's a monster that lurks

Planning its works 

Shrouded by a sea of masks

Hidden from sight

In places void of all light 

Protected by the past 

Deep in its lair

No soul is aware 

Of the evil it commits

Beneath its kingly guise 

It is safe from all who would surmise 

That on this throne a demon sits 

Safe out of sight 

Escaping into the night

It freely spins its webs

Deception and lies

In the shadows it hides 

Where hunger never ebbs 

Through the glass mirror

Its image is made clearer 

This creature knows that I see

With eyes filled with great darkness 

It peers with black starkness 

This creature dwells within me

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

Remnants

Remnants

Remnants are strewn all around
Remnants that ring a most familiar sound
Memories caught in reality's grasp
Reflections abound
Projecting the past


Surrounded by proof of joyous life
I curse the present in all its strife
I scatter the pictures across the floor
Reassembling a world from which I am banished forevermore


Every shard of a moment broken in time
Every thread bound so tight I've no hope to unwind
Every page etched in stone, no way to revise
Every truth held in light, no comfort in lies


Still I attempt to unravel the chains
I desperately struggle in hope to regain
Some sweet semblance of my former existence
As ghosts just beyond my reach remain ever persistent

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

Conflagration

Conflagration

 Out of a world of darkness a spark is seen
Many battles fought in the name of its gleam
The spark then ignites and turns to a flame
No thoughts of revenge
No thoughts of the blame

The fire roars loud as its hunger is fed
Many thoughts abound
Many thoughts of dread
The inferno, it rages as passion burns deep
The inferno, it wages that no passion can keep

Consumed by the blaze, passion glows dim
Hardly an ember to keep warm within
left to the cold, we shiver in fright
Left to the wild
Left to the night

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

An Apparition Of The Memory

An Apparition Of The Memory


I'm sleeping with ghosts and dreaming of phantoms

Your shadows haunt my halls like flickering lanterns

The carpeted floor still imprints your paces

Tiny strands of your hair found in the strangest of places

The sound of your name still etched on my lips

I shiver in recognition of your caressing fingertips

I witnessed your departure, beheld your ascendance

But you've overwhelmed my perception with your arrogant attendance

You've long since departed, of this I am sure

But your essence is here... forevermore.

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2003 Revised 2012

A Shattered Mind

A Shattered Mind

 I witnessed the day that my poor mind did shatter
The slivers spread as they cut away from the form
I watched as the infinitesimal pieces did scatter
Tiny shards of memories tossed by the storm

Each one a different window
Each one a different view
Each one a different color
Each one a different hue

I crawled about but the fragments I could not gather
Held firmly in time the visions stayed
No reason they had but that they would rather
On this they would not be swayed

I cried out to them as my sanity slipped
But they would not hear my plea
If they were to only just reassemble
From this hell I would surely be freed

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

Thieves In The Night

Thieves In The Night


I arose late one night
My wife filled with fright
Her wails, I could not endure
She swore that someone was turning the doorknob
She swore someone was at the front door

I saw in her face
Some terrible trace
That her fears might not be conjecture
I walked to the door
Gave a tug at the lock
Preparing myself for a lecture

No speech did I hear
Frozen in fear
My wife gave an unsettling gasp
Her voice had gone thin
No sound from within
Nothing more than a leathery rasp

The door was flung open
Not a soul I found stirring
I sighed with renewing relief
She'd stayed up too late
Her mind was unraveling
THIS was my firm belief

As I turned from the door
I fell to the floor
Surprised by what I did see
My good lady wife
Run through with a knife
Blood soaking her gown to her feet

I lunged a fist forward
But caught only air
As the murderous form disappeared
I looked on in horror
My wife lay there bleeding
Her death drawing all the more near

 I fell to my knees
My hands in my face
Stricken with terrible woe
My good lady wife reappeared, sweetly staring
As if it had all been a show

She said, Husband dear,
Do you not remember?
What happened on this fateful night?
As I was run through,
It happened also to you
Not one, but two thieves were the cause of this plight

My back to the door
My wife did implore
Now listen, we haven't much time
Fifty years have gone by
Yet still you deny
You died right here by my side

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

An Evening With Nyx

An Evening With Nyx


A mystery defined by dignity
A Goddess bathed in the light of divinity
A dream of all the things one dares to be
Come to me
She beckons me

There are so many ways to see her
But I know she's never really there
Time stands still
As she bends my will

We walk hand in hand
Our feet above the sand
To gaze into her soul is all that I demand
Come with me
She whispers please

There are so many ways she moves me
But I know I stand just where I stood
She's free to roam
I'm all alone

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2011

The Children

The Children


The shadows walk
The shadows crawl
The shadows creep across the mor
The shadows tiptoe to my door

I sit alone in darkness binding
As the gears, forever grinding
Tick away the daylight shining light upon my barren floor

My door is locked
And barred
And nailed
But this will come to no avail
For my children come to feed
And the door will not impede
The gnawing hunger and the greed
Of my foul and ghastly breed

They will come again tonight
Basking in the pale blue light
Perched atop my spiral tower
They await the darkest hour

My children soar on demon wings
And play the hosts of stranger things
Resting in a bed of soil
Neath the ground they sleep and coil
Till the moon doth shine again
And gives birth to mortal sin

For the sun doth have the likeness
Of a torch in all its brightness
Brimstone burning to the flesh
Scarring my forbidden nest

For years to come
I shall remain
A phantom in my window pane
My place is here
I dare not leave
Lest my children come to grieve

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2003 Revised 2011

Of The Walk Of Life And The Casualties Of Stepping

Today my swallowtail, her young ones, and I were strolling down the long, overgrown path which stretched the length of the wide creek behind our home. As we were walking through the tall grass her youngest one compassionately stated that we should all be quite careful and mindful of where we were stepping lest we were to walk on the many infinitesimal insects which scattered beneath us as we trudged on. Needless to say I had no intentions of traversing such a long, grassy path while simultaneously paying attention to my every step, so I logically replied that one cannot hope to negotiate such a thick area without crushing a few tiny creatures in the process. Hearing this my swallowtail turned to me and cleverly paraphrased my mediocre reply by stating that it could indeed be applied, in a philosophical sense, to life in general. This excited us both as we are forever searching for inspiration for our blogs and social networking posts. The more I thought on this matter, the more I began to see the very clear applications of such an obvious concept. If a man were to spend all of his life taking great, painstaking care not to disturb or disrupt the world around him he would most assuredly miss his own life due to him not wishing to precipitate discord among his surroundings. I urge you to look upon your own life and ask yourself if you are indeed allowing yourself to remain where you are for fear of what harm your feet may cause. If my query finds you treading slowly upon the long, grassy path of life carefully scanning the ground before you move, I implore you to kick up your feet and focus instead upon the horizon ahead of you. I am not suggesting that one should feel free to trample along through life stepping on whomever they wish, but one simply cannot experience all that life has to offer when one's key concern is how their movements will effect others.