Below Under

I wasn't dead when they put pennies in my eyes and allowed the gone to sing my soul away,
When my eyes darted from side to side I saw paradise disappear and couldn't tell where
The angels had gone, caught between the harmonies of an evil angel and a righteous demon,
As my body tissues turned into ashes and my soul laid to rest what is left of my body,
My spirit landed in the dream theater but was told dreams aren't made anymore; they're won,
He then showed me a dance floor decorated with skulls and bones with blood dripping at the sides,
It was well lit under the light of the eclipse, the ambiance created was breath taking
Breathtaking much that I started suffocating as my lungs hang in by thread.

Then came my dance partner, the evil angel-with a killer smile that broke my ribs
And caused them to puncture my lungs and after coughing out blood the music started
I watched my shadow leave me and without a tear it did not say goodbye, these are real tears,
Before we could dance he struck my feet and both became an equal of two left feet hence
The rhythm I couldn't follow, the evens turned odd as the dance that was to save me was taken away,
One plea I copied was carry me to heaven's arms and when the light go out let forever drag me down,
Being the bridegroom of death these evil angels put me to sleep as righteous demons open their wings,
I could only whisper, strike my soul at the stroke of midnight-kill me tonight

Yes, though I prayed I had fallen prey, this was the night of a hunter yet I was in the fields,
Word goes round that when you dance with the devil you look him not in the eye
Laying there almost lifeless a symphony that calls forth death resounds in my mind,
I watched the evil angel walk away through the fire as I lay in bondage,
Though wasted I dare to prove that my sweat aint blood but its more than water,
Careless whispers of the day tests the prudent words of the night,
When in the devil's dance floor the first step you take you are half past dead,
The second step is for the devil and demons to celebrate another fallen soul

(c) 2014 Anduvate Ray Solomon

photo credits: www.thisiscolossal.com

Uncried Tears...

As a resource, tears are perfect waters to irrigate field of pain,
Ears evolve into deafness to the cries of dying souls when sounds of fired bullets become a familiar symphony,
Yet for every gone soul a ghost returns to reveal something more shocking than a bullet hole,
To reveal the truth in the statement, 'when you kill a man he becomes immortal,
As a testimony so true I say even the devil's heart grows not numb,
And though miles apart the gun always calls back the gunslinger,
Just like in days so dry battlegrounds thirst for blood, sweat and bodies to lay waste,
You can only perceive a being to be a hero of war if you know not the danger line at war.

I say this in the light of those days when the demon hailing from death valley was a friend,
Memories of the days I held the title 'warrior' though in truth I was a hope destroyer,
Days that I devoted my energy to spear down the pride that praise stirs,
Times when every ounce of energy was muscled towards a glorious eulogy,
Now drowned in blood I shed at war I raise waters praying that they hearken,
That they hearken the weeping of a son whose father I killed as he watched,
That it comes to light of the many I left orphaned and homeless,
They call me a hero of war yet the devil knows me as number one hit man.

Am afraid that If I love my neighbor as I love myself then none will live to see sunrise,
Today empty spaces encrusts my heart with a lonely spirit swollen with much hurt,
Torn and tormented is my soul at glance and I dread the path that I walk,
Jesus before Judas cried to the father to take the cup of suffering away,
I pray that if this cup is taken from me may I not be given the strength,
For against this cup I will Avenge Sevenfold for the bullet it gave me for my valentine,
I long for freedom from these wounds in the inside and scars on the outside,
That they term as badges of honor yet they are symbols of torment.

(c) 2014 Anduvate Ray Solomon


image courtesy of amazinganman.wordpress.com

A Fight In My Mind...

A perfect knowledge of yourself you may have but on the streets just another stranger,
I walk these fields of lava taking steps towards grounds that hold,
As I let lose this fear-a prisoner of mine-I pray the sun never to rise,
Called to be a warrior, a soul destroyer and a hero of war;down I lay,
I lay in anticipation of my foe to march forward to meet my bullet for his slay,
Through this kiss I can taste the tongue of death and even share in its breath,
Yet souls I lay to waste pay my soul a visit to torment and castrate
The hero that lies within; to stop war is peace yet peace invites war,crossroads.

I fight with all my life, yet I have one life; maybe its time to walk away,
But a warrior who walks out on the flames of war loses identity and gains inferiority,
Is it better to stay put to the end till all stars fade to ashes and beauty empty walls?
Beyond doubt to my home I will return in body before soul for the land
To raise waters over the demise of a hero of war and a prisoner of torment,
Every bullet I ever fired comes back right back at me and death becomes my pillow,
The gongs from the pits so bottomless resound and call my name-should I respond?
Well, postponing death is still a date with demons, should I take an early date?

My horizons keep drawing closer and closer as this air keeps growing thinner,
Into oblivion my hope fades as gun shots make the beats to my favorite song,
I still breathe the air of the living but I dine, drink and dance with ghosts,
These ghosts find warmth in me and speak sweetly and softly to say, 'dance with me'
For the thousandth time through this tortured portrait I will tempt fate,
This is every man's crossroads but I go first to create a path beaten for you,
Behind I will leave diaries of cryptic entries as a guide to your feet,
At crossroads I will stand no more, towards the left I advance.

(c) 2014 Anduvate Ray Solomon

Cruel Ashes Of Hate...

My vows with silence go unbroken as I watch her writhe; after effects of the sidewinder-life,
The rhythm of her contortions depict how much venom is racing through her vein-pain,
She weeps deep for the roads untraveled as seemingly they hold more peace than strife,
Crying would help her ease the trouble but her wells are well dry-drought no rain,
Only anthems of a dying day play in her stereo, a further step from hope,
Too gone to be born afresh is the tale she tells and yes confidently proclaims,
Nothing is stronger than broken faith yet her's is beyond broken, more to say,
Beyond fate and all these are waters running from the rivers flowing from the inside.

From whom she came comes conspicuous spills of paint to portray an abstract of hate,
Beyond six feet-closer to hell further from heaven-lays days when she was sure of a smile,
I dread the day this torrent of torment will whisper to this fallen star,
To make her see that a heart only is hurt in duration of love till hate lends a helping hand,
For then an untamed beast shall be raised to raze down everything, turning evens odd,
For even those she called friends behind closed doors froze her heart to grab her innocence,
Agony, under no terms, agreed to become a friend and now for the dark she's left,
As she fights to survive, an edifice of pain sorrow and hate builds up in the inside.

Indeed fighting the night does not ring the sun up any early, yet that's her longing,
For her pain, tears cant comfort, she wants her heart beat given to a corpse,
As she questions where the angels went, she's slowly evolving into the devil's favorite demon,
Her spirit and soul lay in a grave unattended, even darkness fears her,
Yet from the inside she stirs a fight for redemption and her right to life,
Not defined y flesh and blood; 'more is to man than the body he carry' is her belief,
So on my knees I remind the Lord to turn on her light and break her tunnel,
For the sweet song to rise from a purified heart, right from the core of the inside.

(c) 2014 Anduvate Ray Solomon