The Burning of Notre Dame

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My heart bleeds in the flames of Notre Dame. 

We look to the spire, the hand reaching for the heavens, as a symbol of ancient protection. These architecturally beautiful monuments of historical whispers are reminders that there is something divine in this world. They’re a symbol of the bridge between man and the spiritual protector. The burning, crumbling stone evokes emotions akin to a grieving child at the funeral of a fallen parent.  

The bells are ringing in your ears. The bells that sounded so often through the city streets. A vibration that would paint the city in light, if only for a fleeting moment each day. Bells that would say, ‘Remember the true nature of your existence. I’m your protector, your saviour.’

Perhaps the tears are a realisation that the divine protection, that the connection to the spiritual realm, has been been destroyed. Perhaps the men fighting the blaze, frantically trying to save the ruin, are a symbol of our half hearted repentance. Like a man overcompensating when his wife has decided to leave him. He begs and pleads silently as he cleans the house and takes her out for a coffee mid week. But, she’s already destroyed. He can no longer salvage this wreckage. 

I grieve for the loss of such a beautiful cathedral.

Yet, the church isn’t a hand reaching for the heavens as a symbol of ancient protection. It’s a hand reaching down. Despite the fire, the chaos, the despair, this divine connection will be mirrored in the hearts of believers who recognise true, ancient love.

In the end, everything will burn. So what do we do until that day? 

Am I Evil ?

Creatures lurk within the trees,

Alive, unseen without the key.

Gushing winds hide whispering thoughts,

Of ghosts and spells and elvish sorts.

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Damp is the dark bark’s texture beneath your soft hand’s touch.

Gaze upon the majesty whose roots run deep in mud.

The oak was born before your breath and lives beyond your trudge.

All that gaze on ancient art will drown in endless blood.

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Yet, all that do or don’t,

Will suffocate in time.

We try to swim afloat,

But, drink the reaper’s wine.

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The evil thought you had tonight,

The one that gave a light excite,

Will be the ancient snake’s delight,

As much as spells occults recite.

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Written by Randall Evans

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This one isn’t quite done, but I haven’t posted in a while. I’ll be adding to it shortly.

The Valley of Longing

Down your feet take you,

Through mud and deep roots.

Clinging to branches,

As vision dilutes.

 

You slip and you fall,

But you’re ready to see.

The future self’s guidance,

Deep within thee.

 

The journey’s sufficient,

To make you fulfilled.

But right at the bottom,

Is quiet and still.

 

Nothing but clay.

Clay and decay.

The truth of your life

Brings pain and dismay.

 

No inner child,

No voice of the soul.

Yourself cannot guide you,

You’re down in a hole.

 

A selfish puddle,

Of tears in rain.

With the realisation,

You’re lost again.

 

The valley of longing,

Traps all the lost.

A prison organic,

Where children are tossed.

 

To thine own self be true,

Is a beautiful lie.

You’ll slip down inside,

And true truth will die.
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Written by Randall Evans.

The One You Need

Strive to be the one you need,

But search your inconsistency,

For injustice that is thrown on thee,

Reflects your incongruity.

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What are the traits you have in mind?

Are they the ones you left behind?

As you seek it’s true you’ll find,

Staring back your judging eye.

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Double standards in your heart,

So within yourself is where to start.

Look deep within and strip apart,

The real sin inside your heart.

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For kindness to find be kind.

If selfless you seek, rewind.

The values you must align,

Should shine from a place inside.

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Seek the one who makes you whole,

And be the one you’d want to know.

So when connection wakes your soul,

Your seeking heart can be on show

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Strive to be the one you need,

But search your inconsistency,

Remember words graced from above,

Your neighbour as yourself you love.

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Written by Randall Evans.

If you like it, hate it or appreciate it let me know in the comments below. I also love reposts… and chocolate chip cookies.

Deflated

Deflated are my insides as I try to take a breath.

Just an empty shell as I refuse to get some rest.

I lack all the energy to beg and scream and yell.

The demon’s back to haunt me for I chose to ring his bell.
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My soul is missing from my breath, but I found him in this pen.

I can not see the light from here or any way to end.

My words are working magic now that I can’t feel inside.

Art will never save us all, it’s just a way to hide.
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I wish to live without the pain, but pain is what I am.

When suffering is self induced you give up on the plan.

Nothing matters in my mind, everything is gone.

Why’d I choose to ring his bell? The best of me was on!
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Hunger pains when I can’t eat.

Insomnia when I need sleep.

Poison pulsing through my veins

I can not stand the day to day.
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Will the demon let me go?

And if so, will I know?

How much evil lives inside

My deflated self that I must hide…
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Written by Randall Evans

Strings

The fiddle gently pulls him under,
The cozy sounds of distant thunder.
He is but a fool.
Seduced
by notes from in the sea,
As tears to widow’s misery.
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Depths of sorrow beyond the tree,
A place where sun and sky can’t see.
Empty in himself.
The centre of the broken clock,
Where time is lost, but never stops.

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He hears the devil play each note,
The strings of death that pull and choke.
He eagerly descends.
Seduction pure, true, unfair,
In prison now with
body bare.
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Evil thoughts and evil deeds,

He throws his coins at Devil’s feet.
Darkened is his heart.
He’ll play until the final dawn,
The final day when comfort’s gone.

Written by Randall Evans (while listening to Edvard Grieg).

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The Honest Poet Bleeds The Most

I can not wake,
I can not sleep.
This heart is heavy,
I am weak.

My eyes don’t see,
They only weep.
My love is gone,
And hope I seek.

What is this path you’ve given me?
Where brothers die and lovers flee?
The me inside has but one key,
And now I’m locked in misery.

I heard her pain as she cried out,
Her heart was broken in her shout.
I’ll take that with me ‘till I die.
As well as our last kiss goodbye.

I held her hand and made her mine,
Each day her eyes would light the sky.
My heart I handed in a box,
Without the thought that I’d be lost.

I’m drowning down in all my pain,
Fragmented self is barely sane.
A broken man, I am again,
Cold, alone, in the rain.

I heard your song, it broke me down.
My tears were falling to the ground.
Have mercy on this sinners heart
I need your love, I’m torn apart.

I know you put her in my sight,
To show me love and end the night.
But, now I’m here and no one knows,
Who I am, my inner woe.

Yet, I don’t care for happy days,
Just for her, to keep her safe.
I do not care if I decay,
Just be with her, that’s what I pray.

Written By Randall Evans

Random Liquid Thoughts

The soundscape of water.

The undercurrent tone.

What is reality ?

These waves ?

Waves from wind, wind forms windows, windows into further dimentions of experience.

Under the surface, a expancive melody plays. Can you hear it? I can feel it.

Wait for the sun to set over graveties prisoner.

Wait for the lights to cast over this earths silk gown.

Mirrored reflections of golden light, ever changing, rolling, burning the back of my eyes.

What a strange idea it is, the idea that an object can float in water. How strange are the ships that carry people back and forth over ever changing, overlapping liquid matter. What is this surface?

What is this divide ?

Two worlds collide.

Flip me over, make me drown…

Don’t look down.

Im nothing but a moving shadow in the sun.

Don’t look down.

– By Randall Evans.

Funeral

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The bitterness of death swims in my blood.
But I can’t feel it.
There’s a dizzying warmth in the room,
Faces from the past share smiles that scream.

Walking beneath the waves, beneath the sea.
Someone took the wheel from me.
We all become part of the same organism.
And this monster is drowning but can never be drowned.

I’m a shell. An invisible shell.
Tear stained faces glance, but they’ll draw nothing from me.
I’m empty. I’m numb.
The memories haven’t died, he’s here somewhere. Somewhere…

In the corner of your eye you see him.
In the laugh of a stranger you hear him.
The flood gates of pain spill inside.
But I can’t feel it. I won’t feel it.

Why are you laughing?
Where has mine gone?
Why can’t I feel it?
Where are my tears?

Run from the room.
Hide in the corner.
In the darkness of your soul.
Don’t interact. Don’t let them steal anything from you.

Emotionless. Motionless.
It broke my friends.
They are broken like me.
Where is the light?

Death takes the invisible.
The eyes are empty.
The day ends with the taste of women’s tears and cheap perfume.
Please give me piece.

Put us back together.
Let us laugh. Let us cry.
I need to feel.
Was it really I who died ?

Please God!

I need to feel.

I need to feel.

– By Randall Evans.

The Sail

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When! When can we see the stars for what they are?

Constellations causing mutilations of a map in mind and heart.
They change our bearings, and our minds, like whispers in the dark.
Disillusioned, discontent; Spinning in a jar.

It’s getting hot, but he never stops.
It’s getting hot, but he’ll hit the spot.
The stars a map and the map is death.
They were never the same when his innocence left.

He’s been there before, the place on the map.
It draws him still closer…
The spring inside is poison and the waterfall is black.

Law of nature,
And of time.
There is nothing,
In this life.

Vision in the season of depletion,
Incompletion.
Repletion of all but the reason.

For strife in man.
Is here to stay;
Separate…
Emancipate…

Revealed by desire,
By a simple smile.
No barrier between self and liar.

To wish upon a falling star.
To wish upon a falling star.

– By Randall Evans.