Those corners that you can’t see in
They have an appetite
The dark is hungry
And it is not afraid
You walk by, your mind heavy with concern
Daily, your nine to five kills God
Your eye for an eye, leaves you in the dark
In the dark and vulnerable
To the teeth
The razor
Smile in the sunshine
The elderly smell of Vanilla and butterscotch cookies.
They smile with no teeth, and when they do smile with teeth
It’s a falsehood.
They have lost their pearls long ago
Lost them to the fire of youth
They have also lost their marbles
They have lost them in the shade
They have given them up to shadows
Shadows they could not shake
Shadows that would confound beliefs
Shadows that would strike calm and collected
Shadows are everywhere
There’s a reason our eager fingers flick at light switches
There’s a reason we shudder at the thought of basements and attics
There’s a shadow sailing within us, sailing towards shore
They look for birds, they listen in for sharp sounds
The shadow wants to eat, fish, crabs and your soul
When you receive fist, give embraces
Laces out.
Shadow assassin in my heart.
Fire shooting from my eyes
My throat an oil lamp
My finger tips are flares
My tongue, a sulfur chip
My spine a rocket ship
My my mind a distant planet
You. Astronaut.
Fly.But.Beware.Of.Shadows.
Robert Volkerts
12 Gun salute outside an office building
Blank faces staring on, thunder clapping from barrels.
45 minutes from the wreckage site, the city is restless tonight.
Flower petals, twisted metals, here we are alive and well.
Pep in your step on the the way to the bakery, pick yourself up some warm pie.
Eat it all by yourself under the bridge, with the soul of the city looking on.
Another day another dollar. You’ve got a pocket full of lint today.
Play me some of that blues, let it hit me like a battering ram.
Pummel my chest and devour my soul, play those horns like the devil tonight.
Skipping and jumping, harp players and feet stomping.
This is Chicago now, this is the city where the wind knows no bounds.
This place has a ghost, and it haunts the citizens, it chases you from hiding places.
How safe are you now, now that the light hits your face. Revealing signs of age, the wear and the tear.
Keep me warm, lukewarm even. Because I need it tonight. Something’s howling and it’s out for blood.
I don’t want to be captured, I don’t want to be tortured, baby, keep me hid.
Gestapo’s here, and they wants some answers, they want me to answer for things I did not commit.
My hands may be red, but that’s because I’m the bleeder. Don’t cuff me, don’t set me up against that wall.
My shoes were made for walkin’, let me walk away from this, let me have my sunset drive down the boulevard.
I want to get away from my shadow, I need to escape my fate. Baby, don’t you hold your tongue.
Speak up, be my alibi, be my best chance of survival.
C’mon now, it’s just another day in this city, and it just might be my last.
Save me.
The people are still dancing in that old club down town.
That old jukebox is still turnin’ out those old tunes.
That bakery still has the best bread in town.
That dog still wags its tale at passers by.
And my heart still beats for you.
So cut me loose mama, cut me loose, and let me be gone.
Chicago, I love this city.
Blacken my eyes, sink my name in a little black book.
Put it away in a little dark room, with your palpable red light on, where pictures are developed.
Images guilty of unraveling the mystery of man, images teasing the fact that we are in fact coming apart at the seams.
Blacken my eyes, and make me walk the plank.
Tell me that you’ll let me go with pearls around my neck, I’d like to believe you but they feel so heavy on my skin.
And I walk, steady and slow, like thick honey dripping down coarse bark.
One foot in front of the other I tell myself, sooner or later you are bound to get there.
Do I even care to get there? Isn’t it all about the journey and not about the destination?
The journey happens to be waning. The journey happens to turn my stomach. I love it.
I lose my footing, thank goodness they made it easy for me. It was a short drop with a sudden stop.
Blacken my eyes, place a sack over my head. I punch walls until it’s unclear whether it is my knuckles that give way or concrete.
All I hear is brittle cracking, like an old fire, or barefoot travels over a sea of Tony the Tiger’s finest.
These days seem like an old record. Over and over but it’s never really over.
Masochistic thoughts on humid days, the taste of tobacco fresh on my tongue with a hint of scotch whiskey. Techno trip hop whatever blazing in my ears.
Obsessing over the past, a past before I was around. Cadillacs, Chuck Berry, milkshakes, drive ins, blues guitar, good honest people and “no particular place to go”.
Obsessing over a future that peeks over the horizon. Sleek ergonomic designs, pale white, bright screens, soft textures, digital love, digital hate, digital fuck, digital cheat, digital frost, digital heat, human rights, religion, war, sanitizing conditions, sterile landscapes, bright colors, post apocalyptic eclectic, eccentric, bizarre, digital pillow fights over digital ben and jerry’s.
Blacken my eyes, sail me of to the Mediterranean and save me from this cage. I feel like a rhesus monkey held captive just to see when he loses his mind exactly.
Probe me, poke me, fuck me, choke me, cannibalize me. I break.
Allow me to marvel at architecture, allow me to make contact, allow me to land on distant moons with silver spoons, allow me to live a little, allow me to die a little.
Blacken my eyes, Wednesday mornings are so random, the start at the middle of the middle in the middle. Life gets so simple when you seriously forget the time. You can literally stop time if you do that. You don’t age, you don’t worry, you don’t do anything but observe all the time. From the outside looking in. A scientist, a stowaway on a comet, with a telescope, some literature, and some red wine, cackling his way to infinity. How small we look from this distance. The pale blue dot and its inhabitants. The divine comedy and Dante’s inferno. Pish Posh.
Blacken my eyes!
Intellectual conversations in crowded rooms with sleek buffoons.
Tongue like a razor blade, body like a body bag, take in the dead, afterlife be wed.
See through the forests, see through the trees, see the nectar bleeding from the honey bees.
What’s left to sanction, what’s left to love, what’s left to carry in wounded hands, covered up with velvet gloves.
The wolves are in peril, the sheep are the meek, shepherd cashing in on losing streaks.
Don’t panic with your eyes wide open, try to scream with your mouth sewed shut, you better pray that your God’s awoken, and that he can mend his paper cuts.
So where were you when these bombs were falling, did you even care to look to the skies, Don’t holler at me when death is calling, and your soul is a feast for flies.
So this is what it’s like to be crippled and broken, so this is what it’s like to be overwhelmed, nothing but your white lies to choke on, and all hope is just shot to hell.
So run to the meadows when dawn approaches, blow the horn when you’re ready to tell, what will you give when the foes approach us, will you sell your soul to escape this hell?
Your eyes always wander off to greener pastures, where the sun would always shine on you, When you could get lost inside this rapture, and bathe in skies of blue.
When it’s too good to be true it often is, So never take this with a grain of salt, you are my friend between parenthesis, and all this shit really is your fault.
You have black tear streaming down your face, and you live in this distasteful place, You drug yourself with foolish intentions, you drug yourself cuz you enjoy the chase.
Your face is numb from the tiles below you, your hands are tied behind your back, So this heavy burden I bestow you, over your head a thick black sack.
We don’t want you to see where your going, not more than you know where you’ve been, you better call of all the watch dogs, the police had better call it in.
Stop trying to walk this cold hard mile, your legs were never built for this, you and the reaper waltz down the isle, to spend forever in wedded bliss.
You live together in a wooden coffin, you spend your days trimming the breeze, Your lies laid bare because your clothes are rotten, they locked you up and threw away the key.
Those funny shadows dancing down the sidewalk, the funky clutter of the fax machine, the crows stalking up the cornstalks, the dirty smell of gasoline.
For every child that’s been raped and molested, for every homeless man who’s cold, there’s a dead body so well rested, they’ve overslept since the days of old.
So your eyes they gather the sunlight, to try and recapture some youth, the death of you symbolizes a black kite, flying high to expose the truth.
That there never was a brave man, who stood up for the things he did, he lives his life like an old tin can, long since separated from his lid.
And there never was a reason for the things you’ve done, you just did em cuz they’re plain old fun,
and so you’ve killed a countless many, and now the graveyard’s overrun.
So now you died a tad too early, and now you’ll never get to see the sun, you’ll pay for everything quite surely, your siren’s song has now been sung.
So goodbye Stackshot, it’s been quite a run, seems like yesterday that your tale’s begun, kicked off your pedestal and died by the gun.
That last bullet sure did a number on your heart, and it hollowed out the soul, you were bleeding a rose red, from a heart as black as coal.
No one attended the funeral, no dared come around, no one wanted to pay respects, but they surely wanted you in the ground.
The priest got his tongue stolen from an alleycat, didn’t bother taking the suit to the laundromat, still smelled like the remains of a sewer rat, and cheap booze from when he couldn’t face facts.
And that was the ceremony held for the man, they pulled out the red carpet to show you out, they would never expect you to understand, just what all this hoopla was about.
You never asked for much, you never gave a damn, you were a dirty old fuck, you were that kind of man.
Retreat to the clouds, harbor in mist, I would hope no one up there ever crosses you, lest they forget your iron clad fist.
Die, dead, be gone, shoo, fly, ahead, forgone, be true.
You don’t walk like the son of a king
And she don’t grin like a queen to me
We give heed to nothing
Wrap ourselves in sin
And dream of polygamy
But don’t you see, you can barely see?!?
It’s the price we pay to be composed
Of lies and honesty, of flesh and bones
It the price we pay to be unknown
Just to slip away and left alone
This doesn’t feel like freedom does it now?
Shackles and chains wearing you down?
Does your skin feel like porcelain somehow?
Do you feel encrypted at sundown?
The stars are out, get your fingernails ready
You hold your heart in your hand, so keep it steady
Obviously skin and blood
Surely a bit misunderstood
Take your time, watch your pace
Age owes you many wrinkles on your face
Faced with truth, so you ran…
Faced with the simple and obvious truth
You are son of man
John Lennon said to Kurt Cobain
On the barren wasteland of time
We are nothing but a stain
climb cathedrals with your bare hands face the wind and rain like a man
“but how can i climb when i can barely stand”
“it’s not the flesh that ascends i though you’d understand”
“you must climb now, the price is steep for good souls are in high demand”
“your requests all seem like cruel demands”
“there is no request hard enough for the son of man”
So run, and claw at the wall set your mind right, keep the light in sight, and you will never fall if you manage to reach the top, do it in the name of young souls because all that’s bad in this world has long taken it’s toll so climb on my son, for you have a long way to go before we can see all these children grow.
heads are rolling. and every head is a feather on the back of the blackwinged bird
not long to go till he can fly his way to the sun, carrying a message that says “extinguish”
from the ashes of the sun our phoenix will rise
fly over the masses while growing in size
the battle takes place over darkening skies
the sound of thunder cancels out or cries the blackwinged bird to meet its demise
by the wings of fire on which we fly
our time is now
So run, and claw at the wall set your mind right, keep the light in sight, and you will never fall if you manage to reach the top, do it in the name of young souls because all that’s bad in this world has long taken it’s toll so climb on my son, for you have a long way to go before we can see all these children grow.
on top of cathedrals we hitch our ride on the wings of the phoenix with God on our side.
so in these dark times make fire your bride
let’s light up horizons killing places to hide.
now the fire has finished its dance in the dark
our bodies are washed by the rain from the sparks
we stand on fields surrounded by feathers of stone
we open our eyes to find the children have grown.
Sometimes it hurts
Sometimes freight trains can be very unforgiving
Sometimes I fail to breathe correctly
And my heart skips a beat
Sometimes you look at me just the right way, to make me love you just right
Sometimes you make my stomach turn, and i feel like nails running down the ol’ chalkboard
Sometimes the river does lead to sea as people say, others, it’s a dead end
I feel like dew drops, finally settling on petals of flowers in an endless field
I feel a sense of purpose, I feel like i fulfill a small task, belonging to a plan of a much larger scale
A plan we can’t see, or smell, or taste or touch at all, we are left senseless, like a dog beaten for something beyond its limited understanding
Are we worthy of pity? Are we worthy of praise?
Are we even eligible to be worthy, of something, if anything, at all?
Sometimes it makes sense, and comes together like the sunset.
Warm tones, and hues, distinct, and a little out there in nature, yet they merge into an infinite, and blissful potpourri of life.
An orchestra of creation and destruction that feels like my skin tightening up, makes me feel young and immortal.
So, what is it you want? Do you take sugar with your coffee? One lump or two? Milk? Yes, please.
I bow out, a satisfied customer, yet again, always at your service.
I love you.
My dust covered eyelids beg..
They beg to create
They want to create mud
Lukewarm, Thick, Rich..Mud.
Water is not as abundant as it should be.
Tears neglect to flow, much like a child, stubborn and hardheaded from its parents.
Motivation is lacking, even my empathy can’t trigger the flood.
It seems I’m all about mortality as of late.
It intrigues me, makes me tick.
I ponder of it, i fear it, i love it, i hate it.
What is my stance towards the time bomb inside each of us?
I have embraced so much in this short life.
But how does one embrace the count down of breath, a fading heart beat.
I’m sure the very first one was heard across great distances, shattering silences in tiny dark basements.
Chasing dust bunnies away in the coldest of hearts.
Will the last one be anything like that one initial heartbeat?
Can my heart encore it’s preliminary role as a banshee?
That last one should be like a yawn, a yawn that just stretches on and on.
So lazy, so procrastinating..putting off the sudden stop.
Like the tide under a full moon, making sail ships rock like old lovers making love for the last time, much like the first time.
The final stand of a samurai, always followed by the steady dawn.
The final shot of a cowboy, leaves the gun smoking for a long long time.
The thought of that might inspire the shower I’ve been longing for, might instigate the creation of mud.
The thoughts on, the waning beginning and the lazy ending.
My heart sighs, as it lifts handbrakes, leaving a skid mark into infinity.
It is so taxing to care. To ponder, to grow out of your shell.
In essence I am but a snail.
Humble and slow.
Like thick honey.
Wasting my time, but enjoying the view.
Stopping to smell the roses.
And so like a cupboard, containing sugar, and spices, of all colors and textured and tastes, and smells.
My eyes collect dust.
Dust bunnies thrive upon my watchful eyes.
Awaiting the dew drops. Awaiting the rain.
The final ingredient to create..rich…thick..mud.
The city that sleeps beneath the waves is silent tonight
There’s a light breeze blowing under the pale moonlight
There’s a solemn prayer to bring this city to life
All of creation waits for this His breath to arrive
The breath of the One who saw this city alive
Lady in the water ascend from the waves
Damsel of the seven it’s you that we crave
Your sheets flow in the wind like a flag for the free
“Would you pull the ruins from the seafloor for Me?”
And so as they wait, a gale has arrived
The conclusion of matters for which they have strived
Loud claps of thunder as stale air collides
The lady is seen as gale forces subside
For this one occasion even God and The Devil put differences aside
She rises from the depths and the sirens sing
For all of creation knows of what she brings
Around her the fish swim through thin air
And the breeze moves like God’s fingers through her hair
Even through this the Earth still moves as if unaware
Following her the pillars appear
The ones I’ve been told are the parents of fear
They rise from the waters monumental in size
The skies open up to receive them as if to claim their prize
The siren’s song is deafening tonight
Not even the bravest of birds would dare to take flight
So here we are to see its return
The one city that could never be burned
They claimed it to be built from gold that was stolen, not gold that was earned
So all of creation worked together to see its might overturned
It took all of creation, all of its might, to make Atlantis fall silently into the night
Wave after wave they threw at its walls, but for centuries The city of cities would not fall
For long the surface has bathed in its light, light of the sun reflect off the gold, and showers the world in white
So when the ocean beckoned, Atlantis heeded its call, it was out of free will and not weakness that Atlantis came to fall
After many moons the surface has grown weak without the tyrant’s gaze
The entire surface grew meek with the days; they needed a watchful eye to see through the haze
And so one night they came to the creator, for it is to Him and Him alone to which creation caters
In a desperate favor, repenting its sin, creation beckoned him to bring Atlantis to the surface again.
So He sent a prayer out with a sighing breath, so His servant can relieve Atlantis of death
When the prayer reached the ears of the servant she called on the weather to wield the current
So the city of cities is back from the depths
And all of creation watched and wept
Tonight God remembered a promise he made and the promise he kept
This city is His own tear that fell from the sky, from the one and only time the creator cried
It’s a constant reminder of when His one and only son died
Not only to Him but a reminder to all, that cultures and nations were built from its walls
Atlantis is forever, the creator will never allow it to fall
Whether on the surface or down below
All of life is lit by its glow
Brick for brick, far and wide, completely of gold, to show that this story must always be told
That way the world of man will forever have something to hold; the tale of the city that couldn’t be sold
The poor will seek its riches and so will the rich, in all conversations the story of Atlantis follows the saying
“Speaking of which…”
But make no mistake when it comes to this, and don’t you ever dare trespass or miss
Atlantis does not belong to us, we belong to it
For it is not by the sun; but by its bricks our world is forever lit.
