Tag Archives: Maiden

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Howard Pyle

Rusty Cage

I Was Attending Worden Alternative School
When the Grunge Scene Hit Full Swing.
Still Jamming to the Misfits & Glenn;
to Seasons …
& Cliff & the Anger At His Loss; Justice …
So Cobain & Chains & Even Garden Were No Maiden;
They Didn’t Even Make my List
Except For a Few Hits.
Just, the Echo of the Seattle Drug Scene;
the Cold Dirty Streets,
the Need,
I Too Have Known the Grip of Addiction,
the Bottle,
the Pill,
the Needle,
the Knife;
But my Oldest Friend
She Be Suicide.
She Came To me In a Darkened Room
While I Attended That Fucked Up School
Whispering In my Ear
Come With me
With Out a Care.
Contemplating What He Did Do,
the Marks On my Hide
Earned me Juvie Time
Not the Big House Yet
That Was Next.
It Was the Epiphany
That Life Had No Place For me.
She Did Not Lie.
Like Starving Rats In a Trap
How we Climb,
the Filthy, Clawing,
Beast That Is Man.
Some Say It Is Cowardice,
But Is It Not
the Biggest Leap of Faith
a Man May Make
to Flee His Rusty Cage
& Soar Free.
I Do Not Know
Nor Have Any Returned.

In Parting
I Will Close This
With a Piece I Wrote
Concerning the Death
of Robert E. Howard.

How can
we Fathom
another
Mans
Soul
or what
Brought
Him
to that
Door
To Live
the Endless
Dream
#B27321

https://theprose.com/post/167233/rusty-cage

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Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Howard Pyle

Howard Pyle

my Pub, Bub

This Is What I Want To Hear, Bub.
After All It Is my Pub.
Some Danzig, Doro, & W.A.S.P.
Throw In Some Papa Roach & Motorhead.
Hell Some Maiden & Metallica To Keep It InSane
& Let Us Not Forget
Our Good Friend Mustaine.
Things To Make you Feel the Rub
& Pull Back a Bloody Nub.
#B27321

https://theprose.com/post/43161/my-pub-bub

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Filed under Prose