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AFX “Fenix Funk 5”

If there’s one thing I am not, it’s disillusioned
Just to lay to rest any confusion
Have never seen so clearly
Never nearly spoken so sincerely
No need to forgive any intrusion

No judge or jury in the land could fault my execution
Default me on my brand of elocution
Some believe I do this for my own sick amusement
Yet, this has never once been ever proven

How could it be when all you see is all of me
Regardless of the fate that day befallen me
Not one for acting cautiously or backing off enormously
When faced with the enormity of trusting that which formerly made fool of me

Life may do its level best at stalling me
Informing me there’s no grounds for applauding me
According to the boarding pass, I’m classed as mere economy
A novelty who commonly has policy for acting out appallingly

Not one for the provoking of controversy
Not one for algebra or trigonometry
Solid in geometry, adept in sociology
I guess that makes me something of an oddity

In honour of the fallen, I proceed
In spite of those who question my esteem
Stampeding interbreeds who could not possibly conceive of something honestly perceived to make us scholars of belief
It beggars disbelief how such endeavors live to breathe
When there’s a never-ending story to be boldly told of stolen gold reclaimed
Of fortune, fame and chivalry

So bitterly opposed to those bestowed with stout devout
Committee of lost souls with no real hope of being found
To pity them means sparing them a thought that they could never entertain
For critically they’re never once at liberty to free the second brain

Have seen it time and time again
Not keen to watch it over
More inclined to climb ahead
Than find my own fate hasten to decline again
Misshapen by the crying games of those whose eyes may never quite align again

Broken wings with no willing to fly again
Rather find the kind to stand upright against
Those inclined to lead the line beside me, not behind me
Rather like my spleen just where it is, you see
Not altogether keen to wean myself from hard-earned dignity
Should misery love company then good luck with the other me
The one who gives a quarter of a fuck for ducking shrapnel as it nips and tucks and grapples at a critical recovery

I may be many things
But disillusioned I am not
Not simply blowing hot and cold for sake of it
Life is moulding putty with a lovely list of cool shit we can make of it
Should we cancel out the phantasm and wake from it

Mine are but the smelling salts of welling pools and telling thoughts
Not the type for spreading false illusion to the masses
Got the right to have my say, providing I compose for those who won’t deny my voice its right of way
For I will never cease until the one fine day arrives
That I stand proudly in Valhalla with my chosen Viking tribe

Reunited with my brother
In an infinite of honour
I see clearly on this day
I feel mightily of brave

A most knightly enclave
Of the seen
No illusion
Just an endless stretch of sea

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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