Keeper of the Crimson Quill – who on earth is he? With a pen full of ink formed of sacrificial lambs blood. A Twitter account run by a demon singing ‘Tiptoe Through The Tulips’ as he relentlessly spreads the macabre word. Wow this guy doesn’t tweet, he snarls.
Is that really true about the Grue?
Fucking absolutely not. Take time to actually hear those words before you snap judge. Or snap judge your narrow minded necks. Rhyme and verse range from beautiful to terse. Even romantic to borderline Satanic but that’s how life is. And share with you his life, he does wholeheartedly.
Words are fine art, expression of innermost thoughts and feelings. More intimate than painting because you begin to understand the writer. Understand his style, his use of language and admirable freedom of expression. Expressing yourself honestly within frigid socio-political boundaries is as real as you can get. No beating about this burning bush.
Keeper of the Crimson Quill, Lion, King of the Grueheads… ponder how a lion can be unseen, ignored, taken for granted. He guards his chosen family who are ultimately his pride. A pride of lions. There’s the irony. The word “pride”. This strong caring beast, capable of much, spends time in the shadows. Under the shaded sanctuary of a tree where the sunlight won’t harm him.
Even a lion has to step out from the shadows to be seen by all. Whether feared by the masses or loved by his pride and even the South African pouched mouse. Aesop’s Fable about the Lion and The Mouse teaches that no-one should be despised. And staying in the sunlight ensures you’ll be seen.
Stand on all fours with your mane blowing in the warmth, warmth from the Grueheads who see you, get you and boy, do you matter much.