Carousel of Courage




The following recital is delivered both intensely and powerfully. With Viking brave, the greatest light exists within its spoken shade. Choose to take my hand and we shall make this venture grand. Head towards the distant lights and I shall see thee at the quay. Bid to tell of thine journey, for I shall tell of mine.



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Enya “Boadicea”





The world it still turns
My heart still beats, albeit weakly
Once a blank canvas to paint as I see fit
Now a writ of error overwritten in graffiti
Needs and aspirations lie beneath me
Only desperation to bequeath me
The world it still turns
Yet, my heart it retreats akin to runestone in the tomb of Nefertiti


This recovery will not be speedy
Life was never meant to be that easy
Need to wince at every pain, convince my heart to beat again as death becomes the one thing left entreated to compete against
Recoiling like a dragon slain
Toiling just to breathe again
Poison in the bloodstream as I douse the flame in gasoline
And head downstream to never ever bleed the same
Should I now recede into the one place where the sun don’t stream
Then I’ll be stone cold dead around mid-May
Each nightfall I delight in my dismay
Misery loves company, endorses thoughtless play as the remorse I feel deprives my rightful say
Bedazzled by the stars of disarray
I look into the clear night sky and feel obliged to turn away
Only hell is left to pay and funds are long depleted
Run of fortune petered out, devout all but defeated
Needed to be treated like a diamond in the rough
Gleaming just enough to turn blind eye to the decay
Now replaced by coals that supersede my blindest faith
Ruins litter my entire terrain


The world it still turns
The universe still guides me
Howbeit, space and time are only hastened by denial less they be incubated gainfully inside me
Find within me that residing deep beneath the veil of grief parading
Sign the dotted line to the most righteous of beliefs pertaining
I can find a way through night to day through silent brave that paves a way through spray of dying trees that sway
The world it still turns
This flame of mine forever burns
Shall do so far beyond my dying day


The passageway to soul is fraught with peril and distraction
Many of us tend to counteraction as we lend scant light to shade and thus deny ourselves the true wealth of diffraction
All the while, we choke on the inaction
Hope that this will open up the floodgates to our lovelace as we piss away all token benefaction
Epidural numbing each contraction
Painted murals cracking as we lack the tools to overrule compaction
Fate in full and absolute exaction
Hatefully it underpins each splintering subtraction
Taking back containing fat and pounds of flesh we dress for less than blessed liquefaction
Fear of death bygone us, ending all that we possess
Code of honour broken under notion less is more
Hemoglobin clotted as we plot our own demise
Bid farewell to sense and feeling
Seal the well revealing something
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
Nothing of response beyond the trap door in the floor


The world it still turns
Though not so certain anymore
These crops of mine still yearn
Though the greens are dulled by burden, not so verdant anymore
Howbeit, each excursion offers sheath and grain to harvest
Through catharsis I defy, this sempiternal flame of mine forevermore shall burn
The world will still turn
My heart will still beat unique tempo
While openly tarnished, the varnish of hope will renew
And I shall make it through to crescendo


We are tribe
Only truth now exists in our eyes
We’re the burning amber glow of sunrise
We’re the cheese within the moon
We’re the wishful dishes running side-by-side with spoon
We’re the kind of dignified uprising, striving through to peaceful resolution to the brutal mutiny of strife
We’re the souls once lost, now found in blackened eyes of sorrow
Remains of day bled into famed tomorrows
Where chronic pain still begs to borrow strength we don’t possess
Where broken hearts still smart within our prised wide open chests
Where mental health makes stealth address
In never less fragmented quest to dispossess the best of us and muddle up the rest


The world it still turns
Yet, we live and duly learn
Pass it on to those adored
Thread daisy chains parading all our flaws
Hearts of fire and melting ice with ancient Viking cause
Effecting better dressed tomorrows
Souls that shine through eyes bereft of intent lessening through sorrow
We shall overcome and rise again
Paint the charcoal skies again
Technicolor bursting rays of brave and resolution
Focused on solution
To the problems that we face
In favour of the one defining faith
Saviour to the souls we bid embrace


The world it still turns
Spins wildly on its axle
Howbeit, now encouraging this carousel of courage
Need no Ark of Covenant for providence in prominence of honour of exclusive tabernacle
Moreover, we’re no novices to battle
Shall bleed each demon of its thieving thirst
Release the shackles binding curse
Teach ourselves and others of the infinite in worth
Turn the whole world upside down
Reverse the gears and commandeer polarity
Be the definition of locution to the one true chosen family
This is not, will never be about me
The world still spins about me as the earth dries at my feet
This Viking heart of mine hath now been vanquished mortally
Yet, the flame within me blazes on immortally
Warm thine hands upon its glow
Change the world
Go make it so





Richard Charles Stevens


Keeper of the Crimson Quill





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  1. Apparently dark and insinuations of death but no! Your flame within will NEVER burn out and all your demons will be exorcised.

    Amazing work Viking Lion

    1. I yearn it so, dear Koala. Not nearly as tormented as I may seem, thanks to the courage gleaned from the kindness I see.

      Have been frightful at responding to comments here and, for that, I am very sorry. You see, it is here where words mean the very most. Here where they shall always be.

      Thank you for choosing to dance within the light of my soul.

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