Up The Downstair

 Up The Downstair is an original work, inspired by a song of the same name by Porcupine Tree, and has been published in All of Me Vol. IV, courtesy of Shadow Spark Publishing. Title art is by Robin Isely.

Listen to Up The Downstair by Richard Charles Stevens

Listen to Up The Downstair by Porcupine Tree

Up the downstair
Neither here nor there
On a wing and corresponding prayer
Damned if I do
Just as damned if I don’t
Unresponsive
Nothing to declare

Walking on razor blades littered in my path
Heartbeat intermittent as it quickens to its last
Overcast the skies once clear
Fasting on the prize most dear
Every star that ever came to pass
Sun and moon at odds and evens
Obstinate to lost allegiance
Neither care reveal the secret
Left to curiosity and bled the generosity of chance
Every orthodox philosophy
Each language, tongue and prophecy
Disarming of monopoly
As neither dare advance
All four seasons bound by circumstance
Unforeseen of lips and hands and hearts
Labored in stagnated lands
All the while, the indignation smarts
Crippled by the razor blades littered in my path

Up the downstair
Neither here nor there
On a wing and unresponsive prayer
Only god forgives I hear
Though all I honour and hold dear
Suggests this testimony to bear undertones of insincere
Diagnostics
Neither here nor there
Faith adoptive
Something to declare

Please allow for pronouncement of beautiful death
Such announcement exempt of all provable debt
May appear to resound of unsuitable mesh
Midst rumour of surrendering abound
Howbeit, life can be profound
And not a one thing less
When arousing from sentence of dutiful breath
Unendowed of repentance
Empowered to venture the grounds and peruse as we choose our adventures
All rules are a ruse
Possibilities endless
Should beautiful death be extended
Then lives need not be quite so needlessly ended
No dearly departed
No eulogy imparted
No deceased to be mourned
Or impedance forewarned
Sometimes a heart must stop before we start it
Seek the very deepest beat of artist
I have died many times
Been kissed briskly to life
Heartbeat intermittent as it quickens in delight
Unpersuaded by razor blades littered in my path
All the while, the sun and moon are seen of lips and hands and hearts
Through all four seasons dare advance
In piquancy resume their dance
And every star that ever came to pass
Sparkles like a diamond in the skies of everlast

Up the downstair
Everywhere declared
Honoured wings
No need for hymns or prayers
Just a single reason to give freely to self-care
View defeat as neither here nor there
Life can be profound
Should death remind us of its beauty
Midst rumours of immunity abound
Much rather die alive than wake up dead
Once we find the clearing best to rest our weary heads
‘Tis here, in waking life
We resurrect

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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