Jagged Little Quill

Featured art by Cameron Gray

Listen to Pulse Power by Dynatron

In search of the incredible
Tombstone barely legible
Wide awake at my own wake
And death revealed as mostly fake
This ain’t my natural habitat
The brochure lied, this ain’t my time to sign away my right of way and pine away, resigned to fate no kinder than a blind man’s hate
Exposed the lies to find a truth long since denied by undermining eyes
Staring down the barrel of first prize, only in hindsight
Wearing down last nerve as I swerved curveball after curveball
Only remedy was herbal and I barely had the verbal tools to make a call when taking falls for blatant cause to no effect at all
Had just cause to call myself respectable for bringing down my walls just like a wrecking ball, endorsing force to reckon with
Both rise and fall were beckoning, addressing in oppressive calm
For all my qualms, I chanced my arm at aiming for the former
To make the climate warmer, threw some black coals on the sauna
Heat was rising, darkness falling
All-in at the river blind
Arrows in my quiver but no given line of sight
Given I was out of time, I walked the line less traveled by
Blood got thinner, plot grew thicker, heart then quickened, in a beat unraveled
One foot in the widow chamber, other some place some way stranger
Good job then, my middle name is danger
In search of the incredible
All bitter pills were edible
Worse case was theoretical
A betting man would be a fool to pass up such a whimsical narration 
The borders of imagination didn’t check my passport
If that makes me an immigrant, then pull me up a bar stool
Pour one for the road as, where I’m headed, have no need for roads
Activated nodes and they proposed I go for broke
Plug in baby, forward facing
Fully charged, departing docking station
Clocking air miles, breaking limits
Hopes were hopeful, dreams infinite
Soul awakened, staking claim on all restrained within it
This was the incredible
And never ever had a fall afforded such a timely rise, arrive within the nick of time
This is where the answer lies
To timeless questions, dignifying answers passed on, half cut or denied
Passed up walking lines of talking heads and their drip-fed designs
Bled some clots and watched them drop like tears for fears when dying trying
Crying me a river blind
All-in before the sunrise
Having broken idle cycle
Felt inclined to watch the skyfall
House of Tarot scattering, yet mattered not where they might fall
Every spirit needs some guidance
Every keeper needs a finder
Force, mass, motion
Merely token
Search the soul cage, prise it open
Broken vinyl can still play
Igniting stylus deep inside us
Touch of Midas
Clutching straws
Rebel hearts no longer paused
Found ourselves uncommon cause
Would seem mean not to share it
All in at the river blind to rightfully declare it
Space and time continuum, we tear a hole straight through it
Once we learn the only way to do it

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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