the Poetry of Crisis

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[font=&quot]Mood Rise[/font][font=&quot][/font]
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[font=&quot]Epiphelion F.K.E.Q.[/font]
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[font=&quot]And so it comes again,
the inexorable tide rises,[/font][font=&quot]
all of mind turns to the bend.[/font][font=&quot]
The moon of my mood doth rise[/font][font=&quot]
when will it ever end?[/font][font=&quot]
There is a faint yearning[/font][font=&quot]
indeed a little burning, [/font][font=&quot]
a fervent desire to be free, [/font][font=&quot]
rise oh man and take a stand[/font][font=&quot]
you must act if you are to be.[/font][font=&quot][/font]
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[font=&quot]War Camp, Morning[/font][font=&quot][/font]
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[font=&quot]epiphelion[/font]
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[font=&quot] dread and forboding
are a leaden cloak and cowl
thus I'm bid good morning
bipolar plays so foul![/font]
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[font=&quot]countenance of scorning,
can nae b'seein any towel
highland blood is seething
woulds't no play the drow[/font]
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[font=&quot]all my spells a practicing
deep rutted be my brow
warrior wizard sits brooding
face an iron mask scowl[/font]
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[font=&quot]atop cold logic charging
into the fray he'll plow
the muse goes on a musing
and it's time he force some chow[/font]
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[font=&quot]Whirlwind[/font][font=&quot][/font]
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[font=&quot]Epiphelion[/font]
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[font=&quot]Ripped, rent, ruptured,[/font][font=&quot]
control lines severed from my mind.[/font][font=&quot]
Snapped, bent, shattered[/font][font=&quot]
Bipolar takes what should be only mine.[/font][font=&quot]
Whipped, burnt, tortured.[/font][font=&quot]
I/me/mind, screams in the infinity of time.[/font][font=&quot]
Terror full and dread bedecked, [/font][font=&quot]
self gibbers in a corner[/font][font=&quot]
knowing all to well the portents of new horror.[/font]
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[font=&quot]WAR DRUMS
by
Epiphelion F.K.E.Q.[/font]
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[font=&quot]In no small fear do I tread,
mine enemy is surround arrayed, and in full might, awaits,
but first strike is for me now, in this battle for my fate.
Always before 'twas me attacked by this enemy that I hate,
with hatred full and perfect for having taught me how to hate,
and so I go, to tend to mine armor, but with a fear, full great.[/font]
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[font=&quot]Full well I know that in these times disorder is in flux,
and by my step, and upon my deed, is determined my next state.
Indeed, I know for sure that battle doth now loom,
for ‘tis in these times has always been my language full of doom.
But damn it ‘tis not doom I see, as lifes tapestry issues from its loom.
Upon my battle cry, "I think therefore I am, my mind shall be mine own!"
Tis then the pipers go full wind, and war drums begin to boom![/font]
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Suicide is selfish
My Death
All around, dark memories gather.
Dread grows as the headsman's axe falls against my heart.
It severs my essence, and my life's blood drips
to the wicked earth, this earth that is my prison.
In a strange and terrible madness, I dance
while death takes me.
Now alone, my desperation falls upon dead hearts.
This is my only salvation .