words.

Words.
___________

It's amazing the
Madness we can
create with Words.

(which sometimes
restores ones sanity.)

How worlds are
built, and destroyed.

(in the Name of
Creative Vanity.)

Today?

(Fire Perhaps)

Tomorrow?..

(Ice.)

The Future?

(endless
possibilities
Vast.)

But Love?

(tis the only
thing for Words
my soul would
never Sacrifice.)

J.Stephen.H.

if you fall

If You Fall.
(art from the
fractions of a
conversation.)
_____________

Self-Doubt..
hidden behind
the guise of
"ars gratia artis."

Because life
is ugly.

(and death is
no artist.)

Yet if Living
is to Die unnoticed?

Perhaps you
are Living Dead
and just don't
Notice?

(How pieces
of you become
ghosts you fear
to show the world.)

Poe lives in
you...but there's
no ditch waiting
in this life for
you to surrender
your fame to.

This time..

(Love will catch
you if you fall.)

j.stephen.h.

the midnight drummer. (who lost his beat.)

The Midnight Drummer.
(who lost his beat.)
__________________

Everything should be
perfect lord..but I'm
empty.

A Shell Lost at Sea,
going through the motions
of it's undoing.

The air tastes like blood,
and everything sounds the
same to me.

As I sit here waiting
for the Flood... to be
swept away in My own
Odd Mystery.

(which seems to admire
company even more
than classic Misery.)

My Heart is no longer
moved by the simple
things that once seemed
profound, and endowed
with their own secret
complexities.

In fact I think it just
pounds for the pure
hell of it lately...
The Midnight Drummer
who lost His Beat.

(without realizing
The Music of Love
has Died.)

j.s.h.

painful be the muse

Painful Be The Muse.
________________

I am coming to
Discover that My
Mind is at it's
Strongest...
when My Heart
is filled with
Weakness.

Painful be the
Muse!...Yes..
(painful be the
Muse.)

Now I shall
paint for you
a Realistic
Picture of The
Artist in as
few words as
Possible.

(A Man
Without A
Life Imitating
The Life He
Seeks To Live.)

Painful Be The
Muse...

Yes..

(Painful
Be The
Muse.)

j.stephen.h.

trapped. (in my afterthoughts)

Trapped. (in My Afterthoughts.)
_______________________

(This
Morning
I begin)
With a
Parenthetic
Afterthought.

To
Challenge
(The Limits of)
 Creativity.
(If There Be
Any.)

Make No
Mistake..
(about the
Rules I
Break.)
There is
Order.

(to the
Chaos)

And
Harmony.
(In These
Lines.)

I Blush...
(Before
Angels.)
and
Speak..
(To
Devils.)
Because
Human
(All Too
Human)
I Am.

Weak..
(in My
Strength.)
But
(Ultimately.)
Free!

(Though)
Contained..
and (Possibly)
Damned.

(Trapped
in My
Afterthoughts.)

J.Stephen.H.

walking this madhouse ranting

Walking This Madhouse Ranting.
__________________

I've never been one
who believed in sanity..
not really..

For me, the world
has always consisted
of varying degrees
of crazy..

Some Varieties are
Beautiful...

Some are Ugly.

( Others strangely
in-between.)

As for My Love?
She was a Beautiful
Madness..

The Only Kind Capable
of pulling My Soul from
it's Bleak Darkness, to fill
my Heart with Gladness..

but...

Then everything got
Ugly..

So that now it's an
In-Between Insanity
which leaves me on edge..
constantly wondering..
should I leave?...

Or find some Other
Means of Pledge to
convince  her She is
the One for Me..

Even as I Rant and
Grieve the Ghosts who
have Tormented me Now
For several moments
 throughout History.

(Walking this Madhouse
Ranting.)

J.Stephen.H.
(I think...)

a walking suicide.

(A Walking Suicide.)
______________

Why The Labels
we hide behind to
give meaning to
The Fables of Our
Lives? (often
resembling Walking
Suicides.)

Or The Quotations
of Dead Geniuses,
who were made
Ignorant by their
own inability to Live
Beyond the Prisons
of their Tortured
Minds? ( which
others consider
Intellectual Paradise.)

Why this Lie
of Self to Mask the
Truth of Hell we
Burn in Daily because
The Silence of God
Drives Men Crazy?

Wandering Blind
in search of A Light
Everyone Talks About
but few (if any) have
Experienced lately...

Why..
indeed..
am I..
Indeed...

(A Walking Suicide?)

XIII.

(it's not what you
think...I assure you...
he says...just listen..
I implore you...
listen to the dead..
hear the words flee
my head, and sing
to life old memories
art could never reflect...
never..not like this.)

Soup du Jour.

It's beyond ironic, how certain
people can sit conversing for
hours, yet not say ANYTHING
whatsoever.

I hate that. Being lost in a sea
of babbling. Where personal
tastes are thrown out like the
soup-du-jour that others are
expected to devour with int-
erest, when in reality one c-
ouldn't give two shits less.

Today it's music. Of the pop-
cultural variety. The most re-
cent talent-less hack who has
become famous more because
of the image they represent
than any natural, or acquired
ability possessed.

No one really sings anymore.
They just scream their ass off
to a repetitive, monotonous
beat and then try to pass their
nonsense off as creativity..
yet I'm the cynic for pointing
this out to those mouth-breathing
gum-chewers who suffer brain
damage from all the hairspray
they've absorbed through their
suffocating pores? (if so I wear
that label as a badge of pride.)

ah..great (I say from within my
head as the conversation shifts
to more senseless Pop Culture.)
Now it' Books and Literature.
Nice.

Something else that has mostly
DIED at the hands of talent-less
hacks who understand the rules
of grammar but don't know the
first fuckin thing about writing.

Everything now is Vampires
and Werewolves having orgies
with each other mostly. Yet gone
are the intriguing vampires from
days of old who were both mas-
culine, yet seductive and intelligent.

Now, in their stead ,vampires are
sparkly creatures who glitter
in the sun, suffer perpetual teen-
aged angst, and have hair so stiff
you couldn't drive a damn stake
through It. (let alone their narcissistic
hearts.)

Bram stoker would be rolling in
his coffin if he had to witness the
travesty Vampirism has become.

The world at large has become a
cesspool of imitators who rehash
everything that has been done and
redone until people no longer give
a shit.

Everything is a remake of a remake
that will likely be remade again later
on. Sure..the "writing authorities that
be" might add a transexual hero with
bi-polar disorder in there eventually
to make it more Interesting..but, for
the most part, society has not had an
original idea in half a century or more.

(keep that in mind the next time you're
watching the "new" Lone Ranger Movie,
or Lost in Space, Planet of the Apes,
The Adams Family, Leave it to Beaver,
21 Jump Street, the A-Team, Alvin and
The Chipmunks, Star Trek, Yogi Bear,
Garfield, The Smurfs, The endless fuckin
Batman franchises, The Brady Bunch, The
Beverly Hillbillies, Charlies Angels,
I-Spy, Dark Shadows, Doctor Who,
Dragnet.)

The list goes on and on, and while some
of these movies are admittedly GOOD,
and enjoyable to watch..at the end of the
day society relies too much on overdone
rehash and it is KILLING original thinking
for Everyone.

the imaginary sea.

The Imaginary Sea.
__________________

(I speak softly to the Imaginary
Sea.)

"Help Me...
For I Am Drowning."

"and There is no
Release."

(from these many Shadows
stern, and Frowning.)

It Laughs...
in a Voice which
mimics The Dead
(and Dying)
Leaves.

"To The King of Hell!"

"Tis Thee!"

(The Fates are Crowning.)

There are Many Broken Whispers
in This Ocean come and Gone...
but none so strong Reside
(in Memory) as The
Angel of The Dawn..

who (by the Power of Her
Beauty) made Him To
Her Whims a Pawn!
__

(I have drowned I Fear)

In This Sea of Onyx Tears...
where Demons (in their
Trickery) convince me
Love was Never Here.

And Now..
In This Ocean
of Misery..
A Suicide Sonnet
Sings the King...

who (by his death) shall
Haunt the Hearts of Men...
while Damned!

(for All Eternity.)

XIII.

my soul

My Soul.
____________
I envision my
Soul...as a Mouth
in want of bread..
which hungers
endlessly..
Though it's cheeks
are stuffed.

(with countless
memories of the
Dead.)

and Never...
no never..
can it devour
enough.

j.stephen.h.

(((On Making a Difference.)))

(((On Making a Difference.)))
   ____________________

You've already made a Difference.
All Mothers who Love their Children
Have.

The Difference can be seen when
Their eyes Shine with Joy.

(and their Merry Voices Laugh.)

Mother is a Sacred Title. Something
which separates A Woman from A
Girl.

(in fact,.. I think many would agree it's
one of The Most Noble Titles in
The World.)

In Motherhood, you have a Bond which
can never be Broken, and serve thus The
Greater Good.

(unmindful of Reward, or Praises
Spoken.)

Yes..indeed The Difference has Been
made.

(and I HONOR you and Every Mother
for your Soul, and Humble Grace.)

J.Stephen.H.

on univesal dissociation

On Universal Dissociation.
________________________

There is indeed merit to the
claims that We are all energy,
of varying frequencies, but
ultimately of the same "stuff"..
or source.

Yet over time, due to various
political, and personal motiv-
ations, much of the reality of
this view has been fundamentally
flawed, and lost in a sea of
obscurity, in part due to human
fallacy.

While I will in no way attempt
to change the minds, or faith of
anyone with this brief work, I
do beg of you dear reader to lend
your eyes and minds to reason
when examining the propositions
I shall soon lay forth, in hopes
of illuminating you on the Reality
of Universal Dissociation.
__

Getting to the point of matters,
and sparing any attempts at
grandiloquence on my part, I
will begin by asserting my view
of God as A: Universal Conscience,
which began as One, yet (over time)
separated into various modes of
Being due to the Loneliness experienced
during it's Unitary State.

In other words..all things in existence,
are in essence mere dream manifestations
of The God-Head. Or the effects of
The Universal Conscience "dreaming
of itself objectively."

While it's likely this idea may seem
unsettling and even blasphemous to
many of you who were raised/indoctrinated
into a Particular Faith, which stresses
notions such as the age old "battle between
good and evil", one must admit that even by
classic definitions of God (i.e. all
knowing, all seeing, all present, all
powerful) it only seems to be the most
logical conclusion that all things in
existence are merely Divisions from that
Primary State of Being.
_______

Some problems which arise in the
Theory of Universal Dissociation.
____________

Some of the problems which arise from
the theory of Universal Dissociation
involves matters of Identity, Freedom,
and Meaning.

It can (and likely will) be argued that
if all things in existence are mere dreams
within the godhead, then it only naturally
follows that One's sense of Self, or that
"feeling of separateness from other things"
is merely an illusion; and it can then be
concluded (not without merit) that if such
were the case, then we are NOT separate
entities...and there is no real Freedom
of Will.

The World in this scenario becomes a
mere Script within a Script dreamt by
a Supreme Being suffering from Dissociative
Identity Disorder.

This admittedly creates a Logical Paradox
which I have no answers to at the moment.

(to be continued perhaps.)

the pettiness contagion.

the pettiness contagion.

____________________

the pettiness is ...
contagious it seems..
to the extent art
shall thus become the
vehicle by which I
exercise my Rivalry.

Remember the
Spider and the
Fly my Sweet?...

Lo...tis a Dark
and Dreadful
Parlor thou art
entering..

Where LOVE
Is my Sin..
Words

Are my Feast.

and the heart?...
My Heart!!

(A growing
​Disease.)

j.stephen.h.

a predator of my own heart

A Predator unto my Own Heart.
______________________

Why must I
Be..A Predator
of my Own
Heart..?

unable to see!

(Beyond The
Inner Dark.)

I Broke her
Mending
Wings..

before they
had a chance
to Heal..

then sent
her away..
to Be Without
Me.

(left Behind
and trying Not
to Feel.)
_

Why must
Fate be so
Damn Cruel?!

Giving others
a Throne to
sit upon.

(while I'm
left Here with
A Broken
Stool.)
___

and Why must
I Be..

A Predator
of My Own
Heart?

Unable to
See!

(She was
the Light
which saved
me From
The Dark.)

J.Stephen.H.

the tyrant.

The Tyrant.

_________

I'm lost, and 

broken now..

A Tyrant who

only yesterday

had the world

figured out.

It's foolish 

for the damned

to assume there

is salvation in

any Love..

everything ends

the same for me.

Because Angels 

are a Myth.

(and Faith a

Mockery.)

_

I Hope this

is your Desire.

To be set free

from the tyranny

of my Fire..

and walk again

the shinning

halls of Freedom..

as I remain,

(myself)

a Lonely

Heathen...

(Unworthy

of The Goddess

Love.)

_

take care

beautiful.

Love you.

XIII.

sickness

SICKNESS. (a jolly rant.).
_____________________

Sickness spreads
through it's head like
a Cancer.

A Spider feasting
on The Frontal Lobe..
causing a Dissociation
of Self...Irrational
Aggression which seeks
to destroy everything
it sought to build.
____

There is no difference
between being Ignored
and Empty.

One is a Mockery
of Hope which ultimately
leads to NOTHING...
The other?
(a blissfully determinable
reality.)

It knows what Love is.
A Word used to SUCK
you in, and weaken...
letting go only when
you're Hollow...a Lesser
Version of the Thing
You were when The
Chaos of it all made
sense somehow.

It KNOWS what Love
is.

(some OTHER
Mammals Fictitious
WEAKNESS.)
__

Shall we dance?

Another cruel interplay
of words perhaps?

Hateful sentiments,
cold and petty to
mask the Passions
salty Burn!...

(who does not
cherish such fickle
rivalries?)
__

Soon there will
be nothing left
but the Sickness..
spreading through
its head destroying
everything The heart
once sought to feel.

Until..
the sickness...

(is the ONLY
THING left
that's real.)
__

It knows what
love is...

a sad man dying
alone ranting away
the Hours in his
Cell..

wishing Beauty
had made the
difference.
___

Times Up...

XIII.

no puppet to the fiction

No Puppet to The Fiction
__________________

Cast no Fictitious
Love before me..
and spare those
petty thoughtless
charms..

I am NOT
the Hero of this
Story.

but A Villain
with
scars across his
arms!
_

The Dark eats
Eyes
like yours for
Breakfast..

and spits
Shadows
in your
Face.

Thus wary be,
who Walks amidst
the Tempest!!

(for Here there
is no light of
Heavens Grace.)
_

I float across
Graves of
Other Men,

Who (in their
Folly) thought
that Love could
Save..

though Most
knew Romance
was Pretend!

All
(regardless)
sought it
Anyway.
__

I shall be
No Puppet
to The Fiction..

led astray
by flirts and
Pretty Stares..

For I
Dear
Prosper
as The Villain!!!

(and have
never met a
Hero Anywhere.)

J.Stephen.H.

the anti-thesis

the anti-thesis again.
_______________

Yes..
the
Antithesis
again..
it
incompletes
me..
it seems..

To know
Hell..
is full of
Friends.

(who find
me in My
Dreams.)

And here
I am..
Rock Middle..

Half-Dead,
and Damned..

Holding The
Devils Fiddle..

(broken
in My Hand.)
_

Fire in
The Valley..

Run Sheep
Run!!

The Shepherd
of Insanity..

now Beats
his Evil
Drum.
___

Chicken in
the Whore-
House..

pickin off
Hoes..

Will it
ever End
Son?

(no sir,
no...)

Yes..
The Tragic
Zookeeper
who started
as an Animal...

and then
Evolved..

(into a
telempath
who Multi-
Channels.)

__

I am the
REASON
that these
Monsters
DO not
Sleep at
Night...

The Orkin
Man..

(eleminating
Social Parasites.)

_

yes..
the antithesis
again..

it incompletes
me it seems..

To know
HELL..

(is my
one and
ONLY
Friend.)

j.stephen.h.

the fearless artist

The Fearless Artist.
____________

Laughing..the
Voice said:

"What are Ye,
But a Hack
Artist full of
Old Ideas?.."

"How can
Thou expect to
Create Art,

From such
Antiquity?!"

"Dip now thy
Quill in Bloody
Ink..

and Fearless
Like The Dark
Thus Be!!"

"Show them..
(All!!)
The Horrors
of The Mind
they are Entering!"
__

"But Voice"
(said I.)

"I Fear This."

This Thing.."

"This Devil
which seems
to Sorely Occupy."

(My Head of
Suffering.)
__

"Be then A
Devil who
Exploits His
Pain!"

(the Voice
said.)

"Combining
Lies and Truth.."

"to make a
Mockery of
The Angels!"

(which Your
Pen has Slain.)

"Be now
The Artist
Dead."

(who shall
Live through
Words Again.)
__

J.Stephen.H.

the theatre of sef revisited

The Theatre of Self Revisited/
_____________________

I'm sitting in
The Theatre
of Self (again.)
Watching The
World roll by
like some Moving
Picture on A
Fuzzy Screen.

Senses jumbled,
and confused...

The Sky tastes
like Dirt..
My Screams
smell Bloody..
and Bellicose Tears
Thunder from my
Eyes. (deafening me.)
_

I'd give anything
to feel once more
the Pain of Memories..
now that they are
numb, and fading into
inaccessible chambers
out of Reach.

Somewhere
like an Abyss..
(I call my Heart.)
Where I earned
My First Damned
Kiss. (from The
Ever-growing
Dark.)
_

Today is a Rerun..
Episode Thirteen
from a Past Life;
and it's just getting
to The Part where
I say F?ck it, and
retreat somewhere
in the corner with a
Knife, to take back
the Control I lost
somewhere along
the Way.
__

but Damn...
The Blade
Smells Like
 Rage..

Like Love cast
Headlong into
The Flames...
where I can only
sit as a Pssenger
in this Theatre of
Self...

(and Burn for the
Return of Memories
which now Fade.)

J.Stephen.H.

my love makes the darkness beautiful.

My Love Makes the Darkness Beautiful.
_______________________________

When we Kiss,
our Shadows
Dance, and Sigh
Rainbows into
Life's Endless
Void

until
Tears become
an endangered
species

that would be
Extinct!!

(if not
for those
of Joy.)

+++

My Love
makes
Darkness
Beautiful..


A Paradise
of
Midnight
Creatures
Singing
Praises
To Dead
Stars!

and
With Her..
Each
moment
is Timeless.

(because
The Clock
no longer fills
Our Head
with
Scars.)
__

j.s.h.

how can you become fallen so?

How can You Become So Fallen?
____________________

Tis Bittersweet
(to say the least)
that I hear The
Laughter of Him
Dead, rise from
The Lips of Innocence.

His Fathers Boy
is He!

Who Upon the
Path of Ancients
Fallen those little
Footsteps Tread.
_

I call Him by
Your Name
when Your Eyes
(through Him)
look quizzically
at me with Silent
Questions..

Heart Haunted
with the Deepest
Shame.

(that I Dare Not
ever Mention.)
__

Brother, Brother,
how could you
Become Fallen So?..

Ashes to be
scattered in The
Wind!

(peppered with
little flecks of
Bone.)

when your Little
Seed has so
much still To Grow?

J.Stephen.H.

love-stained blisters.

Love-Stained Blisters.
______________

Eyes closed..
(as i enter)
Her Heart opens
wide.

(leaving my soul
dismembered.)

Yes My Love,
This is Paradise!

(with no more cold
and Dark Decembers.)
_

Something in her sigh
(of lust)
reveals Destiny to Me.

A Fate I can Trust..
Pure Joy without Release!

(causing Transcendence
Beyond This Reality of Dust.)

"Harder!"

(screams the Angels
Daughter.)

"More?!"

(I ask..excitement
growing.)

"make me your only
martyr!"

(she whispers.)

"but shall we drink
first this Holy water?!!"

(or apply it to our
Love-Stained Blisters?)
_

Deep in You..
The Devil cannot
touch Us..

Though we do this
Unclean Thing all
Dirty Devils Often Do!

For there is a Purity
in Our State of Lust!!

(and Paradise waiting in
Her Eyes of Blue.)

J.Stephen.H.

the intensity of lost moments.

The intensity of Lost Moments.
______________________

I recall now in the intensity
of lost moments...

as your eyes danced
with secret smiles..

restoring sanity..

banishing sad memories..
from the lonely head of
youth.

Your voice was a violin
concerto..

Paganini's 4th...

stirring the Seas of My
Heart's calamity..

inviting me into your
Soulful Dungeon..

to sit amongst The Dying
Pines..

and smell The Angel's Perfume..

(the prettiest poison for an
unwell mind.)
__

The Ghosts no longer believe
in us My Love...

I feel their Scorn burning
in My Head...

and Their Voices make My
Soul a Funeral Pyre..

(such is the Envy of
The Dead.)
__

Are there other Whispers?..

More keen, observant listeners?

Those who know the "Answers."
to the questions that we ask?

I recall now the intensity of
those moments..

and weep.

(as Devils Laugh.)

J.Stephen.H.

the time has passed for tears

The Time has Passed for Tears.
___________________________

The soul as
a mirror..?

(contained
in Heaven's
cut wrist.)

The time
has passed
for tears.

(instead I
clench a
fist.)
_

with rage the
angels mock.

(I laugh
amused in
return.)

Since
The World
is but a Flock!

(intended thus
to Burn.)

j.s.h.

so expected..(its all come to be.)

so expected..(it's all come to be.)
__________________________

So expected..
it's all come to be.

Your rich fields..
and vibrant streams.

empty words..
of shallow praise.

(to conceal the souls
carnality.)
_

Someone must be..
An Alien.

Sitting on the Sidelines
watching.

Those Fickle homosapiens..
standing silent by a road.

(they should be crossing.)
_

but I found my truth today..
that we all lie about tomorrow.

and I didn't even Pray!
(for an end to fear, or sorrow.)

so expected,..it's all come
to be.

useless words of idolatry...
spit before the paupers..
who confuse themselves with
kings!

(to conceal the lone souls
vanity.)

j.stephen.h.

in meaninful pursuit of soul.

in meaningful pursuit of soul.
________________________

if you chose to write
on your souls behalf..
would there be novels,
or emptiness?

(or a novel comprised of
emptiness.)

i only ask dear brethren..
because i am empty..but
seek to know the soul..in
all of it's profound entirety..

to swim the madness of the
deep, and come up for air
screaming in exultation as
the light of Ages shines upon
my newborn face..

knowing what others (in
moments of revelation)
know when first they feel
the hands of Grace wipe
away their tears.
_

we are all wanderers of
varying degrees..(as more
noteworthy men of letters
than myself have pointed
out.)

some wander with purpose,
driven by desires to serve
and perpetuate the ideal of
some greater good..

while others are escapists..
trying  to get away from the
burdens they fear to face.
(which might have been
blessings had they only
faced them.)

_

today i stand somewhere
oddly between living and
the absence..struggling to
rid the madness in myself
in exchange for something
more pure, and lasting,
which would successfully
explain the nature of the
world i've always existed
in.

(merely as a shadow.)

And it is with You (dear
brethren) that I chose to
wander...

in meaningful pursuit.

(of soul.)

j.stephen.h.