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Life Coaching, Observations, Reflections, Things that make you go hmmmmm

Tag Archives: Darkness

Departure Gate – Lyric

Departure Gate

Lyric

Fretting over it hour after hour
Worrying about it night after night
Feeling it fall week after week
Been knowing it for months now

Needing a plane to take me far,
gotta go, go girl to make it to another day
Needing a plane to take me far,
gotta fly, fly girl to make things fade away

Sitting here having some doubts
Those were the days thoughts
Flipping the phone off and on
Hearing your ring makes me sigh

Waiting on a plane to take me far,
gotta fly, fly girl to work things out of the grey
Waiting on a plane to take me far,
gotta go, go girl to get this life going my way

“If only” was said so many times
Nearly got to where I’d stay
Then came the tears and I knew
Closed the door and we were through

Wanting this plane to take me far,
gotta go, go girl and get out of this rain
Wanting this plane to take me far,
gotta fly, fly girl and start all over again

G.R. Hambley ©
June 04, 2016

Chronological Posting List

Angels Obliged Act III

Angels Obliged

Angels Obliged Act I Angels Obliged Act II

Act III

Darkness begins its eerie silent descent
Moans with prayers, the wounded lament
Stench rising off seared and rotting flesh

Morning’s breaks early for the two above
Notice made to the two under sacred grove
Readied, willing and oh so capable to kill

Speed the key to having the first heads fall
Swords on a horse’s wings will reduce the thrall
Hell’s keeper rides upon enchanted steed

Angels two, attacking these evil’s doing
Angels two, dispatching those beyond hell

Evils shaking off the debauchery of the night
Unaware, heaven and hell added to their plight
Heaven’s thunder beats, hell begins to quake

Books of prophets false held proudly on high
Zealots unholy, prodding the evils killing drive
Death wings come slicing, guillotine with hooves

Just beginning to learn what they’ve brought
Payment now due in full for what they bought
Bile violently spews as books in severed hands fall

Angels two, horrifying these evil’s doing
Angels two, threshing those beyond hell

One from the depths attacks where the evils creep
Horn of the magical beast impales, blood seeps
Blue fire from the one named Demon erupts

Lightning chains turning the living to charred
Pain and suffering ordered carried to the beyond
Horns of both beasts stained, dripping the evil’s flesh

Some standing stunned among smoldering remains
Others swarm to the call of false prophet claims
Many more to feel the strikes and stings, an absolute

Angels together, razing these evil’s doing
Angels apart, bleeding out those beyond hell

Massing together, evils three in shared horror
Who’s will dare intrude on the destined honour
Cries lifted to the one, deliver them the way rite

Wings from above settle below beside the horned
Back to back and quarter to quarter we’re formed
They come, they fall, the evils and their books no more

Angels scarred, side by side, majikal steeds torn
Retreating through the mutilated evils with scorn
Tears fall gently from the tortured soul of The One

Angels obliged, destroyed the evil’s doing
Angels obliged, new light made beyond hell

End Act III

End all Acts

G.R. Hambley ©
May 12, 2016

Chronological Posting List

Angels Obliged – Act II

I’m told there has been a WordPress glitch and the posting of Part 1 may not have shown up in your reader. WordPress is my hub to other locations so I cannot delete and repost. The link to “Act I” will open in a new tab or window.

Angels Obliged – Act I

Angels Obliged

Act II

Distant fires of camps seen from on high
Reverberation of drums quaking the mire
Steeds tremble in wave after wave of hate

Insidious screams disturbing still night
Calling to embrace the only right rite
Drawing the two on to what they fear

Four legged one makes circles in clouds
Horned one paws at the bloody ground
Angel glides down to face the demonic one

Angels conversing on these evil’s doing
Angels plotting an end what’s beyond hell

They know your name and your game
Mine’s always been to turn anger to tame
Together we’ll turn their world blacker

Unholy three means there is one for me
The second shall end at the hand of thee
Third to be held at bay by the majik two

We know what our failure will spawn
Let the two rest for making way at dawn
This is ours my misunderstood old friend

Angels speaking on these evil’s doing
Angels praying to end what’s beyond hell

All they’ve done, all that’s been taken
One way or other, they’ll know forsaken
Sickness ends with certain death of life

Morning brings return to the perilous path
Tension filled, expecting unbridled wrath
Shaft of light brings The Supreme One’s amen

Crossing bloody rivers where bodies flow
Earth so scorched nothing shall ever grow
Signs clearly showing today, angels must shine

Angels acutely feeling these evil’s doing
Angels finally seeing what’s beyond hell

Humanity at violent odds defiling its ugly self
Three books, contrived by false prophets for wealth
Acting out vile passages in the name of The One

Doings despicable with disregard to the old rule
Bloody axes fall, arrows fly, pain to them from you
You’ll soon see what’s coming from the one’s will

One wars with two as two wars with three
Three attacks one knowing two won’t disagree
All against one and all for none but themselves

Angels watched these evil’s doing
Angels lurking over those beyond hell

End Act II

G.R. Hambley ©
May 12, 2016

Chronological Posting List

 

Angels Obliged – Act 1

Angels Obliged

Act I

Looking down on the world so frail
Can’t stop the feeling all this will fail
Won’t be able to stop my own demise

The consequences for all so dire
Could one lone angel end this fire
There’s the real chance of no return

Feeling the point of frightened flight
Closer still to making the stand to fight
Must be true to what makes you, You

What can one Angel do to end these evils doing
Why must it be this Angel alone to see beyond hell

Burning to get out, the evils beyond hell
Cries to heaven and the unholy swell
The wings unfold the sword slides free

It could be that saving them is wrong
The mighty one may want them gone
Only answers coming from a mad mind

Stepping off the edge of this grey cloud
Flying fast with no other soul around
Left to fate and it’ll be all our graves

Can this one Angel be enough to end these evils doing
Can it be this lone Angel to reach beyond hell

Calling out with greatest urgency
No where can there be a place for mercy
Winner takes all in the valley of souls

Won’t you join this too big quest for one
A wayward angel’s angel spies fun
Them or we, death by high decree

Horses saddled and fully adorned
Winged one to me, to you goes the horned
I’ll fly on high while you ride below

Two Angels going to end these evils doing
Two Angels to fight what’s beyond hell

Journey’s onset leading two to onslaught
One prays, one brays “not for naught”
Two weapons with wisdom from the one

Winged ones looking off horizon bound
Horned ones plodding the underground
Each to the other unseen, wills to minds

World vibrating in stifling maudlin ways
Creatures vowing their own they’ll slay
Allegiances being sworn to an unholy three

Special Angels march to end these evils doing
Special Angels to quell what’s beyond hell

End Act I

G.R. Hambley ©
May 12, 2016

Chronological Posting List

Why And Why Not

Why And Why Not

It has been an absolutely shitty year for death in the music industry and it’s just mid March.

The latest, a couple days ago was Keith Emerson of ELP. Yeah sure, you can call them Emerson, Lake and Palmer if you like but not many people I know do.

I’m not going to get in to naming names as I’d surely miss a couple and someone would take great delight in telling me about it. I’m not going to get in to the contributions to the art of those that have passed either.

To all those that went away, they mattered to each and every one of us in our own way. That is enough for us and I believe knowing they touched us is enough for them too.

The icons we grew with that have been such an important part of our lives all the way along the path of life and now in to the backside of our own lives are falling. We miss them and we remember the pieces of ourselves and our lives that they were part of. No, they didn’t for the most part know first personal of each of us but they damn well knew what they meant to us.

Keith Emerson’s passing has a far different feel for us because it was suicide. The range of emotions is greater and rawer within us when death is self inflicted. The things people say are rawer when death is brought on by our own hand.

Some say heartless and hurtful statements. I disagree to a point. The point is there are those who look to be hurtful and thankfully the hurtful ones are few.

So very many that make what others call heartless and hurtful are in reality expressing how they feel suffering their own loss. I can see the statements as thoughtless but not heartless. I can see those hurtful statements as striking back because what you did hurt me.

What I’ve heard and read about Keith Emerson’s physical being, degenerative arthritis where he’d already lost the use of 2 fingers and for certain was going to lose the use of all his fingers. Could he have written? I’m sure he could have written. I’m just as sure no one would be able to play just from the written music the way Emerson heard it.

I and many know about chronic pain and degenerative. I know the pain and anguish. I know how useless I’d feel were I not able to write. I can understand completely being able to do something oh so very well and then not being able to do it anymore. I don’t think I could bear to lose the word my way.

A few comments I’d seen on the suicide said, “Selfish”.

I said this;

His life, like anyone else, to do with as they choose. You don’t get a vote. The emotionalism attached to any pain is 100% real.

A damn tragedy yes. Could it have been prevented? No one will ever know and have to believe because he didn’t reach out, no. No more than the breaking down of his body. I think he’d reached the point where he wasn’t asking himself why and was asking why not.

Why and why not? Many and I am one of them will tell you, when you find yourself asking yourself why take your own life you have a problem. When you stop asking “why” and start asking yourself, “why not” you are in much deeper trouble. I hope if you ever find yourself in that, “why not” place you find it somewhere within yourself to reach out for help.

I use a music service and have a few playlists. One of those playlists I named, “Soulful” and ELP’s “Lucky Man” is the first tune in the list. It is both tragedy and irony that Keith Emerson’s went as he did. The end of life mimicking his own art. A bullet found Keith Emerson well before the bullet from the gun did, “no money could save him, so he laid down and he died”.

G.R. Hambley ©
March 14, 2016

Princess Down

Harper Lee passed yesterday at 89. Her book, “To Kill A Mockingbird” and the film it became have special meaning. The film is on my 5 films to take that mythical island and always will be.

Puttering around a few days ago a click bait got me. What novel defines your life. Yes the return sent me tripping.

Novel That Describes Your Life

The passing in this piece took place some time ago. Time to let it join the rest of that stories history.

The prosecution finally rests.

Princess Down
an antithesis

That one could be so utterly fooled by a love
Hell may have no fury like a woman scorned but
Every shake of this head turns disbelief to a deeper anger
Screeching hatred in the bubbling of a volcanic mind

In reflection, being so badly fooled shouldn’t be a surprise
No way to know what went around was never to come around
Kiss of parting with a “soon my love, soon” to soon kissed off
In those parting moments a feeling of great loss was spoken

Night turns to day, the miles grow more and more distant
Go quickly, safely, I’ll make you come back faster was said
Out of sight, the actual truth, really REALLY out of mind
Flippant it must have been that on return a half ring be shared

Oh the lie, oh that smiling lie, “we got this”
How holding tight a manifestation helped love and hope live
Even taking to pen to bleed back home the unknown lie
Learning a crushing truth, it had been always, lie upon lie upon denial

All the minutes and hours and day following day of red hatred, blue tears
Scorn, a good word, just far to little to convey the whole feeling
The cold dark realization this woman is not, was not, a masterpiece
Honest truth is that this woman slithers lower than the serpent of Eden

Early signs show of resurrection, the return to life of one so broken
New wings sprout, majestically unfurl, soaring, seeking, refilling this heart
The last line of the heartfelt, heart wrenched, heart strong from one who just loved
For every day left, it is wished upon you, that day be dark, its night malevolent

G.R. Hambley
05/02/2014

Paws For The Cause

Paws For The Cause

I’ve been trying to write pretty. I like writing pretty because of how it makes me feel. I’ve gotten some out and got some in the works.

I was working on something I believe will be pretty epic. Haven’t decided yet if the piece is going to end exhilarated or tragic. Where it is I can go either way. The certainty of the piece is that there is going to be a hell of a lot of pain.

The world keeps showing up and I find myself obligated to look and read and participate. What else anyone does or doesn’t do, their own volition. Me, I do what I can. What I can do is use my weapons of mass persuasion and drop in to the conscience of those that read me the things that blew me out of my pretty mode.

Yesterday (January 14, 2016) my notification bubble came up as I was writing. I could see who it was from and the subject. The email came from someone close and the subject was, “Upsetting”. The sender gets responses from me quickly. The person is on my you aren’t a disturbance list and always will be.

The note came from a friend on the Dark Continent. I read and looked at what I was given and things including my mood got a whole lot darker real fast.

What I read was disturbing enough. What I saw was, I can’t even find a damn word to describe what I felt when I saw. Thing is, from where it came from I knew it was real. What I saw wasn’t a prop for some horror film. I am so angry. Writing in to here I am still so angry. This isn’t the worst trip I’ve been on but is right fucking up there.

It was real. It is real. This and more are real. I am compelled to have you share the reality with me.

 

Paw 02

 

Sangoma, the believed culprit.
Sangoma, traditional healer.
Sangoma, Witch Doctor.

You see the thin rope tied around the paw. The belief is that the paw was used by Sangoma in a ritual that has to do with someone having financial difficulties, bankruptcy or poverty.

Someone pays the Witch Doctor to change their fortunes. You just saw what price the animal pays.

 

Paw 01

 

How’s that for reality? This is not gleaned information to create a tug on your heart strings piece.

My friend tells me what you just saw is a very common thing over there. Africans paying Sangomas to cast spells.

What you’ve seen isn’t even as disgusting and sickening as this tale is going to get.

I keep finding myself having to go back and edit far more than I usually do. I’m having a difficult time with composition. Telling a story well takes a certain amount of detachment no matter how attached you are personally. This shit does get my anger meter rising fast.

I’m big time attached. I’m big time angry and I’m big time questioning why the 1st World continues to help the 3rd World when they simply refuse to clean up their shit. They want our money. They want our expertise. They want our help removing their despots. Yet the shit that angers the 1st word goes on without what appears to be any consideration for the ways of the 1st world.

There is some sense of entitlement and I’ve been told about it. Told about it in the sense of 2 friends having a conversation. Me with 1st world perspectives and my friend with 3rd world perspectives.

I’m fully aware that the 1st world isn’t lily white in our dealings and some will grease the skids for easier access. We in the 1st world will also bring ours involved in corruption to task when we catch them. The 3rd world is more understanding, lenient, an acceptable cost of doing business.

The rest of this story gets even more gruesome. Nothing like a little human harvest to set the nightmare scene is there. Not a question.

Maybe a lighter mood? A joke to put you in the giggle groove?

So a wife walks in to the kitchen to make dinner, opens up the fridge and looks inside. Much to her surprise all there is to make are human hearts and other human organs. Quite the dream scream.

True story and yes I do know how and why those body parts got in the fridge. The upside if there is an upside, those body parts weren’t taken from anyone who was using them at the time. The harvesting of organs for sale to Sangomas.

Sangomas use body parts to make the traditional healing and it is in many cases deadly. They don’t tell you that part.

Many Africans hate the Sangoma while others believe. Ignorance doesn’t seem to be an issue. They’ve been told and shown different and the practice goes on. There are many of all colours that believe there should be no mercy shown to those that commit the barbarian acts.

I’ve used words and feelings from my friend in this narrative. It would have been an injustice to not use what was gifted to me.

Children. You didn’t think this witchy wonder was going to end with just body parts of the dead did you? Not my style to just stick it in without twisting it. So here’s the twist.

I’m told I wouldn’t believe the number of times children disappear only to be found dead with body parts and organs removed. I was told sometime back that children are raped by those with AIDS who believe that sex with a virgin will cure them.

My friend also tells me that the Sangoma are like drug dealers, take one down and there is always another showing up to take their place.

Recently the Government of my country committed 2.4 Billion dollars to Africa for climate control. I’m sure you’ll excuse me for believing they are worrying about the wrong fucking climate.

G.R. Hambley ©
January 20, 2016
All rights reserved

The Killing Kind – Cecil Lion Killing

Hallow Desire

Hallow Desire

Reading all the signs, feelings running hard in the night
Ready beyond words, been so long can’t even see straight
Each perfume a flirt, scents assaulting, every nerve sensing
Every smile given a hurt, lips parting just another curse
Don’t stop to talk, couldn’t take even the slightest touch
Keep going right on by, make your way without a word to me

Kindness is killing, sensory deprivation may be the salvation
The season is all trick with no treat, candy doesn’t ever do
Staying in the game means things can’t remain the haunting same
On it goes and goes, what’s another heart beating in malcontent
Each to one that is their own, but those so hanging on alone know
Somewhere in its time, frozen hell thawed in one fiery meant kiss

G.R. Hambley ©
October 30, 2015

Reborn – Sonnet

Reborn

A Sonnet

Argument raging, delusional, institutional, mind space confessional
Motions for, motions against, notions of ability, a maturing stability
Anger without angst, fed, cultured, risen soured dough, delicious repast
Lessons learned, lessons imparted, education in pain by degrees
Evolving, revolving, revolting tales for the cloistered professional
Violence begets laughter, laughter begets heightened emotionality
Over, done, the chance of return to decency, this lot for life cast
Lessons imparted, lessons learned, education continued with decrees
Evolution revolution, signature time, key note struck, danse macabre plied
Natural disorder, chaos and mayhem ensuing from disasters forging
True calling, autonomous evil, smiled upon by maniacal angel fraternal
Indomitable, rampant, emancipation complete, darkness triumphed
Age upon age developing, rage upon rage fermenting, sediment settling
Majestic magnificence, a being of the damned, damning darkness eternal

G.R. Hambley ©

September 15, 2015

 

Edge Walking – part 1 of …

Edge Walking

Part 1 of…

Waking to another day, already on the knife
Always at the ready, keep staying honed
Lookin’ round, it all appears the same as yesterday
Keep on watchin’, be sure there’s no new scream scene

In to the rising sun, trudging tired from restless nights
No rest for the wicked, could be me by last check
Getting on, moving along, under too heavy load
Time to rest, time to reflect, not happening in this zoo

How to find some freedom
Each day more boredom
Every night more tiresome
Dawn breaks with no attraction

Going down a dirty path, past cinder block cages
Eerie rusted slats cutting off the inner light
Open doors letting out inviting sounds
From within comes promise of riding wild

Thanks no, wanna die at it not from it
Hands in pockets, staying quiet, moving this ship on
Each to their own and I’m more than good alone
Killed another one, tomorrow waits round the corner

Night is getting darker and deeper
It’s time to hit my own concrete sleeper
Find something tomorrow happier
Eventually it’ll be one that’s a keeper

 G.R. Hambley ©
July 04, 2015