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Stuart Logan

Passion of fury

Embers of isolation,
Finally fading to charcoal,
And allowing the beast to approach.
Swift and silent,
She moves with the fluidity of a feline.
But her eyes glow with the passion,
Of all the fires of Hell.
Her face is mischevious,
As I know mine is.
Her smile is flirtatious,
As I know mine is.
And I see the fire in her heart.
And it unleashed the wild animal within me.
The kiss lasts forever.

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And I am outta here!

Upon the lower country,
That combines the sea and sand.
Freedom fights for justice,
In this redundant land.

The cities are the mob war scenes,
The country town's a joke.
And every time I see that dumb smurf, Rudd,
I hope that he will choke.

For lies and lies are building,
And the swirls of mighty dust.
Always make my throat seize up,
I think its Cairns or bust.

Its boiling in the summer,
And freezing in the cold.
Why can't this place make up it's mind,
Why cant it ever fold?

[...] Read more

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Cold Lore

Blackness shrouds the empty floor,
While shadows dance upon the door,
A memoriam of forgotten flaw,
Heart beating fast with eternal plight.

The cold wind blows, a doghouse sigh,
Flying in the medley of nigh,
I listen to the raven cry,
Deadly victim, quite contrite.

I hear a knock upon the roof,
A possum lay under furry hoof,
Memory lingers, yet to sooth,
The Cold Lore whispers in the inky night.

The moon endures a pallour glow,
The rocking chair moves to and fro,
I think of the one that I love so,
I wait for dawn's first light.

[...] Read more

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