Moments: 2001.
Poems by Eden Blackthorn

The Shadows' Lesson
Lucifer's Valentine
A Child's Explanation
Bang Bang
Arms of a Stranger
In The Zone
Scatterbrained

The Shadows' Lesson
From shadows he came with smooth maleficence,
to tease and taunt any who would listen.
And listen they did, these gullible fools -
with weak Wills and panicked minds.

Of vague words he spoke, in terms much could apply,
to torment and test all who gathered near.
And apply they did, his innuendos and suggestions
to their own poor, dull lives in a sheep-like instinct.

The more he spoke, the more they listened.
The more they listened, the more they believed.
The more they believed, the more power they gave.
The more they gave.... the less they had.

I watched this incredible parade of foolishness
and counseled them in a stern voice.
"Do not listen to the whispers of a shadow
for all they are, is an intangible iniquity."

Ignored me they did, all but the one malefient one.
The shadow man turned to me and whispered words -
so sweet and complimentary as he wondered to me,
"Why do you alone not fall to my side in fear or need?"

"Because, shadowed one, I see through your guise.
You are nothing more than a fake and a sham."
Then, he whispered to me, words incredibly true...
Words I will never forget in all of my days...

"How can it be fake, when they give their power to me?
They hand me their lives to use at my wish and whim.
Even when they know their mistake,
they still return again and again.
It is they who have made the smallest something into everything."

I stopped and I stared with grudging respect
For he was absolutely correct in his first true words.
I watched those he had hurt, again and again,
come crawling back to beg for his personal attention.

Why, I wondered, totally mystified, would one do such?
To give their power to a man of vague and sinister words.
I will never understand these people, foolish and weak of Will.
Instead, I will remember them as a warning of possible danger.

Heed me now with keen ear and know my words are true.
The only power the Shadows have is the power you give it.
For your Kingdom is as great and strong as your Will.
Take these words to heart and you will never fear the Shadows again.

Lucifer's Valentine
He was the most beautiful angel with the blackest heart.
One day he gazed upon a woman that made him gasp with a start.
For his mistake he fell from grace to become the Lord of Sin.
But none of that mattered now, it was the beginning of the end.

She wasn't a great beauty, just a kind and gentle soul.
But something about her melted his dark heart of coal.
For black was his heart, but a heart, nontheless.
And this entrancing maid, he wanted to impress.

He thought and he schemed for eternity and a day.
But his mind failed him, denied him the right words to say.
In a desparate inspiration he finally remembered the date.
Steeled his courage and approached with trepidation great.

With humbled voice and bowed knee, he begged "Oh, please be mine."
She smiled a tender smile and said, "Yes, I will be your Valentine."

A Child's Explanation

When children have no answers, they make up their own.
Something to explain no food, nor house, nor home.
Legends of abandoned angels drinking from neon lights,
and loving words of the Blue Lady get them through the night.

Then, there are the nightmares of Bloody Mary covered in red
who drinks their pain and tells them soon they will be dead.
Legends and stories of a great war against demons set free,
slipping through refrigerators and driving Jeep Cherokees.

The children have no haven, no shelter to lay their heads.
No understanding of childhood play or warm comfy beds.
Their world is filled with nothing but cold, hunger and pain.
The only thing they can do, is explain it in ways that make it seem sane.

Heaven is in ruins, since God fled the betrayal of the One.
Only the "Special Girl" can reveal the Mother of God's Son.
The angels have been abandoned, for who knows how long.
It is left to the children to remain steadfast and strong.

These stories so solemnly told from child to child
may seem ridiculous and of an imagination gone wild.
But what comforting platitudes or explainations can you say
to the little girl whose self-protrait is a tombstone, carefully drawn in gray?

Tears burn my eyes as I read this sad story one more,
wishing that it was only a fiction of a heart grown sore.
For the children living on the streets it's all so terribly true.
I realized it now... and so do you.

*****

This poem is based on the article "Myths Over Miami" by Lynda Edwards. She reports the story of homeless children who have created an oral tradition of near-religious stories to explain their situation. These stories are a tightly guarded secret, telling the tale of an abandoned Heaven, demons walking the earth, of angels who drink neon lights, of a Great War between the Angels and Demons, of Satan that no one but they can see. These stories are told between children whose ages range from 6 to 12. It is an extremely sad story. One that I had to put down twice before I could finish reading it. Tears still burn my eyes every time I think of it.

!! (AKA Bang, Bang)

!!/!!/
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In English, is it:
Bang bang slash, bang bang slash
Back-tick tilde, comma comma dash
Dollar dollar tick, dollar dollar tick
Curly-bracket percent, waka waka click
Quote quote hash, quote quote hash
Caret caret equal, bracket bracket MASH

(A silly poem - just because I had to.)

Arms of a Stranger
She wakes up in the arms of stranger
and wonders what happened to her life.
She still dreams of silly romance and delightful danger,
while she performs the duties of a wife

"There must be more to life than this.
I must go - just get out!
It's time to know what I've missed!"
The voice in her head begin to shout.

Regardless of heartbreak,
for once in her life to just do it all.
Fearless of heartache,
jump into the abyss - never mind the fall.

As she looks in the face of her ex-husband-to-be,
listening to his light sleeping snore.
She realizes all that she is to him...
Mother, wife and (reluctant) whore.

She slips from the arms of her stranger,
to quietly dress in the dark.
She leaves a note on the table
and goes out into the world to leave her mark.

In The Zone
The scene unfolds in panaramic view
focusing on the characters.

Intensity
and
Emotion

Stay on target.

Perfect words flow like water from my fingertips.

Then...
A sound that does not belong.

Confusion.
What's happening?
Where am I?
What was I doing?
Who am I?

All universal questions for this one moment in time.

"Didn't you hear me calling?" he asks.
"No. I was... working."

In
The
Zone.

Lost now.
Images swirl in my head.
Gasping at misty tendrils...
...elusive...

I look blankly look at unrecognized writing.

A knowing smile.
"The story was writing itself again, wasn't it."

Yes, that perfect epiphany.
Gone.
Fading like a dream, but not forgotten...

Elsewhere,
my characters plaintively cry out,
'We weren't done, yet!'

I know.

The moment is gone.
For now.

The scene flows like water from my mind
as mundane reality grips me tight.

No matter.
I will begin again.
Soon.

Then,
I will meet my co-writers
to finish the scene...
in perfect clarity.

In
The
Zone.

Scatterbrained
I have a clean slate that is begging for attention.