Death and the Red Parrot

Death and the Red Parrot

inspired by Andrew Jack


See before you now not a man, but a young child
Full of wonder as he sees a glimpse of the wild.
Birds, great cats, snakes and more as he walks
Barely listening to the keeper as she talks.

He sees not the cages, the glassed in walls
Inside his mind, a brighter, living image calls.
His heart is alive with a desperate beating
His imagination flows, time will show it is not fleeting.

His face is bright. The images alive as they form inside
His great mind. His feet keep moving, one in a slide,
As he drags his feet when the teacher says time to go.
He's staring intently at the great bird as it moves to and fro.

His eyes, wide, he stares intently at the one great red.
It catches the stare and slightly turns its feathered head.
Time stood on its axis for our young Aaron, though he later doubts,
As the bird and him took turns, neither one hearing the shouts.

The years crawl by and our young Aaron never forgets
The day at the zoo with the animals, especially the parrots.
He grows up strong, resplendent in body and mind.
In his heart, he remains, truthful, just and kind.

He meets his love, her blue eyes, and honeyed colored hair
Turn him into a poet, as he wants to claim her with beauty and flare.
His love is strong; his pursuit is mighty. He knows she is the one.
He gets her to laugh, to cry, to be his wife. Her love, he has won.

His joy is complete when she births to him, one son, one daughter.
He knows not of the impending sorrow, the soon to happen slaughter.
That Death has rubbed his hands in glee, seeing Aaron's complete
Love, seeing him so happy. Thru sun, rain, ice and sleet

Their family loves, from the depths of their hearts,
Not seeing the day from each other they will depart.
Death remembers young Aaron well, for he looked
Out, from a sick bird's eyes, saw purity of soul and was hooked.

Death's soul has long been charred, burned, bloody, and scarred.
His original mission of accompanying the lost has been marred.
He started out pure, but after time, the soul is no longer clean.
Giving in to the power, his lust, his greed, makes him mean.

Throughout the years, death has looked upon the boy.
Looking through the eyes of the birds, Death remained coy.
He wanted to damage the man. Marr the soul, make it black.
Show the world, that once love is gone, there is no getting it back.

So here and there, as time moved inexorably forward,
The family's red parrot became a way to watch, to speak the odd word.
To penetrate Aaron's mind, to start him along the murky walk.
Grooming him for the time when together they would talk.

The day finally comes when Death no longer has to wait.
He stands by and watches as the family goes through their dark fate.
Aaron is gone, happily at work. Earning money so his family
Could live in peace in the world's depressing economy.

He has no inkling of what he will eventually find.
The blood is spattered all over the walls, leaving none behind.
Death is eager for the young boy turned man to come home.
Eager to see someone with the same pain be left alone to roam.

He stays inside the blood soaked room, waiting, waiting.
Gathering the souls to him, the feeling of life fleeting.
He closes his eyes as he feasts on their beauty
Knowing that he is failing, still he refuses to do his duty.

Aaron comes home, laughing and calling "I'm home! I'm here!"
Puts his briefcase down then faces the room. He grips the wall in fear
As his eyes roam over the beloved bodies of his family.
His soul's tears start deep within, the bird watches him cagily.

For the bird can see the specter of Death and knows him.
He's seen him before. Haunting, bringing chill, leaving the house grim.
Aaron cries out and falls to his knees, trying to scream out his pain
But for all his troubles and emotions, his voice finds no gain.

He fumbles in his pocket for the phone, for help he calls.
The pain inside is deep, it can't be contained within the four walls.

He gets up and staggers outside, waiting to take more inside.
Inside where blood has seeped through the boards and spread wide.
His mind stirs and thinks of the bird from so long ago, the staring.
Somehow that look is akin to the one on the face of his wife, accusing, glaring.

His heart is wretched, broken, and bleeding. His soul is crying.
So caught up in his pain, he never senses Death spying.
He gets up to talk to the cops, he copes as he must
Each move on auto as he gets ready to see his family returned to dust.

He holds it together for his family and friends,
Inside he is dying, the world as he knows it suspends.
He has no wish to do anything else but this.
His life, his blood, turned to dust, gone is his bliss.

The parrot has cried when the man has been gone.
He is aware of the part Death has played to bring the pain on.
He watches with his keen eyes, as his master, his companion
Cries and makes plans for the ones whom he lost to Death's minion.

One day the man comes home, his spirit has waned away.
The power keeping him moving, has gone, life has no more sway.
He pulls out a weapon, sits down on the couch. In his hand, a gun
The bird starts to squawk. He looks sadly and pauses, remembering his son.

He opens the cage, inserts his hand, and coaxes the red bird,
To let him be held. He stroked his parrot with nary a word.
But Death is calling to Aaron. His finger he crooks, his smile wide.
The parrot is angry, wishing he could help Aaron get away, to hide.

With deep love and affection, the bird has a glimmer,
An idea has started, for a moment left to simmer.
"Cracker," he says, hoping his master will reward him,
Needing the reprieve. For hope has waned, the feeling is dim.

Aaron smiles dully, deciding to give to the beautiful parrot he loved
A cracker as a gift before facing Death and giving life a shove.
The Parrot's eyes meet Death's darkness, and for a moment,
Death is worried, but then remembers grief's torment.

Aaron comes out and says, "Cracker, my feathered friend?"
The parrot thinks I must say something, or this is the end.
"Death is near. He is like a parrot. It is on blood he feeds.
Do not ask him if he wants a cracker, because it is your soul he needs"

The man turned white, wondering if his mind has gone mad.
This bird has spoken as if he knew the gun meant the news was bad.

He looked hard at the red parrot, deep into the eyes of the bird,
Neither moving, neither speaking, seemingly absurd.
But suddenly Aaron's mind to the past it went, the thoughts they flew.
The grooming was there, if how to look you knew.

He looked over to the place his mind's eye still saw blood.
And there it was, in shadows, crusty, full of hatred, hiding behind a hood.
Death stared back at him, not believing his eyes.
It looked as if the man was saying his goodbyes.

It was a start along the path needed, for grief to get peace
And begin the healing. Death roared his anger, his rage he began to release.
But Aaron is safe now, he can see. No longer Death's pawn.
The red parrot and he, together, they stood, to greet new dawn.

Just because

This is raw form, very little editing. It's coming onto the time when it is harder and harder for me to put away hurts, pain. I have to believe my brother is out there somewhere, laughing and loving, even if not in this realm of the living.

But in the meantime, the safest and best outlet I have is my writing. I have found that writing ballads lets me tell a story, if in short form, yet get the strong emotion out so that I can concentrate on the full novel I'm working on.

I hope you can enjoy this ballad. Feel the sadness if that is where you are at and let it unburden you to know you are not alone... Without further ado, I give you Ballad number 2 :)


Who Will Save the Princess

I'm crying. My heart is broken.
I wish I was flying. But not with this token
of punishment and pain. Why do I have to hurt again?
Why is it me that keeps getting the shaft? When will it end?

Inside, I'm crying. My tears won't stay.
Outside, I'm angry. I'm mad. I'm harsh in my play.
What of you? How much do you care?
You played the fair knight with flare.

Now, you are the one storming the castle.
You're the one letting the evil in to hassle
The Princess and bring out the Sorceress, the Dragon
Of Chaos needed to help deal with the pagan.

No more will she show the softness of love
The tears have poured enough from above.
Now, the darkness shall be the one to reign.
No more will her heart be broken by this pain.

She shall mend this heart no matter how long
It takes the darkness to mend the wrong
Felt within her soul. The Dragon is fierce
In its protection and all is what it's willing to pierce.

For the Dragon has sensed that now is her time.
Now is her chance. It may seem a crime,
But it is the Princess that the Sorceress
And Dragon seek to protect with the call of Darkness.

It is the Princess' ability to love, to hug, to kiss,
More importantly, to forgive, that has kept the darkness
At bay. But now, it is the Dragon calling follow me,
It is the Sorceress holding the Princess, protecting fully.

When fare knight, your heart has found its balance,
When you are ready to stand and not be led away by a glance,
Come and claim your Princess and take her into the light.
Take her from the Dragon's womb and give her wings of flight.

For now, she will hide herself, tasting her salty tears,
Alone, in the darkness, waiting with her soul for the fears
To be soothed, the anger and blood break washed away.
In the dungeons, you won't find her at play.

She is lost to this world. Lost is the girl
The innocence and in it's place is a mural,
A flat portrayal of who the whole person meant to be.
Little will touch her, the outside realm she will notice barely.

In the depths of Darkness, there she will stay.
Whiling away and hiding her love for another day.
The Dragon of Chaos shall fight the evil of her realm.
But in her, the fight is gone. She has held up her palm.

She has said enough. Her heart hurts too much to say,
That it is fine, that all is good, that you can treat her this way.
So, to the darkness, she turns, looking for love.
She is held like a newborn babe by the Dragon and from above,

She hears the words, the voices of the prince and the knight,
but her heart will not leave the Dragon's hold until all is made right.
The Sorceress stands guard with the Dragon, giving all the evil eye,
Who come to hurt the Princess, ferocious in killing the prey.

Fierce in protecting the Princess of love, of peace, of beauty.
She will defy all and sundry to fulfill that which is her duty.
The Sorceress, the Dragon, it has always been the two
of them who has protected the Princess from the ugly hue.

"Go hither, ugly cruel world and stay away from their girl,"
They cry. Quit giving her tears and let her give happiness a whirl
Before her soul fills with hardness and hate.
Let her feel the completeness of love before it's too late.

If it's not already. She's crying, she hurts.
Bits of anger. Small bits of glad in short spurts.
Few will see the truth. She will smile and nod,
Faking her laughter, letting the Dragon prod,

When the Princess needs to come to the surface.
But for now, she will hide behind the Sorceress.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting to see who will answer her call.
See who is faithful, who is willing to risk all.

Sunday

Sundays have traditionally been days of rest. Slow days. Easy days. Right? Not in my household. For the year we went without TV it was major clean up day, including laundry. Before TV, and perhaps today, it was football!!

Then again, football was before I had concrete writing goals. Before I discovered what I am capable of. In regards to writing, I keep stretching and growing, I'm finding my nitch, but not settling in it.

My nitch seems to be dark-ish paranormal erotica. Although, my next series I start will be something new. I am still going to write the sci-fi/fantasy. Those I will publish on smashwords and kindle with my won artwork as cover. I really need to crack that whip. However, before I do that, I do need to wait for the last round of queries to respond. My fantasy made it into semi-finals of agent contest that held mostly romance, so I know it has some real potential.

Recently, I got so tired that I couldn't edit. Then we had company over the holidays. I was busy with extra cleaning and cooking. Then my dark moments, some of which inspired the ballad in the last post, took over. I started writing it out. Releasing on twitter inspiring an alter-ego that is leading to something new and dark and I think wonderful. I shall see when it's written.

Writing is a good weapon in my arsenal against falling into situational depression and it and painting is how I keep my sanity. FYI for those who might remember, I didn't do so well last year between my brother's birthday (feb 8) and the day of his death (april 25). I'm hoping that this year, since it is second year through all of this, will be easier to cope with.

The holidays were a bit easier as I found old friends. But I found out, through some weird happenstance, that I was only moving through the motions. I don't know how much missing my brother and sadness regarding my family played into it, but I'm absolutely sure it didn't help.

So hold me accountable. Many of you follow me on twitter. My phone is supposed to receive the @mentions from those I follow. You have my permission to inundate me with comments and pointed remarks about where my writing is and where the hell am I type of tweets.

My brother's death had a great impact on me. One I will always feel. He was the tie to my adopted family. So, keep me in your thoughts as his birthday approaches. I will hopefully be out of this other dark period before that day. Or at least be writing it out of my head to leave room for the extra so it isn't so overwhelming.

Keep writing, and/or whatever it is you do to keep your mind healthy :)

I'm almost finished with the first Damian book. You remember, the one I outlined then couldn't finish? The one I threw out 60k on already? Yep, that one! I will, with any luck, finish it today and send it off to my beta reader! Yay!

Ballad to Screwed up Love

Just a warning, I have been feeling a bit dark lately. This is not too bad, just not what you're used to from me.


Ballad to Screwed Up Love

Come into my parlor says the spider to the fly.
He follows though he knows not why.
He thinks he's in control, but one day he will learn.
When his heart is bleeding, then he will yearn.

For now, the comely whispers of the red-headed wench
Cause him to speak, to not smell the stench.
He tells her his dreams, his hopes, his fears
Not knowing that one day she will cause his tears.

He is tough, thinks he knows and has seen it all
But, sometimes, all is not enough to remain standing tall.
Softly the widow of love whispers, softly she calls. my love.
You hear and obey, and listen as she tells you to rise above.

See, there was one already in your life. One of whom you cared
one whom you spoke words of love into her ears and hadn't spared
a thought to another. Until the spider's whisper drew you apart.
Then your light side was afraid of the broken heart.

The other filled your darkness, called to your light.
But you were afraid, afraid to let it be right.
Then along comes the spider of pain
but she shows you only gain.

She tells you softly to let your love go.
It's not fair to her, she says as you feel you know.
You don't believe your love when she says you are enough
You don't want the pain, last time was too rough.

So you throw away a once in a lifetime pearl,
The unadultered love of your childhood girl.
You break her trust, her love and say,
This is a game, love is not how you play.

You throw away those feelings you had,
Telling yourself they can only lead to bad.
You turn back to the whispers of the other,
Telling yourself that this way is better.

Romantic love, you scoff, has no bearing on friends.
It is sad, that it may take you to the end.
The end of your chance with the one who knew
The darkness in you and that it grew.

Forever, you may be left to wonder
What you lost and may hurt as you ponder.
For one day the spider, after she has wrapped you high
Encased in a cocoon of silk, will bleed you dry.

She is subtle in her ties, subtle in her spin.
But with every step, she smells her win.
For, you fool, you have given her the tools
That ensure she will have your rule.

Until one day, you will turn and look
And the one who knew you every nook
She is gone, her love is lost, killed by the spider
Because you had not the courage to stand up beside her.

On that day, your mind will bend,
As your emotions shriek and your heart rends,
Mocking you with the remembered love.
The unconditional soul you can no longer speak of.

She will be gone from you,
Torn, bloody, because you missed your cue.
The friend never leaves and will stand,
With your boys, one in each hand.

Waiting, watching, feeling your pain.
Her tears falling over you like a summer's rain.
Hot and sweet, life giving is her joy.
But that pure love, is gone, it wasn't a ploy.

It is now broken, beaten and almost forgotten,
Under the spider's smells that you now see are rotten.
But it's too late now, you have found.
The love was lost when you weren't around.