The Crow's Attic

	Poems Here is a touching poem that was written about Brandon Lee, by Robert Zuckerman. BRANDON And he has left us. Yet in his absence, His presence is And shall be Stronger than ever. For he is everywhere now, And he is inside of us; We, who witnessed The brilliance Of his flame And were warmed By its heat; We, who heard the chimes Of his churchbell laughter Ring the plains of starry dawns; We, who stood in the pure rain of his divine And noble spirit Are now its blessed, honoured keepers Within and through us He shall live on And our lives Shall ever be enriched By him in ways Wondrous and untold Fly high, dear friend
	The following poem has been written about The Crow, by Child of Insanity. RE-UNITED love and hate all is here pain and fury is all I feel I have died, but vengeance must be had I am reborn a spirit of vengeance made flesh I dig out of my grave feeling my pain through the streets I roam looking for my love but love is gone everywhere but in my heart leaving naught but rage pain hate and insanity they will die, and I will be re-united with love
	The next 4 poems have all been written by Shadow Obscured. AS THE CROW FLIES Fate defines our dark past As we decline what shall last Playing gods, we forget our place Looking destiny full in the face Yet we destroy more than we create Humans calling this destruction... fate Life is a long road ahead of you In the distance, death lies You must do so much before reaching it But it’s so short, as the crow flies Many roads, twisting and turning But seeing through clouded eyes Death seems so far away for so many But it’s so short, as the crow flies Call upon figureheads and heroes People to worship and negate the zeroes Needing scapegoats to take the blame Reasons are different, excuses are the same Behold what each individual will see What the past holds and what the future will be Life is a long road ahead of you In the distance, death lies You must do so much before reaching it But it’s so short, as the crow flies Many roads, twisting and turning But seeing through clouded eyes Death seems so far away for so many But it’s so short, as the crow flies See life as a curse to negotiate We try the hardest when it’s too late What is there to base life on When we find ourselves, we’re usually gone Though we all die closer than we want to Don’t bother to look at what you didn’t do DREARY LIFE Soak my heart in the tears I've cried Kill you silently now that you've lied Find my shadows so I can hide Cry my tears for my soul has died I leave you now with nothing at all Because nothing is left after my fall In the distance I heard an eerie call Leave me now, with nothing at all My tears have fallen more than twice A pair of dry eyes would be nice But you have my nuts in this vice I feel in you a heart of ice Many times I've tried to find my one and only But in the end it's left me lonely Is it because I'm quite homely? Or because I admit to being phoney? The world is laid out before me Yet I stay in only what I can see I should leave, for I am to be free Or maybe I will stay and be nobody And yet my feet remain still Walk up and down the next hill When it rains, I'll eat my fill Feel the acid burn, as it will I admit everyone lies Look deep within my honest eyes For they are far, as the crow flies The ultimate truth is that everyone dies Change is power, nothing is the same What kind of meaning's in a name? We all play a role in this lifelong game And yet we all want a piece of fame EMOTIONAL WAR Your war has lost it’s reason Your fight is now out of season Do you know where your death lies? Less than a mile as the crow flies Now that you’re purpose is gone You find you won’t live long Bred for battle, life of war You’re used to all the emotional gore But nothing could prepare you The way you’ll pay your due Put away your weapons and run You’re no longer any fun Anything you try will be wrong And suddenly, you’ll be gone Disappearing, off the face of the earth To live in darkness ‘till your rebirth You know you can’t win against yourself And you’re to absorbed to give any help The voices are no longer there for you And you can’t decide what is true Now you have to make your own choices And not depend on the voices For you have won this emotional war And the voices are no more Drop your weapons Sheath your sword They can’t save you Or protect you anymore Dim voices call me from the depths of my mind It’s off to war, again TETHERED THOUGHTS A raven, tethered to the fence of life Seeing the flocks below me Mindless workers, I am like them But I want to spread my wings and be free I cannot live a hollow life I already feel too empty And I cannot sleep in a warm bed Without her next to me I suffer through everyday life Knowing I’m destined for greater But my wings are tied back And won’t be released until later Never showing what’s inside of me I’m not blind, but I cannot see What is it you see in me? Why am I flying, but still not free? But once I fly free I need the right love to guide Or else I might get scared Bury myself in the clouds and hide The beautiful crow shows the way And I find life worth living She has my heart in her hands But she is also giving Guides me to a better place Giving me strength to fly I asked myself for reasons before But now I know why
	This great piece of poetry has been submitted by tWISTEd sPINe, exclusively for The Crow's Attic. THE LENGTHS OF ETERNAL BREATH chamber slick and dark ignites with frigid rasp of blood soaked lungs pulling air once again, the rattle of a soul unchained. sifting midnight through pearls of black regret, the crow deciphers pain like it deciphers love; on terms of life and death. in coffin's satin cradle a shuffle of thread subdues, and shadows once etched in silence shriek the lengths of eternal breath.
	More great poems submitted kindly to The Crow's Attic by tWISTEd sPINe. EXTINGUISH Sorrow burn, its corruptive heat all consuming, and for heart's mortal dance the flames of grief cast shadow-blades, cutting away those precious hours. We gather, quiet revelations beneath a sky he created, this scenery of crow wings dappled crimson at the tips, just enough to paint night in tones of utter violence. And when peace comes- and it will. washed in rains of blood, this weary soul can slip to death; a place where sorrow burns no more. HOW THE DEAD WALK It's pouring rain. He always liked the rain, the way it felt, coming down in the darkness, tiny angel tears that catch splinters of moonlight, then splash on skin. The world seems ok in the rain. He remembers a room carved from stone, slick with mossy dreams that came off on his fingers to make him wretch from fumes of slow-cooked hope. This was his death. There were curves of fire, a slender demon arcing along the spines of misery dwarves. Voices were rusty edged, cutting out holes so hollow eyes could see the stars beyond, how they glimmered out there and made the darkness seem restless. His suffering The bird. The fucking black bird bade him follow. He plucked a glossy feather and felt the stone of that place break away, leaving him alone to contemplate hatred's many angles. He's not alive. These window reflections of him sliding along the sidewalk, they are imprints of a life fractured. The love the fear the rage the sorrow; this is him stitched from fragments of once being human. Now he's here. Back home, on these streets he knows well. The buildings look the same, and the people do too. Its him that has changed. Wings blot out the moon sometimes and he follows the flap of their reason. Memory seers the edge of vision, like his pupils are on fire with all the world's injustice. The Crow says he needs the pain to keep walking. This rain might tingle if his skin were more than dead.