Numb

What doesn’t kill you
Doesn’t make you stronger
Only more numb to the pain
Beautiful lies couldn’t hide
The ugly truth any longer
Leaving an indelible stain

Thank you for sticking the knife in
And giving it a twist
Thank you for hitting me with an iron fist
Thank you for squashing my heart with your thumb
Thank you for making me…
Thank you for making me numb

Just out of the gate
Tripping over the wire
Laying emotions to waste
Don’t be the victim again
Burn them away with cold fire
Killing the pain without a trace

Thank you for kicking me in the side
With a steel tip boot
Thank you for feeding me the poison root
Thank you for pain I’ll no longer succumb
Thank you for making me…
Thank you for making me numb


Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

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There is Light

To see forever you need only close your eyes
To all you think is real
And open your mind to reality
The answers you seek can only be found
By transcending all you feel

There will always be darker days
In your life
There will always be evil ways
In the world
There will always be lies believed
Without proof
But there is light
And there is good
And there is truth

The choice is yours to define the rest of your life
By what lives your heart
Only you control the path you follow
You’ll always be sure of your journey’s end
If you know where you should start


Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

The Man with the Crooked Face

When I was a very young boy, about five years old I suppose, I used to have this recurring dream…no, it was more of a nightmare; it terrified me, and would be exactly the same every night. I would be lying on my bed, sound asleep when a sudden noise just outside the window next to my bed would jolt me awake. I wasn’t really awoken, mind you; it was only in my dream. Anyway, in my dream, I knew there was someone, or something outside my window, and I knew it was evil. I didn’t want to know who or what it was, but felt I needed to. More than anything, I feared what I would see should I lift the blind, but I knew I must. As I pulled the blind down slightly to release it – it was one of those cheap spring-loaded, roll up kind – I wondered if I was just being foolish. I mean, I had only heard the one sound outside; it could have been anything; a stray dog maybe; or perhaps a couple cats fighting. No, I knew it was something else. I went to ease the blind up slowly, and take just a peak, but the bottom of the blind slipped from my fingers and it shot up instantly to the top of the window, exposing fully to me, the man on the other side.

He had a face unlike anyone I had ever seen before. It was severely pockmarked and looked deformed. His left cheek was slightly caved in which made his mouth crooked, and his wide, square chin point to the left. His eyes were small and squinty and the top of his head, which was topped with thin wiry hair, seemed to be too big for the rest of his face. He just stared at me through the window – never said a word – and then he smiled. It was a grotesque, evil smile. I knew he meant to hurt me. Something deep inside me could feel it.

My first reaction was to scream for my parents, but to my horror, I found that although I could open my mouth, I could not produce any sound. My only option was to run and escape through the door at the other end of my small bedroom. As I jumped off of my bed and dashed towards it, the wall with the door started moving away from me almost as fast as I was running for it. I was gaining on it, but very slowly; and then I noticed the door had started to shrink. I tried running faster, to get to it while my only exit was still big enough for me to fit through, but I was already moving as fast as I could. Just as I reached the door, I realized it had become too small for me to escape through. Then, as I stared at it, the now tiny door shrank the rest of the way until it was no more – there was only a solid wall. I was trapped by the man with the crooked face. I knew I was doomed.

And then I would wake up.

I would lie there trembling, not wanting to move but at the same time wanting to run out of my room as fast as I could. I would need to say something – anything – just make some verbal sound to assure myself I was no longer in that nightmare with that man. I had this dream every few nights for months – thirty, forty, maybe fifty times. Every time, it was exactly the same. Then I suddenly stopped having it; and I’ve never had it again.

I had all but forgotten about that dream until many years later, when I was around twelve years old. I had just spent the day around the corner at a friend’s house and was coming home for dinner. As I was walking up our driveway, I noticed my dad talking to someone, presumably one of the neighbors. My dad called me over to introduce me to him. I don’t remember if my dad ever told me his name; my mind blacked out to everything around me except for the face of the man who was now extending his hand out to greet me. It was severely pockmarked and looked deformed. His left cheek was slightly caved in which made his mouth crooked and his wide, square chin point to the left. His eyes were small and squinty and the top of his head, which was topped with thin wiry hair, seemed to be too big for the rest of his face….


Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

That Too

It’s not want
It’s not desire
It’s the ego
And the wanting to be wanted
Insecurity?
Maybe that too
Not then
Not now
Never

It’s not need
It’s not passion
It’s just friendship
And the need to be needed
Stark reality?
Maybe that too
Always has
Always will
Forever

It’s not thought
It’s not conscience
It’s the emotion
And the loving to be loved
Part insanity?
Could be that too
Maybe yes
Maybe no
Whatever


Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

Let It Flow

White hot rolling hillsides
Sand billowing in a furnace
Weary and weak the traveler falls on bended knees
Take me
Take me now
I am very young
And so afraid
I don’t know how
To continue
Take me please

Then a voice from the sky did say
Let it flow
Be strong and never let go
You have the strength to carry on
And one day you will know
All there is to know

Dark horizon moonlight
Leaves blowing in the breeze
Tired and toiled the traveler lies down beneath the trees
Take me
Take me now
I’m no longer young
And I am tired
I know not how
To continue
Take me please

Then a voice did say from the sky
Let it flow
Be strong and never let go
Harbor the strength to carry on
And soon you will know
All there is to know

Powder blue isolation
A white dove floats high above
Wrapped in sentiments the traveler sits by the sea
I’m home
Take me now
I am very old
And so wise
I have no need
To continue
Please take me

Then the sky opened up and said
Let it flow
Don’t be afraid to let go
You no longer need to carry on
And now you will know
All there is to know.


Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

Memories Live and Die

Stories of a forgotten time
Can you read my mind?
Can you hear my thoughts?
Keeping memories in and out of line
Interpretation to which you’re blind
I speak for myself
You know not how I feel
Caring not if I laugh or I cry
Or knowing the reasons for my sighs

Visions from a distant past
Will they be forgotten?
Will they be forever?
Some memories were meant to last
Others should be forgotten outcasts
Cherish the moment
You never can return
Memories will both live and die
Inside foundations of what draws nigh

Time the Martyr

Time is a martyr
Sacrificing itself for us
So we can find a way to heal
To move past all our pain
And all the while
It wants not in return

Time gives us memories
Moments to treasure
The discovery of love and joy
It bids us to find acceptance
And learn the ways of forgiveness
Moving us forward
Never does time look back

Time grants us a reason to be
Providing a purpose
Offering it all to us freely
To find and use as we like
Allowing us to make a difference
While we use up
All that time can give us

Time will not always be there
One day it will leave you
But while it is here for you
It will give you all it has
Treat time kindly
It will be your martyr


Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig