Forseer (Cryptic - Screech)

Ah... the typical crystal ball fortune telling eh? That's generally what I was imagining when I came up with the concept of Forseer. It's someone who relives the same life again and again, but doesn't seem to understand how to make things better.

The theme and the lyrics are quite inspired by Bullet For My Valentine's album "Gravity", and also to some extent, Groundhog Day (but only to some extent... see what I did there?).

I also tried something very different for the accompanying image, magic is supposed to be smoke, mirrors, and color after all, right?

Anyways. Without creating too many time-loops, do read on...

Forseer

I see everything,

Though it might be,

Kinda sorta maybe,

A figment of my imagination.

I wish I was blind,

I wish I was there,

I wish I could burn these masks that they all wear.

What I see with my eyes,

What I know in my head,

What I feel in my heart,

I've seen it all before,

I thought,

Maybe it was different,

Maybe this would actually make sense.

I saw this coming, I've always known,

A lucid dream, That I can't control,

I said goodbye, A long time ago,

I told them so.
I've been where I want,

I'm not needed anymore,

I don't want to breathe,

Around the company that they keep.

I didn't want to intrude,

But I guess they misunderstood,

There's a safe little bubble,

I don't want to burst,

I don't want any trouble.

The days, they’ve started to fade,

They blend together like one big mistake.
I don't do it for the applause.

They all know I used to,

I didn’t stop for anybody’s sake,

The appeal just died down,

It all just seemed fake.

Ignorance is blindness,

I've known, I've preached,

Unfortunately no one believes,

They love their comatose relief,

Before they get torn to pieces.
and they fall,

While I stay in my psychedelic bliss,

My state of nirvana,

Observing everything that others miss.

Here's a reminder and a little parting kiss.

It's undeniable that something's not right,

The darkness is looming,

I'm no longer the guiding light.

Lost in space,

No gravity pulling me down,

But I can't fly,

I've got no wings of my own,

And there's no place like home.

I've stayed away,

I needed to revitalize,

And gather my energy again.

The filter was least applied,

But it was still there,

It always takes strength,

No exceptions,

I know it isn't fair.

Never talk straight,

Never going back to tomorrow,

I’ll find my happiness on my way out.

My head's hurt for hours,

I think I'm done,

But I know, I see,

Just a word,

And I'll be back like an idiot.

No words can tell,

This little unfortunate tale,

There are no lines to read between,

It’s implicitly implied,

Like appreciating a fine wine.

Legends of old,

It seems as though, They see my pain.

Their words, their songs,

Have carried me through this bitter brawl.

Dull the senses,

Free fall in slow motion,

Psychedelic panorama,

My head’s an empty ocean.

As I go on,

Reliving all that I’ve relived before,

Maybe someday they’ll relive the moments,

And find what they couldn’t,

When they didn’t fix what’s broken.

As I wait for the next black hole to open,

Keep my head filled with the empty ocean,

Free fall in slow motion.

Cheers... ScreechDrummer...

Psych (Cryptic - Screech)

Psych is a poem I came up with about a month ago. It's pretty much what I see myself as.
Now the name does not make sense based on the poem, since the poem is about a bard. Well, you see, the bard's songs make him a psych. The songs may help people, maybe, possibly, hopefully.

Regardless, that's enough exposition. Do read on...

Psych

I'm a dose of reality,

I'm a companion through the misery,

I'll always be here,

When nobody else is.
I'm a bard,

I sing my songs.

Tales larger than life itself,

Cultivations of my mind.

I'm a backbone.

I'll always be here.

For anyone who needs a hand,

Or anyone who needs an ear.
I'm a voice,

For when the silence deafens,

I sing my songs,

For the war and its veterans.

People have tried, people have failed,

When they've come to me,

Looking for riches and fame.

Many I've judged,

They've lived up to their shame,

Hidden away beyond the streets with no name.

It's a great power, and a greater responsibility.

I've known secrets, and I've known conspiracies.
They know I sing, but they don't know I listen.

I can add well, six and one makes seven.

But I've disappeared,

Haven't I? For a while?

It's alright, not every kill is a crime.

I've killed my time.
Looking back now,

It seems so long.

I've made it this far,

Somehow it seems wrong.
Like it's just… a different song.

I'm not a god,

I'm no hero,

I'm not a friend,

To most, I'm the end.

I’m not a dreamer,

I’m somewhat of a schemer.

I speak what is real,

While the songs I sing,

Are figments of my imagination.

Very few understand,

What I mean and what I say.

The others, they don’t quite know,

But they can’t seem to stay away.

Something always brings them back,

And they hear my songs once more.

It helps them to move on,

They come and tell me so.

But I’ve been gone,

Haven’t I? For quite long?

It’s alright, not every journey is a straight line.

I just follow every sign.

Looking ahead now,

It seems so feeble.

I’m on my merry way,

But there’s just so many people.

Somehow it feels I won’t last,

Haunted by the songs of my past.

What I’ve done,

What I’ve known,

What I’ve sung,

And what I’ve told.

It will be,

The death of me,

Unless I swear to secrecy.

So I go on,

Singing my songs,

Tales larger than life,

Cultivations of my mind.

Hoping someday,

Someone will find,

A hidden truth behind all the lies,

And live on to tell the story.

I’m a bard,

I sing my songs,

Tales larger than life itself,

Figments of my imagination...

Cheers... ScreechDrummer...

Unstable (Cryptic - Screech)

Stability as a concept has always intrigued me. How can you know if you're stable? How do you explain it?
People explain their state of stability in weird ways. People cope with loss of stability in weird ways too.

Anyhow, I guess it's easier to see when someone is unstable rather than when they're not... isn't it?
It's easy to tell whether a bridge is safe to cross or not based on whether it's swinging violently, or quiet and calm as a sleeping puppy...

Why am I saying all this? Do read on...

Unstable

A slow burn, a blunt force trauma.
All she had in mind, all she stood for,

Burned to ashes, crumbled to dust,

Like a rock that's part of a falling star.

Shame, oh such a shame,

for someone destined for greatness,

There's still moments,

Far and few,

That show the potential she has.

But she's a mess.

“Ignorance is bliss"

Is what she believes,

She thinks she knows how it feels,

But that's not what it means.
Her ignorance is feigned,

Her laugh, excruciating.

How can someone pretend so much?

How can she ignore all the pain?

It's blatant, it's obvious,

There's a problem.

But there's no effort,

To solve it.

There's just a dull little anthem.
She sings it everyday,

Hoping things will change,

She's lowered her stance on living,

And existing doesn't seem strange.

Lost in her own mind,

She's lost the one who knew.

She's lost her light in the darkness,

And she can't find her way through.

Name? What name?

There's no name for the faceless.

How can you identify someone,

Who's lost in a synthetic psychosis?

Game? What game?

There's no game without the pieces.

How can you help anyone,

Who's lost to the fear of the masses?

Unstable. That's what she is.

Yes, it's a little harsh to say.

But there's no other way.

This isn't a game that one should play.
Time will tell, how far she fell.

From the seventh heaven,

Gone straight down to hell.

These abstractions cannot do wonders,

When someone is torn asunder.

She knows this well,

But does she remember?

She's afraid of heights,

So she's afraid to fly,

Living amongst the rats,

She's forgotten the color of the sky,

Yet she wonders why.

Same? What same?

There's nothing same about this, it's hopeless.

How can you see the good in someone,

Who's unaware and lost in a fairy tale bliss?

Tame? What tame?

You can't tame the insane.

How can you show someone what's real,

When they're lost with the fictional and mundane?

She seems to think,

But then says otherwise,

To hide behind,

A cloak of thin ice.

They think it’s part of her fickle mind,

They are obviously blind,

Drinking gin with cyanide,

Superficially smart little finites.

They trap her in her own words,

Slowly choking the ways out.

The only time she ever is free,

Is when there’s no demons around,

Or when the bard sings,

And breaks the clouds of doubt.

What is going to happen?

Nobody seems to know.

Maybe it’ll all be clear,

Maybe it’ll open at the close.

Will her story be sung,

In glory or in defeat?

Remains to be seen.

Possibly a new scene,

Starting off pristine.

Cheers... ScreechDrummer...