Nothing To Nothing

whispering man

We begin as nothing


But can grow into Kings


Or crawl deep in ourself


And become nothing again


This is your life

Could it be stranger

A misfits delight

You’ll fit right in

Don’t you worry

Ignore the dangers

But remember here

The point’s to win


As the years

Pave the road to sorrows

Your fears

Buried under lies

Steal what you can

Keep all you borrow

And feel the walls

Crumble in on paradise


For we begin as nothing


But can grow into Kings


Or crawl deep in ourself


And become nothing again


As you tie rope

To hang all your dreams

Die of hope

And desperation

Death an escape

Now it seems

From mindless madness

And frustration


So don’t lead your soul

To the gallows

Don’t leave your soul

To be damned

Beware the cold

Beware shadows

And beware

The red-eyed

Whispering man


The red-eyed

Whispering man


The red-eyed

Whispering man


You know we begin as nothing


But can grow into Kings


Or crawl deep in ourself


And become









Mother Earth – Steve Wolf Original (with recording of song below)

pack of wolves

Oh Mother Earth

I’m going down

The full moon shines upon

A sea of stars

A flood of light

And I am sinking

Oh Mother Earth

I was thinking

That when I die

And all my tomorrows

Like tears

Fall into the sky

And flicker

And pass me by

And when I leave my friends

The ones I love

Will I never know them again

Or understand

Their tenderness

Their loveliness

Or feel them warm

Against my


Am I to lie there endlessly

Alone in death



Without them

Oh I could cry

A million tears

Mother Earth

These are my fears

That I should pass

A million years

Or a single day



Oh Mother Earth

I’m going down

I feel the coldness

Of the ground

The bitter frost

Of deepest space

I cannot bear

To face it

And when I feel this way

Wrap your arms around me

Press you body

Into mine

As if your soul

Could enter


And when I feel this way

Do not say a word

Or dry my tears

Just hold me

And let the years


Oh Mother Earth

We’re going down

The full moon sets

And sinks

Beneath the dark waters

Of the flood

And all is




I finally found Steve Wolf’s original song that I attempted to recreate below.  Listen to the acoustic version by the original author.  Chilling…


burn baby

Unrepentant he glares.  His undisguised anger boiling, seeping.  He points with a finger of his mind, and he accuses.

“Your crimes are too great, too heinous for you to dare to counter so,” I declare.

His defiance lessens none.  His stare remains spiteful.

I turn to the jury—these fine twelve clones of justice—and all give a slow, and solemn nod.

“Your Honor,” I address the Judge, “the accused here before you, as you can well see, offers no admission, no remorse.  No, your Honor; not even a single tear has he shed for his terrible trespasses.”  Now it is my finger that extends, seemingly of its own accord, and finds its way to point at the Accused.

The Judge, looking much like the Jury, closes his eyes, and offers me, and all those bearing witness, the same slow nod of understanding.  He is guilty, it says. Proceed.  And so I do.

“The charges are as follows, your Honor, and esteemed members of the Jury…”

I clear my throat.  The accused snickers.

“He who stands shackled before you, my dear peers, has many crimes; any of which singularly uttered, and convicted of, would damn him.  So let us not toil, brothers, with a lengthy oration of the Accused’s many felonies against us.  Instead, let me bring to light but one … Treason!”

The Jurors look to one another, shock unhidden from expressions.  Further away, in the deep dark, the Witnesses murmur amongst themselves, their many voices a hum, a beehive of a thousand androgynous clones.

A wry smile curls at the corner of the Defendant’s mouth.

“Yes, Treason,” I continue, “against a hundred years of meticulous tradition, against—dare I say?—Family!”

The courtroom explodes in an uproar.  Shouts fly, spittle sailing close behind.  Twelve Jurors’ fingers point, untold others from the shadows thrust their digits at the Accused, and, more importantly, the Judge himself stands, and points with his oaken gavel.

“Guilty!” he declares.

“Guilty!” follows the Jurors’ chorus.

“Guilty!” comes the affirmation from the multitudes in the dark.

Now it is I who smile.

The Accused is hauled away to his fate, and we, his judges in this, follow to bear witness to the end of rebellion.

To a tall post he’s chained.  Log and tinder are piled below.

I am handed the torch that will end this, and bring the course of the Family’s dark channels back to an even flow.

Stepping to the timber stacked high, I lift my head to gaze with satisfaction one last time so I might take with me his terror, and know my righteousness—the righteousness of us all—was well founded.

My shock nearly drives me rearward, as I see no terror at all, but instead that same sneer, that same mocking mouth that hints at knowing something of great consequence that all of us have somehow failed to recognize.

I linger but an instant, then turn away, dropping the torch upon the fuel of his much deserved end as I do so.  I hear flames crackle behind, and walk away.  The faces of the Judge, Jury, and glowing masses in the dark, stare up at the Convicted.

Yet they do not gloat.  They instead gasp.  Then, as before, they all point.

I turn to see him, the Convicted, my Nemesis, my defeated foe, engulfed in flame.  He screams not.  He smiles still.  How?  Why?  A singular thought had by all minds whose eyes behold what mine do.

Then I am answered.

My robes catch fire.  My hair ignites, then my body, as if one of the logs from the inferno of the Condemned, bursts into roaring flame.

I scream, harmonizing with the Judge, Jury, and all the Witnesses as they too burn.

Over the great din of the whipping flames, and with the last of my consciousness, I hear him, the Condemned laughing, and I know the truth…

He is me.

He is us all.




My Shadow

my-shadow II

Cast down from father to son
An heirloom for the ages
He’s the last one, no another comes
So point your fingers and blame him

His cage is guilt, their whips are fear
They lash him through his training
His rage is held in a bitter tear
As he swears they’ll never change him

They grasp the past in their rotted hands
And squeeze it of all its sorrows
Smiling they drink this blood and tears
And blacker grows the Shadow

Shadow you hold your secrets
Like a wicked and ancient carcass
How many souls have poured their woes
Into your bloated darkness

Listen now…

And I’ll tell you something about my shadow
It is where my anger lies
There is where my secrets sleep
And where my guilt resides

It holds a million tears and a thousand sorrows
Some of which are not mine
From deep within I hear them whispering
From down where my demons hide

In my Shadow

My life-long friend