A song about the characters Sloane and Hurley of the podcast The Adventure Zone. pls excuse any sloppiness I recorded this in a day in my bedroom

The Raven & The Ram

BLACK MASS by CREEPER, covered by GHOSTMOOR

Original song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sumAxp4tjRc

Black Mass

Cover of FVK's Dream Of You. Original song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbtkV81o5j8

Dream Of You

I got a little carried away and wrote a poem about Zenith from the NeoScum podcast, then spent two hours recording it and realised it clocked in at a solid four-and-a-half minutes.

This was written inclusive of events up to episode 42, and I absolutely plan on doing a part two in the future.

Full poem, as it was written and as I was reading it:

No beginning, no end.
Just consciousness; sudden,
Without memory,
But the motions feel so natural
You may as well have been doing them
For years.
Years.
Years.
Years without memory.
A life, or a facade of one,
Constructed in the shadow of what is absent.
A body,
A mind,
Secrets sewn into the fibres of your being that refuse to come loose
No matter how hard you pull.
You climb. You fall. You make mistakes. You suffer the consequences.

You climb again.
You have no choice.
This world is not forgiving,
Even for the shaking hands
Of frightened children.

There are people,
People
So many people.
The blood in every city.
All living
Surviving
Thriving
A name for every face
A story for every name.
Can you say you have the same?
What use is a name (pulled from the void in blind desperation)
A story (imagined
a broken song pieced together
from the stolen notes of others)
When you cannot recall the circumstances
Of your own existence?

Life moves on
And you must adapt.
Forget to forget.
The world does not pause for anyone's past.

A trucker,
An elf,
A wizard.
Common grounds in uncommon places
Where reservations fall away in the wake of sleep.
Warm hands
Warm bodies
Warm words
Then cold.
For the first time, it is the past
that pulls
at you.
Pulling.
Pulling.
For the first time, feelings.
For the first time, memories.
Frozen steel
And white hot ice.
It burns inside, deep, fleeting
Almost bright enough to see by
Almost
Almost
But not quite.
The guilt of the price you paid
Sits almost as heavy in your stomach
As the truth
You are beginning
to face.

Time moves on.
So must you.
You have made your choice
And there are no second chances
No steps back
Only forward.

Pine
And earth
And blood
Blood
Blood
In your veins
In the ground
On your hands.
Hands that shake
And falter.
The hands of a child,
Frightened
Of what is done
Of what is to come.
You know this fear. It is justified.

Pine
And earth
And blood
Blood
Blood
Beneath fingernails
Staining clothes
Dried against skin.
Now,
Your hands do not shake.
Now,
You do not falter
Now,
You are not a child
But you are still frightened.
You do not know this fear.
It is justified.

Respite, finally.
Weary feet,
Tired minds.
Four lives
Finding comfort in a dead man's home,
Warm hands
Warm bodies
Warm words.
But the cold still nips
At your heels.
A frost that refuses
To melt.
A name: foreign but familiar
Known but not
Your prize
and your demon.
The world hangs in the balance above its open jaws
And the bridge that leads across
Threatens to snap beneath your feet.
Tread carefully,
Or it will swallow you whole.

You do not know what will happen
When you find your holy grail
When its contents spill
When you see the face
Reflected
In it.
You do not know what you will do
Where you will go
What will change
You do not know if you can forgive yourself
For the sins of someone
You never
remember
being.

You have come too far
To turn back now.
You do not know what will happen
What you will do
Where you will go
What will change
But with love beside you,
Around you,
Warm hands
Warm bodies
Warm words
Blood beneath fingernails
Pine and earth
Gasoline and white leather
Tall tales and bad food and old music
And the most courageous stupidity you've ever seen,
Not even Hell's best
could consume you.
You'd like to see them try.

NeoScum kicks ass and if you've somehow ended up here without prior knowledge of it, go check it out: http://neoscum.com

FILE_NOT_FOUND

Another NeoScum-inspired poem. Career Choices is a poem about a wizard. This is part one. Part two is already written and coming soon. Words below.

The same dream, again.
Pulled forward from the depths of your memories
And into the forefront of your sleeping mind,
Projected into your eyes
Your ears
Your aching feet as you struggle to keep pace with the forest of long legs around you.
In the moment, it feels so vivid -
The mud on your shoes and the wind whipping around you and the glint of stars in the cold sunlight - 
But when you wake,
All you can recall are muffled voices
A flash of light
The crack of gunfire.
You know it was real by the robes draped across your bed.

You are seven years old and you do not understand
Why they kick the ball from your hands
Why they push you into the mud
Why they bruise your face
Until a teacher pries them away.

Seeking refuge in old, weathered hands,
A warm bath
Little band-aids speckled with stars.
You sink into her side,
And she says,
"I love you."
And she says,
"You are brave."
And she says,
"You are good,
And this world and these people
Cannot take that away from you
No matter how hard they may try."

You are eight years old, and now you understand.
They do not kick things from your hands.
They do not push you into the mud.
They do not touch you.
No teacher need pry them away
When you give them no reason to attack.

She says,
"Things will get better."
And she says,
"The world is changing."
And she says,
"One day,
You will not have to hide."

The world does change
But you do not.
Locked in place
Stuck in the mud you trudged through as a child
Too afraid of what you have heard,
Seen,
Known
Too afraid to step outside
Even when your home is a prison.

They say,
"You are dangerous."
And they say,
"You cannot be trusted."
And they say,
"You are evil."

When you make that first step,
It is so careful,
So cautious.
You ready yourself for the wild dogs that will set themselves upon you.

The wild dogs do not come.
What does is more insidious:
Sly glances
Closed circles
Hushed whispers when your back is turned,
An offer that glimmers with temptation until you reach out and grasp it
Only to find that it was the blade concealed within that was shining the whole time.

They say,
"Be grateful."
And they say,
"Things have come so far."
And they say,
"Isn't this what you wanted?"

What you wanted
Was freedom.
You have only moved from one cage to another.

She was right;
You do not have to hide anymore.
(you turn away from the TV screens)
Is this not good?
(you leave the studio alone, as always)
You can show the world your magic, now.
(your fingers are sore from sewing a tear in your robes)
Is this not a better life?
(your ribs ache from the hero of the week
delivering a blow that was a little too real)
Their world has changed,
But yours has not.
You are glad she is no longer able
(that they are not here)
To watch you.

Again, if you've somehow found your way here while still unfamiliar with NeoScum, it's a great podcast made by great people that isn't nearly as serious and sombre (for the most part) as these poems might suggest and you should listen to it.

Career Choices pt I

The second half of the poem I posted last week. Career Choices is a poem about family.

This is not a hand you thought you would ever take
But it is the hand that took you.
Scooped up into the cabin of a truck
Where sleep is restless
Days blur together
And you are terrified, quietly, of the risks you know you are running.
You have not felt so alive
In years.

The people you meet teach you lessons.
Old notions
Of old mindsets
Split apart.
They give way
To something new.
They give way
To what is growing inside of you.
The sun dries the mud and as you reach out towards its light,
Your hands are warmed
By the embers rising from your own palms.

The road is not easy
But then,
It never was.
The difference, now, is that you no longer have to shy away.
Your hands can heal
And they are welcomed,
Thanked.
Flesh knits back together in the glow beneath your fingers
And you know that what you do is good.
You know that she
(they)
Would smile.

The road is not easy
And sometimes healing hands cannot help.
Sometimes you do things that would not make her
(them)
Proud.
This is what you must live with.
You wonder,
As you stare down the name of an old friend
(enemy)
If she
(they)
Would forgive you just for this;
If this would make it worth it.

The road is not easy.
There are many things to fear in this world,
So many things still unknown
Unseen
Unpredictable
And this line of work has you running into all of them.
It is worth it.
It is worth it for the feeling of fitting in
Of belonging
Of being whole
Of what you never had under the piercing glare of camera lenses.
One long summer night on a roof takes you higher than you have ever been before.
The world has changed.
So have you.

You climb one roof
You fall from another.
There is blood
And pain
Searing,
Sweating
A fever.
Shaking.
Freezing,
But burning.
You are five years old and your Nana is pressing a cold cloth to your forehead.
You reach for her.
She slips away every time you open your eyes.

You may have changed,
But a lifetime of experience
Cannot be unravelled in a matter of weeks.
Old habits creep up you like vines
Threatening to choke you
To blot out the sun.

You are not alone anymore.
Determined hands fell the looming trees
And rip away the smothering tendrils.
The sun touches your skin again. 
A firm grip holds you steady
As you remember how to walk.
And he says,
"I've got you."
And ze says,
"Just breathe."
And she says,
"It's going to be okay."
And you know that what they say is true.

Reignited
Your embers burn again,
Brighter,
Sharper,
Flames cracking open.
Lightning pours out.
This time, it is not met with cruel words
Hard blows from iron fists
Or kicks from steel-toed boots.
This time, it will not be stifled,
Mocked
Vilified.
You will not allow the past
To repeat itself.
This time,
It lights up the stars
Shining brighter than any studio light you have ever stood beneath.
You know that he
(she)
(they)
Would be proud.

When the starlight dims,
And your courage with it,
There is always a hand
A shoulder.
A healing touch that may not glow in the same way yours does,
But it dulls the pain and guides you back from the precipice.
And you say,
"Thank you."
And you say,
"I love you."
And they say,
"We love you, too."
And you know that what they say is true.
These people are your family, too.
You wish she was here
(they were here)
(you feel them)
(they are here)
To watch you.

Neoscum is good and you should listen to it at http://neoscum.com.

ghostmoor

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