He stands out in the pouring rain,
Standing naked from all the pain,
The teardrops fall from his face,
and know's that he'd fallen from grace,
As he stands there in the pouring rain,
Forever deafened,
from the the screams that remain,
With the torment of sorrowed dreams,
and never knowing,
quite what they mean,
He stands there in the pouring rain,
Forever praying,
not to return again,
The words,
that run around through his mind,
Are things that he'd try to find,
He stands there in the pouring rain,
Thinking of the love,
Hurt, that drives you insane,
From the darkness,
that goes on in his mind,
He stands there in the pouring rain,
Will you think of him,
when he's gone yet again,
Taking his life,
from the shadows of time.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
About Me
- JSBevan
- Recently published my latest ebook. And now set up my facebook page under Stan De Mann.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters(print by Goya 1799)
I sit at my desk,
with quill at my side,
To tired for rest,
unable to write,
Still drifting away,
to my subconsciousness,
Out of the dark,
nightmares come,
Tormenting my mind,
at the fall of the sun,
The demons are there,
waiting for me,
to drift away,
They won't let me be,
The vampire bats,
and visions of night,
Owls in my room
They attack,
scratch and bite,
Leaving their scars,
as I begin to write,
These are the creators,
that run through my mind,
when I'm asleep,
they're not hard to find,
no heed or warning,
never a sign,
but when I'm exhausted,
that's when they start,
Seeing these visions,
that's when I see,
Just what these creatures,
are doing to me,
they open my eyes,
to possibility.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
with quill at my side,
To tired for rest,
unable to write,
Still drifting away,
to my subconsciousness,
Out of the dark,
nightmares come,
Tormenting my mind,
at the fall of the sun,
The demons are there,
waiting for me,
to drift away,
They won't let me be,
The vampire bats,
and visions of night,
Owls in my room
They attack,
scratch and bite,
Leaving their scars,
as I begin to write,
These are the creators,
that run through my mind,
when I'm asleep,
they're not hard to find,
no heed or warning,
never a sign,
but when I'm exhausted,
that's when they start,
Seeing these visions,
that's when I see,
Just what these creatures,
are doing to me,
they open my eyes,
to possibility.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
Mulled Wine
I scream at the top of my lungs,
and the tears fall down from my eyes,
Left here bleeding,
Hurting again,
I'm walking out in the rain,
disguising this hurt, this pain,
listening to the song,
that plays in my ears,
A beautiful lie,
is what I play,
no one can see,
the hurt and pain,
I try to keep it that way,
The songs on repeat,
to play again,
Sometimes I think,
our lives are played that way,
repeat the cycle again and again,
to some twisted game,
that life keeps on playin,
But this time I'm rollin' the dice,
I'm keepin my dreams,
in a glass with no ice,
served up warm,
and a hint of spice,
She know's my dreams,
and I know hers to,
She know's my screams,
and she know's how to,
She know's who I am,
both in and out,
I believe in her,
and everything she does,
She miss reads me sometimes,
but that's just because,
I speak in a different way,
to the men she's met,
A gentle man,
with an open heart,
I know the pain of a broken heart,
many times i've been hurt,
With a blunt knife,
that's pierced the heart,
I can't change the way I am,
an open hearted loving man.
and the tears fall down from my eyes,
Left here bleeding,
Hurting again,
I'm walking out in the rain,
disguising this hurt, this pain,
listening to the song,
that plays in my ears,
A beautiful lie,
is what I play,
no one can see,
the hurt and pain,
I try to keep it that way,
The songs on repeat,
to play again,
Sometimes I think,
our lives are played that way,
repeat the cycle again and again,
to some twisted game,
that life keeps on playin,
But this time I'm rollin' the dice,
I'm keepin my dreams,
in a glass with no ice,
served up warm,
and a hint of spice,
She know's my dreams,
and I know hers to,
She know's my screams,
and she know's how to,
She know's who I am,
both in and out,
I believe in her,
and everything she does,
She miss reads me sometimes,
but that's just because,
I speak in a different way,
to the men she's met,
A gentle man,
with an open heart,
I know the pain of a broken heart,
many times i've been hurt,
With a blunt knife,
that's pierced the heart,
I can't change the way I am,
an open hearted loving man.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
Write Your Heart Out
I write with a quill,
I write when I'm bleeding,
the blood from the heart,
and the feeling still,
of a pain that starts,
with a bitter pill,
With a broken heart,
and the pain I've written,
of being pulled apart,
and the times,
I've been beaten,
Some call it magic,
some call it art,
To others it's tragic,
doomed from the start,
Loves lost,
and the pain they ensue,
but for the hurt it cost,
For that love so true,
A spark,
A cinder,
The start of a flame,
A cut of a knife,
to engrave a name,
Give your heart,
to someone true,
Hold them in your arms,
as they weep for you,
Rope around your neck,
knife in your hand,
Writing the words,
then try to understand,
As I put pen to paper,
it feels like,
nothing is more powerful,
Than a pen in hand,
as I place it to paper,
As my heart begins to pour,
and these words,
come out once more,
So read these poems,
and read them well,
each has a message,
From heaven or hell.
I write when I'm bleeding,
the blood from the heart,
and the feeling still,
of a pain that starts,
with a bitter pill,
With a broken heart,
and the pain I've written,
of being pulled apart,
and the times,
I've been beaten,
Some call it magic,
some call it art,
To others it's tragic,
doomed from the start,
Loves lost,
and the pain they ensue,
but for the hurt it cost,
For that love so true,
A spark,
A cinder,
The start of a flame,
A cut of a knife,
to engrave a name,
Give your heart,
to someone true,
Hold them in your arms,
as they weep for you,
Rope around your neck,
knife in your hand,
Writing the words,
then try to understand,
As I put pen to paper,
it feels like,
nothing is more powerful,
Than a pen in hand,
as I place it to paper,
As my heart begins to pour,
and these words,
come out once more,
So read these poems,
and read them well,
each has a message,
From heaven or hell.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
Werewolf
I smell your fragrance in the breezy air,
A sweet perfume I could smell you there,
As beautiful as the midnight sky,
and the stars that shine so high,
How I long for you so much,
To kiss your lips, to feel your touch,
I call for you, under the moon lit sky,
From the forest and woods,
where you live nearby,
As I sit here waiting for you to appear,
with beautiful red hair,
And your deep brown eyes,
They put me in a trance,
They hypnotize,
Your heart beats faster,
each time you see me,
Please don't be afraid of my grey,
fair,
hair,
It's only a coat that I wear,
look in to my eyes,
You can see a touch of a man inside,
Who loves to much,
I give no lie,
to the fear I hide,
The scares on my face show the pain inside,
I wait here every moon lit night,
To get a glimpse of you,
though I know it's not right,
When day breaks through,
and I'm human again,
I remember you,
but know not when,
Just the smell of you,
and the taste of your skin,
You captured me,
and send me within,
I feel your heart as lovers should,
Please wait for me,
at the edge of the wood,
So I can show my face,
away from the brotherhood,
At the break of day,
or a total eclipse,
So I can show myself,
and kiss your lips,
To hold you tight,
through moon to morning light,
I give you my heart,
so hold it tight,
A love eternal with out a bite.
To love someone so pure so true,
know my heart will always belong to you.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
A sweet perfume I could smell you there,
As beautiful as the midnight sky,
and the stars that shine so high,
How I long for you so much,
To kiss your lips, to feel your touch,
I call for you, under the moon lit sky,
From the forest and woods,
where you live nearby,
As I sit here waiting for you to appear,
with beautiful red hair,
And your deep brown eyes,
They put me in a trance,
They hypnotize,
Your heart beats faster,
each time you see me,
Please don't be afraid of my grey,
fair,
hair,
It's only a coat that I wear,
look in to my eyes,
You can see a touch of a man inside,
Who loves to much,
I give no lie,
to the fear I hide,
The scares on my face show the pain inside,
I wait here every moon lit night,
To get a glimpse of you,
though I know it's not right,
When day breaks through,
and I'm human again,
I remember you,
but know not when,
Just the smell of you,
and the taste of your skin,
You captured me,
and send me within,
I feel your heart as lovers should,
Please wait for me,
at the edge of the wood,
So I can show my face,
away from the brotherhood,
At the break of day,
or a total eclipse,
So I can show myself,
and kiss your lips,
To hold you tight,
through moon to morning light,
I give you my heart,
so hold it tight,
A love eternal with out a bite.
To love someone so pure so true,
know my heart will always belong to you.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
Creatures of The Night
It was past midnight,
and the stars lit up the skies,
Something just didn't seem right,
as we walked through the woods,
you by my side,
The creatures would scurry,
through the bushes and leaves,
A haunting song,
whispered through the trees,
"Quick, Hurry!"
Why?
There's no need to worry,
It's just the creatures of the night,
don't you know,
didn't you see,
The owl that's calling from it's tree,
In the distant darkness,
she hears screams of a child,
or at least,
at first,
it appeared to be,
But she didn't know,
about the animal,
being hunted in the wild,
trying to protect it's family,
Noises of a different kind,
came from beyond the trees,
At first sounds like thunder,
but couldn't be,
Not a cloud in the sky,
and the full moon was up high,
Yet we couldn't see,
through the darkness,
of the night and the trees,
The noise was getting closer,
and we began to run,
another noise came with it,
A lot more menacing,
and not much fun,
Past the trees and bushes,
we ran,
through the fields of wheat,
Thinking of places to hide,
but they were hot on our tracks,
Maybe if we're lucky,
we can double back,
I don't know,
to tired to run,
ran out of breath,
to tired to think,
being pushed to the limits,
right to the brink,
They're moving in,
and we face death,
The devil's dogs,
tear at my flesh,
Still alive as I feel each,
Bite,
Pull,
Tear,
As I breathe my last breath,
I turn to see you still there.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
and the stars lit up the skies,
Something just didn't seem right,
as we walked through the woods,
you by my side,
The creatures would scurry,
through the bushes and leaves,
A haunting song,
whispered through the trees,
"Quick, Hurry!"
Why?
There's no need to worry,
It's just the creatures of the night,
don't you know,
didn't you see,
The owl that's calling from it's tree,
In the distant darkness,
she hears screams of a child,
or at least,
at first,
it appeared to be,
But she didn't know,
about the animal,
being hunted in the wild,
trying to protect it's family,
Noises of a different kind,
came from beyond the trees,
At first sounds like thunder,
but couldn't be,
Not a cloud in the sky,
and the full moon was up high,
Yet we couldn't see,
through the darkness,
of the night and the trees,
The noise was getting closer,
and we began to run,
another noise came with it,
A lot more menacing,
and not much fun,
Past the trees and bushes,
we ran,
through the fields of wheat,
Thinking of places to hide,
but they were hot on our tracks,
Maybe if we're lucky,
we can double back,
I don't know,
to tired to run,
ran out of breath,
to tired to think,
being pushed to the limits,
right to the brink,
They're moving in,
and we face death,
The devil's dogs,
tear at my flesh,
Still alive as I feel each,
Bite,
Pull,
Tear,
As I breathe my last breath,
I turn to see you still there.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
Biblical
Do I believe in God?
to be honest I don't know,
But if I did would it be right,
to say so,
To ram it down your throat,
with a fist,
Would he really want it to be like this?
This is the word,
This is the way,
Do as I do,
Do as I say,
Don't veer off or there will be hell to pay,
Is this the way he would want it to be?
Or would he want us,
to make our own journey,
To use our own minds,
and see more clearly,
To believe in him,
in a deeper way,
No bricks or mortar,
inside a church alter,
But in the heart and soul,
was his main goal,
To think of him as we should,
From the penthouses to the hood,
To treat each other,
with love and kindness,
No preacher,
preaching to cover and blind us,
Understanding each different race,
no color or creed,
Just the heart and soul in place,
Christian, Catholic, Muslim, Jew,
Buddhist, Sikhs to name but a few,
All believe in one God,
Under a different name it's true,
Yet this is the thing,
that starts wars to,
My point is this,
We all have our faiths and beliefs I do,
But we should also respect,
and understand others to,
So go read the book,
and read it through,
And listen to what it's saying to you.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
to be honest I don't know,
But if I did would it be right,
to say so,
To ram it down your throat,
with a fist,
Would he really want it to be like this?
This is the word,
This is the way,
Do as I do,
Do as I say,
Don't veer off or there will be hell to pay,
Is this the way he would want it to be?
Or would he want us,
to make our own journey,
To use our own minds,
and see more clearly,
To believe in him,
in a deeper way,
No bricks or mortar,
inside a church alter,
But in the heart and soul,
was his main goal,
To think of him as we should,
From the penthouses to the hood,
To treat each other,
with love and kindness,
No preacher,
preaching to cover and blind us,
Understanding each different race,
no color or creed,
Just the heart and soul in place,
Christian, Catholic, Muslim, Jew,
Buddhist, Sikhs to name but a few,
All believe in one God,
Under a different name it's true,
Yet this is the thing,
that starts wars to,
My point is this,
We all have our faiths and beliefs I do,
But we should also respect,
and understand others to,
So go read the book,
and read it through,
And listen to what it's saying to you.
Copyright © 2011 John Bevan
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