The Golden Age of Ignorance

The black raindrops fell outside the classroom window while the oh-so-diligent pupils waited like bloodthirsty lambs with the bright gleam of violent impatience in their eyes, seething to breach the confining thresholds of the instructor's flimsy grip on this moment of their existence.
Learn? Why would i want to do that? We're here because our parents wont let us sit at home and this guy wont let us leave! Didnt the wise men say 'ignorance is bliss'? see? i proved my point.

The lone pen that daintily scrawls over the pad while making a scraping sound of blazing electricity draws in the silenced mute wrath of every other face in the room like water being shot out from silenced Colt .45 calibers and drawn into a drain.

The sullen silence breaks like a cracked dam with the shrieking ring of the bell. The instructor sits in the ensuing emptiness, with palms over eyes, runs his fingers through his ageing hair... hair which has seen the sun and the rain many a tiring day for many a tiring year. He gets up wearily, staggers home on worn shoe-soles and aching knees. Home is just a word to him. It means nothing when all that is there is an eternal continuation of the emptiness that embraces his life so lovingly and completely, from classroom to home and back, through every meal and every smile. He will return to teach tomorrow again, returning to those averted eyes, those supressed curses, to those dull listless beings that flock in and out of his room. Were they humans? He cant remember.

He only comes to teach the boy with the strong eyes - he doesnt remember his name - but the feeling of duty, duty to teach and nurture the last glimmer of hope in the fading universe, a universe as dull as the eyes of those other creatures, that duty needs no name to be attached to it.

The competence behind those eyebrows, the determination behind the strong nose and thin lips, the defiant ferocity in those eyes... yes... that is enough to make him live another day in a life almost without value.


(Those Who Teach Me Have My Everlasting Respect - Arabic Proverb)

"I herald the Age of Competence. It will come no matter what the cost."
~ prophecies of the Hellspawn

Kunst und Stahl

Du sah mich,
in der hellen Schwärzung.
Das kalte Licht
war eine Warnung.

Du bist zu mir gekommen,
Deine Augen waren wie Stahl.
Du wisst, was wir wollen...
.............nächstes mal.

Es gab einen Vollmond.
Es war eine schöne Nacht.
und diese alte Wunde
heilt durch Mitternacht.

Du hatte nicht meinen Namen,
überhaupt gekannt.
aber Ihre heftigen Augen
hatte liebte meine kunst.

Du hatte liebte..... mich.

~Gedichte des das Hellspawn




English: (a pretty literal translation of what i wrote... it doesnt rhyme in english or sound good either. =\ but it sounds pretty damn nice auf deutsch.)

Art and Steel

You saw me
In the bright darkness
The cold light
Was like a warning.

You came to me
Your eyes were like steel
You know what we want...
..........Next time.

There is a full moon,
It’s a beautiful night,
And these old wounds
Will heal by midnight.

My name, you have
never known.
But your violent eyes
Loved my art.

You loved..... me......

~poems of the Hellspawn