‘Fickle Memories’, ‘Tomorrow Exists for Your Decay’, ‘Great Expanse’ & ‘Mephisto a Thief, but I am a Fool’
Matthew McCain is an author and fine artist with 3 of his novels reaching the top #10 on Amazon Kindle Unlimited. His fine art paintings can be found all around the world from London to Las Vegas with Bar Rescue’s Jon Tafer and Alice Cooper’s Teen Youth Rock Center in Phoenix, Arizona. McCain has developed a style he calls “extreme contrary”, which is meant to generate hidden meanings behind his pieces along with the titles.
Fickle Memories
My brain is like a haunted castle—
But, for all my hassle,
its decay must be quickening.
May your pace not weaken—
as its timbers start to strain.
Oh, married in the basement of—
this very place, but hung,
o’er the rails of the very top stair.
A reminder of fickle memories.
‘Twas what caused this awful curse,
of the attic, what plight?
What was sought, by the overlords—
who rule o'er thy haunted intellect.
Shadows of mine, kept halls—
of glamor and shine,
dampened with revenge.
As plot thickens—
from stranger anomalies,
thy castle falls peacefully.
Tomorrow Exists for Your Decay
Cheers to the golden moments of my life.
Though hard to find, and dim to see,
nothing has ever meant more to me.
Nonetheless, I shall be my downfall.
For things more, than the past
have left me stricken with pain.
All the worry that I carry—
is a burden that will never cave.
Long all I want, for someone to understand.
The pain that rots me comes from within.
My devils say, “tomorrow exists for your decay.”
But, I shall never burden those with such shame.
Great Expanse
It was the great expanse for me.
My drug, my poison.
Waves that licked my skin,
grass that blew in the wind.
It was that calm that made me feel whole,
the wrench of infinity that made me feel small.
Yes, the sun felt warm as it glided across the sky.
But the cool monotone of the gray sky gave me more to ponder.
Of what it was hiding, its neutrality.
It cast the color of drab onto anything it touched.
Gave the whisper in the air more mystery than before.
I loved the weather of the tragic kingdoms.
The lands with stories of chaos, ire, the fire of a fight long dead.
When I walked down paths of the old worlds, I could feel that tragedy.
The bloodshed that had bled into the ground,
and had passed those memories on.
I understood them more than others.
Mephisto a Thief, but I am a Fool
This cold and dark winters land,
yet has not relented me.
For in my trouble for knowledge,
for much more to kindle.
It has left me stripped of my humanity.
That devil who called me,
Mephistopheles is his name.
It wasn’t him who tempted me,
it was my foolish plunder,
my seek for ever more.
In my own temp for undying knowledge.
I fancied too close to the edge,
and as he walked, dressed like a friar.
I let him depart with me, my soul.
I have lost what makes me human.
Emily Clara Dehne is a previously unpublished writer from Cincinnati, Ohio. She works as an English tutor for her college, and plans to pursue a career in editing.
