O liquid temptress of my dark dreams,
Your ****** expanse calls me
And I would sail ever on,
Were it not for the elven maid,
Who calls me, calls me

She binds my heart with a lily white tie,
Never to be broken, save by my torment
Ever to be torn between the treesand waves.
And I travel for ever, for ever,
To reach the elven maid's heart which lies,
Beyond the liquid temptress' grasp.

The elven maid in beauty basks,
Her eyes as auburn as hallow woods.
Her hair as lush as the foamy tide,
With ruby lips and honeyed words,
She calls me, calls me.

She breaks all enchantments on me,
And calls me to the elven land.
Her voice awakens the fallow lands,
And fills my heart with unearthly joy

O liquid temptress of my dark dreams,
Your ****** expanse calls me
And I would sail ever on,
Were it not for the elven maid,
Who calls me, calls me

In the Still of the Night
On the Top of the hill
As we Lie looking at the Sky
Awaiting a Comet to Pass By
My Mother told me a Tale

Back when Magic Waned
And the Machine age began
With sorrow for its passing
The last of the Elves set off for afar
Left for the sky, on the Elven Star

Machines had robbed the Minerals
And smoke destroyed the Herbs
And Poisons had ruined the Water
Precious Elements from Sacred Fire
No Longer Helped them heal the Earth

The night they left the legend says...
A Bright comet passed, By in the Sky
The Elven Ships Journey  on a Magic Tail
Leaving behind a Golden Age Now Pale
The Elven ship returns at 75 years to pass By

And this is our Only chance to see Elves in the Sky...JMF 3/10/2015

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinuviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.



There Beren came from mountains cold,

And lost he wandered under leaves,

And where the Elven-river rolled

He walked alone and sorrowing.

He peered between the hemlock-leaves

And saw in wonder flowers of gold

Upon her mantle and her sleeves,

And her hair like shadow following.



Enchantment healed his weary feet

That over hills were doomed to roam;

And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,

And grasped at moonbeams glistening.

Through woven woods in Elvenhome

She lightly fled on dancing feet,

And left him lonely still to roam

In the silent forest listening.



He heard there oft the flying sound

Of feet as light as linden-leaves,

Or music welling underground,

In hidden hollows quavering.

Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,

And one by one with sighing sound

Whispering fell the beechen leaves

In the wintry woodland wavering.



He sought her ever, wandering far

Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,

By light of moon and ray of star

In frosty heavens shivering.

Her mantle glinted in the moon,

As on a hill-top high and far

She danced, and at her feet was strewn

A mist of silver quivering.



When winter passed, she came again,

And her song released the sudden spring,

Like rising lark, and falling rain,

And melting water-bubbling.

He saw the elven-flowers spring

About her feet, and healed again

He longed by her to dance and sing

Upon the grass untroubling.



Again she fled, but swift he came,

Tinuviel! Tinuviel!

He called her by her elvish name;

And there she halted listening.

One moment stood she, and a spell,

His voice laid on her: Beren came,

And doom fell on Tinuviel

That in his arms lay glistening.



As Beren looked into her eyes

Within the shadows of her hair,

The trembling starlight of the skies

He saw there mirrored shimmering.

Tinuviel the elven-fair

Immortal maiden elven-wise,

About him cast her shadowy hair

And arms like silver glimmering.



Long was the way that fate them bore

O'er stony mountains cold and grey

Through halls of iron and darkling door

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Seas between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And log ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless.

Eärendil was a mariner

That tarried in Arvernien;

He built a boat of timber felled

In Nimbrethil to journey in;

Her sails he wove of silver fair,

Of silver were her lanterns made

Her prow was fashioned like a swan,

And light upon her banners laid.



In panoply of ancient kings,

In chainéd rings he armoured him;

His shining shield was scored with runes

To ward all wounds and harm from him;

His bow was made of dragon-horn,

His arrows shorn of ebony,

Of silver was his habergeon;

His scabbard of chalcedony;

His sword of steel was valiant,

Of adamant his helmet tall,

An eagle-plume upon his crest,

Upon his breast an emerald.



Beneath the Moon and under star

He wandered far from northern strands,

Bewildered on enchanted ways

Beyond the days of mortal lands.

From gnashing of the Narrow Ice

Where shadow lies on frozen hills,

From nether heats and burning waste

He turned in haste, and roving still

On starless waters far astray

At last he came to Night of Naught,

And passed, and never sight he saw

Of shining shore nor light he sought.

The winds of wrath came driving him,

And blindly in the foam he fled

From west to east and errandless,

Unheralded he homeward sped.



There flying Elwing came to him,

And flame was in the darkness lit;

More bright than light of diamond

The fire upon her carcanet.

The Silmaril she bound on him

And crowned him with the living light

And dauntless then with burning brow

He turned his prow, and in the night

From Otherworld beyond the Sea

There strong and free a storm arose,

A wind of power in Tarmenel;

By paths that seldom mortal goes

His boat it bore with biting breath

As might of death across the grey

As long-forsaken seas distressed;

From east to west he passed away.



Through Evernight he back was borne

On black and roaring waves that ran

O'er leagues unlit and foundered shores

That drownded before the Days began,

Until he heard on strands of pearl

When ends the world the music long,

Where ever-foaming billows roll

The yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise

Where twilight lies upon the knees

Of Valinor and Eldamar

Beheld afar beyond the seas.

A wanderer escaped from night

To haven white he came at last,

To Elvenhome the green and fair

Where keen the air, where pale as glass

Beneath the Hill and Ilmarin

A-glimmer in a valley sheer

The lamplit towers of Tirion

Are mirrored on the Shadowmere.



He tarried there from errantry

And melodies they taught to him,

And sages old him marvels told,

And harps of gold they brought to him,

They clothed him then in elven-white,

And seven lights before him sent,

As through the Calacirian

To hidden land forlorn he went,

He came unto the timeless halls

Where shining fall the countless years,

And endless reigns the Elder King

In Ilmarin on Mountain sheer,

And words unheard were spoken then

Of folk of Men and Elven-kin,

Beyond the world were visions showed

Forbid to those that dwell therein.



A ship then new they built for him

Of mithril and of elven-glass

With shining prow; no shaven oar

N or sail she bore on silver mast;

The Silmaril as lantern light

And banner bright with living flame

To gleam thereon by Elbereth

Herself was set, who thither came

And wings immortal made for him,

And laid on him undying doom,

To sail the shoreless skies and come

Behind the Sun and light of Moon.



From Evereven's lofty hills

Where softly silver fountains fall

His wings him bore, a wandering light,

Beyond the mighty Mountain Wall,

From World's End then he turned away,

And yearned again to find afar

His home through shadows journeying,

And burning as an island star

On high above the mists he came,

A distant flame before the Sun,

A wonder ere the waking dawn

Where grey the Norland waters run.



And over Middle-earth he passed

And heard at last the weeping sore

Of women and of elven-maids

In Elder Days, in years of yore.

But on him mighty doom was laid

Till Moon should fade, an orbéd star

To pass, and tarry never more

On Hither Shores where mortals are;

For ever still a herald on

An errand that should never rest

To bear his shining lamp afar.

In mighty kingdoms far away
Grew an elven king, stern and wise
Whose young daughter grew in the fields
with eyes as blue as the clearest skies

Elenir, was the daughters name
who danced amongst leaves like gold
whose laughter rang like a thousand bells
whose fair skin would never grow or old

There a traveller came from mountains
and lost, he wandered beneath the trees
he drank from nameless rivers
and voyaged across the savage seas

They met under the sheets of stars
as she saved him from himself
he touched her hair, felt her voice
and till death, he stayed with the elf

His human life frayed away
After a mere blink of years
She watched and stroked his aging face
and wiped away her tears

And when he passed, she could not bear
the pain that she felt inside
the once swaying trees that danced
felt empty, old and dried

She traveled up to the clifftops
Elenir cried her lovers name
She threw herself into the raging oceans
for her life was never the same

The elven king was despaired to see
the loss of his cherished daughter
He cursed the lands
Set fire blazing
and froze the wicked waters

He hide away his treasured kingdom
and watched as the world around him burned
His soldiers pleaded, his people begged
to not leave the world so spurned

But his heartbreak was too great to deal
The world fell into darkness
and with the once-beautiful Elenirs death
the skies grew black and starless

Elven Heritage
Purity Healing Sphere Carriged In
Sacred Mystical Kin Hint Of A Faerie Mist
Purified Language In
Telepathy With All Interdimesnonal Beings
Love Hugging The Trees
Its Where We Peace
Its Where We Eat
Dance & Sing
Healing Passion Fullfiling Gatherings
Fairys Swing
One Touch From Us Is A Rush
Enough To Make An Angel Blush
All Disease Crushed Into Dust
Whipped Up Into Thus
Purified Trust
Declair Clean Air Is A Must
Our Eyes Are Idolized
Pure Manners Inside
Anything Less Than Love It Flys
Where Its Free From Disguise
Vibrations Rise Then Dies
I Am Elven Folk
My Dearest Heart
Wheeps When You Leave
Until Your Return
I'll Be Gentle When Bleeding Screams
We Are Here To Heal Call Up
Elders Silver Will

Santa got a letter
From a young boy in Duluth
Will there be a Christmas
Say, it's not the truth

We heard that you aren't coming
This virus is real bad
Folks say there'll be no Christmas
And Santa, I'm quite sad

A virus keeping me away
What does this child say
A Christmas without Santa?
No gifts on Christmas Day

A week went by and letters came
They all said the same thing
We heard there was no Christmas
No gifts to us you'll  bring

So Santa called a meeting
He had to find out for himself
He called everyone around him
Including his top elf

Folks, this is a problem
These children are upset
This virus that they speak of
Is it one that I could get?

Research, do a study
Find out what's going on
I'll not stay home this Christmas
On Christmas eve, I'm gone

So, the elves all started searching
They checked and made the calls
This virus was a bad one
They've cancelled Santa at the malls

A week went by and Santa
Called a meeting just to see
If the virus was a dangerous
Would Christmas cease to be?

Santa,  said his favorite elf
You'll need to have a mask
So, we've started on designing
It is our major task

Santa said, he'd wear one
If it was what he had to do
I need to keep the children safe
Just, make sure that it's not blue

Another week, more meetings
A mask had been  designed
It covered up his nose and mouth
And it ******* in behind

I can't wear that on Christmas Eve
It will not stay in place
The knots will loosen over time
It'll slide around my face

The letters kept on pouring in
The kids all had to know
Was Santa staying home this year?
Was Christmas a no-go?

Another meeting, one more mask
This looked like Santa's beard
I like it, but, there is no mouth
I think it looks quite weird

Think boys, do your magic
You make toys and are the best
A simple little face mask
Should not put you to the test

Another mask, another fail
Time was getting short
If they could not deliver soon
This Christmas, he'd abort

Another meeting came and went
So Santa said to write
A letter to all magic folk
Maybe they can set this right

Two weeks before the big day
There was a small knock at the door
A fairy stood before him
She looked no more than four

Santa, I can help you
You want a mask you can see through
You do not want to scare the kids
They have to see it's you

Exactly, that is my plan
But, can your mask do all these things
She said, my mask is magic
It's made of fairy wings

She went inside with Santa
She told him fairy wings were tough
They could do all that Santa wanted
And lots of other stuff

The problem with my plan though
Is if I give my wings away
Wherever I am at in time
That is where I'm bound to stay

A sacrifice like that is huge
Do you want to make that choice?
There's no Christmas without Santa
She said in her small voice

You'd have to stay up here with us
A winter fairy you will be
Although you will be wingless
You'll like it here you'll see

She blinked her eyes and wiped her tears
It's what I want to do
I'll give them up to make your mask
And I'll stay up here with you

Santa, too was crying
This was the gift that he would need
He called his elven council
And tasked them with their deed

It took about a week or so
They made the magic gift
Invisible and see through
It gave Santa's heart a lift

The loops to go around his ears
Were as thin as thin could be
The mask, well, it was perfect
And there was nothing you could see

Santa put the mask on
Took a breath, and all was fine
There will surely  be a Christmas
And I love this mask design

The fairy was now wingless
She followed Santa all around
But, you could she see was not happy
She could no longer leave the ground

Santa called another meeting
Now that the mask is done
I have another job boys
And it is an easy one

He told them what he wanted
Gave a time when it was due
I need it to be perfect
Do the magic that you do

The big day came and all was set
The sleigh was set to go
The reindeer were excited
There was fresh, white, Christmas snow

Tonight, I will endeavor
To make this Christmas night the best
I'll deliver all the gifts you made
And I have one here in my vest

He called the fairy forward
He said the joy that Christmas brings
Will go on with no stopping
Because you gave your wings

For you my dear I have a gift
It's made from Christmas snow
A little elven magic,
And at this, the box did glow

She took the box, and opened it
Tears were in her eyes
A perfect pair of fairy wings
Measured perfectly to size

Santa, these are lovely
But, my wings, I gave to you
No dear, these are special
These fairy wings are new

You do not need to stay here
You can fly again and go
I made these to say thank you
You saved Christmas don't you know

I know you know the answer
She stayed there, need you ask
That kids is the story
Of Santa Claus's magic mask

The Elders of the Elven Mists, at the Death of the Old Queen
From all around the Realm they came a Conclave to convene
The fair haired Golden Locks of young Azky they did Crown

Queen Azky Rode a Royal Beast of All Dragons he was King
The Queens Beast Yaz Kere Loved Soaring About on Wing
Yaz Kere knew it was his Royal fate to Protect  Queen Azky
And Carry her aloft his Back Steadfast so Her Elf Arrows Fly

The Dragons lived in Erehwon upon the Chrysenal Trees
The Elves harvested the Leaves for Enchanted Wizardry
Much Magic came from those Potions as Magical Notions
To protect both Elf and Beast in Battle against enemy Hovens

The Mordel slipped in by night to Steal the Magic Leaves
but Yaz roared Alarm to dragons as swords  Pulled from Sheaths
Queen Azky, Quiver, Elven Bow and Yaz Off to the Sky they go

Blades clashed and Arrows Flew as Dragons passed above the war
As Elven arrows hit thier Mark, hordes weakened to rearward
The Mordel tried but Only failed and thus ends the Battles Tale

Mrs. Claus was at the door
Making sure that Santa knew
He had to see the doctor
He must be there by two

Santa gruffed and grumbled
Said there's too much to be done
"You know I hate the doctor"
"The doctor's just no fun"

Mrs. Claus held fast and said
"You do this every year"
"and you always have a new excuse"
"when the appointment time is near"

Santa, said he'd do it
Although, it was done under duress
He could run an elven workshop
But the doctor, was more stress

He made it to the office
At two, precisely on the nose
The first thing the nurse said was
"Santa, take off all your clothes"

"You know we have to weigh you"
"It's in the contract that you signed"
"A little extra weight shift"
"Could get the sleigh all misaligned"

The scale said way past jolly
He was twenty pounds past plump
He was just below horrendous
Santa Claus was one fat lump

The doctor read the clipboard
And made a tsk tsk tsking sound
He said "Santa, you're much bigger"
"You're almost 5 full feet around"

"I have with me a letter"
"That the vet asked me to read"
"It says unless you drop some blubber"
"Four more reindeer you will need"

"Now, every story book out there"
"Names eight reindeer in line"
"And since you hired Rudolph"
"A lot have you with nine"

"But the vet now says you need thirteen"
"To get up in the sky"
"You've got to change your diet"
"Santa, please lay off the pie"

"I'm not saying all at once"
"But, you've got to drop some weight"
"Or, you'll be dropping gifts by plane"
"And you'll still be over weight"

Santa tried a little laugh,
Not a full out ** ** **
Truth be told, he'd lose his breath
He knew the weight would have to go

He got down off the table
Put on his hat, and Santa Suit
He looked as red as ever
When he tried to reach his boot

The doctor said "Good God Man"
"You can't go up like that"
Santa said "I'm fine doc"
"The kids want a Santa that is fat"

"There's a difference between jolly"
"Like the elf you're supposed to be"
"But Santa, count your chins man,"
"I lose count at twenty three"

"The elves are under orders"
"Not to load the magic sleigh"
"Until you commit to weight loss"
"And you promise right away"

"I know that you are Santa"
"And for this I may get coal"
"But, your wife, Santa...she scares me"
"She said she'd put me in a hole"

"Santa, lose some poundage"
"Give it just a little try"
"It's not right...thirteen reindeer"
"Flying through the Christmas sky"

"I know it's confidential"
"what has happened here today"
"But, Santa...I will tell her"
"If you don't...and right away"

Santa, said he'd try to
He said "just tell me what to do"
"Truth be told there doctor"
"The woman scares me too!!!"

Christmas Eve was coming
There was plenty to be done
There were protocols to follow
There were programs to be run

Presents needed wrapping
Elves had duties of their own
They've been doing it for centuries
They could call Christmas in by phone

Reindeer games were scheduled
Christmas Carols to be sung
There were toys to be assembled
There were bells that must be wrung

Christmas Cakes...no problem
For we all know there's just one
It gets passed around each Christmas
And that is half the fun

But, back now to the reindeer games
Donner wasn't there
But, neither were three others
It gave Santa Claus a scare

He called the elven vet in
Said "find out what it wrong"
"If I don't have all my reindeer"
"It'll ruin Rudolph's song"

The vet came back directly
Hoof and mouth was what he said
The reindeer must  miss Christmas
They were all confined to bed

Santa couldn't take it
Reindeer home...what would he do?
He thought real hard about an answer
Where would he find something that flew

The vet said, "I've an answer"
"But, no questions...just your trust"
"I'll get your gifts delivered Santa"
"I just need your magic dust"

Santa said "do your best Doctor"
"We can't have Christmas end like this"
"Are you sure you have an answer?"
"We can't give Christmas time a miss"

The vet and elves went searching
They formed a team like none before
They went around to the animals
And then they knocked on Santa's door

Santa looked at what they'd brought him
His reindeer gone, but here they stood
A team had been assembled
It made Santa sink into his hood

Harnessed up before him
The vet had two dogs and a bear
A ******, goat, and donkey
And a bald, blind cat...stood there

He smiled and said "Dear Santa"
"They may not look like that much now"
"But, they'll get you where you need to be"
"And they'll be led by a brown cow"

If you hear some noises
From your roof, like bleats and barks
Some, meowing or some mooing
And other strange sounds in the dark

Remember, it's just Santa
With his new team for the season
Rex, Rolf, Billy, Ben, Bessie, Joe, and Mike
and a bald, blind cat who's freezin'

Merry Christmas to all and to all....don't look up!!

In forest and green
the dragons be seen
fly high yonder sky
fly high, fly high
through river and plain
through mountains again
fly high yonder sky
fly high, fly high

lo' moon
lo' sun
lo' creatures, be one
as night and as day
as night, as day

a sonorous tune
sung May, sung June
flutt'ring notes high  
float by, float by
now daughter and son
to mother, come on
to loving arms warm
come on, come on

lo' moon
lo' sun
lo' creatures, be one
as night and as day
as night, as day

One ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.

Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Highland Nordic landscape
hands bound by twine
the smells of pine
wafting through the forest
the stranger awakes to their escorted fate
the judge, jury and executioner awaits
with bated breath and a heaving chest
behind the forever closed gates
just beyond the mist.

The Rebels want their Freedom
and the right to choose their destiny
The Empire want allegiance
and the spoils of war
to stroll their sequestered land
the suppression they hold unto thee

taken by force in an act of Union
intent on silencing the minority
but the quell of the rebel voice had failed
an unbridled passion and belief
that as natives they would never relinquish
not even under the purge of fire
nor the controls to decide
that resistance of existence is futile
in the face of a Colonial state
that all should bow and abide

emphatic on extending their reach
natives were but minions in their eyes
harvesting an ancient history
as you would brew heather mead
hounding the pilgrims of Talos
tending the ego's of the few over the many
laying claim to what lies beneath the sea
the fossil fuels they ache for
and on-demand that they have
the greatest need.

Dragon Slayer is in their midst
but they do not know that yet
not until this epic unfolds
like a warriors Tartan
laid out and stitched in war
the family crest emblazoned
hues of amber stained in years of fervor

the weight of the uninvited guest
who decided it was best
that they should take whatever they desired;
you land, your dreams, your women -
the nubile pale skin of a lovers breath
tarnished her name, pillaged her sanctuary
before you were able to take her hand
and under the arched stealth of moonlight
and under the eyes of your Gods
solemn oaths sworn and ritual pacts made
that they would never steal the memory
and that this would never fade.

Dragon Slayer would have you heed their name
in time to come when all must decide
make alliances of your own
or squander freedom in the name of history
let the past slip into the murky waters of shame
preserved in the wetland bogs to the west
till the soil broken by man's greed
to populate the last remains of nature
so that he may gorge his already fat belly
with the notion of carrying on his seed
in a world where more are alive today
than have ever been.

You decide:
what do your Elven ears hear
your Orcish eyes see
your Redguard heart feel
your Viking spirit wield
your Khajiit senses fear

the Argonian lizard
his forked tongue speaks in riddles
puzzles await
poisoned logic
and arcane magic
in a time before the world found its feet
when dragons ruled the skies
and breathed fire and ice

the artifacts of legend
lay hidden in the hall of stories
rewarding only the Dragon Slayer
with the wall of voices

will you accept the fate of history
or stand tall and embrace the change
will you go headlong into the cold night alone
whether you be the warrior or the mage
all that is yours by right to keep
your moment of glory awaits

the Greybeards will ask only this:
which destiny will you seek?

Gil-galad was an Elven-king,

Of him the harpers sadly sing:

The last whose realm was fair and free

Between the Mountains and the Sea.



His sword was long, his lance was keen,

His shining helm afar was seen;

The countless stars of heaven's field

Were mirrored in his silver shield.



But long ago he rode away,

And where he dwelleth none can say;

For into darkness fell his star

In Mordor where the shadows are.

Of Ancient Mushrooms you'll find
Growing in the wilds of every eon
And if you Find yourself lost in them
Amongst Faeries, Lizards, Elves, and Snakes
And the Forest Glows a Phosphorescent Green
Catch your Breath amid the Giggles let free
And hear the Elven Harps among the trees
Under giddy Spells of Mirth and Laughter
Soft thrum of Faerie Wings and Elven Chatter
The rising Sun Disolves the Mists of Mirth
And all the Magic drifts off from the Earth

Chapter 1
Falling leaves


The Crimson sky shone brightly around the young elven girls hair as she stood beside her mother in the remote area hidden within the starian mountains. They both examined the small and large creatures that roamed the area so free so untamed yet they shall cause you no harm should you approach them. "Amira my daughter" the mother said to her " you see what is before and you know that each creature, plant and breathing being has been taken care of by our clan and race for many generation since the time of the elders still roamed the earth" "amira" she said "take this bow and staff and decide what your destiny shall be" The young elf girl stood still and gazed upon the well carved bow and the refined staff that had been used by generations before her. She plucked the string of the bow and heard it resonate through the woods and followed with two taps to the ground a flow of light now appeared on the ground by which she tapped on. The light engulfed the ground in a quick and rapid flow it looked as if heaven itself was set upon the earth in which she stood now looking out upon the world with her mother. These thoughts the memories that she had reminisced the scenes from her child it was also one of the last time she would see her parents , alive that is.The once young elf girl rose to her feet and wiped her forehead to remove the sweat from the dream she had just endured. She said aloud “This dream is always returning to me, why?” She picked up her Staff that her mother had given her so long ago it seemed. The Staff had grown with her as she got older and taller so did the staff to suit her in her journeys in life. She stretched out and began to examine the forestry from up in the tree in which she had spent the night. She shape shifted into a cat and dropped from the tree with a ease and set off into the direction of the City of the sentinels in which lay in the land of the humans who her people had always been in alliance with since the elder gods had roamed the earth the human and elf gods had at one time waged war with each but they saw it as pointless to continue to sacrifice there beloved creations. Swiftly she moved dodging tree after tree to reach her destination before the start of the summer solstice. She regained her regular form as she reached the gate of the city in which she had traveled so far to reach in time, she approached one of the guards that stood outside the city gates and she said “I have a message for your king, please grant me passage into your city” the guards asked “is that so then show us the message as well as remove all of your weaponry for you know this is a city built on serenity.” She removed the letter from her satchel and opened it before the eyes of the left guard, he examined it quickly and saw its urgency and quickly commanded that the gates be opened. The gates swung open with a quick thud as they locked into place to allow her in. She walked slowly as the humans examined her with intensity as if they had never seen her kind before despite that not being true for the elves and humans had always fought along side one another since the first war in the plains of krasia. Young children run amok chasing each carefree as such young group of children should be. Amira approached her final destination which no more than sixty –five yards ahead of her. Before her stood the largest palace in the entire land of Emul, which lied in the eastern kingdom. The king welcomed her to his city with a great and joyous laugh hands extended saying “my father and grandfather and past generations have ruled over this land and so shall I continue.” His voice echoed through halls of the palace, Amira stood astonished at how much different the humans are in there own land she had only known them on the field of battle by in which she fought along side them in the war of jinir. She knelt before King Azreol and said “Your majesty I bring you news from my people in the starian mountains.” She reached into the satchel and removed the letter which bore the royal seal of the elven king. Her hand held it out in front of her, head bowed still and knelt the king approached and took the letter from her hand and said “ You may rise for are people are at peace and so I shall consider you my dear friend” The king read the letter quickly with a small sigh followed after reading it. He looked and laughed with great joy and said “My dear girl it pleases me to say that we accept your invitation to the Festival of the Three Moons.” “Go and tell your king that we shall arrive on the sixth day of the coming month to help prepare such a great and joyous occasion.” She bowed once more and said " Im most sure he will be glad to hear of you answer to attend your majesty" Amira rose to her feet and thanked the generous king for accepting there offer and headed out the palace doors, but the king rose and said " Such a young and beautiful elf such as herself is not implying that she dares to sleep with the beggars and thiefs of the city does she?" " well yes" she replied.

King Under the Mountain?
Hardly so.
Longed to be king?
Certain sure.
But treasures lost...
He, dragon-sick,
Trusted no one,
Swung an Elven blade,
Lies buried holding Orcrist,
Elven Treasure.

I spent years of my life in a fantasy world.

Well. Lots of fantasy worlds.

My clothes were cooler
Voice smoother

Choices simpler.

You finish quests, unlock gods, Slay dragons
.
When my DnD group broke up I thought:

If I'm not the gnome bard or the elven ranger or the dwarven barbarian

Who am I?

The answer:

I'm the kid,

Who was doodling demons in the corners of classrooms.

Who didn't quite make it through the pacer test in one peice.

Who spoke up a little too loud about religion and not loud enough about being bullied.

Who didn't have party's to go to because he was to busy with his party of heroes.

Who will I be now?

I can write my charecter sheet however I want too.

Natural Twenty on my charisma

Critical hit my failures

Damage reduction on Haters.

In real life, I paint my face on blank canvas

I have one simple goal.

I want to levitate slightly off of the ground

While summoning an undead army and shooting fireballs from the sky.

I might not get there.

I'll be ****** though, if I don't roll for it.

Do not eat of Faerie food
And do not drink of Faerie wine
Or when you leave Faerie at last
The home you seek's no longer thine.

Do not step in Faerie rings
Do not enter the Faerie Mound
Or when rescue comes for thee
Your sanity will ne'er be found.

Do not lie to Faerie folk
And don't insult the Faerie Queen
Or for all of eternity
You and yours will not be seen.

Do not enter Faerie woods
And do not walk the Faerie trod
Or, though you come back to hearth,
Your heart will ne'er again be thawed.

Don't listen when Faeries sing
And ignore the Banshee wail
Or you will have the dubious fame
Of becoming a Faerie tale.

Do not look through Faerie stones
That you find on the Faerie ground
Or they will put out your eye
So you can't see when they're around.

Do not enter Faerieland
But if you do, don't leave the path
Or you'll be lost for ever more
In darkness where the monsters laugh.

Do not ask for Faerie help
If it comes take care how you pay
Some want clothes or milk for it
Some are insulted and betray.

Do not accept Faerie gold
From captured elf or leprechaun
For it will turn to moss and leaves
And when you look up they'll be gone.

Don't swim in the Faerie stream
Where nixies and kelpie play
Banshee wash dead men's ****** clothes
In that water, so stay away.

Do not believe what Faeries say
Though it's true that they cannot lie
They never say quite what they mean
Honestly they will truth deny.

Don't even taste Faerie repast
No goblin fruits from elven trees
They're addictive beyond belief
A wise man offered such food flees.

'Ware giving thanks for Faerie gifts
Though they save you from all pain
Or else you may be in their debt
And lose more than you stood to gain.

Beware lights off Faerie shores
And lanterns seen in wild bogs
For wisps will lead folks off of cliffs
And laugh as corpses float like logs.

And buy naught from Faerie markets
They sell goblin fruits, curses, lies
The price your dreams, your past, your soul
Your voice, the color of your eyes.

i could conceive the western concept of the rehab,
but then for 3 weeks i was in poland
i didn't touch the bottle for that period of time...
i don't see how an addict with a bunch
of addicts can be cured by anything other than
stigma... i'm actually happy addicted to
addiction: i entered my reading-mode...
   that said, most people can't digest a Kraszewski
book... **** me, we read Bradbury in snippets
just to tow in an essay for A-level english...
       philip augustus, or the chess player concerning
the Angevin family... great stuff...
   i didn't choose the book, my grandfather did,
he owned half the Kraszewski collection and read
nothing of it, he had to find a ******* "bored"
enough to read one of the books,
   and as i once said: i've seen the movie adaptations
of the Sienkiewicz trilogy...
         the cossack uprising, the swedish deluge...
and i said to myself: i can't and i won't...
thanks you jerzy hoffman, and yes: thank you
peter jackson...
              the infinite supply of elven arrows
and Legolas shooting orcs at point-blank range did
it for me...
                thankfully i can write something
as obscure as this, and know, for certain, that
there's a back-alley of the human populace out there
that might be searching for something like this...
   but that's what i found entertaining,
i actually had the opposite of wanting to compliment
the film adaptation of sienkiewicz, with an actual
sienkiewicz book... mind you: Kraszewski covers
the same period... and it's all the same time frame...
   should i write a proof that i read the **** thing?
maybe... but the main idea is that:
a metropolis cannot provide the right environment
for a book... or completing a book...
books are read in the countryside, in small towns,
in palaces... in hunting lodges...
          and i dare say: reading a book, getting into
full swing of the narrative is best done in daylight hours...
and i'll come back to the daylight hours,
  as a drinker and writer i chose the night...
  you know how long it took me to restore my
biological clock, and regain the nocturnal realm after
spending 3 weeks with a clear schizophrenia
of sleeping in the night and wriggling about during
the day? 2 weeks! i restored the biological pendulum,
but i have to admit: i feel ****...
    but i guess it's a worthy sacrifice...
i'm planning to go back to my country of origin
during late spring to read some more books...
i couldn't have read don quixote, the brothers karamazov,
bertrand russell's history of western philosophy
    yada yada yada... or kierkegaard's either / or,
or finished off kant's critique without my place of birth...
  and isn't it like a badge of honour?
                some will tell you to speak out an eastern
mantra... om... and the shattering of chandelier...
the western mantra is also a type of hypnosis,
you have to find a rhythm with a book...
  the mantra is the narrative of a book, and the silence
that incubates you has shark-teeth should anyone approach...
   but urban living makes this spot harder to find
than a begger or the ******... you can read books
in large cities... before you head home you're
bombarded with the psychology of exploiting your
literacy, in adverts, in orientating signs...
        with them being so authoritarian, it's hard
to find time for a liberal attitude to books...
            esp. what books are, best described by people
who'd probably like to throw them like molotov
cocktails in protest marches: thick as bricks those
gargantuan apostles of the void are...
       and so we are: sitting in times of hyperinflation
of literature... if that isn't the case, let me know by
Tuesday next week, i'll brood the assumption myself
until then...
      that's 2 weeks it took me to return to my writing mode...
to get back to the nocturnal realm
where everything is doubly black & white...
                 the point is: i want to write at a time when
the surrounding world sleeps...
     last time i remember, i didn't get a message in my dreams,
i'd love to see letters in my dreams, fortunately
i can't... i haven't seen these artefacts in dreams,
      but it's hard to blame memory as not strained enough
to do so... the unconscious and memory don't really
interact that well... it's a paradox that they even do
and that dreams have some sort of existence involved in
the architecture of our psyche...
                        last night i dreamt of lego batman because:
d'uh his endearing sarcasm... and godzilla!
   boo ya!         and this large city being eaten up
by a tornado, and other things phantasmogorical....
well pandemonium here, pandemonium there...
    don't get any ideas about the nature of dreams and
oedial repression... please! unaffordable housing prices
these days can only mean i'd really earn a mortgage
if my ***-drive went to the dogs, of the profession.
    so 3 weeks of a sober life and enough time to read
books... and my return into a writing life, a nocturnal
life, and drinking...
   mind you, in between there was that masters final
with ronnie o'sullivan (at least romford is famous for
something) vs. joe perry... in the last frame, when they
had 30 odd points each, and they were plucking at the
last remaining red ball for the snooker?
       snooker is a metaphor for the savannah...
you either watch snooker, or a david attenborough naturalist
show... there's the herd of buffalo (the red *****)...
           and the cue ball the hunting predator...
well... it's all a bit abstract, there are just ***** on a green
table... but still... at least in snooker you can bug
the "pawn" (red) ***** without having to *** them,
in chess you destroy completely... the pawns go...
there's no time to keep them for a no-man's land pause...
and i just turned 30... which goes to show:
                  if the game of football was perfect,
i mean perfect like tennis is with hawk-eye and
    6 judges vertical, 4 judges horizontal...
                  then football wouldn't be so passionate,
so religious... the reason it is so religious is because
judging it is so ****** imperfect...
     there's a reason why football can't be perfected in a way
as rugby can, where the referee can pause the game
and ask for a replay... the unfairness principle!
it has to be unfair in order for people to feel even more
impassioned by it! that's why in that film
when Alec Baldwin says something along the lines:
god comes first (while his hand holds out
the index and *******), and football comes second
(the index finger disappears)...
      football can never be a sport that has perfect
refereering... which makes me surprised as to why
it can grace the Olympic games...
                   football (in english, not that theme park
of jumping torpedoes) - yes the football known as:
ballet with hairy legs...
                   it has to remain unfair and subsequently
quasi-religious because it generates the most money,
but apart from that, it has gained a quasi-religious
status because it reflects a sort of life we acknowledge:
the referee made a bad decision, god did this... blah blah...
  and we get passion, religious passion that's
best represented by football hooligans...
                        but whereas other sports perfect their
techniques of refereeing a game, football hasn't done
the least possible, because it requires the whole debate
of: life's unfair!
    if it wasn't for unfair refeering, the game would not
be alive, as it is alive, to stage a confrontation
with: apache west ham, and sioux millwall...
       it's the best way to ensure tribalism...
         make the refereeing unfair, don't improve it...
blame it on the man in the sky, or the ponce in new zealander...  
mind you....
   the last football match i went to was at Stamford Bridge,
Chelsea lost to Newcastle United...
             i just just there like a stoic twant...
           i couldn't imitate the screams and the chants...
   i was just mesmerised at how it's so different from
watching a football match without the television acting
like a microscope... i am sure i was looking elsewhere
when someone scored a goal...
                 i probably went to the toilet when i
missed another goal...
                        and i'll reiterate...
   it can't be a gentlemanly sport, the rules can't be fair,
that's why they call it the sport of the rabble,
they have to contain the illusion of being unfair...
       because it's a "rabble" sport...
the referee has to make bad decisions,
otherwise there would be a "what if" dimension...
ask any Pole about the 1974 semi-finals with Germany
and ask them about the weather that day...
  then ask about the Polish wingers... and how fast they
were... and how the pitch was so slosh, and ice-puppy
fudge that the slow germans won it...
                     because the Poles always say:
we could have beaten the Nedetherlands in the final...
        again: football, if it is to be stated as the secular
alternative to religion, has to have an inherent unfairness in it...
all the other sports will perfect their judgement,
football will not move an inch... just like a religion -
perhaps that's also because we live in times of
cold-consumerism,
       a quick comparison is:
   the reactions of antonio conte vs.
                       ivan lendl -
   the former looks like a raving lunatic when something
good, or bad happens...
   the second? is he watching tennis, or playing poker?

(history)

Quell the bard was silken-clad and ever young.
her flute connected earth and sky,
tamed lightning in the higher notes..
her ancient horse would winnie to her song
of endless breath she blew her story even into stone.
having borne the stigmas of a *****
her martial prowess struck,
trampled disrespect to cacophonic dust
while over hills and vales he carried her--
a love-sick equine heart at peace at last upon the road
between her thighs, commanded loyalty of beasts and men.
none claimed her for their own,
though some risked instant death to try

..stirge beaks tap on bones and rock
to seek corrupted blood of elven kings,
who having reigned and fallen
to a royal troglodyte of dragon times,
paint each eon with ambivalence...
i conjure what my heritage beholds
--reclusive double-tongue to hoard all words,
reinvent religions for a lark

what legend am i privy to the making of
that hasn't had its underwires stripped,
hung about a square in lewd display of Fact
to purge a sense of mystery awry?

i am alone within my fantasy.
its symbols still mythologize my i.
i will not bare it here, or anywhere--
concealment is its freedom, and its boon--
in which a frame of tenuous material appears

where antidote addictions cycle musically,
the timeline's summoning
a game of recompense, compensating wanderlust
won by whim and licorice for thought;
it finds familiarity untamed--
adolescent anchorage aweigh--
adventures into wildernesses lost




.

Everything. Perception. Subjective.

Elephants plaster satellites, elven predators stalk eleven peeking succulents; everlasting parades storm earfulls-- please send

Help.

at the riddle...

Ezekial 17- the  chapparal around me
I feel laughing,

We have had a wet October, the elven forest
and all its winter resting creatures,
feels laughing happy today,

as I mind fly over the old trail,
marked clearly, once you see the sign,

The Trail Less Travelled By -

you can see it, from Google Earth eyes,
if you know where to look,
but you can't feel this from there.
My forest, in these environs, is
called elven, due to lowly stature,
- no majestic trees here
my forest is wild, no trails not leading
to water, eventually, if you head downhill;
My forest,

if you will, allows us to see it extends
to Arizona, across the watered desert,
strange
there is no horizo, no line marking mine.

But desert coyotes come here to harvest
sweet-sour fruit
of little, red manzanita
loaded with  wee tiny apples,
which coyotes eat, but barely chew.

- maybe we could package these//

It may be like that delicacy coffee,
roasted after being goat shat.

A shadow runs, from your eyes,
What is this fear that in you resides?
A shadow indeed, but of peace,
So let the shrill worries cease!
Dance as this mystery does so far
See her gleaming tresses flare!
See the starlight in her eyes!
See her footsteps light as skies!
Feel the Summer greens grown strong,
Around her garments in many a throng!
Feel the silky mantle soft and blue,
that was made fair from nature true!
Feel the love within your soul!
Feel the joy as it runs and rolls!
Hear the songs she sings at night
that nightingales hearken to with reviving might!
Hear her voice clear as her mind
that is ever peaceful and kind!
Hear the silver footsteps so!
Through Fire, Air, Water, Earth she might go!
Smell the Fragrance of her mane
of newborn life and rain forest same!
Smell her cloak so elven bright
that might send you into the light!
Smell the fragrance of her hands
to wisp you far to distant lands!
Taste the bounties she hath made
within the might of her den and glade!
Taste the fresh air 'round her sky
that is free, and will not die!
Taste the tear of this maiden wise
and be free from death's woeing demise!
And through all of this I say
"May I join you amidst your fray?"
And she, says with grace, "My dear,
you must become a Wicca, clean and clear!
Love all! Harm None!
Feel the cold of the moon and the warmth of the Sun!
Join my circle brethren!
And we shall sing forever, with no end!

Lonely little elven girl, sitting in her yew tree seat,
Around fair lips your words do curl, in a way that's pretty and neat.
You dance and prance and shine so bright.
In beautiful circles you do twirl, you dance to your own heartbeat,
Silently you jump and whirl, the swift ease of your bare-feet.
You are the most brilliant star at night.

Traveling little mermaid, on your way to find your love,
Your heart has been remade, as you gaze at the stars above.
Swim as far as you can with daylight.
On your shoulders your hair does cascade, long and of
The softest strands it is made, more gentle than a dove.
Lay your head to rest in the moonlight.

Peaceful fair young princess, your prince will surely wait,
On your heart is a deepness, a light and heavy weight.
Close your eyes but not your sight.
The morning air holds crispness, as you silently sneak out the gate,
Run because you feel the nearness, leap in the arms of your soul-mate.
Hold your love and hold him tight.

Quite silent dreaming one, don't lose the things you admire,
Always let the imagination run, and with your heart conspire.
Let your dreams take over tonight.
Speak aloud any question, and let the answers transpire,
Inner depths have been awoken, you darling precious sapphire.
Fall in love under starlight.

Elven prince
Tender of trees
Molder of leaf-covered mansions,
And brother to the green and growing;
Older than Dwarves,
Older than Men,
And Hobbits,
Younger than Ents,
Eternally young,
Fading slowly
To the West....

Truer heart
Never surged,
Inscrutable,
Unfathomable,
Anchored in Old Codes,
Time out of human mind,
Hidden motives
Sometimes revealed,
Sometimes blind....
Worthy of fearful trust.

Friend to true-hearted
Hobbits,
Men,
Dwarves,
Eagles,
White wizards,
Hunter of Nazgul,
Blade-armorer.

Warg Enemy,
Orc Killer,
Spider Foe,
Sauron Hater,
Murdering Mordor....