The beast swept down from mountains cold
Shimmering-red and brazenly bold
Belching out flame which was scarlet and gold,
When the dragon came down on the town.
No one knew what had awoken this ire
But they knew well enough from whence came the fire,
For soon all the world was a funeral pyre
Now ashes where once was a town.

Broke my piggy bank for whisky,
Turned my jump rope into a noose,
And then I wrestled with my demons.
They got loose.

Brave I am, an errant knight
With bold and courtly banners.
I ride untouched through many lands
In times of many manners.

My shining sword, my  glinting helm
Are well and ready-made.
I plan to make a name for me,
My strength shall never fade.

O' Lancelot, O' Beowulf,
Know not to challenge me!
For I'm a knight of great renown,
Soon better known than thee.

Achilles-King, O' Saint Sir George,
Hear well my prowess cry!
For I am young and bold, my lord,
While you were doomed to die.

I ride with shield and ready sword
through deep enchanted glen
Or else I go, defiance bared,
Through dark and gloomsome fen.

Tonight, upon a happenstance,
I faced a dragon's fire.
I charged and bore my lance to him
And he gave me a pyre.

We shared so many moments
Before we started asking why.
Like that kiss in the rain
Back in early July
Or the whirling harvest dances
Where we held each other near
To keep away the loneliness
To keep away the fear
Of unknown impending feelings
We were both still virgins to
Like the feelings that our lives
Had just reached the height of noon

Now I know we were mistaken
And I know we were wrong
But I don't regret
The time we spent
I don't think it was too long.

And now the years have passed us by
And now that we are both free
I thank you dear, my once-my-dear
For sharing memories

I remember your hair,
Your hazel eyes,
The freckles on your cheek,
And that time, back in summer,
When  you were grounded for a week,
For talking on the telephone
Too late into the night
And so seperate,
Well we both felt
That we could soon die
Without constant connection
We didn't think we could survive.

And now alone
Lying in bed
I still think that might be true.
But still I'm glad,
My once-my-dear,
That I was wrong
With you.

"We are dealing with oppressors who, while standing on our necks, will label us the aggressors if we spit blood upon their boots."

Dustily mustily covered in mold
The chamber belies the treasure it holds
From mothers and brothers and fathers and more
Inside meager demeanor confides kingly hoards
Chess boards and old lords’ bright silver spoons
With hobgoblins lurking somewhere in the gloom
Stalking their prey for a meal they might slay
In this moldering attic well hid from day.

I like the lycianthes there, although I know they’re weeds
I like their pleasant purple hues, and watercolor leaves.

The Daffodils were simple things; yellow, later white,
Little puffs of breeze-borne smoke, ethereal at night.

The wild briers stabbed at me, as I walked out that day,
And yet they were the first to bring the green into the gray

I like the weeds, though others don’t, I realized it just now.
And to think I only realized it under an arbor’s bough.

I sing a song of time gone by
When the woods were a better-known place.
You laughed and walked through grey-green glades
And heard the trees reply
With rustling branch and open leaves
Splayed to a vernal sky.

The rain ensorced the ground to bloom
With faery rings of new mushrooms,
And violets peeping through the gloom,
In circles off the path.

I saw the vultures roost today
On a corpse beside the road
They feasted in the morning grey
And tore the flesh from bone
From rot in wound, the graveyard worms
Writhed from the carcass' flesh
As buzzards congregated 'round
To make their carrion nest

The days are getting longer now,
The vernal sun rose soon
And yet, and still, the vultures shrill
Stood fast, well on past noon.
Then passed the gray, into the gold,
Where sunset sun sank low,
And then the condors huddled 'round,
Into a branch they flew.

The world's growing greener now,
Narcissus has returned
Yet invitations to fly forth
All seem to have been spurned

I saw the vultures roost today,
Upon a rib cage spent.
Now white, now dry,
The doomed-to-die
Vultures took wing.
And went.

Night, star-spangled,
Heralding an absent dawn,
Grave, then gray, then gone.

The dragon's wings beat ******* high
A tumult whisking clouds from sky
As thunder pounds from fearsome wings
A lightning bolt does proudly spring.
In sullen peaks it passed me by,
Like light which so oft cracks the sky
And yearning seized me then to know,
This dragon pale as fallen snow
So on that cliff I stood repeating
A hope, a prayer to say a greeting,
Yelling, shouting, waving hands,
Hoping exit from this land
Of black decay and mould'ring rot
But the ivory drake did not,
And so I stood there, long repeating
A hope against a dragon's fleeting
Wings which bore him from my sight
With thunderous pounds of iresome might.
He flew with soaring wings a flash
Into the twilight dark at last
And as it vanished from my sight
Twilight turned to lonesome night
So I sat long upon the stones
Crying after friends long-flown
Hoping the dragon would return.
But knowing that I am alone.

The fall swept down on dragon's wings,
Whisking a world into flame.
The frost-winds flew,
As the coldness grew,
Giving the trees all a fiery mane.

I loved her a lot,
She didn't quite care
But my heart still beat blood
And my lungs still breathed air

O have you seen Lord Tolgedaath
With helm of steel and silver-gray
He wandered lone through mighty hills
And kept the undead hordes at bay.
He swung his ax in fearsome arcs
He knocked their rotting heads
He walked alone, and lonesome caves
Were where he made his beds
Their cloying stench, their tattered flesh,
He tore with blade and brawn
But then the plague broke through his shield.
He never saw the dawn.

O have you seen Lost Tolgedaath
With helm of green and flesh of gray?
He wanders still through lonely hills.
Though never by the light of day.

He was old and cold and strong and hard
With a bitter contemptuous jaw
Fierce, wrathful, unkind as any,
With anger and hate and rage against many
No warmness beat inside his heart, nor kindness, neither fear
For gods or man, and at his wake, I saw none shed a tear.
He went to extremes, and convinced us he was bad,
But underneath all that anger, I think he was just sad.
Sad and lonely and empty, and drowning in grief,
From living a life that was pointless and brief.

I remember that she smiled, how she bit her lower lip,
How when she walked, her skirts would swirl,
'Cause of how she swung her hips,
She passed me on an evening
When the rain came pouring down
She bright, though soaked, and happy,
Skipping lightly through the crowd.

Her hair glinted in the headlights,
that were glaring in the rain.
I never got to meet her.
I never learned her name.