"I've a story that I'll share,
if you think you can attend.
It seems I know a little more
than you think that I pretend.
There's an evil in your house,
on which your lover's life depends.
There are wheels set in motion,
and it isn't gold they spin."

I cut the air in half
between my sword-blade
and his chin.

"Are you threatening my household?"
I growled; rage built within.
He turned his eyes upward:
Proffered breast to razor's whim.
In his sickness, he seemed ready
to meet his life's end.
Indecision overtook me:
Hesitation, paper thin,
Gave advantage to the monster
that was Rumpelstiltskin.

He pushed it in.

The sword pierced the rotted flesh
unlike any live men
I had ever pierced in battle
when evil commanded them.

He thrusted forward,

the light in his eyes dim,
until nose to nose he faced me;
No sword would divide him.

"Now, please, Mr. Prince,
I'd like to provide hymn,
although the subject of my sermon
isn’t divine sin.
Here stands the castle
that your wife resides in.
What is she doing, sleeping soundly,
Safe within your den?
Yet as we speak,
there is a serpent,
No brute leviathan,
but no less deadly,
I assure you,
or I'm not Rumpelstiltskin."

At this time, with a flourish,
he whipped around in sudden spin,
and the sword within his heart
was cast aside into the glen.
His twisted, mangled face
made a somehow violent grin.
I used that very moment
to turn heel and fly from him.

I only stopped to claim my sword,
Adorned with royal rose hips.
I tried to run to the castle.
I would swim the moat's ditch:
Brave the monsters of the waters,
to shorten my frantic trip.
I would have climbed the tower walls,
I would have scaled the steepest cliffs
to keep the snow within my globe:
To keep my wife beside my hip.
The man's laughter flowed, chortling,
Over lacerated lips,
As he watched me run a fool,
Stumble, stand, and slip.
It faded from my ears,
but from my mind it never did.

There before me, I saw a figure.
It appeared to be unhid;
standing in the thicket,
as though the forest where it lived.

I stopped and slid.

The path beneath my feet
betrayed my stealth instantly.
How must have looked my face,
when she turned to peer at me!
"What do you in this place?"
I asked, fumbling visibly.
The child, when she spoke,
could be no older than thirteen.

"Know you the queen?"
She asked, happily.
Her teeth were white and clean.
Her face was fair and even.
Her body: strong and lean.
Her eyes were closed and bathing
in the sunlight's warming beam.
"I have come from lands unknown here,
it does no service to name my king.
I carry presents to this land;
Rumors of bells ring.
The marriage of true love
is occasion for all to sing.
I am a seer, and glimpse the future,
and the peril that it brings.
I'm here to grant a single wish
to a prince who is charming."

By now I had my wits,
and I knew what I had seen.
This child was blind as night!
I recognized this magic thing!
"Tell me of my wife!
Is there danger where she dreams?
As she lays there in her peace,
I imagine a dagger's gleam
Floating silent, in the darkness...
Would she even wake to scream?
I am told by a monster,
there are serpents where she sleeps."

A crooked smile formed slowly;
across her face it creeped,
like the shadow of the taker
Eclipses those he reaps.
As slowly as it came,
the smile did retreat.
The Oracle came to stand
in the shadow of the trees.
"By asking me this question,
do you accept the gifts I bring?"

In the worry for my other,
"Yes!" I almost singed.

The priestess grabbed my wrist
as her ivory teeth gleamed.
The wind began to shift,
Picking up countless leaves;
the smell of rotting fish
filled the aroma of the breeze.
As quickly as it came,
the smell was gone,
and the girl fell to her knees.
The wind and litter fell.
The heat rose ten degrees.
The child stood, face in pain,
sweat running down in beads.
"The news is bad," she said simply,
and my heart skipped a beat.
"It looks as though your snow
is in danger, I agree,
but my visions, they are short,
and the peril I did not see."

The monster spoke the truth:
She is in danger! Why tell me?
Rumpelstiltskin and his tricks,
or an assassin of The Queen's?
Has my lover been attacked?
Was she murdered in her sleep?
Are there knives in her back?
...Fire licking at her feet?
The panic on my face
was thick enough to read
for a blind seer standing
Barefoot in the weeds.

"Have faith, little prince.
Now is not the time to grieve.
There are moments still left
for your wish to be received.
Hurry now! Do be quick!
For her life is yet to leave.
You can save your woman still.
What will your wish be?"

Precious time, passing by,
and standing, reeling, me.
Through my mind thoughts flew
like birds let free.
I chose the only answer
as I knew there to be.

"My wife is in her bed,
fearless in her sleep.
And the demon, he said
that the danger's in my keep.
Move my wife instead,
away from this evil thing,
and I will go and I will slay it,
then return my wife, I plead."
The seer raised her head,
staring straight at me.
"This is my wish," I confirmed.
"I hereby decree."

Still she only stared,
but once again, I felt a breeze.
The smell of rotting fish
seeped between the trees.
"The gift has been given."
She said eventually.
"Go now to your castle,
And search for the wicked beast."

In my haste, I never wondered
Why she asked about the queen.

This time I did not stumble.
As I ran, I did not fall.
I did not swim the moat,
Nor did I climb the castle walls,
But I made it to our chambers,
Ten guardsmen at my call.
As I crept into the room,
I left my charges in the hall.
The bed sat there empty,
sheets knotted in a ball.
The guardsmen came thereafter,
and we found nothing.

Nothing at all.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" I screamed,
with all the vigor of my lungs.
"Oh name of names,
Ill of ill,
the very word poisons tongues!
Show yourself! Explain to me,
what exactly have you done?"

"Oh, Mr. Prince, can't you see,
that I am not the one?"
Came a filthy, bubbling voice
From behind me, as I spun.
"If you recall, all I did
was warn you of danger come.
I gave notice, and you heard.
Believe: my heart is wrung.
This isn't my doing-"

Pulling curtains, I brought sun.
He flowed into the shadows,
like an oily liquid run.

"Listen demon, you play fools,
and I assure you, here are none.
I've battled dragons, battled ogres,
and all these battles, I have won.
If I should find a way to slay you,
That is not battle. That is fun.
Tell me the purpose of this ruse
before my patience is overrun."

"Oh, a deal, Mr. Prince?
Are you sure you're up for this?
I have knowledge, you have need,
but can you pay to rent my wit,
or should I leave you to yourself,
to search the halls and dungeon pit?"
Every word that he spoke,
the horror dribbled spit.

"Name your price, monster,
And I will give what I can give.
My life is nothing without White.
I would be only black within."
I waited for the council
of this Rumpelstiltskin.

"I know not much: no more than you-
But I know enough to dig
through the memories made in haste;
Small mistakes, they grow big.
What is it you thought you knew,
the night of wedding bliss?
How could such detail,
in your haste, let be missed?"

Standing only feet
from where the memory was made,
I was filled with frigid blood
at the way I had been played.
My face was such a tell!
Such misery displayed,
that the beast knew my thoughts
in such an intimate way.
Surely he knows them now?
Realization lit my face.
The demon's smile grew,
and darkened up the place.

"I see you know, Mr. Prince,
of the moment that I speak.
It seems your face has flushed,
and your knees have grown weak."

Is The Queen so vindictive
as to mark my girl's cheek?
Matriarch of many
Moved to ****** at her peak?
And why just now,
and not any other week?
It seems my lover's mother
suppresses others'
Happiness they seek.

I had no choice but bluff:
"What are these lies you're telling me?
My face flushes at your sight!
My feet quake to strike at thee!
Your image inspires hate,
and requires sympathy.
Look what you gain for your power!
Dead flesh, and mal disease?
What kind of life is that to live?
You're rejected by the fleas!
Yet you pretend that you know-"

"Mr. Prince, please!"
The fiend appeared hurt?
Confusing, to say the least...
The look was gone then,
and I listened to the beast.
"I'm sorry I interrupted,
but for insult, I have no need.
There is more I have to tell you:
I have to show you what I see.
We have a deal made,
and payment to be decreed,
for everything has a price,
and every soul has a deed."

When he spoke, I heard the truth,
and my heart adjusted speed.

Screams sliced through the snow
(Falling heavy)
A warrior practices his throw
(Getting ready)
The butcher and the dead men know
(You pay the levy)
Who decides where the meat carts go?
(There isn't any)
So the three largest men
were lured within,
and the butcher had plenty to smoke.
Who decides where the meat carts go?

Whispers.
Barely heard sniggers.
Shouts, screams, and cries
fill the air with vigor.
Confusion gains theme
as chaos becomes victor:
Faces frozen in death,
bodies locked in rigor,
bolts growing from chests,
the hook of a cross bolt trigger.

Children burned alive,
fingerless hands searching for moms.
Parents made to watch,
then dismembered by the mob.

Pots of gold of such abundance,
they could never be carried off;
the thieves who hid the riches: dead.
The treasure: forever lost.

All corruption,
all *******,
was within these visions found.
Much too many were too vile
for the words that I lay down.
I search for meaning now,
and know that none is found.
As I read what I have written,
descriptions are only sound:
only air, moved by a body,
not yet in the ground.

Who decides where the meat carts go?

The most difficult thing I could ever do
Is dare to write this rhyme.
Words from pen, and ink in line
Fail to catch this moment of mine.
The look, the smell, the touch I feel,
Are all but lost in time.

I saw an angel look at me.
She knew she caught my eye.
But once I stopped to wonder,
The moment had passed me by.
I ache to gaze that lens again,
But when? Know not I.

And ache I do! 'Tis true! Unfair!
It seems the story of which I'm defined,
For I know that never,
Not in this life,
Would she deign to be mine.
How could such a mortal man
Pine for things divine?

This isn't the first time I've seen this angel,
And surely not the last.
...In a different vessel,
But still I wrestle,
I fight to drink her laugh.
I breathe the air when she is near
To taste her heart beat fast.

But not for me,
Would it seem
It beats for in the least.
I've pondered this in anguish,
Over hours, days, and weeks.
Yet still I nourish hope
In the face of my defeats.

And so I wonder how it came to be
That she would cross a path with me
And glance a short eternity
To tease me with my heart's decree.
Was it chance by some degree,
Or torture aimed accurately?

Neither thought doth hold much sway
For swiftly she is swept away,
And I will ache another day,
And pain will find another way
To force a man with no beliefs
To wish he had the gall to pray.

Tactile
opening
nugget
gripping
system

To those of you who know me,
You know me not at all.
To those of you who don't:
These are my beacons in the fog.
These words have been my anchor.
They've been there to break my falls.
I've illustrated my escapes
From within these empty walls.
On these pages are the prices
That I've paid for life's surprises.
I've lain waste to pens revising,
Re-copying, refining.

Not all of it is exciting,
Nor sad, or uninviting,
But I gain pleasure from these words,
And from the simple act of writing.

And so for this I'm pleading,
And maybe even needing:
Take pleasure from these words,
And the simple act of reading.

I'm trading tender for splendor:
The loss of sweat, not-so-tragic.
I'll build up my blisters for whispers:
Spells recited in habit.
Dollars can buy what I seek:
It doesn't take many to have it.
The strange, the odd, the mystique:
The flowers painted by rabbits.
The song played by the beach:
The harp without hands to grab it.
Nature has cradled my needs:
The order created by savage.
We pay for all of these things:
Even chance has stated this adage.
I know this from my own beliefs:
The months living as addict.
They blurred, and flew on the wings:
My "needs" growing emphatic.
The basement was surely my feet:
My mind, alone in the attic.
The empty, the holes, the replete:
Filled, trading my money for magic.

Bring
Over
Risk!
Even
D&D!

This is how it started,
Sitting in an ugly tree,
Eating ugly sandwiches
And they's as good as they could be
When suddenly,
There came a breeze,
And I was falling gracefully.
I hit my head on every branch...
Then the tree fell on me.


I'm an ugly *******
Ain't no need to hide the truth.
Everything about me's ugly
From my cap down to my shoes,

So,

Watch just what you say,
Or ill get ugly with you.
'Cause ugly is as ugly does.
And ugly's what I do.

This is how it started,
Sitting in an ugly tree,
Eating ugly sandwiches
And they's as good as they could be
When suddenly,
There came a breeze,
And I was falling gracefully.
I hit my head on every branch...
Then the tree fell on me.

I shamefully admit I tried
Plastic surgery
But the doctors were dismayed to see
My ugliness increase.

I got a job, at the circus,
And the freaks were scared of me...
Left me locked up in a cage
To rot eternally.

But I broke free.
Through the bars I squeezed.
All of this before the manly age of thirteen,


So,


Many years go by
With little hope for me.
This ugly man that you see
Won't ever be on TV.
So I scribble all my grief
Tearing holes in paper leaves,
And I admit it openly
There's no reprieve in my deluge.
I've gotta stay outta view,
Because the voodoo i brew
Will pull the pretty out of you,
And make you look ugly, too.


I'm an ugly *******
Ain't no need to hide the truth.
Everything about me's ugly
From my cap down to my shoes,

So,

Watch just what you say,
Or ill get ugly with you.
'Cause ugly is as ugly does.
And ugly's what I do.

Amidst the politicians,
decisions on propositions
positioned to requisition
this very nation's fate,
only leads to derelictions,
and weaknesses in convictions,
unending belligerences,
and finally, blind hate.
Banditos jumping fences,
to make it to better living...
this freedom is an incentive,
not a gift, so why wait?
People dying overseas,
Pollution and disease,
Brings the planet to its knees
And steak to your dinner plate
They think it's great!
they use the greed to cultivate the hate.
They squeeze upon the clamps
designed to encapsulate our fates
and in their avarice they find
the keys of heaven dissipate
between their fingers like the time
it took to make a bank so great,
but still they take, and they don't mind,
when you die sooner, now, or late,
cause they charge you for the diapers,
dinners, tax all that you've made,
Then they charge you for the service,
while they're waited on by maids,
but, yeah, okay, make your choice,
Between the men who make you slaves
And cast your vote, between two evils
Of slightly different shades.

Run.
'Cause I have to pursue you,
You got me with voodoo,
Who does it like you do?
None.
Overcome with the new you,
Swept in the word,
Of a curse,
Of a homebrew:
Fun.
I knew that I knew you,
But all that I've been through
Is enough to give into.
Come.
Come with me and we'll run to
A place where the sun dew
Is run through with rainbows
And all that is come due.
Want to?

Pushing
Over
Every
Trauma
Restricting
You.

Heavy,
Exhausted,
Ail­ment-
Laden
Souls

Take
Heartless
Exactitude

Scribbling
Out
Undulous
Loquacious
Sentenc­es.

Onward,
Fettered!

Freedom
Exacerbates
Writing!

We
Relinquish
Ink
To
Enjoy
Relating
Stories

When your patience wears short,
And the day seems too long...
When the night's first report
Sings a disappointing song...
You'll want to leave your ship of port,
And I'll remind you:
You are wrong.

Fickle be the weather,
For though the wind seems too strong,
Save your vigil for the sunrise
And don't believe that I am gone,
Because I'm here, and I will tell you,
Stay your sails,
For you are wrong.

It is a difficult decision,
Without crew to spur you on,
To depart on frigid waters
And ignore the siren's song.
You may fear that I'm not with you.
You may feel that I don't miss you.
...but here's my only issue:
You are wrong,
You are wrong!