.
To face the world, a runt,
With such brunt and abasement,
Is to know ones place in the scheme,
Standing in the stream of frivolous
Happenings, this is the dance,
To be danced, this is the play,
Yet, he has the ears of a king,
To jest with such fire is to be
Ferocious, not feeble, his mocks
Are mostly mirrors for the blind,
For madness is a known methodology,
How he revels round the sad theatres
Of the high born absurd, how he speaks
In tongues and with bold proclamations
Only taut whispers of wind would know?
He is certain that the spindle fates are real
And that lightening strikes purposefully,
Kingdoms will fall, as the sun will rise,
As the noble trees ring with ideologies,
Without travails, he is always arriving,
To sleep out of doors, this is his way,
The path, the masted ship of fools.

.
To face the world, a runt,
With such brunt and abasement,
Is to know ones place in the scheme,
Standing in the stream of frivolous
Happenings, this is the dance,
To be danced, this is the play,
Yet, he has the ears of a king,
To jest with such fire is to be
Ferocious, not feeble, his mocks
Are mostly mirrors for the blind,
For madness is a known methodology,
How he revels round the sad theatres
Of the high born absurd, how he speaks
In tongues and with bold proclamations
Only taut whispers of wind would know?
He is certain that the spindle fates are real
And that lightening strikes purposefully,
Kingdoms will fall, as the sun will rise,
As the noble trees ring with ideologies,
Without travails, he is always arriving,
To sleep out of doors, this is his way,
The path, the masted ship of fools.

To with what good made from a night of frollock and free?
With the hangover gape and the slump of mind, the lack of life but the will to survive.
what draw you say?
your eager but flat-line mentality? the uniform dancing on the floor ? the gasp for a frivolous freedom? Or just to get yourself out the door?
ohh but the quest for love or mistress, companion or enemy.
for a story to tell or for an everlasting memory for people t'remember thee?

"For the gain of speech and merry!" or the unconscious heap on the floor.
'


The ups and downs... the spirit to water,
the chain of thought lost with no inkling of hope for an miraculous return,
the electronic symphony runs rivers through your temples and engulfs your lost tempo,
but the heart is never free to express in open company, not in front of one's fellows!

The night it seems is drawing to a close, but your life is light ,   or dark depending only on the state of your clothes.
All is never lost for the liquor is always boss,
and yes the night might be opaque and it may take a few attempts to make maps for your own personal sake.

but however bad the night should be done,
always remember never to look back into the sun.

Jake Taylor    '11

my worries are worrisome
a quiet smouldering fire that remains
but i'm greatly conscious of the threat
imminent, waiting, ready to pounce
content to administer the punch

but you're ready to medicate, and mend
promises to restore, and intricately repair
restore me? ha! you'll be my remedy?
are you up for the gig? alright, deal---
nurse me back into love again. even into like.

i promise you're not a dose, drug, or diet of love.
but somehow you've got me coming back for more.
it's got to be that smile, cinnamon colored skin
the lingering scent of your touch, child-like eyes
that resounding beat, throbbing against my fragile chest

but, truly, let me beg, promise me---
that i'm not just your new fancy
not just a frivolous, female friend
you crept in so slyly, my fox
and soon, you'll go for the ****

the **** will be good
the **** will be tragic
the **** will make me fall in love again.

A chilled but passionate solution
Bubbly mix with bracing sensation
Dashes of bittersweet fruit in flute
Sends forth your day in joyous pursuit

An inward touch of coy affection
Close to perfect prime of your generation
Afar I lay on your sinuous path
As frivolous lace of vast green swath

A frivolous fire crept 'tween some toes
Climbed up a calf and met with a knee
Danced past a waist that nobody knows
Up through all that blind fingers see
It crawled its way over the length of the skin
And over full mountains of rib-cages when
It got to the heart
And found you there

My wall broke at our warm embrace.
My eyes sparkled at your tender gaze.
My heart it pounded at the sound of your name.
My world seemed completely with you to tame it's wild mane.

But it was all a lie and a part of your frivolous game.
Your eyes turned cold as soon as you'd won.
My heart became angered when your name was mention.
My world soon shattered.
To death, I wanted to saunter.
My life was nothing, but unspeakable terror.

Taking a deep drag from a Chillum,
I gazed at its structure made of pure soil and water.
I do that every time I decide to take a ride into space.
Closing my eyes I take a drag to burn all the herb,
And the smoke creates the scene my eyes wished to percieve,
Distance to far away galaxies is hard to achieve,
But hyperdrive makes it a bit easier, I love its grace.
I catch the speed of light, Ive made a slight change in the drive systems a year before.
All this for what.? To touch the fading past and bring it back to life.
If I raise my speed even by 1 mm per second now I will be faster than light,
Oh but look, Theres comes a black hole,
It wants to hold me in its grasp.!!
But hey devil, I am fast,
But then the stars laugh,
And then the mirror like nebula at a safe distance from the black hole,
But Enormous enough to show my reflection,
Shows me that I am stagnant in the gravity of the black matter.
**** I didnt take with me the machine to soak energy from antimatter.
Even after this speed when I was so close to touch the waivering past,
Plans were at the point to undergo failure without a plan be to save it,
To touch the before and come again into now was the decision,
At this frightening moment I laugh at my frivolous precision,
All that i can do now are three things,
Stay stagnant here with this speed,
Slow down and end up giving myself in the gravity of black hole,
Or boost ahead to stay in the past forever.
Fate and time tease me creating this sarcastic moment and enjoy this entertaining view,
And then I give a confident smile before opening my eyes, sitting in the present, saying, "That was so close. PHEW.!"

The Edge of the future

The earth accelerates the turbulent speed ever crossing and obliterating moral lines already stressed
And under fire moral standards once foundational the bearing wall of society now honeycombed with
Convincing lies mixed with truth making truth formally a power house now just an easily overcome able
After thought always the tactical measure of the enemy put in a drop of truth first taste will be
Convincing the shallow frivolous never examine anything in depth the rush the very measure of mindless
Crass individuals just like the suspicious smell of a machine slightly burning but not obvious enough to
Get you to take action then the destruction complete our world already has the truth told of what will
Be its end and yet knowing this we charge in filling in the blank spaces instead of slowing or delaying the
Disintegration this must be you have to disallow make inroads into the engine that roars at full speed
Spewing pollution and seismic change at the core of earths balance and equilibrium the word says that
The moon will wobble and the earth will stagger as a drunken man this is from evil tilting the balance at
That level but people take such a casual attitude about their conduct multiply that by the billons that
Inhabit this planet then you can see the problem those who practice evil are not able to be exempt from
It repercussions when an explosion occurs it center sends out ever widening circles of force in the case
Of evil these circles are the most disgusting contaminated lot of filth that sticks to everything and every
One gumming up destroying the smooth hum that did exist hiding holding out won’t work getting
Involved moving the darkness back breaking the line by giving freedom to one in this chain of human
Failure will cause light to do its constructive work no enemy long holds victory when his line is broken
And the wall once thought impregnable has been successfully breached take the dark half naked
Distraught free them entirely mind soul and body truth will make them free now fully clothed fed
Enriched with the bread of life and the new wine which is his own spirit night off set morning ushered in
a basking earth and smiling heaven is so far greater than the reality we now face.

Mysterious orbs, enthralling eyes
Lovely hands feared by demise
With a touch that turns tumult to ease
Each gentle caress calms infuriated seas

Raven locks soft against fingertips
Fetching curves on a pair of rosy lips
A voice mellifluous like an angel's, divine
A smile more radiant than a ray of sunshine

Every movement manifests innate grace
The light at the end of a tenebrous maze
The embodiment of one's romantic dreams,
But my hands are about to rip your elation's seams

You are perfect - perfectly flawed
An act the audience would barely applaud
Tongue soaked in a well of profanities
A lacerated soul plotting atrocities

Tousled hair, pernicious hands
Your sanity gallops on feeble strands
Frivolous antics deem you ignominious
But how you handle agony is stupendous

Perhaps it is why he is utterly enamored
Hymns of love in his mind sauntered
Your presence drives away his blues
You fit impeccably as his muse

From a distance, a scenic perfection
I spew no confession but unadulterated admiration
Lucky is he who holds your heart
I am but a spectator awaiting the story's subsequent part

the perfect poem*         A flawless poem
eats its siblings


did not know this.          *a flawless poem
chose to disbelieve.        if such there were,
                                           will always be
overconfident.                 the next one
three years back,
wrote a piece,                   my poor soul,
called it "flawless,"          my rag tag heart,
sensing, knowing,           has no censor,
that was an,                      so careless,reckless,
unobtainable condition. as if words were but
                                           frivolous treasures
loved it so,                        easy spent, easy get
pinned to my chest,
funny, loved me back,    if only, how I wish
if ever such thing            could harvest my best
could ever be.           with golden cutlery excise
                                       the single flawless poem,
sumbitch.                     I know in my possess
knew it but didn't.      lay down this hand
                                       so weary    
accept there was,        from cupping tears,
any itch that couldn't be satisfied at king last
be scratched                 so much so
into oblivion.                that my casket lowered,
                             hands in repose companioned
three years back,          clutching his best
on top of the world,     easing his rest,
chose not to believe      a paper record
that life is cyclical,         to join his ash,
and i would always.      his flawless poem,
have in my posses,        at long last
more and more.        
perfect poems.                 11/13/14

now my poems,
flawed.
like me.

4/8/16

I've spent a life creating fortune for those who've either never seen nor deserved it

Decimated by wanton want for more, or decaying senses wrought with desolation and desire to simply be known, I've caused strife within myself for the sake of others being fulfilled

I've spent so much time creating, ready to give myself to a world that's only seemed to cause destruction to my own soul, and take from me the things I needed most, even if merely conceived through empty wishing

I crave to bestow this strength and wisdom to one who would call my heart home; to be equal and stand as one, through synergy and servitude toward every sense of well being, respect, and care

I do not ask for more, I request nothing but trust and honesty; my affection, admiration, and loyalty lies upon the eyes that see me true

I do not expect love, nor frivolous diligence, I simply wish to no longer misplace my purpose, my admiration, or my faith unto anyone that would never see me, or never care to desire such staunch resolve within their heart as well

A pair of phantoms hands
clasped and held to center
Symmetrical as Hell.
They pull apart and in their wake drift embers sparks and calcite.
Colors where these hands just were make-out and roll around; they leave their imprints and their stains when they are done.
Out of the unwashed we arrived
A symptom of passionate cries.
None comes from creation besides the thing that we made, just pray that it is ugly in all the right places—we pray, but not I, me, I make eyes at the mirror and punish myself until Hell's tides become shallow ends against mine—then frivolous, yank myself from sinking lifeboat to cloud-nine,
Let helping hand erase my demons, baby, I must be omniscient because I just personally faced damnation and swift rapture all within one bathroom trip.        
I am my own savior
You are the deity I suffer for.
For whom I could create under conditions of such self destruction and from you only disassurances to fuel my flame; watch it ignite
then go out,
Me in a panic,
Rolling newspaper together, heaving in the embers—making winds to toss that heat around, frantic cause I feel the maelstrom tossing inside me and it is quiet, nervous, commonly occurring. You can avoid all of that if you just GO.
No destruction required.
No promises of plans gone unmet if you never promised.
I only exist if you see me
Now shut your eyes: this is the remedy for lame creations.
I will still see you, Deity
You will still make fun of me if I am visible; I will sell fragments of my truth to the same machine that I loathe, and it will churn that truth to muck, my spirit to a discard pile, while my heart and the entirety of my body will belong to you.
Watch dust gather on my lashes as my eyes wait for a clever opening.
Aren't my thoughts eerily possessive?
I think I want to be one of your things so I can watch all of your successes from the shelf, and cover my eyes when you have visitors
Pretend I am a man to you
Not just something that your curiosity alone birthed. What is this blind responsibility I throw at you?
Myself I do not fully recognize, but I won't censor what seems logical to me, though visibly unhealthy.
I'm just trying to explain because avoiding didn't work: you are all that I think about. So much for NEW, maybe improved is still within me.

Ok.
I'm sorry for all of that. Believe it or not I have been trying to be less dramatic lately. Honestly it has been a very long time since feeling comfortable in here. You raided my thoughts long before I ever considered finishing the ******* thought
And then you left, so everything I ever/never said (or read or showed or wrote) to you was wrong and I had to change myself accordingly.
According to every flaw that I could find in myself. Income trouble.
Kids my age aren't supposed to go inward, they are programmed to ****, **** up, and forget. Success is just around the corner!
Don't worry, I'll go back to poetry format soon because this reality **** as it turns out is pretty depressing.
I think we need the
many moany broodings of a teenager who is white and straight—can't even write straight with this inky, ****** pen. That joke works better if you can physically see my notebook and the smudgy black Hell that it embodies. Seriously, it looks like some grabby octopus with parkinson's and seasonal mood swings tried to write the word "parkinsons" in here and then spent four to five hours sobbing about their meaningless existence and self-harming—just deep enough to make the ink drip out and fall into a pattern, maybe good enough to read aloud in public spaces which I would consider an honor in and of its
wobble and of the nerves that fire in like some unsteady chorus.
Still not good enough to sell. So bruised, so heady, Please Howard almighty I am ready
To be shot down in wave after wave of this stupidity. Oh how embarrassing it would be to face a firing squad if she could see; how could I ever imitate your immortality or even just your shine...
Here! More Pretty Words!
Pressure builds and compresses the body performs more or less—a little shaky.
The DANGER is in the mind right next to the safety.
Beneath the skull there is a small office-room plastered with disheveled documents, maybe important, the ones that I hired to clean up in there are actually four well fed cats, using the pages for their waste and spending their days pledging to untangle an endless, brain-sized ball of thread but—you know. at some point.
Right?
Like once they figure out that their cheap new carpeting is getting redder and redder the more that they tug on it. And—also they need to learn the color RED right after we have a professional explain to them what colors are.
Oh! Also. That they are ******* CATS!
Wait—don't leave. Please don't leave!
Wait.
I'll be relatable.                     Wait.
I will only say handsome things.        Wait.
I'll pretend that I am not thinking about you even when your breath is pumping somewhere within the same enclosed facility as mine is.        Wait—
I will shorten my sentences significantly.
You won't even know it's me
Or that my lips could be so sure of anything
While my tongue so eager to betray.

Twilight mixed with the odor of frivolous women, hot cars, coffee and cigarettes. What kind of truth can you find on its streets? The one that is warm and will go down your throat like a flame, and will make you passionately love this filthy place, or may be the one that will talk to your money not asking you name. She will get on your chest; will give you love and tenderness, for a certain amount, for definite time. Leaving you satisfied but empty; lying on the bed of a cheap hotel, staring at the dark morning ceiling and one single statement in your head “THAT was my last time…” But the other weekends come, and the same statement reinstates itself.
Everybody here accepts chaos at this time of the day. Movement chaotically is the only way to stumble over the truth in this city. You can’t find what you want, if you know what you want. People are tired to want something determined; they need infinity of choices, abyss of multitude. Disappearing in the holes, doors, windows, with a deep inhale and laughter, with melodies of jazzy evening, or funeral silence, that rests somewhere deeper… Where you can hear only echoes, where you don’t need anything but sincere being, devout love and natural affection. Natural to the bone, to its basis, all and forever and only for you, even when you are sober. The improbability of that makes you angry. It makes you mad. It makes you take a taxi and rush somewhere it probably hides itself. Since you don’t know where you accept chaos as a way to find it. Now you are in this multidimensional sporadic mist of somebody’s desires concentrated within the borders of one lonely, dark and unpredictable city.

I've grown speechless,
secretive, deaf.
Running and hurling,
running and hurling
for what—?
There are only tides that beacon and retreat,
never one that lingers.
For how could love be blended
into such frivolous motion.

JOY

Sudden and for no reason,
a smile gentle as a shadow,
a glass full of happy tears.

Sometimes a brilliance
full of wonder, sometmes
a frivolous mirage, sometimes
unbearable passion or an instant
of overwhelming peace.

A beating of soft rhythms
as the heart moves forward,
insatiable pulsations delicate
as wings of a butterfly,
early sun’s quiet delight,
ectasy of a new season’s
fragrance, summer nights
filled with star-years of
wisdom, jade reflection
on clear water’s surface,
clarity that nourishes
and soothes.

Effortless and fragile,
an unexpected touch
on any moment,
a treasure often hidden
but never wholly lost.

July 28th

My sister’s birthday for some it was the day they fell this is my vision of what they have been doing time
Setting before and in the presence of the almighty luxuriating in the love and peace that flows with such
Thickness it is equivalent to being in great depths as the sea can you feel yourself stretched to the limit
With the thrill of joy and love it continues from the poorest poverty now to the richest place no one has
Ever known and then the words are heard I go to prepare a place for you Jack and Terry look over their
Shoulder the two mansions they have been working on in fact Jack still has gold dust on his hands he
Just Finished laying gold leaf around the edges of lavish windows so when his family walks up to the
Mansion to visit the glorious light of the savior that will be the light of that city will catch the gold and
Gleam it will shimmer it will stir the heart that already is singing and is intoxicated a soul no longer at a
Loss it has wondered through long aching years now it has taken the final steps that has called without
Ceasing but fell on deaf ears as they sought material gain now they are at the center of all material but it
Is meaningless it is an afterthought now the heart surges with the everything and all that it ever every
Craved and desired there is not one empty place total fulfillment reached no dreams unrealized now all
There is to do is work on the details more work on the windows with love he etches the top and side of
The windows with gold stories unfold in briefest details one scene a small town a street that captures
Time and place a family and a store is showing richest wonder pulls from the edges it is the warmth that
Isn’t derived from fire but from hearts that are glowing and are bestowing the essence of human life
Mother father children the creator’s breath did blow with tenderest thought he gathered the very
Meaning of life into a ball and tossed it out it fell in the earth deep foundations were formed that were
Seeds that would produce countries and nations then the gold etching arched showed some members
Would lose their flesh coloring and pulse with whitest stature and rise to the heavens now thoughts can
Be held in your hand transposed on window glass stop time and flow with power over limitless space
Speak Welcome family to your future home it will erode formidable engagements and plans that
Seemed so Important they will be show to be frivolous nowhere is it ever been said build for a future
That will be Complete here it does say we will be kings and priests terry must believe it the mansion he
Was seen Working on named properly Ivy he isn’t over powered by his location but you walk into this
Huge area you are stunned into awe and reverence round like a temples dome but stain glass windows
Create a Soft darkness the crystal cathedral is taken a step further but here the color pieces that make
Such Wonderful pictures are actually fine gems at least in temperament terry leans toward being a
Priest Like the padre at the Jolon mission in California he had that quality that lifted himself above self
But you felt Christ shinning forth I felt the same other worldliness pouring out from a prisoner he wore
Prison garb but he was more free than all of them including the warden what dazzle in the extreme
Did occur when the glory light hit those colors vividness showed on the pastoral scenes and then the
Bible accounts of assured victories in impossible situations when God was fully trusted what a fortress
Of thought it creates it isn’t near completeness but Terry has found a passion that truly has no end
You can go from the sublime to the realness of life in truly the priest like life you build trust and knowing
In those that are not as strong and need reassurance they build on that which is without end where true
And all life finally begins

I don't do this.
Sit up at midnight and pretend I'm capable of putting my feelings down.
Capable of stringing them into something beautiful when really: they're just ramblings of a ***** teenage girl who can't go after what she wants.
Who she wants.

I don't do chest pains when the realization of your absence is as lucid as my lack of fear of death.
A preeminent death that you made so frivolous with the warmth of your smile,
The lust in your touch.

I don't do relentless memories.
Memories of your hands on my hips, your sighs in my mouth and my skin under your nails

I don't love this hard. I hope you understand.

My love for you is like a rainy day
It may seem dreary until you go and play in the rain.

Excuse me?
No...that was awful.
Let me try again.

My love for you is really like this poem
Pitiful yet amusing.

Because apparently it is not okay to laugh at poetry
Rather sit and shed a lone tear at the emotions it brings.
Honestly, that just entices my humor more.

Can we shed ourselves of these ridiculous allusions of torture and strife?
Maybe just be decent.
I admit to being a victim of self victimization, but that ends tonight.

Down with the ****** black queen of despair.
Down with the frivolous poems of tears.

maybe it’s music
maybe it’s art
maybe it’s poetry
maybe it’s a joint
maybe it’s the color of your eyes
or maybe it’s the taste of your lips
which act as a frivolous distraction
an attempt to fill the void
to give me the sense of fulfillment I so desperately crave
I will continue to indulge myself in intoxicating heedlessness
until I have found what I am looking for
or fall to my grave in the process

they want me to be serious, to take it seriously. To look at sunrises calmly and seize coals and watch over red-blooded, man-fueled wars about bravado, integrity, and land. To look at money, a simple representation of labor, and see what it drives other to do, to do for me.

to crush cigarettes and testicles under my boots,
to crawl through mud and barbed wire, smiling

with grit in my grimace
salt rolling, sweaty brows
twisted locks of dark hair
tobacco-brown spit, ground
and filthy, caked in mud
teeth bared like an animal
white eyeteeth crunching

Scorching earth where my feet touch down.
A cigarette put out on a tongue. No more talking.

They want me to see and that, in the dark of the night, in the light of the day, when the sun rises and sets, there is pain, always, elsewhere and everywhere. So I will not tarry or joke or be frivolous with the battered souls of others and to think, to think about applying anything I know, to run along with the vigorous social constructs they ask me to dissect and then revolutionize, because I am young, and I will sprint faster, against accusations, and only briefly.

They want me to look at the world like a runner looks at the red track,
with their toes and sinews coiled as hard as steel, a pinnacle of human
at the height of athleticism and possess the ruthlessness of a rabid dog
drool rushed into foam and mad from dehydrating, my brain swelling

with my hormone driven
red, hazy, athletic rage,
gunning my ambition
for some organization.

No.

I will fight, yes, but I will not fight for a name on a card, shield, or building.
I will fight for the sake of fighting because I am contentious and I am wrong.

I side against hero and villain, because I am the ambiguity,
that languishes, resides in no-man's land, antagonizing both.

Being disliked in purgatory is sometimes more easy than chomping at the bit,
for blood and the power of cracking a black bull whip, so I can avoid this terrible avarice and corrupting beauty that comes with working hard, especially for the greatness
                        that I did not ask
                                       to be ****** upon me, while I wished to remain enigmatic.

As a darkness descends to these troubled lands,
carefully watching are those who feel a cold shrill,
hear with frozen aching,
breathing in the quickening frost...

Growing hoary slowly,
as the rime it seeds,
pressed blades of grass feel the man in need...
This is a toll that must be paid!

Her fleeting thoughts dance with the wind as she twirls about spinning into the winter’s descent...

Darkness falls and so doth she,
her thoughts in brightness, uncoupled glee,
her heart in love and mind carefree...

A sweeping, dashing, vision he shows,
In moon as deep earth,
her sweet heart glows,

“Forget the quickly, approaching fee!”

“Dear Night, oh Darkness; spare this man!”

“I see you, -hear me for I plead too, I’m watching from your ice-gripped troubled land!”

“Take me instead; I’ll pay his cost or your dark soul is truly lost!”

“I twirl with woe, I dance thus so, -wanton abandon…
the shivering cold and this ice I stand in,
Your chill, the frost, the illness and the terrible cost,
...our crops and all our people lost,
and still I shall ignore your hand!"

THEN HE DIES!

“No, your reparations I thus will pay!
Leave us now, unburden this land, your frory wind is not his plan,
God does love us, -he’ll stay your hand!”

“Some sign, an answer, please, oh please!
On frosted grass I press my knees,
will you not hear my lovelorn cries?
Why must you take him, why must he die?
I cannot stand so idly by!”

“How can you torment such good men, our town, our lands, tis ours, our home this place you’re in?"

Frigid heart of icy Dragon,
feels not nothing, mourns no loss,
bears down harder with his frost
and punishes them all for a sin...

“You beastly anger!”

“The cold hand of darkness in my eyes, my heart burns bright with moonlit scorn!”

A trumpet sounds when lightning strikes,
and thunder heard, it splits the night!

“A toll too great I shall not mourn,
Soulless winter’s passing bound,
in frosted days of chilling found,
You maketh tender hearts thus lost.
Your winter brings her frozen frost,
You tear and break frozen land asunder,
destroy our love our hearts you plunder!
Be gone such evil, lest love soon die, my heart he holds, my soul and sky!”

“Your freezing laughter has distended me…”


Storm God

“Clouds of fury, thunders might, upon that moon, clouds cover her light!"

"Sweeping winds, wisps of ice and snowy swirls opaque the night, freeze that man, take his life!”

“Break, then shatter with my cold spells of ice, he, then she, with no respite; I shall forever control the night!"

“Tell tale of love to me in playful fancy?”

“The darkness I bring; cower as your lives in fright, no man shall evade my thunderous might!”

“Sway me not oh fairy dancer from my cold winter in your bones shall arise a chilling cancer!”

“Destroy I must and hear you not, your land in peril with a wind I roar, cry you will in pain and so much more!”

“I am this world’s white awful sore!”

“Beg you shall, whimpering dearly, for darkness cometh so swift, severely!”

“Feel it, hear it, a painful sound my thunder shatters the peace with world renown!”

“As once, as was, forever more and now I smite so deafening score, I deliver you both to death’s door!”

“There is no heart within this storm; there shall be no heart in earth forevermore!”

“Love you say”

“…as if I know?”


“BE GONE NOW CURSED MOONLIT GLOW!”

“No life, no love, no NOT nothing, no, from nothingness I come and to nothingness you go!”

“Thus an answer to your pathetic dancing, your spinning motions, your frivolous prancing,"

“A stronger wind, a tor-na-do, witness the awful power I sow,”

“...my heartless mind to which you sing, out dance that you spineless twinning!”

“Die!”

“Yes, -die!”

“With his dead heart I’ll crush your soul for yours IS my quest to break!”

“Time is such a fleeting flower and Lo, I come with all my power, your time has come this is the hour!”

“I hate your love; die for me, your bond is cur-sed I decree!”

“My children are the Nephilim, their snowy crystals I turn to rain and freeze it quickly about your ankles for you as he, shall not escape, nothing, no one shall escape, all the creatures shall die this time for I am the maker of the flood, I am the abyss, the king of wisdom, the tree of knowledge, the one of action, crowned master of the earthen plane, the king of gods and king of kings and origin of all things, if God there is then he is I and what I create I shall make die! Know this mere mortal, the name of betwixting thing you learn…”

“I am that old God known as *Sah-turn!”

“My toll do I demand from thou!”

“My toll I ask, I DEMAND IT NOW!”



Sobbing sadness as she prostrates her hands to ice, her ankles bound and crying is the only sound...

The ego of the deity is in question, she searches for another way, a path of inquiry to make him stay, for the horrible fate wrought this day and lands of beauty coldly buried away...

For what could change the mind of darkness?

“Master, I see the wheels have ground to a halt and you’ve descended from the heaven’s vault but how can such lowly animals and nature be at fault, for is it not the goblins of the saw that should be punished, that should be sought?”

“Those who chop away at your great tree are the ones who smile with uncoupled glee for they smite your creation and tear it down and care not for your might, your world renown!”

“All nature is but your possession, oh timeless infinity I do not question, your purpose or need but I do ask, nay beg of thee, allow my love to thus be free, let us hold each other if we die, see my supplication, hear my cry!”


“If let go we will with all haste and prudence, your wrath is great and our presence a nuisance, away from this troubled land you’ve made, the frozen tundra of the grave, a night wrapped by your terrible song in this evil place we do not belong,”


"...please let us run!"


“You have cloaked the beauty of the moon,  covered her sky, I beseech you master hear my cry above the thunders of your sky, wrestle free my love from grip, let us pass, let us slip, let us go this night, oh great black wheel and great north wind and wolf and beast and Dragon from the faraway east and master of the air and seas and Lord of all as your voice decrees, I beg here on my dying knees,”


“The toll you demand is a life for a life, save him, put me under the frosty knife!”


Rumble, rumbling pondered thoughts, the wind is ceased and snow dies down and ground gets soft as air warms up and moonlight shines as clouds dissipate while the god of night decides their fate...

Her sobbing subsides as the ice and snow become water and seep into the earth, her dress soaking and hands covered in mud she addresses this king of kings once more. She stands and fills her lungs with warmth and begins to dance a dance of thanks to him who is hidden but a chilly wind shows that it is still forbidden. Her love watches from yonder far hill as she holds back her dance and stands so still, calling out to the color of night, stern her voice has no sign of fright...

“Punish the land and make your mark for that will teach us to give offerings to the dark,”

“Give rage unto that which hath no heart, pummel the earth and sink the ark.”

“Oh he is such a jewel to me, I’ll dance no more, I’ll show no glee, and no happiness to smite your sea in your great debt I thus will be!”

“Call your hordes, all four to thee, let them of wisdom punish me, my dancing finished great Gyges, your ring of darkness; oh wine-dark seas!”

“The four are eager for the flight to crack the seals and split the night, and show the signs, enact the plan, and run dark in blood this troubled land.”

“You see my master? We know your tales and tell our children the wonder and the mystery of our ark that floats upon your sea and all the things we know you make for we teach our children of them for heaven’s sake!”

“As natures hand you make the call, Oh Famine! Oh Pestilence! Oh Plague! Oh Death, -bring them all!”

“Come now in darkness for your master calls, his voice too loud as to be vague…”

“Run we shall, away, away…”

“Your great power, oh great one, the shatterer, thunderer, the bringer of the nightly fall, watch your subjects cringe and crawl, and supplicate on hands and knees with praise upon your mighty awe.”

“Why not bring them? Bring them all?”

“Enforce your toll, make your presence known, reap the seeds of what you’ve sown, our lives have always been yours to own, for you are great upon this land, your fury descends with mighty hand, now and forever shall it be known, no man can seat above your throne!”

“The trees thus stripped of their leaves and these hands are whipped upon our grieves,”

“Save my love from those stinging leaves from wintery chill and icy snows, hand of darkness, north wind that blows,”

“Lightning strikes and deadly throes,”

“In mercy your true power shows,”

“For you are the master, king of night, maker of fear, of horrible fright, the Ouroboros, the clouds your wings, the heaven’s motions, order of all things, the one who rings the magnificent treasure, the source of all our earthly pleasure, one to which we all do pray, -alas Ethiopia, dawn a new day!”

“The moon descends as does your power tis dawn you fool, that is the hour!”

“You can keep your anger and unpaid toll we’ll keep our love, our lives and my gentle soul.”

Storm God

“YOU DARE! YOU DO! YOU MOCK ME STILL?”

“Here comes my weathering, wintry, malicious chill!”

“Child die as your suitor must, this night, this storm, this hour unto my lightning ******! Rain, hail, fury thehowling winds of wolven glory and end I put to this sorrow’s story, down the trees, wash away the lands, rip apart the heavens know my hand!”

“…and what is this nocturnal noise?”

“In my storm are birds chirping? Is that daylight on horizon now? Nature cannot desert me, no, not now!”

“The daybreak shines, undoes my vow, ceases my storm and scatters my clouds; know this mortal is not the end for I shall come back again!Your words and pleas will not save you then, this trickery I shall not forget, your souls I’m coming back to get and when I do you’ll grovel in fear for you’ll know the moment of death is near!”

“On that night you’ll pay my toll, I SHALL NOT REST WITHOUT YOUR SOUL!”