A Writers Wounds

Nightmares cursed to paper; the harbinger a pen full of blades

A scythe sets tomes to stone; the blood of a poet makes its stain

Wordful storms of literary hail that mercilessly rain down without remorse

Sanity accused of logical heresy set to fire

Insanity leeching off the unholy flames

As I bleed my story onto blackened page in varying tones of a banshees scream


So I present for your guilty pleasure

Every ounce of my pain


Gamblers Delight, A Fighters Right

Ashen face and reddened lip, a flash of blood on whitened teeth as with grimace grim he launches into the fight

The sting of a fist to the face, the overlooked cut, as a blade blindly thrusts to casually split flesh

The pain an echo of the fact that life is not done, a debt of suffering to be fulfilled by the deed of a blade

The avenging dagger seals the opponent’s fate with a flick of the wrist, fortunes lost on the gold coins bartered

Life like blood on the soiled sand is but a thing to be brushed away, men willing to shed the mortal cost as viewers casually pray for gamblers luck


A Moment To Think

The landscape of a life is topography of many hues

Where runs the rifts that are ditches of the damned

So rises the mountainous heights of emotional highs

 A stroll amongst the forests of the mind may turn a lightened plain of all that sings of hope and joyous tones as with forsaken step turns a maze of tombstones in foreboding sense, each a joyless slab of the mistaken steps turned nightmarishly in past assaults. So what to wish in wandering calm for a briefest moment may carry the weight of life’s intent to which direction the passing fates have summoned strength, an earthly voice to guide the willing pawn is to ill afflicted types a beckoning dispersion to ungodly aspects that will with searing screams lament past mistakes.

Cursay the word with much ashen breath in momentous change of lowly ditches to ascended depths of cloudy realms in all that weight of powerful change a mere moment may bless, or in that second of transformative potential upon the course a dreaded curse could equally be gravely set. No hint in health or hellion direction this split second will mercifully reveal to relief the pressure mounted that on burdened shoulders the decision rests, to know destiny the only result of looking in backward glance once the fated mark is permanently made upon the fabric of our lives parchment, never more the chance to crawl back the hour and have an informed repeat.

So to you all I on ragged knee and with bleeding heart do much appeal that you in this time do take a precious pause and give all a lifetimes hope to wait, all in haste will fleetingly be lost to temporal storms upon that darkly blooded reef with all the others poorly chosen to tempt a gamble of unstable hearts. Love not a thing to think of in boastful jest when shattered scars of folks long since cast to despairing pits do crunch beneath each hazardous step, deserts long carried into timeless expanse will be full of golden sands that composed of worn down hope make footing weak for all those not in full belief of the commitment they hath lusted to take.

Though it may bring to you a sultans wealth of faithful emotion to in redemptions grip raise an existence to utopian levels of blissful glory with every savoured inhale of that still airs delight, so too tragedy has waited in skulking shadows around the mazes corner with poison blade and deathly wish to permit their victim an undying pain that none else will see or understand.

That ring in flowered hand, champagnes taste lingering before the question, her eyes a glaze with future stars shining a union into the clear night’s sky… Think my friend and don’t offer in haste a thing that only once may be had and once thwarted never regained.