To each who writes I would gift a notepad and a pen. For words do not have schedules or timings as to when they drift into the conscious sphere of your head. So to possess the paper and pen a writer may capture genius whenever it decides to come
Category Archives: The Black Tome
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
Storm Fuelled Dreams
A wall of endless dreams
To hold against the serene
An idle door of mortar
To lock out the ghosts of the unseen
As isles of lost faith haunt the days I must survive
Into the storm of endless hell I must descend
Dancing Hearts in the Heat of Jazz
Top hats at the ready
Black Jackets off the peg
Glamorous dress and sky-high heels
A night to forget our troubles
Dancing with champagne flutes and posh booze
When love breaks out the brass band
We’re all swingers
Loyal only to the groove
A match made in heaven
As cupid takes the music low