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  1. Great Celebration

    It is time for a great celebration!
    Inside the grand hall
    the illustrious ball is in full-fledged effect,
    as eminent ladies dressed in fishnet
    bow and pass beneath the alabaster arches.

    The noble assembly all coupled en masse
    dance and sway to lovelorn serenades
    and gay-stride minuets.

    Ma Cher,
    Ma Cherie,
    Where is thy silhouette?
    Across the checkered squares
    we met, locked in a gaze
    of mutual ...
  2. When Death Lays Low

    It’s hot as hell, but hotter still
    the fiery sun and scorching sand
    that beat and blaze above and below
    to burn the backs of better men,
    of men laid low in steely Iraq
    or unsung heroes West of Tehran.

    The bursting flames of combative battlefields
    make cowards brave and gods of men,
    and fleeting bullets through blood-sullied hills
    sing of nations saved or ideas defended
    through graveyards paved with epithets
    of ...
  3. Of Elves and Vampires, A Requiem


    In ancient times, in an ancient city
    set upon a hill aside the darkened sea
    resided a youth, more delicate and pretty
    than any maid or woman be.

    Fairer than the sun, whose envious eyes
    cast glances through gilded shrubbery,
    but naïve in thought, he longed for battle
    to meet his enemy.

    Though born from man was no man who bore him,
    but Beauty from Love’s hard labored night,
    admist her ...
  4. In The Rue Morgue

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)
    In the Rue Morgue: Reversible #7

    Blow winds—icy; clear and cold.
    Moon full. Fearful howling,
    slinking shadow. Alley dark.
    Mortal wounds, torn flesh;
    blood oozes drop by drop.
    Gasping, spirit departs.
    Hideous visage laughing silently,
    shadows dark ; concealing all.
    Grim stalker leaves…

    Leaves stalker. Grim
    all concealing dark shadows.
    Silently laughing, visage hideous;
    departs spirit, gasping. ...
  5. Colors #II

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)
    COLORS #2

    Crimson is the color of my rage,
    boiling from red-hot to the depths of icy cold,
    by far the more dangerous of the two. Fueled by hurt
    feelings, encouraged by aggravation, tempered in pain;
    the anger burns out-of-control, causing fear
    to bubble up inside. It always leaves me empty and lonely.

    Frost is the color of the lonely.
    They are an ice-capped mountain, licked by flames of rage;
    pitted here and there by ...