I could call upon the storm:
The wind, the piercing rain.
I could make a whirlwind form,
But I would do it all in vain.

I could call upon the sky:
Watch the flash as thunder plays.
I could raise the waters forest high;
But I couldn’t turn back all the days.

I can’t call upon the clock
To hide its face and yours;
Moments pass, each with a lock,
To shut all open doors.

And I could call upon your name
As a plea or as a chant for war,
But there’s nothing there for me to claim
Except a broken heart forevermore.

The Warlock

Two hundred years I’ve waited;
Two hundred years, I’ve mourned.
He showed me His destruction;
But in return I’ll show Him more.

On my honor as a husband;
On my life — what’s left of it.
He showed me His destruction;
Now I’ll show that I received His gift…

Ran into an… interesting… song today: “Honey I’m Home” by Ghost and Pals. I actually kind of like it… It sounds to me like madness, and Babylonian aspirations; and it inspired the backstory for the working villain of a story that I may or may not try writing for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).

My villain is a warlock who once sought understanding and control over things beyond his ken. I haven’t worked out all the details, but he does get a fraction of what he wanted — at a very dear cost. His family dies in some way, as he becomes immortal and changed; and he believes God to have been behind it: as a taunt, a tease, a punishment.

Two hundred years later, he has exhausted every option, every alternate path. In all that time, his war with God has been nothing but maddening silence. He cannot reach his foe.

But he can reach His creation… And with nothing else left to do, he will destroy it all. Or better yet, have His creations destroy each other…


Well, I once was a wide-eyed lass
Within a sleepy town:
Then you came;
You said my name,
And I followed you southbound.

Your every word, your noble mien
Had me kneeling on the ground:
You were the hero of my dreams
And where others lost,
I found.

The skilled would always hear your call,
Only to flee or die;
But I, with only what I saw
On how a sword or bow was drawn,
Stayed there by your side.

Not for gold or fame I stayed,
But to be your truest friend:
It was the only currency
That really mattered,
In the end.

But all the times I stayed for you
Were undone when you fled;
And as done to me,
So will I do,
And leave you for dead.

A Black Hole by a Dark Heart In a Cold World at Midnight

Thunk; the shovel has its say:
Thunk! An accusation.
Chink will bring the light of day
Into this dark damnation.
Thunk! another shovel full;
Thunk! it’s getting deeper.
Thunk! A sin that such a hole
Is where he chose to keep her.
Thunk! He’s getting closer now
Thunk! Into the past
Chink! It’s almost over now;
He’ll have his peace at last.
Clunk — The shovel hits the earth;
He must have lost his mind!
A coffin in a state of dearth;
“Did you miss me?” From behind.

The Lord of Fire

Higher and higher,
The Lord of the Fire:
He seeks out his sire;
He’ll find what he’s lost.
He’ll break it and burn it;
He feels it deserves it.
He’ll have his revenge
No matter the cost.

Higher and higher,
This Lord of the Fire:
He’ll burn in his ire,
Because he was crossed.
A father who loved him
Was a dream far above him;
And he’ll have his revenge,
No matter the cost.

The Exiles

Snow drifts past the entrance
Of our makeshift camp:
A cave without friendship,
Fire or lamp.

Once, we would never
Have come here alone;
Now a man you once trusted
Sits on your throne.

You pace and you mutter,
At war with yourself.
I know I can’t ease you;
I keep to myself.

I let my thoughts drift,
As the snow drifts outside.
What plots, what schemes
Run through your mind?

Are they thoughts of revenge
Against the one who betrayed you?
Who murdered your mistress,
All just to frame you?

Oh, my love:
You’ll never know,
But I’m the traitor who lost us
To the ice and the snow.

The River


The white bones in the river
The fishes have picked clean.
Just how long has it been
Since you went missing?

You went down to the river
Oh so many years ago
I can just barely remember
Watching you go.

Who were you meeting by the river?
I knew, whatever you claimed.
But even in your journal,
That boy you never named…

Did he push you in the river?
Did he leave you there to drown?
Did he even know?
I guess it doesn’t matter now.

If I find him by the river
Today, when I go back,
I’ll learn the truth;
And then, I’ll pay him back.