Well, I finished the prequel to "Devil's Plaything".....remember that one??? Well here it is, "Cheyenne", I hope ya enjoy it!!
Oh and by the way, if my posting my work on yer comments is not agreeable with you, please let me know, and I wull no longer do so !!! (I am such a poetry slut...*sigh*)
Cheyenne
Abbey’s walls still surround her, hateful bells announce her plight---breathless dreams of elusive freedom, her quest for reunion begins tonight. Biding time ‘til she was older, vague memories haunt her sleeping---no more patience for separation, no more secret midnight weeping. Sacred glow…impending woman-hood, marks her lovely child-like face---something else there… not quite so pretty, the risk that it will take its place. Fiery eyes keen and probing, looking out ‘neath innocent’s brow---making even brave men cower, destiny’s promise now allowed.
Mother’s voice is silently calling, as she casually leaves this place---so easy her escape accomplished, reveling in freedom’s sweet embrace. Moon-glow offers welcome succor, as she finds herself alone---past forbidding darkened doorways, recalling memories of cheap cologne Wondering at this in-born majik, that which certainly guides her way---priceless gift so desperately given, when her mother gave her away? “Cheyenne”, her mother softly whispered, on that night so long ago---“remember always gentle daughter, my love is with you…though I must go.”
Music draws her to a window, magic portal through which she peers---graceful profile of her mother, easily distinguished through her tears. As she watches through the window, her mother’s gaze attracted---to the sight of two men struggling, terrible violence therein enacted. Such shock revealed in mother’s face, all animation drained---Cheyenne feels her awful sorrow, escaping through the window pane. Suddenly, the violent stranger, calls out her mother’s name---“Candida I shall have you always, for my rival now is slain!”
Cheyenne watches as Candida, accepts what she has seen---horror reflected in her eyes, her mother begins to scream. Groaning as she turns away, Cheyenne can bear no more---frantic in her movements now, she searches for the door. As she races ‘round the corner, she spies the entry way---rushing forward in her panic, her footsteps echo her dismay. Tragic figure exiting, as she finally gains the door---red light brightly shining there, confirms Candida is a whore.
A thousand answers flooding through her, without a single question posed…. She takes her mother’s hand in her’s, this chapter in their lives is closed.
Here is one I just finished today….Hope you enjoy !!!
Sacrifice
She feels so out of place here, eyes wide with disbelief---the death of tortured innocence, she hopes will bring relief. Capering forms around the blaze, seem slightly altered now---viscous quality to the air, passions' madness sought somehow. Were those really antlers, she discerned upon the head---of the friend who had invited her, to this celebration of the dead? Or just a trick of firelight, she refuses to believe---shifting images all around her, alterations impossible to conceive.
A wildness creeps inside of her, blood screaming through her veins---warm desire begs fulfillment, sweet release...what she will gain. Delighted keening fills her ears, hooded figure upon the dais---those around her yammering, as they chant their ancient praise. The others seem to know their roles, what is her purpose here---a sheen of sour perspiration, lubricates her dawning fear. Her gaze drawn to the figure, standing on the stage---she notices just how large he is, she discerns his awful rage.
As if her legs possess, no volition of their own---she finds herself approaching him, her features cast in stone. Hands reach out to touch her, as she journeys to her doom---perceiving her role with clarity now, demi-god to be her groom. Unconsciously her hands attempt, to smooth her raiment down---for after all the clothes she wears, will be her wedding gown. At last she ceases walking, arriving by his side---a brief triumphant smile, reveals the courage she found inside.
Startled gasp escapes her lips, as she looks into his eyes---depth of his evil revealed to her, somehow she's not surprised... To feel her precious organs, spilling out upon the floor---the questions she wished answers to, are not important anymore.
Here is a poem I wrote for a friend of mine here at DR . A bit of a departure for me, I hope you enjoy !
Devil's Plaything
Dark brothel beckons silently, within the old French Quarter---'twas there so many years ago, there that I thought...to court her. Her eyes ablaze from absinthe, young lovely body swaying---caring not what patrons claimed, never heeding what they were saying. My heart took flight within my breast, each time I caught a glance---of my dark compelling plaything, each time I stood entranced. Losing moments to love's opium, such a drug she proved to be---my soul cried out for sweet release, she was everything to me.
Those days they seldom visit me, fevered imaginings from the past---I remember still that evening, the night I saw her last. Adorned in silk so lustrous, perfume echoing in my head---my rival vanquished at my feet, I knew then...that he was dead. Wielding scarlet claws she came at me, spitting venom in my face---Devil's Plaything...mine no longer...screaming, my affections were misplaced. I trapped her arms behind her, whispered frantically in her ear---told her we could be so happy, begged her not to disappear.
Many years now since I've seen her, since I thought to win her heart... Now all my fading memories center...around watching her depart.
Darknest Greetings, Hope you are wickedishly evil and well with all that is good in the world of Darkness...
The Path Is Within Your Own Blood. You Must Walk The Dark Path Alone.. The Scripture Is Written In My Blood.. Now That I Have Biten You, The Scripture Is Now Written In Your Soul... So Go Fourth Now My Reborn Friend In Darkness.. And Feed... The Feeding Commences Tonight...
Here is one I just finished---I anxiously await your opinion!!
Song Of Moloch
At the head of forty legions, feral eyes glance all about---spreading leathery wings to cool them, listening for the sentinel’s shout. Sulphurous odor doth proclaim him, tramp of hoof and heel denote---coming of this cold pale rider, oaths erupt from every throat. Unobserved in countless ages, dwelling in the bowels of hell---restless in his cruel confinement, no one still alive to tell… Of countless brutal cruel excesses, when last he roamed at will---infernal power never greater, foul stinking destiny to fulfill.
Distant shrieking from the sentinel, heralds arrival at the wall---ancient bastion lately weakened, whispering pathetic angels’ call… Striding forward as power fills him, groaning earth protests---such creatures as are found around him, fall senseless in their distress. Grunts escape defending angels, his presence is discerned---sickened looks upon their faces, this ancient one totally unconcerned. Runes casually written upon the air, timeless barrier is shaken---rotting dead within their graves, scream allegiance to this abomination.
Blinding light it emanates, from daemon’s outstretched hand---spelling death and desolation, across this promised land. Terror chases disbelief, across angelic faces---only death and desecration, to be found in daemon’s fell embraces. Solomon’s temple in disarray, lost corner-stone now reclaimed---forbidding wall is broken asunder, remaining angels horribly maimed. Subtle change is clearly felt, Moloch demands his due---as long ago was written, he demands your very soul from you.
Michael’s ring so carefully forged, bearing heaven’s hateful seal--- Found amongst the carnage, now destroyed beneath the daemon’s heel.
When a demon named Ornias harasses a young lad (who is favorite of Solomon) by stealing half his pay and sucking out his vitality through the lad's thumb, Solomon prays in the temple and receives from the archangel Michael a ring with a seal on it which will enable him to command the demons.....
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