Beneath Frozen Fields (Mythic Series Volume Nine)

The onward plow tested

Patience of a man,

Cold flames blister in the wind,

Shards of ice erupt, collapse

From the hole or words elapse,

Razor heralds a grim committal

Above the cluster, over hills

A plummet we must endure,

No control over life or flesh,

In this void another test for us to face,

A beast so venial

Its own kind has cast it this far north,

And so the descent commenced,

On shield some took to like sleds,

Others stumbled mightily,

With feet snared by gripping snow,

The hour approached

When dusk removes its cloak

From this air, brittle and persistent still

Blustering pieces traversed the wind and hail,

Upon solid foot once anew,

I felt the ground beneath our feet to move,

Wind it did, like a worm does through the sand and skin,

Wisdom dictates to vanquish a beast,

Without weakness, and never seen,

To strike quick, to amend our journey

Intrinsic and forcefully,

So with my bandaged arm,

Plunge it deep and within reach

Coarseness I had never met before,

Scales so thick and rough to hold

The landscape changes shape around,

Yet release I would not grant this beast,

We had it by shock,

It could not arise as it were,

I cast the men to each side

They looked to me to guide them through,

Breathing fierce and spitting blood

I was not sure how long I could withstand,

The thrashing beneath this frozen land,

Pierce, thrust deep my friends,

I screamed in bitter rage

Do not release until I feel it cease to beat,

And so it did, no mercy did we spare,

Ensured we did to end this well,

And we did, then began the excavation,

To which a golden tooth was found,

Another compliment for Odin’s chest,

The third would not be as tame,

We know its face,

We’ve seen tales from its name,

From ice to flame we move again,

To face a dragon with three heads,

Surely some would not meet the fourth test ahead

Tonight we feast, tomorrow we return to where we should

The Healing Gift

A blockade has been created,

At each ends of the street men await answers,

Police, like statues, incapable of speech,

They do not flinch; they show no signs of humanity,

They dissolve any illusion that within them, shreds of decency exists,

Sympathetic offerings are all we wish delivered

The horses remain throughout the night,

The mist from the underworld,

Rises through the openings,

That workmen use to reach below,

Yet one cannot ignore that fate laced whim,

Passing through your mind,

You notice how quiet the street is tonight,

You might even comment on how surreal,

But regardless if you are a born and raised city child,

Or a closet dwelling pastoral adorer,

You will, for the first time in remembrance,

Recall the pleasantry you experience in this one extended moment,

As if you and your belongings were transported, swallowed whole,

And to this journey you find magical elements,

The way your food tastes when the body is at rest,

The way your hearing is more in tune, rather than focusing upon a variant of voices,

But the thing you will rue the most, when all this is taken away,

Will you ever again truly enjoy the rich textures hidden beneath simplicity, covering your sighs

A Journey's Renewal (Mythic Series Volume Eight)

And then the day,

We had waited for,

Down arrival the glowing frame,

Bow we did when he came,

Instruct he did without the speech,

Yet still we knew what must be done,

We packed the horses,

And gathered men,

In the morn away we went,

Through the towns,

And in the fields,

We would know when it would be,

The first of seven darkened duels,

Then the first would show,

We were ready, well prepared,

The sky of blood foretold this tale,

Through the wretched voice of a witch

We came across, peddling answers on the way,

She said how it would start, when it would begin,

Each premonition was detailed exactly as we found them,

The sky would reek of misty fog,

Bloody skies covered by veils of grey,

Steeds would stammer across terrain,

Down one warrior would be,

From attacks we could not see,

Void of direction,

The shots ensued from each location,

The men were counting,

How many of them,

Would we contend against?

Then a shot grazed by me,

My horse rose,

The headdress distracted me,

And I saw the creature

Confronting us,

It was small like an elf,

But fast like a serpent,

And with the strength of a jinn,

The men were warriors, each of them,

But such a sight, they could not see,

From each direction, frightened them,

Men failed and men fell, and many more would fail once more,

The roots were stained because of them; the ground in spite of them,

I knew what must be done, no other option unveiled its head,

Else my soul would pay the consequence,

Archers I lined one by one,

Stretched the quiver,

I commanded light to fly from them,

And the night was bright once again,

Soon thereafter all the trees,

Each branch wept for its friends,

An inferno which was not meant,

Yet from such scandal,

Our assailant could be seen,

And it was not long,

Before it screamed in repent,

For what it had done,

He claimed he was but one of many,

Scouring village and mountainside,

Through the hills and rivers wide,

For a battle cry had signaled them,

He prayed I take his words,

And vowed his truth to follow our cause,

He vowed to serve us well,

Cowardice after fury,

Is a dignity I cannot defend,

Those were the last pleas provided

To such a thing,

From the ground,

On display,

A jeweled dagger was found,

In a crusted sack besides his arm,

I prayed to the Gods for their guidance,

For their protection and offered this weapon unto them,

For when they wished I would have it with,

Alive or dead, it would stay with me,

And the sky broke clouds and day revealed,

A path not encountered in that burning brush,

A path that would surely lead us,

Into the second of the seven we are bound to touch

Tapping

Tap, Tap, Tap,

Tapping too,

Have to get centered

To make it through

The metronome beats rhythmically

With each syncopation

I’m forced to remember you,

Soft, soft, softly spelling it,

Baby words, and baby steps,

Fun, fun, functionality,

The ink to the pen,

Reminds me of everything,

Rigid is the structure I’m surrounded by,

Ninety degrees which separate,

The land outside,

And the dreamers mindscape,

After the aging hours,

You’ve moved past a blank slate

To an ivory tower, constructed in precise detail,

Bitten fingers erect a sleeping gate, a safe passageway,

From offbeat dream to imbalanced fears, yet never lacking the appeal

The Uninformed

You don’t know,

And nor do I,

The terror, the agony,

The pride, the joy,

In spans so minor,

The surrounding world can crumble, can collapse,

Or it can be reborn, rebuilt again,

You don’t know how an apple feels,

You can’t gauge the pain in one orange peel,

Bushels, bags, nets or barrels,

How they are sorted, how they are combined,

Should never alter your contemplation,

Never change the depravity you may find,

Never underestimate the stimulation, in either core or rind,

You’ll never see through my lens,

You’ll never be that pure again,

As they once were, prior to the time we spent,

They say and we listen,

They give their order, which becomes our mission,

Things won’t change, they never will,

Until we question, until we comprehend,

Of which we are incapable, without explanation, without asking why

All Ill Be Gone

When a cloud hovers from above,

Wish it well, give it love,

It is your duty to provide the nudge,

For that cloud to swiftly pass,

Before its lining alters hue from grey to black,

Aisles of fading, years of deceit,

Confessionals empty this evening,

It’s not that I wish not to speak,

It’s not that I’ve no remorse and cannot grieve,

It’s just because repent is what my enemies expect of me,

Swirling waves, a magnetic lure pulls the soul,

Grasping throats in one hand,

A pain you feel, but do not understand,

A compression you know so well,

An ignorance, on which your mind,

So often lingers, so often dwells,

Amidst the children,

Out at play, each afternoon,

No worries, no cares,

Precious are the second then,

A pleasing rite, adults so unnoticeably lose passage from

Resolved we drop to knees; we chant expediently,” All ills be gone, first in front and then in back”

The Programmer (Early Tales Chapter One)

Harboring fugitives from justice was not my aspiration growing up,

In fact, It most likely never crossed my mind,

Not a single thought, not the faintest gleam,

Why would I, they were wanted men and women?

Well, as things would have it, so was I,

It is true what they say,

Do something counter to your normal offerings,

And it is that much easier to complete the same task the second time,

And this formula continues on its course,

Well, you might say, how does someone break into such a line of work?

My answer would be simple, to the point.

You only get into a career of this sort, when three conditions are met:

                You have no other options

                The career chooses you

                You are the one needing safe harboring

I’ve met men and women that can safely fall in each of the conditions, some, as often is the case, fall into more than one.

My first “project” was the moving of a clan of techno-related fiends,

I tried at first not to ask questions that could later put me in peculiar situations,

However, through the many years, I’ve found it all important to obtaining such information up front, before any money changes hands, before I’ve agreed to assist the individual(s) on their flight,