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The mother weeps
The child cries
The father is proud
The body lies
Glory! Glory! Glory!
Upon the earth one is born
To fulfill the role that is her destiny
They are Legion, they are many
To be right the price must be paid
The price is the flesh and the blood
Innocence is lost at conception
Teach her to be foul
Teach her to covet
Teach her to tease
Teach her to lie
Teach her to please
Devour the heart you have given to her
She won't need it, for it is broken and dead
She never stood a chance
The price for a parent's happiness is the child's blood
Inside the body lies darkness
Darkness beyond which any light can penetrate
The malevolent being consumes the soul
Forcing you to a trial
His test must be passed but at great price
Tempter, tempt me no more with your wicked ways!
He promises delight but only delivers pain
He rejoices!
Clapping His hands together brings the sound
Of those who fell under His power
The Demon will eat the souls He has collected
Over Millennia they have willingly given them
For a promise of an object, a skill, a vice
He always wins
He is the house, and the house always wins
Flames reach to the sky
The night is on fire
If only we could extinguish the pyre
That surrounds us from head to toe
On the night that I saved you
I went up in flames
Who could save me?
I was doomed from the start
My own demons doused me in gasoline
To take what I gave my life for
Who could save me?
Nobody. Nobody. Nobody.
Nobody could save me.
He put everything back into the pouch and placed it into his pocket. For now he would hold on to it while he buried his family. He went outside and made a fire for cooking on. He noticed that he had built up quite an appetite in his fighting. Tomasz gathered some vegetables from his house and some meat. He roasted the vegetables over the fire and put the meat on a spit. Everything was cooking nicely now and the smells made his hunger insatiable. This is what he loved; good vegetables grown on his own farm and meat from a cow he had nourished since it was a calf.
He finished his meal and returned to his house. He decided that since it was late and he was extremely tired, he would set about digging graves in the morning. In the meantime, he would simply cover the bodies in cloth.
He went into his room and put the pouch under his pillow. He went back outside to bathe and stoke the fire. After he was finished, he looked into the sky, resigned. He dropped to his knees and said a prayer for the dead. Again, he mourned his family and his dead friends and neighbors. Finally, he returned to his room to go to sleep
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Welcome to my new blog! This separate blog is to post some of my poetry that I've written over the past few years. I will try updating this new blog every 2 weeks starting today. Hope you all enjoy my musings!
“Abyzou? Abyzou?” Tomasz asked.
His brain worked as hard as it could trying to recall why this name was familiar to him. Exhaustion and dehydration was screwing with him hard. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
She didn’t answer him, only blew him a kiss and danced her way out of the cell. He jolted awake. He looked around his cell frantically and saw someone in the doorway. It was one of the guards. The guard began jabbering in his bizarre language again and held a bowl in his hand. He handed the bowl to Tomasz, which was filled with dirty water. Tomasz drank the water greedily, not caring that it probably had a bug in it that would make the water come out the other end as fast as he was drinking it. His throat felt instantly better as the water soothed his cracked and bloody lips. He looked up at the guard and nodded to him, saying thank you in his own bizarre language
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Deep underground, Kurong walked purposefully toward an antechamber. It was dark and musty and the room smelled foul. Cobwebs were in every corner and large, menacing spiders scuttled along waiting for a helpless morsel to become ensnared in their webs. Blood faintly covered parts of the brick wall, each streak signifying the end of something. If Kurong had the power to hear voices, he’d hear the screams and wails of people long since dead. However, he did not and could not hear these voices. To him, this room was a glimpse into what lay beyond in the larger hall.
Kurong was not alone. With him was a short, muscular man who had been in his mid-thirties when he was made. He had rich, grass green eyes, high cheekbones, and a bulbous nose. His skin was tan, but not overly tan. His hair was short and dyed black. The man’s natural hair color was more of an auburn color, but at this point in the story that was irrelevant. What was relevant was that this man was Kurong’s sire. Tomasz had seen many things in his one thousand years, the fall of Rome, the fall of the Ottoman Empire, hell even the fall of the Napoleonic Empire. None of these really mattered to Tomasz except the Ottomans.
He recalls they were a savage bunch of Neanderthals, worse than the Mongols, in fact. He remembers their women were humble looking with their warts and stringy hair. Man, was he glad they didn’t win in the end. In the end, everyone lost. He remembers being dragged away from his little farm in what is now Poland and thrown into a squalid hole in the wall called a cell. He was beaten constantly and lost hope of ever returning home to his wife, Magda and their children. He recalls how scared he was and how Piotr would have to be the man now. Piotr was only nine years old. Their other two children, Izabella and Janusz, were three. The little twins were barely old enough to know who their father was and in time, they would forget if he didn’t get out of this God forsaken place
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September 10th 2010 23:44
He opened it in time to see William frozen where he stood. Kurong was back and he was standing only feet from William. He reached his hand out and William moved to take it. Occam only had time to do one thing. He knelt down where the bloody bag was, grabbed it, and flung it across the lawn. Kurong broke his concentration and moved for the bag. Occam grabbed William and rushed him back inside.
“What did you do with the protection you had on this place,” Occam asked, his voice urgent.
“I-I moved them,” Cordelia said
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Comment by Adam Williams
on Lottery confusion
Occam's Razor
Wicked Evil Thoughts