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Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 1:21 pm
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Ascendancy (Written on 1/09/07)
Deep in a dusty forgotten basement and hidden in the shadows of life's replacement a sword rested in the darkness and sorrow of pain and memories, forgotten and borrowed.
The blade remembers horrors of murder and war, and the blood as it fades holds this deep in its core, to retain the sins and mistakes of the past and prevent a recurrence of humanity's crash.
This sword has committed acts of terror, draining the sanity and life of its bearer to condemn his soul to hell eternal and engulf him in its blazing inferno.
Such a weapon of blinding torture and hate is destined to seal another's fate and thus rescue the entire human race from a violent destruction of evil's taste.
Satan himself once wielded the sword to act as the winged demons' ward, but he was drawn to its center and slowly devoured, for even he could not escape its power.
It drained him of his former strength as it captivated him with its gleaming length. Before him, all of hell once cowered, but his soul is encased as heaven's last dowry.
As the earth decays, the sword stays, immortal, guarding against all evil's portal to protect humanity from its own disgrace and remain eternal guardian as angels' mate.
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Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 1:22 pm
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Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 1:23 pm
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Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 1:24 pm
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Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 1:25 pm
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Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 1:27 pm
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Naked in the Storm (Written on 4/11/07)
Here I stand, alone in the storm. Icy raindrops cling to my chilled, naked flesh, soaking into the core of my existence. My salty tears mingle with the raindrops, falling to the earth to be pulled into the cycle. Misty fog swirls around me, engulfing my surroundings. The dark messenger of Death spreads his wings, with glossy black feathers glistening in the pale light and beady eyes hiding the secrets of the living and the dead; he comes to me, my friend in the storm. A flash of deadly light streaks from the heavans, illuminating the shadows of my jaded face. Deep-throated growling rumbles along the cracked pavement, and the earth gives a long, weary sigh. The wind beckons and whispers of a perfect land, if only I will step back out of the rain. Yet still I stand here, naked and cold, watching the rain drench this forgotten land until the land swallows me whole, leaving only an imprint, a memory that will dry and fade when the sun returns.
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Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 1:28 pm
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 2:06 pm
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Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2007 6:31 pm
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Posted: Sat Sep 29, 2007 10:07 pm
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Posted: Tue Oct 30, 2007 4:08 pm
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Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2007 5:30 pm
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Posted: Wed Nov 21, 2007 7:27 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 5:03 pm
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Posted: Fri Feb 01, 2008 10:46 pm
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