ronin poetry

to vixens

2012-02-17T19:31:00.001-08:00

to vixens

definition this goddess mocks

for many flow off tongue

the vulpine ladies embody fox

of steel, song and corset strung

with it the thrust and sever

with eyes and form enchant

these canis kin are clever

and earn the poets rant

softest coats of reds and whites

conquers all defenses

insturments a fight delights

the slavehood of the senses

and to this totem recieve

the wisdon to see deception

in its healing power believe

the fire of man's conception

worship

2012-02-17T17:35:00.001-08:00

it is almost lycanthropic

the change, the surge

red hued vision myopic

child of the urge

calling me mistress moon,

i hope my soul suffice

embrace me my darling soon

justify my sacrifice

i do not challenge worse,

my spirit a vengeful wraith

my love blessing and curse

a reward for my faith

bring me to that heart

if it has the room

forever together yet apart

my cradle yet me tomb

listen to my feral howl

the love song I sang

emebr eyes beneath the cowl

caress with tooth and fang

purge long overdue

2012-02-02T08:44:00.000-08:00

getting rid of many old books and cd's, I simply do not have the room, it's heartbreaking, like the memory of an old friend's wake, dressed in grieving black or an old lover's kiss laden company on a lazy winter sunday afternoon. But if they give pleasure to others that memory that limitless expanse between covers, good karma awaits.

gods donating the bulk of my library was like cutting off my own arm. It was a dream, I thought had died. A dream I had back when I was young and full of hope. Back in the day, my old dreams of a family of my own, owning a beachouse with thousands of books, But the good thing about dreams, you can always dream another.

cheers

2012-02-01T12:45:00.001-08:00

I drink with gods

in the sacred hall

forget the odds

men and mosters all

shed no tear

touch cup to lip

this dragon year

gulp don't sip

relish these wars

that in us define

catch what pours

taste the devine

love entire

this poet's mead

revel in desire

a soul freed

in blurry veiw

none surpass

comrades true

so raise that glass

this is no boast

time to forgive

this honored toast

for we still live

training drills

2012-02-01T09:22:00.001-08:00

training drills

FLESH, BLOOD, BONE

Flesh - Pick 1 cross pattern then Spell SLUT or SKIN in the English alphabet, with counters in Sigma, Lamda, Upsilon, Tau

Blood - Pick 1 cross pattern then Throat, Wrist,Femoral - with counters in RED 5

Bone . Pick 1 cross pattern then Spell BONE in the English Alphabet . with counters in Beta, Omega, Nu, Epsilon

HEART, MIND, SOUL

Heart - Pick 2 Cross Patterns plus Blue 4 - all thrusts to heart

Mind - Pick 2 Cross Patterns plus 2 Greek Alphabet Counter sets - EM spectrum

Soul - Heaven 6 plus 1 cross pattern plus 1 greek alphabet counter set - EM spectrum

2012-01-31T06:48:00.001-08:00

A shadow across the soul, scars, My masters whisper in my head. Slaying dragons through a haze of smoke. I flow into my form, water evaporates it's sacrifice to the sun that turns it's skin to quicksilver. I am the now, the rain, the rhyme and the meter.
Dashiell Hammet's letters to Lillian Hellman engender Noir and namers, Ozymandias' insomnia leads to a night of writing, last of the good scotch, the last of the exquisite 'oghma' blend tobacco and backwoods cigars, I am the literary equivalent of Clint Eastwood in a Spaghetti Western.
My sky, I am halved yet whole. I am two and too.

when in the now

2012-01-26T16:26:00.001-08:00

when in the now
the bliss of strike and thrust
the grip a sacred vow
a twin in it's lust

closer than any lover
blood's debt is paid
it's in the partner
and the touch of blade

who are you fighting
tis the blade or me
the feints are inviting
what did you see

the two becoming one
in the opponent define
please forgive the pun
take the center line

the shadow will embrace
the sword shall confess
a point to the face
in this game of chess

the foe is no stranger
that is the thing
the queen a greater danger
than any lonesome king

with the weapon tease
eyes gain the measure
the momentun sieze
take time with pleasure

learn to free the will
keep calm the breath
go in for the kill
called the little death

to the rain I listen

2012-01-26T15:30:00.001-08:00

it is to the rain I listen,
the weave I did sew
street newborn glisten,
between want and know

forever dreaming shadow
a soul in skin ignite
laughter joyous sorrow
soaring blade delight

in honor dictates
opponent you undress
the blade stillness waits
the power in finesse

seams unseen seeming
ripped from crotch to crown
sheeps clothing redeeming
in crimson river drown

moon face scarring
in poetic phrases
memory is marring
inconstant are her phases

stygian maiden wooed
silver dress remove
her kiss becoming food
starvation fidelity proove

TO THE STARS and BACK AGAIN - a story from the archive

2012-01-20T18:38:00.000-08:00

TO THE STARS and BACK AGAIN
A tale of Cyran and Mirana

It was a clear night when Cyran Oghma knelt before the stone monument, his cold blue eyes shining.

CYRAN – Hello my love.

He cleared the vines from the simple stone marker. Brushed off the autumnal leaves.

CYRAN – I miss you so much my love, you knew didn’t you? You knew you were going to die. I would have done anything to stop it.

Tears poured down the old warriors face. He had always half joked that he would not profane the beauty of tears by putting them on a face like his. He figured the Gods would forgive him.

CYRAN - But I keep my word.

And with that he looked up to the stars. And screamed.

CYRAN – I LOVE YOU MIRANA !!!!!

Memories bled back into him, a younger Cyran and his true love were walking in the gilded moonlight, hand in hand. They were away from the temple and need not fear discovery. His mind was elsewhere. He was waiting on an intelligence briefing in the morning. Starfall was concerned about Nocturne’s recent activities. Nocturne took delight in corruption of Jedi DNA.

MIRANA – Do you love me Cyran?

CYRAN – Of course.

It seemed an odd question for her to ask him. She knew he did. But sometimes she just needed to hear it. She had the sight, she knew more than anyone what the future held.

MIRANA – I know you feel that. But could you do me a favor.

CYRAN – Anything. My treasure.

MIRANA – Proclaim your love for me, scream it to the stars. The stars will always remember true love.

CYRAN – Now?

He said with a smile. He was standing ready to proclaim it to the universe.

MIRANA – Not now, but someday when you are alone, and it’s just you between the midnight and the dawn.

CYRAN - You have my word.

MIRANA – To the stars and back again.

CYRAN – To the stars and back again.

They shared a kiss then.

Cyran returned back from the realm of memory. He stood quietly for a moment and listened to the wind sweeping up the leaves. Listened for her voice, her song. All he heard was the wind.

CYRAN -The stars will always remember true love

He muttered to himself. As he walked off into the night.

A small figure approached the stone marker. She watched the ancient warrior poet walk off into a time he wasn’t meant to be in. A time he was ill suited for. She reached out a slender hand and brushed a flame red lock of hair from eyes of oceanic blue.

MIRANA – Yes they do.

Night Voices - an old story from the archive

2012-01-20T18:34:00.001-08:00

NIGHT VOICES
A tale of Cyran and Tindómë

The night was black, the moonlight gilded the streets. Six men were chasing down a small woman through a twisted warren of back alleys the locals called the Maze. They were gaining on her. And it wasn’t credits they were after. Her cloak whipped in the stale winds until she hit a dead end and looked up to see no avenue of escape.

CYRAN – Greetings, fellow sinners.

There at the end of the alley stood a man garbed in violet.

CYRAN – Let her be.

The front four ran to the stranger, armed with nasty-looking knives. Two went further down into the alley after their prey.

CYRAN – Miss, I’m here to rescue…

The four soon-to-be corpses charged, and before Cyran Oghma could get to his sabers, he heard a familiar snap-hiss as red light gave the two felons a quick lesson in division. Two wholes suddenly became four halves.

CYRAN – …. you.

The four men were now running away from the petite woman. Cyran drew his sabers and stood in their way.

CYRAN – My turn.

The math lesson was over quickly. As they lay there, Cyran Oghma bowed deeply to the young woman approaching him.

TINDÓMË – Cyran Oghma?

CYRAN –Yes.

TINDÓMË – I hear her too.

And then she started to hum, a tune he heard in his dreams. A tune no one other than he and she knew. A song she sang him to sleep with.
Then the petite woman’s wings unfurled and she took to the air. Cyran made chase. Quickly using force leaps to get to the rooftops, he chased the bat-winged angel through the night. Rooftop to rooftop he leapt, then, realizing he was too old for these games, force-closed her wings together and sent her plummeting back to the ground. Cyran caught her before electromagnetism proved it was stronger than gravity. Cyran reminded himself to thank Taomoon for that bit of knowledge.
The tiny bat didn’t struggle as the ancient warrior poet put her down gently.

TINDÓMË – Why did you catch me?

CYRAN – Where did you hear that song?

TINDÓMË – On the wind. Her voice is beautiful. Who is she? The one whose stone you visit?

CYRAN – Yes.

TINDÓMË – She’s out there.

CYRAN – She can’t be.

TINDOME – How very little you know, I hear her. She says, “Just remember I love you, and you’ll always be mine.”

CYRAN – That is in the song, my little bat.

Cyran’s cynicism was returning.

TINDÓMË – She also says, “It is truly love, the sad rages, the constant thoughts. And yet it is not selfish. For your happiness I would give my own life gladly, even if you must never know, if it could be that sometimes where I was, no matter how far, I could hear your laughter born of my sacrifice. I fear nothing but your loss. Do you realize? Do you perceive this soul in a shadow? A soul to you, the candle that gives me warmth in the chilling darkness and light to see. Without you I am lost forever. This night, this glorious night, is too perfect. It only means for me to die now, with the sight of you trembling like a leaf through branches of jasmine. I love, greater than anyone, I hold the sun in my heart for you, my half soul. You illuminate me, those eyes a beacon to shore. You are my life and in those eyes, I surpass all things, in those eyes love itself could not love as much as I.”

Cyran had only told one person those words, an autumn night centuries ago. The night after a tear-stained page changed his life forever.

TINDÓMË – She wasn’t singing the song about you going to battle.

CYRAN – She was telling me goodbye.

TINDÓMË -You find her, old warrior, old poet. You save her. Just like you saved me.

And with that, outstretched wings flew into the heart of the night.

TINDÓMË – Give me a poem.

She said flying into the music of the night.

CYRAN – I already have the title. It’s called “ In praise of bats”.

Embraces - an old story from the archive

2012-01-20T18:32:00.000-08:00

EMBRACES

The nightmare is always the same. She falls, He cannot save her as Nocturne brings the red blade across her neck, takes the locket he gave her and runs. He hears her whisper to him

MIRANA – You’ll always be mine

Cyran Oghma then drains the contents of his glass. Lights a candle, and writes. Pours another glass and raises it to the flame.

CYRAN – To you my love and to the house of Oghma.

She was singing to him again, the dream came

Cyran Oghma was falling from a force assisted leap, blue sabers swinging in the night sky. As he brought them squarely on the head of the sentry droid. Cutting it in two pieces. Cyran chuckled to himself. He loved his work as an intelligence gatherer for the order. He had an easy charm that made him blend into any crowd. His skills with force persuasion and illusion were superior, and at his young age, he was an accomplished master in three of the seven lightsaber combat forms. A voice came from the darkness. As a violet saber came to his throat.

STARFALL – Never mistake flash for martial prowess, Oghma.

CYRAN – My apologies Master Starfall but it looked fantastic.

STARFALL – I’ve seen better. Now to the business at hand.

The two crept through the complex, taking out sentry droids as they came. Until they got to the vault they were seeking. Cyran promptly overwrote the security protocols and Starfall got the holochron they were sent for.

STARFALL – Remind me to discipline you tomorrow.

CYRAN – Always master.

The next morning Cyran was up for training. Starfall was waiting. Starfall ignited his saber with a snaphiss and charged. Cyran went blade to blade with his old master. In the surgical lines of Makashi the two argued. Cyran had just mastered the 1000 point thrust from that holchron he had liberated.

STARFALL – The council is giving you a padawan.

CYRAN – Oh please no. I don’t have time. There are secrets to gather. Booze to be met, women to drink, or is that the reverse.

STARFALL – Poetry to write.

CYRAN – I’ll never understand why you have me do it.

STARFALL – Poetry is swordplay Cyran, rhyme and meter, form and function.

CYRAN – As you say master.

STARFALL – You’re speaking.

CYRAN – But what I want is a family, Master Starfall. A bloodline of my own. The house of Oghma. My crest a sword and quill crossed.

STARFALL – That for you Cyran would be the summit of selfishness. The way you live. The risks you take. The Jedi is your family.

Cyran grumbled under his breath.

CYRAN – And my new apprentices name.

STARFALL – Mirana.

The next morning Cyran again woke for training, a light rain was falling. And in the courtyard stood a woman practicing the elegant cuts of Niman. Her back to him. She was singing a lingering haunting tune. He closed his eyes to listen, but opened them when he heard the words.

MIRANA – Master Cyran Oghma.

CYRAN – Yes I…

She turned to face him, she was a full foot shorter than he was. Eyes of oceanic blue. Waves of flame red hair falling into them. He was staring into a face beauty herself would envy. He was doomed from the start.
A little while later…

CYRAN – Remember Makashi is about finesse, not power.

She followed two spin thrusts with a wheel of death. Singing as she spun.

MIRANA – I remember.

CYRAN – How is your Jar’ Kai

Without warning she ignited a second saber and came at him with a pattern called the fan. Characterized by lightning quick snaps of the wrists. He barely got his own second saber ignited, when she changed patterns again. The two laughed matching strike for strike. Until both were exhausted.

MIRANA – So did I pass the audition.

CYRAN – Yes indeed.

That night he couldn’t sleep. She was in his head. Restless, he decided to write to her. Months went by. Papers stacked upon papers filled his quarters. Until the morning he overslept. And Starfall sought him in his rooms. Papers flew everywhere as the jedi master pushed open the door.

STARFALL – Redecorating Cyran.

CYRAN – Apologies master, I couldn’t sleep.

STARFALL – Well tidy this place up, and you think this is bad. Mirana’s room is full to brim with sheet music. Can’t you just admit it to each other.

CYRAN – Admit what master?

Starfall smiled. And slipped one of the pages in his robe.

The next day, the sun was shining. Cyran had that tune of her’s in his head in an infinite loop. She was there in the courtyard, back to him. She turned to face him. Crystal tears in her eyes. He went to console her. When she slapped him across the face. Stunned he looked at her.

MIRANA – Well it’s about time.

Then she kissed him, shocked at first he returned the affection. A tear stained page at her feet.
The next six months were idyllic. Letters and songs passed back and forth. Secret meetings, brief moments together. The love was all there was. She worried when he’d go on missions. Nursing his wounds on the Centurion. He would fight off world, the dark things the Sith had wrought. But there was always her to return to. The locket with his symbol he had made for her she wore under her robes. They were happy, Until….

STARFALL – Darth Nocturne is raising an army.

CYRAN – I know all the intelligence reports state…

STARFALL – He’s gotten hold of Jedi DNA. From the captured medical frigate Centurion.

CYRAN – Clones, I hate clones.

STARFALL - Tomorrow we go to war.

CYRAN – But tonight is mine.

The last night he’ll always remember. The night before war. All the promises re-made, amidst embraces that always feel final.
.
MIRANA – Tell me my love.

CYRAN – Anything.

MIRANA – You don’t want me in this battle tomorrow.

CYRAN – You can't go.

MIRANA – Please I’m a good a warrior as you are now.

CYRAN – But war is..

She stopped him with a kiss.

MIRANA – as you wish my love.

Something deep inside him stirred, he thought that she wouldn’t listen to him this time. He pushed the thought away.

CYRAN – I’ll survive, Just remember I love you.

MIRANA – I will

And they said in unison

MIRANA/CYRAN – And you’ll always be mine.

Then she sang Cyran Oghma to sleep.

Reliance - an old story from the archives

2012-01-20T18:29:00.001-08:00

Reliance

Of all the beings in the galaxy Cyran Oghma was one of the few that could make Kalius A’dar laugh. The two old friends were sparring, a weekly event kept away from the younglings’ peering eyes. Cyran was fighting with rapier and dagger, Kalius an ancient katana. Steel rang against steel as the two spoke of temple business.

KALIUS – You know the younglings refer to the cantinas as your second temple.

A brief exchange, steel ringing in their hands.

CYRAN – Really. I wasn’t aware of that.

Cyran said through his trademark wry smile, then lunging for Kalius’ sternum. Kalius swatted it away.

KALIUS - You are bad influence on them Cyran, you spoil them. Too over protective. And the brawling. You are even training the assassin sent to kill you.

Kalius struck at Cyran’s head, he ducked, Cyran riposted with a strike to Kalius’ left wrist, which Kalius parried and spun.

CYRAN – Twice a week, she’s getting good

KALIUS – And the cantina incident with Udo.

Cyran dodged, as Kalius gave him a head butt. Cyran threw a kick.

CYRAN – Math is not my strong suit.

KALIUS – And you do love to listen to the cantina singers don’t you.

CYRAN – Is that a crime.

Cyran disengages.

KALIUS – She used to sing to you, didn’t she. Does she still?

Cyran, rarely at a loss for words, changes the subject and went into a retreat thrust. Kalius, knowing Cyran’s tricks from his bag of death, didn’t take the bait.

CYRAN – What are the stakes today?

KALIUS – I win, you stay sober for a month.

CYRAN – My gods, and when I win.

Kalius went high, Cyran blocked him, then struck at Kalius’ eyes with a quick snap of his wrist.

KALIUS – You can go drinking- lecture free- for a month. Do you accept?

Cyran Oghma nodded.

CYRAN – Shall I compose a sonnet while we duel?

Kalius threw all his power into three devastating strikes to Cyran’s shoulders and head, The Makashi / Jar’Kai master used both blades to hold off the onslaught.

KALIUS – Quit showing off.

CYRAN – So what are you going to lecture me about this fine day, sword brother; the evils of drink?

Cyran went into a blizzard of thrusts.

KALIUS – No, wouldn’t have any credibility there. And that was last week.

CYRAN – Smoking too much of the pipe.

Kalius parries with ease.

KALIUS - Week before last, no my old friend – today we talk about the force.

CYRAN – Heard of it

Sarcasm pouring out of him, Cyran charged forward and stepped out to get a clean strike at the Juyo Master’s center line.

KALIUS – You rely far more on your sabers, although formidable, than you do on the force. And I’ve only seen you use the force when you are….

CYRAN – Drinking the liquid muse.

Kalius launched two devastating strikes at Cyran’s hips, which he parried with grace.

KALIUS – Why?

CYRAN – My blades are enough.

Cyran launched into his 8 star weaving pattern.

KALIUS – Or did you lose your faith?

Cyran sped up, a blur of motion.

CYRAN – Faith is Sun’s department, not mine.

Kalius stepped up his defense.

KALIUS – Then give me your words.

CYRAN – You cut deeply my friend. The force failed me once.

Kalius struck back with power, Cyran grace and precision.

KALIUS – Mirana.

Cyran changed tactics, new patterns weaving through the air blades cutting the air. More power now in the blows.

CYRAN – Don’t speak of her Kalius, you have never loved. The Juyo you perfect is all focusing of anger. My focus is love. Indifference is not part of me.

KALIUS – I know, old friend. But your love will get you killed.

CYRAN – We all die Kalius, just some die better than others.

KALIUS – Huh, always the poet.

They locked blades Cyran pushed away.

CYRAN – But of course.

KALIUS – You still hear her voice.

Cyran stuck hard and fast

CYRAN – Stop it Kalius.

KALIUS – You still write for her.

Kalius counters, with more effort than he wanted.

CYRAN – Brother I warn you…

KALIUS – Then don’t throw your life away.

CYRAN – It’s mine to do as I please.

KALIUS – She’s gone Cyran.

Cyran screamed and went on the total furious offensive, then quoted the old Jedi Code.

CYRAN – Death, yet the force!

The two locked, throwing blades, punches and kicks.

KALIUS – Then let’s get you back your faith.

Kalius said landing a perfect backfist into Cyran.

CYRAN - I rely on no one nor no thing.

Cyran pummeled Kalius with both blades, knocking Kalius off his feet. Kalius recovered and took to the air.

KALIUS – Then your reliance should be with us.

The two masters stopped, in high parry; neither budging, neither giving ground. The argument was too long coming.

CYRAN – We’ll call it a draw, two weeks sober

KALIUS – Two weeks without lectures.

The two friends, two masters stared at each other for a moment.

KALIUS – Let me buy you a drink, brother.

CYRAN – Who am I to refuse. How many Sith does it take to light a lantern?

KALIUS - How many?

CYRAN - One thousand and one. It requires the Lord of the Sith to order that the lantern be lit, Nine hundred and ninety nine Sith lords to leer, moan, be evil and scream, and one apprentice to light the lantern.

Kalius laughed all the way to the cantina.

spada libera

2012-01-18T20:24:00.001-08:00

Spada Libera
Live life with passion
Love and be free
In your true fashion
Come “at me!”
Take the pleasure
From the assault
In the measure
Admit the fault
Find the timing
Drop and thrust
In the rhyming
The blade you trust
Learn perception
In furious notion
Through keen deception
Focus emotion
With great insistence
Guard your king
Keep your distance
Make steel sing
Your life is mine
The battles wage
I take the line
And cut the page

ELECTROMAGNETIC SPECTRUM CUTS

2012-01-13T10:48:00.000-08:00

ELECTROMAGNETIC SPECTRUM CUTS
DRILLS AND KILLS - GREEK ALPHABET – COUNTER ATTACKS - ALTERNATING
RED 5
1. Alpha straight thrust to sternum
2. Beta straight thrust to eyes
3. Gamma straight thrust to throat
4. Delta straight thrust to stomach
ORANGE 8
5. Epsilon rib strike
6. Zeta eye strike
7. Eta throat strike
8. Theta collar bone strike
YELLOW 8
9. Iota femoral strike
10. Kappa temple strike
11. Lambda high X cut
12. Mu mid X cut
GREEN 7
13. Nu low X cut
14. Xi cavalry cut
15. Omnicron reverse cavalry cut
16. Pi standard overthrust
BLUE 4
17. Rho standard underthrust
18. Sigma standard left side thrust
19. Tau standard right side thrust
20. Upsilon standard retreat thrust
INDIGO 4
21. Phi pommel to stomach
22. Chi pommel to groin
23. Psi pommel to head
24. Omega reverse thrust to sternum
VIOLET 7
25. Suicide and Cripple Cuts = wrist X,throat,knees,miss pass to Achilles tendon

in the open

2012-01-08T11:29:00.001-08:00

In The Open

Take your time the master shouted
And choose your moment wisely
Speed has power undoubted
But it means nothing if you miss me

Seduction in blade and deed
Is like guarding your center line
keep it closed until you succeed
and hit a hit finer than sweet wine

Parry, retreat and disengage
Dodge from side to side
Build in the opponent a quiet rage
Let not your blows swing wide

Then when that heart is open
strike strong, fast, and clean
And above all see and listen
Their body tells the scene

Combat is that sacred art
Of hitting and not getting hit
All players play their part
Of blades of steel and wit

Above all take those moments
Feel them in your chest
Give your foe gentle torments
And give them no time for rest

So remember this my novices
There are many ways to miss
But of all of wit’s and steel’s promises
Seal it with a kiss

2012-01-03T13:41:00.001-08:00

Fiscal eugenics run amok, the nineteenth century is over republicans, women, people of color, and the poor exist. They can vote and have essential humanity. enough of your tired racism and situational ethics. Accept it, we have a voice, hearts and hands, we still live and more importantly refuse to be silent.

a toast

2012-01-01T11:41:00.001-08:00

to my Korea crew, my jedi crew, my old gods, my teachers, my students, and my lost loves, I miss you. Raise a toast, to the lost and found. i am the blonde satan of Hammet, a little prettier than the devil, a face of 30 miles of bad road, eyes of a storm swept ocean,smooth as Johnny Walker blue, Challenge the black to do it's worst with a battered heart that still lustres in the light, never put a sword in the hand of a man who cannot dance, if you die, do it with a sword in your hand and a poem on your lips soft as a first kiss. and remember as always LIVE, LOVE, FIGHT and BE FREE

2011-12-15T10:45:00.001-08:00

Killing time, with broken rhyme
Why does it skip the line
Aching bones, distant tones
We are as pain define
So it goes, with thrusts and blows
Words form the couplet
With each swing, this blade will sing
Not one damn regret

My Cyrano - This feeling

2011-12-07T11:26:00.000-08:00

CYRANO

This feeling that invades me, total and joyous, terrible and jealous. It is truly love, the sad rages, the constant thoughts. And yet it is not selfish. For your happiness I would give my own life gladly, even if you must never know. If it could be that sometimes where I was, no matter how far, I could hear your laughter born of my sacrifice. I fear nothing but your loss. Do you realize? Do you perceive this soul in a shadow? A soul to you the candle that gives me warmth in the chilling darkness and light to see. Without you I am lost forever. This night, this glorious night, is too perfect. It only means for me to die now, with the sight of you trembling like a leaf through branches of jasmine. I love, greater than anyone, I hold the sun in my heart for you, my half soul. You illuminate me, those eyes a beacon to shore. You are my life and in those eyes. I surpass all things, in those eyes love itself could not love as much as I.

Feints and Drills

2011-12-05T12:48:00.001-08:00

FEINTS and DRILLS
A feint is a false strike or thrust to one zone then rapidly changing to strike or thrust at another zone.

Left Hip Feint - Feint at LH, then strike each of the remaining 5 zones
Right Hip Feint - Feint at RH, then strike each of the remaining 5 zones
Left Shoulder Feint - Feint at LS, then strike each of the remaining 5 zones
Right Shoulder Feint - Feint at RS, then strike each of the remaining 5 zones
Head Feint - Feint at H, then strike each of the remaining 5 zones
Groin Feint - Feint at G, then strike each of the remaining 5 zones

Now do it with thrusts
Now strike then thrust
Now thrust then strike

Now work the INTERIOR,
Starting with the assigned Feint thrust/strike go to
collarbone , ribs, eyes, throat, wrists, knees

DRILLS - STANDARD DRILLS

1. Exchange Drill – Breaking a set pattern between opponents
2. Wraparound Drill – Simply Put this is the drill where you strike at the opposite area your opponent strikes – Opponent strikes LS you strike RS, Opponent strikes H you strike Groin.
3. Mirror – This drill is similar to the wraparound drill – Opponent strikes at LS, you strike at the Opponents RH,
You strike at the opponents LH they strike at your LS.
4. Reversing – Doing the specific moves reverse of the normal pattern
5. Shadowing – Doing the established pattern against an opponent while not making contact.
6. Singularity - two fighters are only allowed a specific targeted area,say hips or shoulders, the purpose of the drill is to see how many
ways with strikes, thrusts and cuts you can attack that particular
area.

7. One to One – Strike at the same zone the attacker struck at previously.
8. Sensitivity Drill – Light contact with opponents blade going with the flow of the push and pull.
RETALIATION – DRILLS
Variations on Groin, Head, Eye drill
The old standby drill,
Choose a person to engage the attack, They are the Attacker, The defender , parries the attackers strike and retaliates.
You eventually develop a nice flow with it.
Drill 9
Attacker – Strikes at Groin
Defender – now strikes at opponents Head
Attacker – Strikes at opponents Eye
Then switch it.
Defender – strikes at opponents Groin
Attacker – now strikes at opponents Head
Defender – strikes at opponents Eye

Drill 10

Attacker - Left Temple,
Defender - Right Floating Rib
Attacker - Right Temple,
Defender - Left Floating Rib

Then switch it.

Defender - Left Temple,
Attacker - Right Floating Rib
Defender - Right Temple,
Attacker - Left Floating Rib

Drill 11

Attacker -Left Inside Kneecap,
Defender - Right Collar Bone
Attacker -Right Inside Kneecap,
Defender - Left Collar Bone

The switch it

Drill 12

Attacker - Left Inside Wrist,
Defender - Head,
Attacker – Right Inside Wrist,
Defender – Groin
Then switch it.

Drill 13

Attacker -Left Femoral Artery,
Defender - Right Temple,
Attacker - Left Collar Bone
Defender - Right Femoral Artery,
Attacker - Left Temple,
Defender - Right Collar Bone
The switch it
3 S’s drill.

Stab – Slash – Strike

Stab – Thrust – any type

Slash – Eyes, Ribs, Throat, Knees, Wrists or X cut (High or Low or Medium) Dobletes or Dobladas.

Strike - Strike – any type

This is a quick combo drill. The instructor chooses and demonstrates.
For example: The instructor chooses the following

Stab thrust to sternum, Slash mid X cut, Strike to head.

STAB! – class thrusts to sternum
SLASH!! – class does a mid X cut
STRIKE !!!- class does a strike to head.
The is a simple drill, and can be done with partners. In exchanges of without. It can also be mixed up. By changing the order of the commands.
SLASH, STRIKE, STAB for instance or STAB, SLASH, STAB

anger

2011-11-16T05:15:00.001-08:00

anger, let it boil, fertile soil
as the blood runs hot
it surrounds it confounds
and o'er flows the pot

the enemy eaten, meat is beaten
killing receiver and sender
the bread will sop, arguements chop
a debate with no defender

now you choose, a kiss confuse
the gallows far from loose
the gentle kiss, feigned justice
ring rope burns as a noose

justice's daughter, tastes of the slaughter
blind but she can taste,
logic defies, truth without eyes
to hunger goes the waste

trouble enmesh, we lick the flesh
and rage for our pound so soon
to lazy for sloth, we stir the broth
and take our satisfaction by the spoon

for your inspection, this election
a need to target sate
10 in a room, will choose no doom
but find someone to hate

dirge

2011-11-15T09:28:00.001-08:00

the poet's rage, turns the page
to the gods pay the debt
chaos reigns, order's pains
in forests of regret

a battle rhyme, time to time
futures gone to this lyric
the sklad's fire, makes the lyre,a liar
the cries their own music

listen child, manner mild
from the shadow of cape and cowl
it shall suffice, this sacrifice
this wounded banshee's howl

it was a dream, this poet's scream
the sorrowful rapture in tune
face defeat, hacked down like wheat
my blood will scar the moon

Ballad of the Ugly Hero

2011-10-25T11:26:00.001-07:00

A knight fine of face and eye, will sour,
When on face more than self rely,
His courage will fail, lacking in darkest hour,
Not having what the scars of ugly heroes imply,

Although Roxanne was in Christian’s power,
And old DeBergerac hated his nose,
She fell to a poet’s power,
And they live forever in prose,

And for Belle trapped in a tower,
The beast’s regret what he chose,
With feral roar made Gaston cower,
All for the stinging price of a rose,

So are you up for the task,
When a broken nose or cheek you trace,
Sheeps clothing, skin deep runs the mask,
When you divine courage in a mere face,

So let bard rhyme and heralds shout,
Of All the beauty aesthetic,
It’s the pretty one’s that pout,
And ask for anesthetic,

So gather round this table,
And drink your fill of mead,
The ugly heroes you find were able,
Although our tales you’ll never read,

For in our broken bodies and scars,
Is the vellum our tale is writ,
And our deeds are remembered by the stars,
More than some good looking twit.

2011-08-30T11:40:00.001-07:00

I say this without compunction
A labor of life intention
Form may be function
So is reinvention

To the battle with intuition
In a quest to redefine
Joy in work is the mission
When signing on the dotted line

How does one enter
A new world from the old
You have to find the center
And be courageous and bold

The actor owns the stage,
The warrior owns the blade
The poet owns the page
Where all there are made

Life has the clue for rebirth
A code of dots and dashes
To decrypt listen for you worth
And the phoenix will kiss the ashes

2011-08-29T10:20:00.001-07:00

two become one
with guilded hearts soar
both become undone
when love becomes war

eris smiles at the strife
a lovers debt ill afford
war and love also life
music melody oft discord

war and love both scar,
weapons of kiss and blade
times like these few and far
when created and unmade

the situation burns desire
love's labours in the arenas hour
we who are about to die inspire
a crucible of loving hate devour

but in those eyes and touch,
a heavenly hell we demand
a burning paradise is as much
as mere mortal can command

so with the fight prapared
she my cathedral and lament
battle I was never scared
when loves whispers eloquent

give me war to tower storm,
and a abandoned fortress stage,
my love gives passion to my form,
when Charon collects his wage

another from my Cyrano

2011-07-12T10:14:00.003-07:00

No thank you

2011-07-12T10:12:00.001-07:00

I shall never sink to be a musketeer!
What then must be done? Find a powerful protevtor? Seek a patron and, like an obscure ivy that outwits the tree and makes of it guardian as it laps the bark, rising by craft rather than its own strength? No thank you.
Dedicate as they all do versus to fanciers, transform myself into a clown, in the vile mind of seeing, on the lips of a minister, a smile that is not sinister? No thank you.
Make lunch every day of a toad, have a belly that is used for walking, slithering, a skin that becomes dirty fastest on the knees, shed my skin, cultivating a supple spine? No thank you.
I would turn down the apple. Having some forked flattering tongue always in someone’s ear.
A literary lion for a circle of old ladies. A courtier with a fist full of madrigals, filling my ears with the sighs of dowagers. No thank you.
Make the editors print my verse by paying? No thank you.
Get myself the name of pope, by the councils that are held in the cabarets of imbeciles? Work to build the reputation on one sonnet in the place of making others? Discover talent in the mediocre, Be terrorized by vague gazettes? Love to make a visit rather than a poem, draft letters begging for favors, make myself presented?
NO THANK YOU!!!!! NO THANK YOU!!!!! NO THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!
But to sing, to dream to laugh, to pass to be alone to be free.
To have an eye that sees clearly and a voice that vibrates.
But when it pleases me, to wear y hat askew.
To fight, make verse, travel without worry of vain fortunes and fetid glory. Such a voyage I dream of to the moon. To write nothing that does not come out of me. Satisfied with the fruits of my own garden. And, if some chance triumph arise, not be obligated to render anything unto Caesar. Face to face with myself, disdaining to be parasitic ivy, not rising high perhaps, but all alone.
It is my vice, displeasing is my pleasure. I love to be hated. If you knew how one walks better under fire, the volleys exciting the eyes. You, my dear friend, surround yourself in soft friendships, like those Italian collars, Hemstitched and loose so your neck grows feminine. One is more at ease. But me? Hatred each day obliges me to keep perfect posture. A tight collar that forces me to raise the head; each enemy the collar tightens. Hatred is a gallows, but also a halo.

an old Cyran Poem

2011-07-12T10:00:00.000-07:00

She sang for me and me alone
In a chamber with echoes clear
No sin for her I wouldn't atone
Nothing that would engender fear

She sang for me in my sleep
Behind the walls of my closed eyes
Falling far and hard this love so deep
Feeling this love far from wise

But this love is mine I scream
To the gods that would take her
She is my love this dream
And only my kiss could wake her

I'll only have her a short time
In the scheme of things
I'll hold her love woven in my rhymes
and feel all the warmth it brings

For she makes all things right
As she holds me to her breast
There is nothing I wouldn't fight
At her whims simplest behest

This love I feel is true I say
And destined only to last
Her voice an altar to which I pray
When what's past is past

So my goddess listen close
These love are only long ago and once upon
For this queen in brave repose
I'll gladly be her pawn

SO for this love I'll sacrifice
All that I can give
For losing her is worth the price
If happily ever after she live

Part 7, the Man who could not be killed - Black and Grey, by Scott Ferrara and Jeremy Webb

2011-06-07T13:21:00.001-07:00

The crew all piled into Roxanne. Dante, Seamus, Ernesto crammed into the back, while Calico slid into the front next to me. Cuddling up a bit as cats were want to do. If we survived there was always the party, the drinking and the sex. Chalice came to each of us in her own way to offer blessings and hope for our survival. She appeared to me, and me alone, as the blood spattered corpse of Emma.

Chalice – Be strong my knight.

Dante – She’s talking to you now, isn’t she?

Ronin – I’m her champion.

Dante snorted in derision.

Dante – Some fucking champion.

Chalice – Despite her blood, you will always be brothers. Brothers by choice.

Ronin – I miss her so much.

Dante glanced at Ronin, then stared off into the distance, his fist banging gently on Ronin’s shoulder.

Dante – So do I.

Then, as if a chorus, they all appeared.

Beth – To die in service is a good way to die, Golem.

Gabriel – You are no longer the man who couldn’t be killed.

Chalice, Gabriel, Beth – You are the man who wouldn’t die.

I started Roxanne up. The engine roared, like a steed eager for battle. We head to route 112, on a few back roads. Chalice will wreak havoc with local law enforcement. The off to Whiskey road, a twisted artery of traffic where the workers were paid in hooch. Signs of mathematical certainties greater than, less than, dotted the roadside reminding us how it all falls to numbers.

The precinct will have a visitation, a large black man carrying a very wounded little woman in his arms. The desk sergeant will get to work, helping them and suddenly his body won’t be his own, albeit temporarily.

Ernesto – Always a good sign. Once more unto the breach?

Seamus – You know Shakespeare was actually Irish? Prolonged English conspiracy, that.

Ernesto – That’s where you’re wrong.

Dante’s chin dropped to his chest, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if to ward off a migraine.

Seamus – And how am I wrong?

Ernesto – He was Spanish, I was a priest I know these things.

Dante- Will you two please not have this fucking argument again?!?!?!

We turned onto another back road. Fresh snow had fallen and the flint grey skies begged for more white. The house was a two story dilapidated mess, surrounded by woods, pine and scrub oak on all sides. Most would rightly assume with the motorcycles out front that it’s a meth lab. A palpable air of agitation will keep most of the locals away. It’s like an irritation, like spiders crawling on your skin. Three servitors were in the woods. The still was outside to the left of the house. A quick IR scan shows, several more servitors, 3 shades and a few victims scattered throughout. The house was on the verge of collapse, missing persons collect in such places as the last refuge of the damned. Seamus placed himself in the tree line. Ernesto, Dante, Calico and I went in. Dante quietly drew a stick magazine from his ammo pouch and slotted it into his AA12. He raised it and took aim at the front door, firing off a ten round burst that drained the magazine in a heartbeat. The FRAG 12 grenade rounds made a mockery of the door and blasted a lethal cloud of fragmentation shards into the foyer behind it, clearing us a toehold into the lair.

Ronin – Subtle, brother.

The deadish arose with a collective moan. They had seen the black on the other side. They had felt the loneliness and isolation. There was no white but the stinging crystals falling from the sky.

We had a countdown until the still was going to go up. Then the children came. All the shade’s fantasies in small immortal bodies, cute as a button, sex toys seeking blood. My Storms bellowed thunder, quick efficient shots. Calico disappeared, to plant the explosives on the still as the place reeked of antiseptic.

Shooting children, even centuries old children, is never easy. There

is only the mission and the cold hand about your throat. Wondering that if there was a just God. You would die now and never see this. Dante was a pro, firing into the crowd. His only god was the black. He smiled and laughed. His shotgun spewing round after round of deadly flechettes and #2 titanium alloy shot. I was looking for the girl. When the corpse assaulted Ernesto there was an epiphany of blood, said to an Our Father. He was Latin old school. Then the Shade appeared, as big as a mountain. His biceps were bigger than my bullets. Silver nitrate burned his skin like an Arizona midday, a dry heat. . Smoke and flesh smelled like a quiet Sunday summer afternoon barbeque. Sometimes even professionals must resist the urge salivate.

It had this hand and a half, a sword of muscle. Dante gave it a taste of shot, then dropped his shotgun and drew his sword, snapping his shield into place with a flick.

DANTE – Find the girl!

RONIN – That’s not my mission!

DANTE – This is my op asshole!

RONIN – You wanna die? Fuck you, do it on your own time!

Barong and Cavalry Sabre drawn I went in. His first hit was an avalanche of

muscle. My jaw SHATTERED. Drop parry, weapon sliding off the sabre. Sidestep

behind him. His man killing weapon was too slow. A quick spin and the blades

went down. Gabe told me to hit hard and fast, Beth be true to your faith. And in the end he couldn’t imagine a mere fleshling fighting him. Mid section sweep and a tuck. Hand roll across the throat. I spoke through a tattered jaw.

RONIN – You ffffuckign head itthhh mine!!!

The servitors came. And I HACKED. Dante spun into the midst of them, alternating between shield punches and efficient cuts, even the edges of the shield were sharp. For a moment I thought he was in the arenas of old Rome and he was a gladiator taking task to the criminals his masters sent to their deaths for the entertainment of the masses. God, he was a scary fighter to watch. “We who are about to die, salute you.”

Freed from the servitors I turned back into the Shade, my heavy blade to those gargantuan arms. Bringing the blades up under the arms and trying to sever them.Seamus fired Bessie, the round bisecting the Shade under its armpit and punching out the other side in a welter of gore and smoke, then traveling into a servitor and exploding it in a crimson mist. The shade looked angry more than hurt, and it had just taken a round from what was in effect an anti tank weapon. One arm came off its body, and I dropped my barong and drew my pistol. Burying my sabre in its guts and firing the storm as I grabbed hold. I ran, carrying the beast into the sun. Burnt meat and embers flew as it held onto me. Ash choked my lungs as its body was engulfed in fire. The burns were covering my face and torso. It kept fighting, hammering with its fist. I ended up with broken ribs and a punctured lung before Dante waded past and took off its other arm at the elbow. It finally went up completely when he spun and took off the head.

Dante – I never said you weren’t brave, brother. A idiot maybe, but a brave one. I know Chalice appears As Emma to you. She always has.

With that I rose and fired. Bullets whippings passed his ears into the oncoming servitor.

Ronin – Looksth like I hith the barn.

Then I fell flat onto my face, the wounds finally too much for me. Massive internal injuries, but the black just didn’t want me.

Seamus/Dante – Lucky shot.

Calico was running through the warrens, taking servitors. Ernesto was with her going through clips for his Garand while he mouthed his Rosary. Both had given up on stealth. Then they found the girl. Ernesto emerged bloodied and bladed. Calico smiled. The lost lonely girl, the one life I needed to save.

She walked over to me and my demolished body. Stroked my hair and shattered jaw. Chalice will expedite the healing.

GIRL – Monstros

Ernesto was going to translate, but I understood.

“Monstros” Was all she said. And I didn’t know if she was referring to them or us.

Lakes

2011-05-28T14:54:00.000-07:00

Stillness from the waters edge,
when the the waves caress the shore,
a devine precipice and ledge
whisperes secrets of forgotten lore
the ghostly lady of the lake,
beckons for the final kiss,
still ruined in many a wake
last moments inearthly bliss
the is her shining blade
gleaming steel beneath the rust
for in that kiss a man is betrayed
mistaking watery love doom for lust
but in her embrace mortal men say now
chilling lips sup life's fire
for in the kiss is the swords bloody vow
the lake's own thrist drowns desire.

man who could not be killed part 6

2011-05-23T14:16:00.000-07:00

I followed Dante down stairs, much slower than I would have liked. Damn, I must be getting too old for this after all. Maybe Chalice is right…

CHALICE: As always, you see the simple truth.

GABRIEL: The truth is always simple.

BETH: Not to him.

CHALICE: At least there is symmetry.

RONIN: Stay out of my thoughts boss, at least give me SOME privacy!

Dante snorted. Ronin looked at his brother, calm, cool, professional. He felt the pangs of love and respect. Emma and the deaths of those he considered parents.

DANTE: Yeah, like THAT’S ever going to happen.

He led me into the living room, where Seamus had co-opted the entire room to layout all the gear for the hunt. But by the Gods, this didn’t look to be a hunt as much as an invasion by all accounts! Calico reclined as she was want to do.

Her gear simple missiles and knives, another one of Beth's, “If you are small use it”. Ernesto was in his rare form after an act of contrition, aware of the irony. My Berettas were surgically clean. The satellite recon of the complex was spread out on the table.

SEAMUS: Right then my pretties, let’s get to it. What I’ve got here is pretty standard stuff really.

I picked up a massive clip that looked to be loaded with 50cal rounds.

RONIN: THIS is standard? For what, shooting a hole in God?

Calico chuckled. Ernesto crossed himself then slapped me in the back of the

head. Even Dante shared a all too brief smile then snatched the clip from my hands.

DANTE: No, those are standard incendiary armor piercing rounds for Bessie, now pay attention!

Dante set the clip down next to the biggest damn rifle I’d ever seen. A Barrett M82A1, the one riflein the world he would deem fit to use. I had to say it,cleaners definitely don’t arm light. Ernesto looked at it with the quiet appreciation of amateur artist staring at a Jackson Pollack and feeling dirty for coveting the talent. But he and his own rifle had a torrid history all of their own.

SEAMUS: Bessie and I will provide cover for the entire action. Her scope’s been specially made by me, infrared tagged at the much colder range the leeches and their pets live in. You lot will show up as blues while they are nice and red.Now then, you each get your standard kit, shotguns with wooden flechette rounds,flash bangs, silver nitrate spray, and each of ye will be carrying a few o’these beauties.

Seamus held up a coffee can with an odd little box on top.

RONIN: Coffee?

DANTE: Sterno, packed over a core of Tannerite explosive. The timer is the

really fun part. Seamus rigged up of all things the timer from the old game

Perfection to set off a .22 slug that blows the Tannerite, which in turns makes the sterno go all ‘asplodey on the leeches.

RONIN: Why Sterno?

SEAMUS: Because precious, the military version is called napalm. They have a still.

RONIN: Essentially, a bomb.

SEAMUS: Give the man a ceegar!

Dante reached into his com vest pocket and took a few Cubans. He threw one to each of us. Beth always taught us the importance of ritual.

The things these two knew, it was enough to give you nightmares. Or give

nightmares to nightmares.

DANTE: Allright, Seamus on overwatch, and the rest of use in two teams. Primary is containment of the next and it’s destruction, secondary is the girl along with anyone else they’ve got still alive and untainted.

Dante held a finger up at me, knowing I was rising to my feet.

DANTE: Stow it hunter- this is now a cleaner operation, and my call. IF we find the girl and can get to her without losing a leech or his stenches, then fine,but don’t think for a second I won’t blow the whole place with you in it if I have to in order to cleanse this mess.

CHALICE: Spare him a little child, he has his faults, true. But he means well.

Dante looked right through me, the death stare all too apparent.

DANTE: You made the rules boss, now I get to enforce them.

Dante went over the details of the approaches, possible exits from the nest,likely trap zones. He was in his element, as if time had not passed as it had and he was still in his old Ranger unit. His was a life of never ending conflict, and he LIKED it that way. Once he finished up, everyone got to gathering their gear. Seamus hefted Bessie, along with his Weatherby revolver. I swear he kissed the receiver on Bessie like she was his best girl- which knowing him she probably was. Calico gathered her blades, and tucked a compact Walther into her right boot top. Ernesto took an immaculate looking M1 Garand from a kitbag he’d brought into the room, going over it with practiced hands- like I said, he and his rifle had a history all their own. I took up my Berettas,noticing small boxes under the barrels.

DANTE: We took the liberty of adding UV targeting lasers to your guns there Ro.Given how lousy you shoot, they will at least help you hit closer to the middle of that broadside you always seem to miss.

Seamus chuckled and I flipped them both off. Dante loaded up a few drums for his AA12, then slung up his Gladius style blade over his right shoulder and strapped a strange looking device on his left forearm. It looked like a small drum of metal, with a slender stack of fan shaped blades running up his forearm.

RONIN: What is that thing?

Dante looked up at me, then clenched his left fist. The fans snapped around in a blurring arc, locking together into a perfect buckler style shield. I was duly impressed.

DANTE: You never know…

.

YGGDRASIL and THE NINE WORLDS strike thrust patterns

2011-05-02T11:44:00.001-07:00

YGGDRASIL and THE NINE WORLDS

Yggdrasil - The home cosmic 'Tree of Life' that binds the universe together, the world ASH

all thrusts are to the sternum for this drill

1. The Eagle

Asgard - The home to the Gods and Goddesses of the Aesir

Head – High X siniwali and thrust

Alfheim - The realm where the Light Elves dwell

Eyes cut – and thrust

Vanaheim - The home to the Gods and Goddesses of the Vanir

Throat – and thrust

2. Ratatosk

Midgard - The home of the mankind

Mid X siniwali and thrust

Jotunheim - The realm where the Giants dwell

Collar Bone Strike and thrust

Muspellheim - The world of primal fire where the Muspilli Fire Giants dwell

Ribs cut – then thrust

3. Nidhogg

Niflheim - The "world of mists" and primal ice

Low X siniwali and thrust( the knees cut from the cripple cut)

SvartAlfheim - The realm where the Black Elves / Dwarfs dwell

Genitals horizontal cut – then thrust

Hel - The land of the dead, ruled by the goddess Hella.

Femoral cut then thrust

If it stings it’s working

2011-04-29T13:08:00.001-07:00

If it stings it’s working

There is an old saying that flies free in the face of conventional medical thought in the Ferrara house and Phil's Dojo.

All injuries fall under the category “Minor” and can be fixed with items from the shed or through escrima training.

YOUNG BOY SCOT – Dad/Phil , I’m hurt

“Minor” Injury - Dad's/ Sensei's Set answers –

Bullet wound

– Dad - calk gun, suck it up

Phil - why you bleed on my floor. Whack

Severed limb

– Dad -Duct tape, get me a beer

Phil - you got hit it's your fault.

Fire

– Dad - roll around in dirt, I was in the service

Phil - Fire is not the flow, be like water and put yourself out.

Dog Bite

– Dad - Bite the dog back, wussy

Phil - Kill dog and put head on rattan stick as warning to the others.

Decapitation

– Dad - Staplegun, who needs directions

Phil - You cannot fight without a Head.

Shock

– No passing out on my watch. Oh and what’s her name called.

Phil - Shock is like Pity, escrimadours feel not these things.

.

The Right’s Heroes for Summer Movies are all Jewish

2011-04-29T11:19:00.001-07:00

The Right’s Heroes for Summer Movies are all Jewish.

I love telling this to the right wing tea party Birthers. Guess what? “ Heroes this summer are Jewish. “

I speak a few languages, Korean, Middle English, Shakespeare, American English but sadly my mother tongue is White Trash Long Island. My parents didn’t teach it to me. I learned it from the delis, parking lots, street corners and classrooms. So to hear a guy railing against people of Jewish faith. As he talks about looking forward to the super hero movies this summer while drinking from a Thor cup. I had to point a few things out.

If you are stupid enough to believe in the vast Zionist conspiracy, go no further than your multiplex. Superheroes are American icons of truth, justice, honor, virtue. And they are all Jewish.

Thor is a Norse / pagan god, developed by a man of Jewish ancestry. Became a Christ figure during the Christian conversions in Scandinavia.

Captain America, a Brooklyn kid weak who became strong after a scientist of Jewish ancestry enabled it to happen, the character also developed by men of Jewish Ancestry.

Superman, a technically illegal immigrant, developed by men of Jewish ancestry who’s name in Kryptonian is Kal’El, or power of god in Hebrew

The X-men, mutants, who face racism and intolerance, also developed by men of Jewish ancestry. Where one of the main characters is a holocaust survivor.

Green Lantern – Alan Scott version, co created by Bill Finger. Also Jewish.

SO righties when you throw around your little vile comments on the popcorn line about those “people who own everything” Guess what? They made your heroes. And they are direct descendents of Homer and Ovid, Dante and Shakespeare. If only you righties could claim such ancestry.

What inspired it…. Drive – Clear –Head

I believe the reason the ancient Neanderthal Ferraras created the wheel was to drive to the next cave to clear their heads. It's a tradition passed down from my father, when annoyed " Drive clear head", DCH has saved more lives than the red cross. I went for a drive and passed both my brothers and my father going for a drive to clear their heads.

I teach language, and language is nothing without context.

This guy in 7-11 was throwing around the K-word ( in reference to people of the Jewish faith) and the N-word ( yep you guessed it). I made mention earlier of my mother tongue being White Trash Long Island. Again this is not the way I was raised or what my parents taught me. My father “ a former detective” is probably the most tolerant person I’ve ever met. My mother, a woman of southern roots, also doesn’t think in separatist terms. But growing up I freely admit when I was a young troglodyte idiot. I used those words freely, with purpose and sometimes acidic zeal. Along with the F-word ( for homosexual, historically traced to middle english a term used to light fires when people were burned t the stake) the D- word ( for lesbian ) the S-word ( for people of hispanic abstraction ) the C- word ( in reference to female genetalia) also Pollark, Mick, Ginnea, Kraut. SO I was wondering what changed in me. How come I am not this man? When did the words stop. It was the heroes who would never think that way. I wanted to be them. After talking to a former student who I wanted to check on. People are loyal to their options. Then I thought to my master.

Don’t give them a target.

I am not this man because Ignorance is the afterbirth of bad education. I am not this man because the target was removed and if ugliness was going to spill out. It was replaced with a clear head and a drive.

I’ve been adopted by african american jewish southern western italian british kiwi saffer korean irish japanese homosexual cultures. They were my education. And it was a good one.

.

mother moon for tiffany

2011-04-15T20:12:00.001-07:00

Votarice Mother moon
Silvered in dark mourning
Shadow changing ever soon
As both request and warning
Brother sun never learning
From a crime and eternal chase
Her light is his burning
The wounds upon her face
If Phoebe’s tears are dreams
All salt and cold and ash
Dust away what seems
In thunderous passions clash
Reveal bright eyes form the cowl
My love of sky, night and star
And for your glory I will howl
And would gladly bear your scar

Rapture Incantation

2011-04-07T09:54:00.001-07:00

a kiss was asked

a storm wages

breathing tasked

torn from pages

somethings amiss

says the sages

the cost of a kiss

the cost of rages

memory stirs

furture entices

vision blurs

in lusty devices

nothing refuse

adoring will

passion imbues

the winter's kill

will it suffice

a memory tryst

heart sacrifice

I must persist

so to spring,

sharing a toast,

caress the sting,

shout and boast

fear's a coward,

enrapture the will

you stand empowered

now eat your fill

drink and sing

in sultry night

loves lusty wing

now take flight!!!!!!!

.

forms and training - muses and fates

2011-04-04T10:07:00.000-07:00

Muses and Fates
ADVANCED STRIKE PARRIES
Calliope - Strike Parry Left Temple
Clio - Strike Parry Right Temple
Erato - Strike Parry Left Rib
Euterpe- Strike Parry Right Rib
Melpomene -Strike Parry Left Knee,
Polyhymnia -Strike Parry Right Knee,-
Terpiscore-Strike Parry Left Hand
Thalia - Strike Parry Right Hand
Urania - Strike Parry Left Collar Bone
Clotho - Strike Parry Right Collar Bone
Lachesis - Strike Parry Left Femoral
Antropos- Strike Parry Right Femoral

4 hits
Asynjur -Right Shoulder, Left Rib, Left Shoulder, Right Rib
Valkyrys - Right Shoulder, Groin, Left Shoulder, Head
Norns -Right Femoral, Left temple, Right Temple, Left Femoral
Fates- Left Femoral, Right collar bone, Left Collar Bone, Right Femoral

6 hits
Mete -Right Shoulder, Head, Left Hip, Right Hip, Left Shoulder, Groin
Nese -Right Hand, Left Knee, Right Knee, Left Hand, Groin, Head
Hypate - Right Knee, Left Rib, Left Femoral, Right Femoral, Right Rib, Left Knee

8 hits
Melete - Right Rib, Left Temple, Right Temple, Left Rib, Left Shoulder, Right Hip, Right Shoulder, Left Hip
Mneme - Right Eye, Left Collar Bone, Right Collar Bone, Left Eye, Right hip, Left Hip, Left Hip, Right Hip
Aoide - Groin , Head, Left rib, Right Rib, Right Shoulder, Groin, Head , Left Shoulder

10 hits
Energeia -Left Temple, Right Rib, Left Rib, Right Temple, Head, Groin, Right Shoulder, Left Shoulder, Left Shoulder, Right Shoulder

training

2011-04-01T11:07:00.000-07:00

off to train
a dragon slain
so begins the tale

seek the sky
remembering why
justice holds the scale

in darkest power
storm the tower
seeking the ghost grail

a feat of sand
when honor demand
a true heart set sail

a burning ember
words dismember
the tears of banshee wail

blade cut rune
sings the tune
the sword cuts the veil

so in the fray
friend of fae
love blazes the trail

Time Outs????????

2011-03-28T14:34:00.001-07:00

About Time Outs - Kids actually get time outs? Really, Seriously, Growing up the time outs I received were the times I was Unconscious!!!!!!! After the beating. It's like the free running sport. It wasn't a sport when I was growing up, It was a survival technique. Twice a week I used to play out the opening chase scene in Casino Royale avoiding the Whooping of the Ass.

time

2011-03-10T20:51:00.001-08:00

A question was asked, if time is of the essence what is the essence of time. To me time is essence is the moment, like pearls on a string. time is the final arbiter, it isn't judge, it isn't jury, it is executioner. And in those crystalline momentos, moments are the souveniers of memory, the binets of our bit of time, it reverses itself and time does emit.

FATE

2011-02-21T12:00:00.003-08:00

Fate

we seek heavens answer
for something less permanent
then some callow romancer
when your last bloods are spent
dreams of love and time
in molded papers decay
lose yourself in love sublime
and live it for today
there is no tomorrow
there is only tonight
refuse fear's sister sorrow
and time's unjust sickle spite
fear serves not a man,
for lady death comes for all,
fight and love all you can
for that meeting none forestall
Live every moment for it is your last
and love just the same
for now is victim to the past
so just embrace the game

for Leonie

2011-02-11T10:19:00.001-08:00

Leonie

God has a voice
it's accent Sout African
When devoid of choice
from one silly american
The lion roars for all to come
to tell the tales of valor
show the world none succumb
in it's darker hour
On the dry savannah plain
It is the ladies that rule the pride
the alpha male blinded by his mane
has little power to decide
beware and worship this stunning beast
it's tales never fully mtold
you might end up it's feast
as it licks blood from gold

Egypt and other poems

2011-02-11T10:10:00.000-08:00

May god come between you and harm
in the dark places that you roam
an ancient prayer or mystic charm
where the pharohs did call home
the history in ancient
...and the sands in hourglass
but myth with histiry reinvent
as the sands do pass
Napolean robbed it's stores
Cleopatra was a greek
To Orion's belt Osiris soars
when it tis the truth you seek
Freedom call the blood
I am it's true orator
as the nile valley flood
Mubarak was our dictator
30 years of won elections,
oppression was his lot,
safe was he in our detections
from the blood of Sadat.
I wish the protecters well
for I remeber tien na min square
the powers that be know only hell
and does so without care.
In the river his brother set dismembered
and Osiris sister wife rebuilt
The mythic truth reborn remembered
when your tombs foundations are silt

Hope

Hope

There is no vacancy in the box
that Pandora opened sure
Hope remains to spite the clocks
...Hope above all is pure.
In her lonely cell is kept
The joy and disaster,
Left by her sisters she wept
but she is still there master
For all the horror Pandora release
with fiery wings unfurlled
Hope stayed an will ever increase
our place in this world
But loving hope is friend of man
we unidentified human remains
She ttells us yes you can
When the darkness reigns

winter to spring

they say that white is purity
with epic words I'll gush
but as with any surity
the snow will turn to slush
we build our mountains of white
...and dream of blankets profound
hoping the snow covers the sight
and the growing underground
but as night echoes with storm
and old Boreas doth retreat
we covet boies for moments warm
and to Persephone with entreat
mothers sadness when she depart,
to the dead god of silver helm
her initial caress of Hades chart
Springs lust o'ertakes the realm

poetic hand grenades

Pin the pin and run for cover
as the ordinace doth fly
rhyming sharpnel like no other
...with all the steely bit imply
that when a wit is shown
the crater leads to exposure
once the grenade is thrown
few things give us closure
as these metal bombs descend
one can't help but wonder
the hurts that poetry can amend
once you're blown asunder

man who could not be killed - part 5 - preparations and reparations by jeremy Webb

2011-02-08T10:44:00.001-08:00

I startled awake, to a largish shadow looming over me that smelled of gun oil and coffee.

Dante- Well, don’t you just look like shit.

I sat up with a grunt, gratefully accepting the large cup of steaming coffee from the man.

Ronin- It was a tough night.

Dante sat back in the chair next to the bed, idly toying with the grips on his pistols. If he was here, I thought….damn.

Dante- So Chalice told me. You know the drill man, one of you gets hurt, I get the call. ESPECIALLY you.

I tried to stand angrily, my temper getting the better of me before my wounds caused the room to spin slightly. It almost reminded me of many a drunken brawl the two of us had had in their time. Before her.

Ronin- Take your rules and blow them out your-

Dante calmly put his hand to my solar plexus and shoved him back into the bed. He used more force than was probably needed, but given the history between the two of us, it was a scant drop in the bucket of pain he had promised me one day.

Dante- Will you just slow the fuck down! I never said you couldn’t handle it, or that you were off this hunt. What she ever even saw in your sorry ass… You’d think you would know the rules better by now…

Ronin- DO NOT bring her up now you bastard!

Of course he would bring Emma up, and why not? She WAS his sister, after all, and he still carried a white hot core of rage at me for getting her turned and then forcing me to take her down. She was always so willful, it was what drew me to her, fellow rebels. She told him to get bent and trained to be a hunter despite his demanding she not. Then I had to go and take her out before she was ready…

Dante stared steadily at me. Our past was a complex web of love, hate, betrayal, sadness and battle. One day, he knew one of us would put down the other, and THAT was going to be quite the tale.

Dante- I will bring her up whenever I fucking feel like it, I earned that right when YOU failed her. Now, I already have Seamus getting you some new kit, and Ernesto thinks he can get you on your feet today. You and I both know the leech that took the girl wouldn’t be able to feed on her that close to sunrise, so we have until sundown to find its lair and get her back.

Seamus came into the room at that moment and handed a large package to Dante with a curt nod to me. Dante accepted the package and slapped the big Irishman on the arm.

Dante- You do these up right, you dumb Mick?

Seamus nodded without rising to the bait. Dante always liked to press his buttons, it was his way of showing affection to the Irishman. Truth was, Seamus was one of Chalice’s better armourers, and was for some inexplicable reason fond of Dante.

Seamus- Aye precious, I did. Even the Viking here would be hard pressed ta break these pretties.

Dante unwrapped the weapons and tossed them into my lap. Barongs, made from Dante’s favorite ironwood Quebracho, and inlaid with silver filigree in graceful celtic knotwork. The shades were sure to hate them.

Dante- So you ready for round two?

The story so far

Prologue and Parts 1-4 with interludes

Hunter’s Tale

Rules of the game

Rules of the Game - The Rule of 3

I hate those idiots who think that vampires are romantic and tragic creatures. They dress in black and complaint about life as if Nihilism was an original concept. It's too damn easy to bitch and complain. But that nonsense stops when you are balls deep in blood. Vampires ,which we in the profession call shades, exist in some many different forms. There are as many types of Shade as there methods of predation. They've been with us from time immemorial and will outlast us until the sun goes nova. I give you this warning. If you take up the fight realize you will die violently, emotionally scarred, insane and invariably alone. When Chalice asked me to write a guide about "Monster Slaying" I relunctantly took up the challenge. I'm Ronin a masterless hunter. I broke my ties with order years ago. Sacrificing a support network for autonomy.

Rule 1 - All Shades must feed on something, it could be blood, flesh, strength, beauty, intelligence, youth, heartache, fear or a myriad of other things. Each is unique and what kills one won't necessarily kill another.

Rule 2 - Hit it with cold steel or wood till it stops moving, remove the head and heart, then burn it. In my experience this will kill 80% of the Shades out there. The method also kills humans 100% or the time, just incase you are wondering. Other weaknesses specific to them may become apparent. Do your research.

Rule 3 - Stay alive.

Interlude 1

a noir tale

“Drink’s on the table babe.” A good whiskey.

There were so many times I could have stopped it. Said no. Put an end to it. But she knew I loved the knife. Her skill in the cut and those eyes. I knew I was being manipulated. Deep in my soul. But then I would lose myself in her flesh and drive her crazy.

I knew the cuts would come. We both knew it was wrong. But we used the word love a lot for means of justification. She was in the shower. Her body had more curves than a python, she embraced just as fiercely like it was some kind of kill. She made love with a reckless abandoned and convulsed when the little death was on her. She could have any man she wanted. Curled raven locks feel to the small of her back. Her skin olive. That perfect skin when the races mix. . Her eyes which she often hid were a deep caramel. The kind of serpentine eyes that swallow you whole.

But I was dangerous. A killer. Damaged goods that could take the punishment of her departures. Her husband was rich. Abusive but rich. And the big house seemed to mitigate the pain. He was also cheating on her so he lost any moral credibility he would have had if he were an innocent victim of feminine deception.

I was hired by him to guard her. Protect her. Keep her safe from harm. The mist was rising out of the shower. She was clad only in the towel. She always hid her naked form from me. Shyly , almost coyly. She had her rules. But always wanted me to tell her I love her. She needed it in yells and whispers. The remaining wet clung to her. She wanted me to cut her. She took a long hard pull from the rocks glass.

“When…” She said with insistence.

“ Soon, luv, but you gotta get back to him.”

I inspected her for marks like in a slave auction. No bites. Nothing that can be questioned. She tried to kiss me.

“No..not yet.” I says.

“ When do you kill him?” She asked. The reptilian coldness coming through.

“ When we go to Nawlins. I got a crew down there. Simple. Easy. Just like the town.”

“You sure.”

I smiled my knowing smile. Now the time was right.

I brought her in for a kiss. She lingered. I was greedy. She was mine. But I knew deep inside she cheated on him. She’d cheat on me. Nature of the wildlife. She had never failed to get what she set those eyes on.

“ It’s an hour drive.” I says. “ Best get moving.” The cabin was secluded enough. And she been up here enough times to navigate in the dark. In the widening dark. My little viper went back out into the dark. Shedding her skin she went back to her safe life. She had her fill of danger for the evening.

That’s when it all went to hell.

I heard them. The men she hired. No sense of stealth.

Then men entered my cabin. Three of them. I keep knives always within hands. Reach. But that’s what I do. I’m a knivesman. Small area. And the idiots brought guns to a knife fight. Naked as I was I dove for my barong. Big heavy bladed fillipino knives which my guro mercilessly trained me on.

The twenty one foot rule is my commandment. To put it simply. If a person has a knife and is twenty one feet away from you and you have a gun. You can cover the distance in 1.5 seconds. I closed.

First idiot was easy. A conveininet shield. A quick cut across the back of his gun hand made it useless. Putting his body between me and the other two. Sidestep through and a cut across his femoral artery. He’d bleed out.

Idiot two started firing. Their boy took the brunt. But in the enclosed space of my cabin. Idiot three was frozen. I closed distance. Brought the blade up under his sternum and hand assisted down. The purplish gift of kali spilled on the floor.And in one continuous motion. Spun throwing the knife. Idiot three looked more surprised than hurt. As the blade stuck out of his neck.

I gathered the remains and made sure they’d be unidentifiable. An arduous task. The poison I put in her drink should be settling in. Damn treacherous those mountain roads.

Her husbands money would sooth whatever pain I felt.

a short story - Lakeside – Lake’s story

I remember them fondly, I thought to herself. I was in a brisk day in early November and the streets of Avalon ( Some call it Manhattan ) were filled with the throng of humanity. Their life pouring out of them. The tyranny of the clock cutting moments in precious breath. I looked in a window , the glass reflective. My eyes the lake which I am the lady. I remembered Lancelot the troubled by virtue and feet of clay. Dagonet the jester who had to tell his king the truth. That Gueneviere loved him as king first and as a man second. Marrok the one cursed to be a wolf. La Cotte a la Mail, the warrior who wore the armor his father was killed in. But most of all I honored them.

I saw them all. In the blade I had tattooed on my wrist, In the multi-colored scarf I wore. In the fang clasped in silver I wear around my neck and the links of crimson stained chain I wear as a bracelet. These were my knights. I trained them. Gave them sanctuary and called them when I needed them. Each had a touch of my power. As all the knights of the round table. I am the lady of the lake, the keeper of Excaliber. The hand that waits for shining armor and finest hour.

It was a good day. My long blonde hair fell about my shoulders and my lake which I keep in my eyes drank in the far off lands. But here in Avalon I waited. Waited for the king. I was hunting today. The last Pellinore was in the city. His quest finally brought him here. For I am the second lady of the lake. The inheritor.

Night fell on Avalon. The sky crimson and amber like a fresh wound. I could feel him. Pellinore and his family have since the beginning had one goal. The Beast. The questing beast. A creature they were doomed to never kill. Their family curse. I should know I cursed them.

The Pellinores were a brutal tribe of Caitiff knights. They served no lords but the hunt. They killed for sport, for pleasure. The eldest Pellinore was a hawker. He had his wolfhounds and his stable. He had his rougish knights tax his surfs to starvation and feed their daughters to his more unruly appetites.

It was a still night under a amber moon that gave their bloodline to me. Thrr times I had warned them not to hunt in my grove. Not to kill in this small patch of land. Where my animal kin and wayward knights drank of me. The eldest Pellinore hunted mercilessly. But his quarry was not bear, wolf or hart. I was a young girl of blonde hair and eyes of blue.

I was alone in the wood, when the knight snuck up on me and turned me around.

“ Just a kiss lass is all I ask.” Pellinore said.

“ A forceful hand does not ask.” I relplied turning my face away.

“ It is my right.” He pulled me to him.

“ And this is mine.”I clawed his face and pushed. The chase. Which is what he wanted was on.

I ran as his nighthawks spotted me and his hounds chased. His bows arrows whipped passed my ears. He hunted me. I hid and used the forests I knew so well. My sisters taught me the ways of herb and tree and water. But he followed wanting more than I would give him. He unhorsed and took to foot reveling in anticipation. Till I lead him to the grove.

The moonlight shone upon the lake and my blood kissed the water. And he came. Sword drawn and armored.

“ Nowhere to run, little one” He says to me through a rasp. Out of breath an hurried like an ungenerous lover.

“ This grove is sacred.” I say to him.

“ It will be tonight.” He gasped. He came towards me. Ready to take all I was. Virtue, dignity and then life. It was his rite as a lord. But he wasn’t a lord there. In the grove.

As he ventured forward I went into the water. It’s chill embraced me like lost family separated by war. Then as I inhaled the water in. It filled me.I died…………..

Then

It gave me strength I couldn’t comprehend. I was the keeper. The water flowed through me and as I opened my eyes. I saw him standing at the bank. Hawk on his arm. Hounds at his feet. And I rose and horror gripped his face. The coward backed away and stumbled.

“ A BEAST !!!” he screamed with trembling voice.

“ No more than you.” I said calmly.

“ I will hunt you till the stars burn out.”

“ Then your wish is granted but you and your blood will never kill me.” I said. And I sank back beneath the waves of the lake. They’ve hunted me ever since.

Tonight he will come to Central Park, the new sacred grove. I will be the beast. The creature of his nightmare. It was in the park he stalked me. The Pellinore family legend made them believe that only a sword could kill the beast. The creature they saw in their most private moments.

I changed to Marrok’s wolf and smelled the thousand fold scents of the city. And stalked the most recent scion. He wandered through the park. Hiding the blade under a long coat. Young and with just a little hint of madness.

I approached as the wolf and growled.

“ It is you. New Pellinore.”

He drew he had skill. He made chase and dodged into the wood. Once again taking human form. I borrowed the skill of Dagonet. The jester. Agile and acrobatic. I mocked him.

“ Young hunter swings away.”

His sword cut the air in a wide arc.

“ But tis the beast that holds sway.”

He thrusted into a tree. I came out of the shadows.

“There are many ways to miss.”

He swung I dodged and did a dive roll, standing opposite him.

“ So much sorrow for a forced kiss.”

He thrust again and hit a good hit. But La Cotte’s armor deflected it. Then without thought. I toughed the tattoo on my wrist. And the sword came to my hand. Lancelot’s sword. For I taught him the art.

The pellinore swung high , I ducked. Then cut straight down as if to cleave me in two. I parried with ease and kicked him in the chest. Air escaped him.

“ MONSTER…” He screamed and charged. A series of cavalry cut around his head and to my shoulder. Then a thrust at my eyes. I spun an cut across his stomach. He tucked in and over-swung going for the backs of my legs. I flipped over his blade and watched it stick in the dirt. Then thrust home. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t curse. He just fell. The last Pellinore of this generation. A decade of so. Another will come. I looked at him. And went back to the lake and the company of better men.

a little prep - Prologue 2

The thing about hunting monsters is that you have got to be scarier than they are. When the Shades tranforms and the veneer of reality melts away like a cheap candle, When you are facing some unknowable thing straigtht out of nightmares the best you can do is listen to your amygdala. Fight or flight.

Trust no one but your crew. Your team and contacts are what keep you alive. Chalice is good for that. Putting red herrings in the way of Shade and servitor alike. Do not get caught. Torture is an ineffective means of getting information but it is an even worse way to die. If you get caught, this isn't the movies where your crew can launch a rescue operation and get you home safe and sound before the commercial break. If you get caught and it's a choice between you and your crew. Have you crew put a bullet in your head. No one withstands torture and you will give up everything to save yourself.

You have to know what your facing and always be prepared. Always have a gun. They never work against the big bads themselves or their servents but they tend to put down those annoying humans. Mr. Colt made everyone equal. For the Shades your best bet is steel and wood. You have to know how to fight with weapon and fist. And even more annoying some of the shades don't disintergrate in sunlight. So you have the added problem of corpse removal and evidence tampering. You do not get caught. It's always good to have a legend prepared to through the human autorities off the scent. I'll get more into that later.

The madness of the job creeps in. The horror bleeds into your psyche. It’s unavoidable. We all cope in different ways.

Understnading is key. I carry a few hunting kits in my truck for just such occasions. Do not make too much of a show of yourself. Do not stnd out, until you have to. When stalking the shades it's best you make yourself the target.

I will elaborate more on preparations and the cultivation of assets later. You will learn to use money, ideology, cpmpromise and ego to extortion to turn the human against their best interest. Know your prey. Find the chinks in the armor and peel away the well designed masks. Everyone has secrets.

We are just flesh. Chalice knows this. But we made the descision to fight and they can keep you going with intel and safe houses. If there is even a suspision of being turned, crew or not. I'll kill you myself.

As you put together you gear remember. This isn't about justice, it's about revenge.

She was young, half dressed and hysterical walking down the highway. It was cold and a fresh layer of Decmeber snow had fallen on the ground. I repressed the Memeory of a a winter 20 years earlier when I heeded the call for revenge. First mission was to get her out of traffic. Careless humanity honking horns speeding passed. Some men slowing down asking if she wanted a ride. Well ride something at least. I pulled over said a short prayer and thanked my truck for holding itself together. The police would come soon and I knew she was either a vic or bait. The bites were apparent and there was a nest nearby. I could hear Calice talking to me her voice, an echoing vibrato like she was talking through a fan. Indistinct at first it became clearer and clearer.

CHALICE – Save her.

RONIN – What do you think I’m doing boss.

Traffic started to screech to a halt. A few choice words were spoken by some young touch until he saw me and promptly learned the value of silence. Sinatra Blue eyes beneath a face that looked like 10 miles of bad road. My hair blonde and graying cut short to keep out of my eyes. I wasn’t undercover so I was me for the first time in a while.

I scooped her up, she weighed nothing. She was tiny. About 24, hispanic. Tan skin peering out of a red lingerie. She was babbling in Spanish. “Feo”

I forced down my inate lechery.

CHALICE – Repress that.

RONIN – Already on it boss.

My truck is named Roxanne for the heroine muse of another ugly hero. Roxie has always treated me well. I put the vic or bait in the back. She hadn’t turned.

Chalice appear differently to every hunter. Some of us have even speculated she’s a kind of shared hallucination. But you always recognize her. She gives you some assignments. She puts people in your path to train. I have an idea of who she is. But I ain’t telling just yet.

She appeared to me, Emma’s face. White face, blooded lips and dead eyes.

CHALICE – Get her someplace safe and warm.

RONIN – Yeah boss, I figured.

CHALICE – As much as you are one of my favorites. You need to start training again. The average life expectancy of a hunter is five years. You’ve been doing it twenty. You know what the other crews call you.

RONIN – The man who can’t be killed.

CHALICE – Let’s not make liars of them, Shall we my knight.

She always called me “My knight” as a harsh reminder of Emma. To me we hunters were always somewhere between Knight, Viking, Samurai, and Gladiator. Fighting to earn our spurs and freedom from the madness. We travel fight the wars and are as much her vassals as part of her stable. Sometimes it was as much about the story of the fight and the roar of the crowd who’s cheers and boos we could hear.

Some idiots believe that humanity is secretly under the thrall of alien lizards and radio waves are a form of mind control controlled by a pro Zionist conspiracy. These bastards are perfect fodder for the shades. Yes the governments know there are monsters and yes they have been in bed with some of the more civilized shades for some time. Don't trust anyone unless they're your crew of they've been vetted Chalice. Her intelligence ops keep eyes on everything. She can give you reconassaince and targets. She also is not adverse to giving orders.

Not to get her someplace safe and warm. And I need a drink.

Interlude 2

fool's errand

My Dearest Sister Vivian,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I miss you and mother terribly, but my time in the holy city has brought me great joy. I can feels God’s presence, like it was emanating from the very stones of Rome. I wish Lionel were here to read this letter. His loss in the air over Germany was a great shock. I’ve been thinking a lot about Lionel recently. As you know I am but a humble acolyte doing my translations from the Old Latin in the Vatican archives. I sought to escape thoughts of my little brother falling in flames from the sky. I also know that both mother and father do not approve of your upcoming marriage to that American flyer from Texas I believe he’s from. They have cut you off and out of their lives. Father is the hardest heart. He will not forgive you for marrying what he sees is below our station. But with Lionel gone, myself pledged to God, Our father loses any hope of a male heir. He put his hopes in you to at least continue the line with someone proper, and English.

I know this is painful, And please Dearest Sister, understand the language and the urgency of my letter. In my studies I have come across scores of ancient confession, transcripted from heretics dating back to the dark ages.

Mind you the confession itself was fragmentary, but it dates back to the times of Emperor Lucius which is most curious. Lucius was eager to expand his influence throughout the empire especially our Fair Isle. There he met resistance to his demands of tribute. By a war leader known as Artorius. The forces of the emperor were repulsed.

Years after a wandering bard was captured and tried for heresy. Rather than fight any charge he gleefully submitted himself to the trials and begged to be burned at the stake. With this as a frame I shall do a rough translation of the lost and fragmented document.

The Fragments

I wanted to make my confession simple and accurate, Although neither is likely and I can’t simply guarantee the veracity of the words you are about to hear. The truth comes difficult to a creature like me. The truth loses its charm only if it is spoke plainly. But I shall attempt to do so. I was a knight of the round table after all.

Merlin’s father was a demon of that there can be no doubt, his mother was a druid priestess and one wise in the old ways. Sometimes being one of the few who wasn’t taken in the end makes me doubt my convictions in a merciful God. Now as Gods go, I like Rome’s all it demands is some obedience and you are spared eternal hellfire. Obedience comes second only to truth as the most difficult virtue. All you must do is confess to whatever petty evils you have done and safe in the knowledge of Mute Gods forgiveness. Then you can stroll safe and secure from the cathedral knowing that the lighting that would have struck you otherwise. Had it not have been averted by a few choice words to a celibate go between. I feel that as methods of avoiding eternal pain go that one has its peculiar merits. I also prefer my gods mute.

My name for the scholars who will no doubt be translating this from the Latin is Dagonet. I was Arthur’s jester and keeper of the secrets of the descent. I sang, I danced but more importantly I had the ears of the Arthur’s court. Merlin made me from scraps of fallen knights and pieces of wandering bards that fell to brigands in secluded woods in Cornwall or Wales. When I say I was built I am not being hyperbolic. Nor am I being extravagant or metaphoric, as we wandering Minstrels tend to be. I have the face of a Cornish Knight, the legs of a Welsh peasant, the body of a monk, the arms of brigand, the ears of midwife and my tongue well…..

I say made because I was created for one single and unique purpose. My mouth was to be the sepulchre for a forked tongue. The tongue was a vile organ which belonged to Merlin’s father. Merlin knew it to be a dangerous thing. It was prone to tales of ribald knights and lurid ladies in waiting. It also held Merlin’s true name. He needed to imprison the tongue because that name was the last word it spoke. And if the winds heard that name Merlin would be at the mercy of all the other incubi. But I am of course ahead of myself.

I was created to play the fool, Knighted by Arthur on a whim, I was to be the target of ridicule from knights like Kay the dullard, Gawain the thick, and Lancelot the Lech.

Although I liked Lancelot. He was kind in his way. He would talk with a gentle condescension that comes from rivaling perfection and making it blush. Occasionally the other knights would clash steel with me. It was those times I felt like part of the Fellowship and I felt the uncomfortable seeds of virtue start to grow. Luckily Merlin knew how to keep those weeds from his garden.

Lancelot you see he was the problem and the fulcrum on which the whole kingdom hinged. For he was the master pawn in a war a war between Merlin and his sister Lady of the Lake. The two suckled at the bosoms of a human mother and as the twins matured startling differences arose between them. Both were gifted in the old ways, the ways of the earth, sun, moon, the sky, fire and the waters.

The Lady of the Lake had raised Lancelot to be the greatest knight ever. And she did a fine job with King Ban’s son. She raised him in the waters and trained him against knights of Shells. He learned courtly manners in a palace of sand and even I must admit he was a sheer pleasure to behold. Even if both my eyes came from separate beings. A fact that might explain my apparent madness. It also may explain current trial for heresy.

Merlin of course had the sight, occasionally coupled with wisdom. He knew that virtue is a curse unto itself since it can be undone by a very simple truth. Ideals are the easiest things to fall short of. And as strong as you are, as fast as you are, gossip is stronger and faster.

A lie can be a powerful thing if treated with respect and consistency. And hence my career at court was born. I was created during the time when Arthur and the knights were about to battle the holy Roman Emperor Lucius. Lucius challenged Arthur’s right to rule but would’ve settled for a tithe. As most despots do.

The real patriarch of Camelot was a demon bard named Talesin, whose name meant radiant brow. He was the father of our esteemed Merlin. Begot during a rite of the Goddess. Everyone ran about naked in those days during rituals. I’d often see Merlin whisk his mind back there when my reports on the gossip at court would get too lengthy. Which it often did. My tongue would spin a poem of knightly valor and honor as my ears would hear Sir Whoever buggering a kitchen wench.

It figures the one time I tell the truth. The truth is definitely the most confusing of the virtues. The truth has caused much more hurt than has been a salve in soothing painful words. I never won a joust or a duel but my words have pierced hearts and severed heads. The court was my jousting field and my field of honor. None of the knights, not even Lancelot could challenge me there. The knights with all their gleaming chain mail, sharp swords, and blunt maces were mere toys as they broke against my iron wit. Arthur knew this and kept me at court to teach the knights the often forgotten virtue of humility.

I ask forgiveness. Although, I don’t expect it. And the fire from which you will purge my heresy or is it hearsay I forget; regardless the fire shall acclimate me well to my place in the next world. What doomed the greatest most just and fair nation in the world. And obviously much more fair nation then Emperor Lucius’ Rome.

There were few in the castle, both Lancelot and Guienvever were away. Nimue entombed Merlin.

All the knights were questing for the grail. It was only Arthur, Kay, and myself in the castle.

Arthur was pensive, he had heard the gossip about his young wife and the handsome Lancelot but these were rumors and he as king was above them. I was summoned to his chamber. He was weary. Arthur was never weary then. The world had never weighed on him as it did that night. With a shrug I tumbled and sang and sung him the tale of his battle against the giants of Geen. He couldn’t raise a smile, and then I asked the question that would doom us all.

What troubles you my lord?

“ Fool . ” he said sadly “ I need no game and I need no song. And please kind sir no jest ”

“ What would you have me do sir? ” I replied cautiously.

“ Speak plainly ” He said his voice near a stammer.

“ As always, “ I replied, “ My Lord ”

“ Does my wife love me, Dagonet ”

“ We all love you my lord. ”

“ Not as a king, but as a man. ”

“ I would not know the contents of a persons heart, especially the queen’s.”

With that he drew Excaliber from its scabbard and with a stroke brought it to my neck.

“ Does she love me AS A MAN!” he screamed at me. His eyes mad with hurt and doubt and

jealousy.

I paused gauging my answer, then I spoke. “ You are a king, and as such you have no parallel on this world. But you are not your own. As a man in this world is his own. His own body, his own blood, only his soul to God.”

“ DOES SHE!” He lifted me off the ground. Tears streaming down his cheeks soaking his bearded. “ I feel like a man,” He shouted

“Yes ‘tis true.” I answered.

“ Hurt and bleed like a man”

“ Of that I can attest my Lord” I answered.

“ And I will die like a man.”

“ True my lord, but you are a king” He dropped me and I fell to the ground. “ No one can love you

as a man , My lord, because you are more than a man. You are chosen by God to be above these things.

Love, my king is the apple in the Garden of Eden; for a king to possess love is to know all and be cast

from paradise. ”

There was a silence between us, and with a gesture from his hand I turned to leave.

“ You know I envy you fool, to be loved as you are.”

“ Envy is a sin that doesn’t well suit a king.”

“ Neither is the love of his wife.” He said to me as the door slowly shut behind me.

Soon after his suspicions were realized and the kingdom decayed from the inside. Like an overripe apple in an untended orchard. The worm called Mordred had eaten to the core. And with that the Lady of the Lake won the contest with Merlin. And I shouted Merlin’s true name to the winds because I knew then all was lost.

End of Fragment

That my dear sister I hope would be of interest to you. And if even a fraction of it is true.

Love my dear sister is the most transcendent and miraculous thing we humans share. And we can

even pity kings who live without it.

Love Your Brother,

Roger

SKID

A GOOD KILLING

PROLOGUE

I was tracking the Gemini killer from Chicago to New York. All the evidence I could process pointed to a male early thirties, white, O positive blood. Pretty much all the usual suspects of North America. He was getting better, perfecting his craft. 12 victims so far. Same modus operandi. Whoever the killer was, he needed a place. His work took too much time. And he traveled too much. One set in Oregon, One Set in Alaska. I was looking through DMV records for a trucker. But the routes were too diverse to make sense.

We SKID’s called him the Gemini cause he took a liking to killing twins. Sometimes years apart. Always twins, identical or fraternal. None of the SKID’s had a face or a name yet..

I had found Gemini’s work earlier that day. 22 year old, black, female. Raped, flayed alive, both legs broken. She had lost her twin to a pedophile ring when she was 5.

I knew that. Accessed the phone records, federal and state databases. There was no overlying connection between all the victims.

I knew that a thought smuggler was bringing a package of repressed memories to the Gemini. It was Terrance May. A power psychic in New York. I could head home..

1.

I was waiting for the drop and my mark was waiting as well. The marks name was Terrance May.

Jared Martel was late. He was never late. He was fastidious and annoying that way. It was 4 a.m. and I was in no mood for this.

It was raining, hard in Madison Square Park. It reminded me of my first kill’s memories of New Orleans. It was a hard cleansing August rain and it came up without warning. There was a little thunder far off. Lightning flashed in the distance. The air had the electric feel of bloody anticipation. And the memories of my first kills mother in brighter days flashed across the sugar engine that I call a mind.

Rain Darlin is just the tears of God. She said.

The psychic, Terrance May waiting for the drop was getting nervous, squirrelly. I was watching. He was scanning the park looking for minds. Hoping to instill an ember of fear. My mind was a undetectable a piece of background static amongst all the irrelevant chatter of the meat that swarm in cities. I played a little Wes Montgomery in my head, Jazz guitar relaxes me. I paused took a deep unnecessary breath. And walked over.

I was dragging my 6’4 , 300 pound bulk toward the psychic. He looked up lost in the Maze of mental voices as I crashed into him. And just started hitting. I got to hit him hard and fast not allow him to focus.

Where the hell is Jared !!! I say between punches. I diamond up my skin and the poor psychic must have felt like Nemesis herself had come to collect. He tries a psyhic assault before he telekinetically pushed me off him. I went flying some 40 feet up and away, gravity is a bitch goddess and I landed with an echoing thud.

Fuckin SKID. He says as he goes into Ki Tae first form. I smile through my mop of black hair. My artificial eyes were looking for a gap in the fields of force he was surrounding himself with.

A few quick exchanges; block to the head, He hit me with quick lightning strikes to the chest. Hitting with the force of a thousand pounds. He wailed me upside my head. Rung my bell a bit. I was waiting for him to get a little over confident. His mind was trying to agitate the molecular motion of my face. But my troops hung together like always. My skin can be hard as diamond if I want it.

He then started with a flying kick telekinetically pushing himself off the ground. Never a good idea to take to the air with a rusting old machine like myself. I catch him in mid air and drive him down. Sink my fingers in his skull. And rip memories from him. Martel wasn’t coming. They wanted Blue.

Dammit

I broke his neck and took off running.

The new kills memories were being collated in my mind. Martel was a thought smuggler, but he didn’t know what the drop was. I dial Lisa in my head. No answer just a voice mail.

Hey lover, come behind the Barnes and Noble on 18th a Broadway.

18th and Broadway. Not far. Not far at all.

2.

I was whispering the Russian Orthodox act of contrition as I came upon her.

A gun doesn’t worry if it has a soul, Felix Seven. She says

I’m more than a gun. I said blowing the smoke from my cigarette and watching it waft into the dreary New York night. Oxidizing agent. Now all I need is to refuel with a bottle of Glenfiddach, six cups of black coffee with a ton of sugar. and all should be cooking with propane.

I know that too well my darling. She says with a kiss, Now be the big strapping Louisiana gentlemen you are and take off his head so I can have a look see. She’s a runt so everyone is big and strapping. But I’m bigger than most.

Is it always business with you, I say

We have time for foreplay later , she says flashing me a little skin.

I formed a diamond blade from the carbon in the air and with a jerk the head came free.

Lisa Blue is a forensic telepath, She can read the minds of the recently dead. She is about 5’2, dancer’s build, brunette, with wit more pointed than a stiletto, and big blue eyes that you can sail across and never find the horizon. She would be my heart if I had one.

We were tracking a Chaos Engine thought smuggler through the Maze, a psychic nightmare realm that underpins ours. It is a savage place that bleeds into the real world. Only telepaths and SKIDS can interact with the maze. Jared Martel was charming, good looking, and was a bastard who needed a good killing but someone other than us finally caught up with him.

He was flayed alive, sprawled out in a dumpster on 18th street just next to the old town tavern. But lucky for us his body was still warm. You got to take your victories when you can. He took one hell of a beating before hand. Cracked tibias, broken ribs. The flaying alive was an added sadistic flourish. I’m just pissed I didn’t get to

Ki Tae – or Mind Hand is a telepathically/ telekinetically enhanced martial art. All the telepaths learn it. One hit and you can rip the mind of your opponent. If they’re meat. But I’m not meat.

I’m a S.K.I.D., it is an acronym for serial killer interception drone. A nanotechnological Android that hunts serial killer and rogue psychics. But we’ll keep my relationship with Lisa a secret for now.

With Jared Martel’s head encased in a thin sheen of diamond. I wanted to get home, make love and psycho-print what remains of this critters mind. But I can’t do that until Lisa pulls out the package gets past the traps and the mind bombs placed there by the Engine. You see the Engine feeds on fear and violence and pushes beings with these murderous inclinations just a fraction. Then they come along for the ride. Energy beings being of pure malicious thought.

3.

This ain't right. I say as we head to her apartment on 26th and Park Ave South.

What isn’t right? She says looking up at me. Blue Eyes wide, I know deep in her soul she wished she could read my mind.

Nothin darling. Just a lot on my mind

Liar. She said smiling with a smile so indistinct the Mona Lisa would envy. Her apartment was spacious, the art pre Raphelite / Southwestern fusion With a balcony. I put Jared Martel’s head on the kitchen table and poured myself a scotch.

She never kept anything in her fridge so I didn’t bother looking. My troops the nanites that make up my body were getting restless screaming for fuel. They quieted down after the first round. Imagine your body being made up of a billion irate atomic sized robotic wolverines with surlier disposition and obsessive compulsive disorder. That is my life.

Lisa had changed clothes to a lavender camisole and panties. She was going to get the package disarmed, open the package. Then we would make love, take a shower and go to bed. At least I hoped this was the plan. The head was still warm when I uncased it from the diamond sheath I put it in. I put my hand on the back of her neck to see what she saw. And she went it.

4.

Jared Martel’s section of the Maze was a jumble of bloody images plastered on brown brick walls. Lurid and tasteless. Lisa clad herself in a blue leather jumpsuit armed with two weapon rapier and daggor. The corridors twisted and turned and even the gravity was not being cooperative.

The floors were slick with blood. Hooks on the walls. On occasion a filet knife would dart at her and she would dodge it. She paused to disconnect a tripwire. A mind trap that would have opened a pit deep into decaying his subconscious. She would have been trapped, unable for me to get to her and she would die with his mind.

Across the horizon of the maze you could see them pouring from their towers silhouetted by the blood red sun, and waxing blue moon . The Spectres, feeding on the emotions of those few unfortunates who got lost in the labyrinth. They had almost absolute rule of the mindscape. Only a few brave souls stood up to them. But these incursions are hit and runs.

Lisa finally got to the package, a metaphoric briefcase. Sitting on a small desk, and there sat knowing he was dead was the grinning form of Jared Martel.

Lisa Blue I’m so glad you came to see me. Jared says leering

Not you sugar. I just want the package.

And. he says.

I need to know why the engine killed you.

Doors slammed behind her, windows barred shut.

Who said they did.

5.

I lost contact with her. It was a trap. I cradled her, picked her up and brought her inside my chest cavity. I figured it was the safest place. While she fought her battle. Her door blasted open and I saw the grinning face of Jared Martel.

6.

The first blows struck like jackhammers, I armored up and stood my ground. Grabbed him and took us out the balcony window to the roof of the building below. He saved himself from the fall and hovered in the air like an earthbound God. I formed a pair a diamond short blades and fell into comfortable escima form. Some cutting was about to happen.

Martel expanded his psionic form and reached out for her. Lisa Blue no stranger to Kit Tae pushed him back against the phantasmal crack house wall. She formed a swept hilt rapier and main gauche. As did he. Some cutting was about to happen.

I threw my right handed bladed and he telekinetically threw it aside like so me kind a pathetic annoyance. Then burn all the fuel I had in reserve. Leapt.

Martel’s rapier form was excellent, clean, and heavy on the thrusts. She kept disengaging waiting for the opening. His mind was split. The connection of the twin had to be severed. He drove through her center line and cut her across the midriff. He dexterity made her pull away before the weapon could really strike home. Steel flashed.

It was a good leap, 20ft straight up; I grabbed him like a long lost lover. Cutting across with the left knife grabbing his hair and ramming my forehead into his face. I stabbed several times a perfect X cut. Meat still feels pain. He threw us back down to the tar roof with a crash. Shit.

Shit ! The Maze was shaking like the Enterprise hit by a photon torpedo. Lisa almost lost her balance. Skidded fell back retreating with less than sure footwork. Disengage. Get him frustrated. He over extended a lunge cut his rest and leapt over him flipping in mid air. His form reversed itself. And grew two other arms. This was his mind. His reality, HIS UNIVERSE.

My troops were rebuilding as fast as they could. But the fuel was burning too fast for me to replace it. I had to keep Lisa safe. He levitated around me gloating.

Lisa Blue’s wound was bleeding badly. Gotta stay with it she thinks to herself.

All I have to tell you, Is that I am the purest of the Gemini. The two that are one

All I have to tell you, Is that I am the purest of the Gemini. The two that are one

Is that so, I says, Spitting up nanites. And push myself to my feet. A million atomic bodies aching.

Yeah sweetie, she says while fending off blows. You killed your twin. And kept his memories. But we are in his mind and it’s dying.

Then you go with me.

It was a bluff. I stood, bleeding. But defiant. The knife my only armament. I smile. That is where you’re wrong.

That is where you’re wrong, he says to me. In that briefcase are the combined horror, torture and degradation of all the Gemini murders. The Chaos Engine will take this gift and give me life again without form. About time you gave me something I could use. She says as she grabs the metaphoric brief case and runs. The Martel became bestial wolf or panther like and made chase running up the walls and the ceiling. Lisa Blue was running. Running for all she was worth as a universe closed around her.

The first blow shattered my left arm; I couldn’t regenerate it in time. Then as he closed I brought him into close range and jacked straight into his brain.

B, get out of there! Is all she hears as she sees the connection gate of her mind hand.

I scrambled his thoughts. Formed an edged blade out of my ruined knee and brought it straight in his.

The beast doubled over and fell. She turned and cut open the briefcase. She knew there was a mindbomb there. The pain and horror of all the Gemini’s victims flooded the hallway with faces. She saw the gate back her mind closing and jumped through the iris of her mind’s eye. Out of his head and back in her body.

Jared Martel fell.

Jared Martel fell.

The Gemini was dead.

I slowly brought her out of me. She was fine a little cut up but fine. Hey, says to me. You look like hell.

Buy a guy a drink was all I could say, before shutting down. And in the digital dream I saw girl, my goddess. And I sailed across those eyes to the horizon.

Part 2 -

the man who could not be killed part 2 - lover's promises

Roxanne my reliable chevy blazer moaned. I petted her gently on the dash and made all the promises neglectful lover’s make.

RONIN – I promise baby, this is the last time. I’ll fix you up.

My truck new I was lying. But she loved me.

I have to get the girl to Ernesto. One of the safe houses. The snow and icy rain pelted Roxanne like a million little fists. The cars and trucks were spinning out of control. The power was going to fail soon. I shoot down route 112 towards Port Jefferson. It’s on old town, by long island standards and older than most people know. It had a hand in the Setauket spy ring during the American revolution. Ernesto is former black ops, more specifically psyche ops. He’ll mess you mind nine ways to Sunday and you’ll still say a prayer for him.

The lights finally went out as the mist rolled in off the great South bay. All horrors seem to come from Conneticut. The Shade was feeding on children. This was not unheard of. But this one was feeding on youth. A vampiric pedophile that kepts his innocent playthings immortal. So they’d never grow up. Never age, never be too old for him.

Then I felt the thumps on the roof. It sent a few of it’s puppets at me. I plowed into the woods with the girl babbling in Spanish. The puppets are servitors, feral Nosferatum dead pale alabaster skinned with verticle mouths up the center of their peeled skeletal faces. Their eyes, black as a sharks, no discernable nose. Their limbs appear as a skinless corpse of muscle, flesh and exposed bone. They were robed in black and strong as Johnny Walker blue but without the smoothness.

My truck skidded as it hit the wood. The two flew off. Bounced off the trees none the worse for wear. I was lightly armed, one Barong, and my Cavalry sabre. I thought of the duel I fought in Port Jerrson son long ago, and I thought of Emma.

One was going for the girl, One for me.

The one going for the girl smashed my side window and was truying to pull her out. I was more worried about the the smarter one. It would skin me and wear my flesh. After of course feeding on me for it’s master.

It fought with a katar and scimitar. It swung the scimitar hitting Roxanne on the hood with a loudish clang. I dodged. Lunged then took to the air with a cavalry cut. It swept under with the katar and we spun giving me enough of an opening to clip it on the back of the head. The hit would have killed a human. I just managed to irritate it. It backhanded my sending me into the trees about twenty feet. It looked at me and charged. It came at my in prima. I went to quarta. It swung. I parried and splayed down. It was commiting too much to the thrust, not out of carlessness but opportunism, it was biting at my chest. I pommeled it onn both sides of it’s head, and then brought my blades across. Taking off it’s head.

The sun would get rid of the evidence. The girl was gone but now I had a trail.

Part 3 – Earth and Sky

Gods it was cold. Following the trail in the snow. Then I saw the blood. Dammit it was mine. I grabbed my cell and with numb fingers dialed Ernesto. I couldn’t afford to lose conscoi………….

GABRIEL/BETH - Chalice speaks to you in whispers.

So cold………

He was the definition of solidity, as if no other form of matter could define him. She was his complimentary antonym. Ethreal, intangible

RONIN – I am a fortress.

GABRIEL – Castles isolate.

Parry, dodge.

GABRIEL – And all eventually fall under siege.

As part of this I got to describe thr training. I'll do it in three words. It ain't easy.

Chalice will tell you what she can of her champions. My teacher was Gabriel Cross and his wife Beth. Gabe was strong, surly, mean and gifted. He always told me.

GABRIEL - You got the hands of a pianist, too bad you got the ears of a stone.

RONIN - Don't have the makings of an artist.

GABRIEL - Then all you'll ever be able to draw is blood.

He was a jazz musician and everything came from him in waves of geometric improvisation. Beth ,his wife, was the devout one. They split the tasks of my education. He taught me the blade and she taught me to see. Gabe had the titanium balls for a black man to marry a Jewish girl against both their families wishes in the 1930's. Beth could lay down a beating as well as any. As a team of hunters they were forthright and meticulous. But beth always the more spiritual one always called me to her"golem". I was always more mehcanical in my faith a construct of clay and rage. She knew from the first day that I loved them. But knew I would never admit it. Except in prose where I could chalk up any sentiment to scotch.

Smoke wafted through their brownstone in Harlem. SHe respecting my gift for language and bearing teeth for my lack of self discipline.

RONIN - I was beginning to think my name was big ugly white guy.

Parry - ripost - hit - dammit.

GABRIEL - I'll just call you high yellow.

Then Beth would train me.

SHe whacked me on the back of the head. I used to think that it was Hebrew for Affection.

GABRIEL – GET UP!!!!!

BETH - If you die because of your recless abandon.

RONIN - That's hurtful.

She lands a punch to the solar plexius.

BETH - Which hurts more? You sholudn't be throwing around your metaphors like that.

GABRIEL - The boy invites disaster.

BETH – You can’t rely on fortitude, there is also agility.

I continued.

RONIN - If I die.

BETH - When you die. be specific.

RONIN - WHen I die. It better not be because of carelessness.

BETH - Carelessness is cowardice of planning.

RONIN - SO when I die.

GABRIEL/CHALICE – GET UP!!!!!!

BETH - Don't bother to haunt me. Ghosts are easy to ignore.

Well some are anyway.

RONIN - I'm gutted that you said that.

She tipped her head and looked up at me with those big brown animae eyes, drawing a steel Hibbon Claw lightly across my engorged stomach.

BETH - Be glad I gutted you with words.

There was a kiai. Then I lost consciousness.

The training and basic information takes about a year. Wisdom takes longer. After one too many raps to the head he'd gently yet forcibly grab my by my once ample hair.

GABRIEL - Your head although you don't use it for a damn thing, is only good for a hatrack if you keep giving it to me.

Then I lost consciousness.

They introduced me to Emma and knew that she was the one person I couldn't bully, fight, outthink, or fuck my way passed.

GABRIEL - Some day you'll learn.

BETH - I just hope we'll be around to see it. Oh the mockery that would ensue.

RONIN - Alot of mockery?

GABRIEL - Mockery, In buckets and barrels, flooding the lowlands and filling the gullies.

RONIN - You wound me.

I said jokingly. Then I lost consciousness.

Rince and repeat.

GABRIEL/CHALICE/BETH – GET UP!!!!!!!!

I awoke to Ernesto and Calico. The safehouse. Calico was curled up ficklely at th foot of the Bed.

ERNESTO – Big Dumb ass Viking. You are a bitch to carry.

CALICO – He’s been complainy all night.

ERNESTO – And you don’t complain.

CALICO – I’ve accepted my divinity.

RONIN – I don’t mean to blaspheme then. But where is the girl? I don’t even know her name.

ERNESTO – You speak six languages and you don’t speak Spanish.

CALICO – Same reason he doesn’t read Harry Potter, false non conformity.

RONIN – Good to see you too Kitty.

ERNESTO – You lost her, It’ll be daybreak soon. We can search for her then.

Part 4 – Disposal

Calico was tracing the scars on Ronin’s chest. With a long nail. She was one of Gabriel and Beths’s as well.

CALICO – It’s like a roadmap to Hell.

RONIN – You are a sweetheart. And if I recall you gave me some of these.

CALICO – Only a few. I plan on adding more.

RONIN – So it’s a work in progress

Calico kisses him gently on the center of the chest. Followed by a gentle bite. Like a signature. She had luxiorius long brown hair this daughter of Bast. The eyes were golden like the luster of sunlight on the ocean. She was grace.

CALICO – Lake will see you soon, she needs you to crack the cypher on that document for her.

RONIN – The one from the vatican archives?

Calico turned away and gleefully hopped up the stairs two at a time.

Ronin got to his feet. He heard the stacatto rhythym of Ernesto’s cane as he went down the stairs. An echo of memory came. Emma, blood, snow, the snow had has a shining surface from frozen rain the night before. It gleamed, like a knife. She was begin dragged.

DANTE – SHE’S TURNED PUT HER DOWN RO!!!!!!!!!

Ronin shuttered at the memory as Ernesto came. The leg ravaged by an old battle. The cane beatifully hand carved.

Victim number three is on the table if you want to look. They had found the body a few days earlier near a dumpster in Bellport behind a clsed down diner. SEX written in purplish spraypain on a dark green dumpster. A starved german shephered mix on a choker also tied to it. It had been sick and dying gnawing on the corpse. The corpse was also small, youngish, south american most likely. Sold into prostitution. She was being forced fed, methanoll alchohol for evidence removal. To keep her from changing. This vamp. The Vampire peophile was most likely using the coyotes to bring illegals across the border and keeping them as slaves. Undocumented and unmissed, he self lost in uncaring and delibearely blind translation.

Having seen enough autopsies. He knew the drill but the smell assaulted his senses like a cult leaders incessent rants.

RONIN – What’s that smell.

ERNESTO – Formaldyhyde. Mehanol metabolizes in the body as formaldehyde. As you can see she has massive eye damage. If you look ather damaged liver and kidneys as well.

RONIN - Christ.

ERNESTO - Bless yourself you heathen.

I did as I was told. A well trained catholic.

RONIN - Moonshine, wood in the mash.

ERNESTO - Whomever this is has a still.

RONIN - How was it ingested.

ERNESTO - Most likely alcohol bath and force feeding.

RONIN - How long.

ERNESTO - gotta get to her, soon.

Ernesto muttered something in spanish. All i could get was that in was a Hail Mary. I may not have Spanish but I have enough italian to make sense of it. Enresto studied to be a priest in his younger days. The dogma sloughed off like old skin but the colloid faith was apparent.

The feeding was ritualized, jugular and femoral. The master vamp was concerned only about turning a few but not all.

ENRESTO – The master vampire wants them clean. The cleansing of the inside as well as the out. She was most likely blind and half mad from the poisoning. Like whatever it is tried to purge the original sin from her. She’s been dead too long for Blue to read anything from her.

RONIN – How’s Roxanne.

ERNESTO – She’s putting herself back together.

RONIN – my gear.

ERNESTO – Safe and secure.

RONIN – You called him didn’t you?

ERNESTO – Both of them.

RONIN – I got no issue with the Mic but ……..

ENRNESTO – You need a crew again. Start training and teaching again.

RONIN – Chalice has me writing….

ERNESTO – You’re out of it. Hit the sack. If I’m right and that’s a given, you’ll be storming a slave brothel by tonight We might as well use the power outage to our advantage.

END OF PART 1

man who could not be killed part 4 - Disposal

2011-02-06T17:51:00.001-08:00

Calico was tracing the scars on Ronin’s chest. With a long nail. She was one of Gabriel and Beths’s as well.

CALICO – It’s like a roadmap to Hell.

RONIN – You are a sweetheart. And if I recall you gave me some of these.

CALICO – Only a few. I plan on adding more.

RONIN – So it’s a work in progress

Calico kisses him gently on the center of the chest. Followed by a gentle bite. Like a signature. She had luxiorius long brown hair this daughter of Bast. The eyes were golden like the luster of sunlight on the ocean. She was grace.

CALICO – Lake will see you soon, she needs you to crack the cypher on that document for her.

RONIN – The one from the vatican archives?

Calico turned away and gleefully hopped up the stairs two at a time.

Ronin got to his feet. He heard the stacatto rhythym of Ernesto’s cane as he went down the stairs. An echo of memory came. Emma, blood, snow, the snow had has a shining surface from frozen rain the night before. It gleamed, like a knife. She was begin dragged.

DANTE – SHE’S TURNED PUT HER DOWN RO!!!!!!!!!

Ronin shuttered at the memory as Ernesto came. The leg ravaged by an old battle. The cane beatifully hand carved.

Victim number three is on the table if you want to look. They had found the body a few days earlier near a dumpster in Bellport behind a clsed down diner. SEX written in purplish spraypain on a dark green dumpster. A starved german shephered mix on a choker also tied to it. It had been sick and dying gnawing on the corpse. The corpse was also small, youngish, south american most likely. Sold into prostitution. She was being forced fed, methanoll alchohol for evidence removal. To keep her from changing. This vamp. The Vampire peophile was most likely using the coyotes to bring illegals across the border and keeping them as slaves. Undocumented and unmissed, he self lost in uncaring and delibearely blind translation.

Having seen enough autopsies. He knew the drill but the smell assaulted his senses like a cult leaders incessent rants.

RONIN – What’s that smell.

ERNESTO – Formaldyhyde. Mehanol metabolizes in the body as formaldehyde. As you can see she has massive eye damage. If you look ather damaged liver and kidneys as well.

RONIN - Christ.

ERNESTO - Bless yourself you heathen.

I did as I was told. A well trained catholic.

RONIN - Moonshine, wood in the mash.

ERNESTO - Whomever this is has a still.

RONIN - How was it ingested.

ERNESTO - Most likely alcohol bath and force feeding.

RONIN - How long.

ERNESTO - gotta get to her, soon.

Ernesto muttered something in spanish. All i could get was that in was a Hail Mary. I may not have Spanish but I have enough italian to make sense of it. Enresto studied to be a priest in his younger days. The dogma sloughed off like old skin but the colloid faith was apparent.

The feeding was ritualized, jugular and femoral. The master vamp was concerned only about turning a few but not all.

ENRESTO – The master vampire wants them clean. The cleansing of the inside as well as the out. She was most likely blind and half mad from the poisoning. Like whatever it is tried to purge the original sin from her. She’s been dead too long for Blue to read anything from her.

RONIN – How’s Roxanne.

ERNESTO – She’s putting herself back together.

RONIN – my gear.

ERNESTO – Safe and secure.

RONIN – You called him didn’t you?

ERNESTO – Both of them.

RONIN – I got no issue with the Mic but ……..

ENRNESTO – You need a crew again. Start training and teaching again.

RONIN – Chalice has me writing….

ERNESTO – You’re out of it. Hit the sack. If I’m right and that’s a given, you’ll be storming a slave brothel by tonight We might as well use the power outage to our advantage.

.

man who could not be killed part 3 - Earth and Sky

2011-02-03T13:32:00.000-08:00

Gods it was cold. Following the trail in the snow. Then I saw the blood. Dammit it was mine. I grabbed my cell and with numb fingers dialed Ernesto. I couldn’t afford to lose conscoi………….

GABRIEL/BETH - Chalice speaks to you in whispers.

So cold………

He was the definition of solidity, as if no other form of matter could define him. She was his complimentary antonym. Ethreal, intangible

RONIN – I am a fortress.

GABRIEL – Castles isolate.

Parry, dodge.

GABRIEL – And all eventually fall under siege.

As part of this I got to describe thr training. I'll do it in three words. It ain't easy.

Chalice will tell you what she can of her champions. My teacher was Gabriel Cross and his wife Beth. Gabe was strong, surly, mean and gifted. He always told me.

GABRIEL - You got the hands of a pianist, too bad you got the ears of a stone.

RONIN - Don't have the makings of an artist.

GABRIEL - Then all you'll ever be able to draw is blood.

He was a jazz musician and everything came from him in waves of geometric improvisation. Beth ,his wife, was the devout one. They split the tasks of my education. He taught me the blade and she taught me to see. Gabe had the titanium balls for a black man to marry a Jewish girl against both their families wishes in the 1930's. Beth could lay down a beating as well as any. As a team of hunters they were forthright and meticulous. But beth always the more spiritual one always called me to her"golem". I was always more mehcanical in my faith a construct of clay and rage. She knew from the first day that I loved them. But knew I would never admit it. Except in prose where I could chalk up any sentiment to scotch.

Smoke wafted through their brownstone in Harlem. SHe respecting my gift for language and bearing teeth for my lack of self discipline.

RONIN - I was beginning to think my name was big ugly white guy.

Parry - ripost - hit - dammit.

GABRIEL - I'll just call you high yellow.

Then Beth would train me.

SHe whacked me on the back of the head. I used to think that it was Hebrew for Affection.

GABRIEL – GET UP!!!!!

BETH - If you die because of your recless abandon.

RONIN - That's hurtful.

She lands a punch to the solar plexius.

BETH - Which hurts more? You sholudn't be throwing around your metaphors like that.

GABRIEL - The boy invites disaster.

BETH – You can’t rely on fortitude, there is also agility.

I continued.

RONIN - If I die.

BETH - When you die. be specific.

RONIN - WHen I die. It better not be because of carelessness.

BETH - Carelessness is cowardice of planning.

RONIN - SO when I die.

GABRIEL/CHALICE – GET UP!!!!!!

BETH - Don't bother to haunt me. Ghosts are easy to ignore.

Well some are anyway.

RONIN - I'm gutted that you said that.

She tipped her head and looked up at me with those big brown animae eyes, drawing a steel Hibbon Claw lightly across my engorged stomach.

BETH - Be glad I gutted you with words.

There was a kiai. Then I lost consciousness.

The training and basic information takes about a year. Wisdom takes longer. After one too many raps to the head he'd gently yet forcibly grab my by my once ample hair.

GABRIEL - Your head although you don't use it for a damn thing, is only good for a hatrack if you keep giving it to me.

Then I lost consciousness.

They introduced me to Emma and knew that she was the one person I couldn't bully, fight, outthink, or fuck my way passed.

GABRIEL - Some day you'll learn.

BETH - I just hope we'll be around to see it. Oh the mockery that would ensue.

RONIN - Alot of mockery?

GABRIEL - Mockery, In buckets and barrels, flooding the lowlands and filling the gullies.

RONIN - You wound me.

I said jokingly. Then I lost consciousness.

Rince and repeat.

GABRIEL/CHALICE/BETH – GET UP!!!!!!!!

I awoke to Ernesto and Calico. The safehouse. Calico was curled up ficklely at th foot of the Bed.

ERNESTO – Big Dumb ass Viking. You are a bitch to carry.

CALICO – He’s been complainy all night.

ERNESTO – And you don’t complain.

CALICO – I’ve accepted my divinity.

RONIN – I don’t mean to blaspheme then. But where is the girl? I don’t even know her name.

ERNESTO – You speak six languages and you don’t speak Spanish.

CALICO – Same reason he doesn’t read Harry Potter, false non conformity.

RONIN – Good to see you too Kitty.

ERNESTO – You lost her, It’ll be daybreak soon. We can search for her then.

man who could not be killed part 3 - Earth and Sky

2011-02-03T12:33:00.001-08:00

Gods it was cold. Following the trail in the snow. Then I saw the blood. Dammit it was mine. I grabbed my cell and with numb fingers dialed Ernesto. I couldn’t afford to lose conscoi………….

GABRIEL/BETH - Chalice speaks to you in whispers.

So cold………

He was the definition of solidity, as if no other form of matter could define him. She was his complimentary antonym. Ethreal, intangible

RONIN – I am a fortress.

GABRIEL – Castles isolate.

Parry, dodge.

GABRIEL – And all eventually fall under seige.

As part of this I got to describe thr training. I'll do it in three words. It ain't easy.

Chalice will tell you what she can of her champions. My teacher was Gabriel Cross and his wife Beth. Gabe was strong, surly, mean and gited. He always told me.

GABRIEL - You got the hands of a pianist, too bad you got the ears of a stone.

RONIN - DOn't have the makings of an artist.

GABRIEL - Then all you'll ever be able to draw is blood.

He was a jazz musician and everything came fro m him in waves of geometric improvisation. Beth ,his wife, was the devout one. They split the tasks of my education. He taught me the blade and she taught me to see. Gabe had the titanium balls for a black man to marry a Jewish girl against both their families wishes in the 1930's. Beth could lay down a beating as well as any. As a team of hunters they were forthright and meticulous. But beth always the more spiritual one always called me to her"golem". I was always more mehcanical in my faith a construct of clay and rage. She knew from the first day that I loved them. But knew I would never admit it. Except in prose where I could chalk up any sentiment to scotch.

Smoke wafted through their brownstone in Harlem. SHe respecting my gift for language and bearing teeth for my lack of self discipline.

RONIN - I was beginning to think my name was big ugly white guy.

Parry - ripost - hit - dammit.

GABRIEL - I'll just call you high yellow.

Then Beth would train me.

SHe whacked me on the back of the head. I used to think that it was Hebrew for Affection.

GABRIEL – GET UP!!!!!

BETH - If you die because of your recless abandon,

RONIN - That's hurtful.

Punch to the solar plexius.

BETH - Which hurt more. You sholudn't be throwing around your metaphors like that.

GABRIEL - The boy invites disaster.

BETH – You can’t rely on fortitude, there is also agility.

I continued.

RONIN - If I die.

BETH - WHen you die. be specific.

RONIN - WHen I die. It better not be because of carelessness.

BETH - Carelessness is cawardice of planning.

RONIN - SO when I die.

GABRIEL/CHALICE – GET UP!!!!!!

BETH - don't bother to haunt me. Ghosts are easy to ignore.

Well some are anyway.

RONIN - I'm gutted that you said that.

She tipped her head and looked up at me with those big brown animae eyes, drawing a steel Hibbon Claw lightly across my engorged stomach.

BETH - Be glad I gutted you with words. There was a kiai. Then I lost consciousness.

The training and basic information takes about a year. Wisdom takes longer. After one too many raps to the head he'd gently yet forcibly grab my by my once ample hair.

GABRIEL - Your head although you don't use it for a damn thing, is only good for a hatrack if you keep giving it to me.

Then I lost consciousness.

They introduced me to Emma and knew that she was the one person I couldn't bully, fight, outthink, or fuck my way past.

GABRIEL - Some day you'll learn.

BETH - I just hope we'll be around to see it. Oh the mockery that would ensue.

RONIN - Alot of mockery?

GABRIEL - Mockery, In buckets and barrels, flooding the lowlands and filling the gullies.

RONIN - You wound me.

I said jokingly. Then I lost consciousness.

Rince and repeat.

GABRIEL/CHALICE/BETH – GET UP!!!!!!!!

I awoke to Ernesto and Calico. The safehouse. Calico was curled up ficklely at th foot of the Bed.

ERNESTO – Big Dumb ass Viking. You are a bitch to carry.

CALICO – He’s been complainy all night.

ERNESTO – And you don’t complain.

CALICO – I’ve accepted my divinity.

RONIN – I don’t mean to blaspheme then. But where is the girl? I don’t even know her name.

ERNESTO – You speak six languages and you don’t speak Spanish.

CALICO – Same reason he doesn’t read Harry Potter, false non conformity.

RONIN – Good to see you too Kitty.

ERNESTO – You lost her, It’ll be daybreak soon. We can search for her then.

the man who could not be killed part 2 - lover's promises

2011-02-02T09:53:00.001-08:00

Roxanne my reliable chevy blazer moaned. I petted her gently on the dash and made all the promises neglectful lover’s make.
RONIN – I promise baby, this is the last time. I’ll fix you up.
My truck new I was lying. But she loved me.
I have to get the girl to Ernesto. One of the safe houses. The snow and icy rain pelted Roxanne like a million little fists. The cars and trucks were spinning out of control. The power was going to fail soon. I shoot down route 112 towards Port Jefferson. It’s on old town, by long island standards and older than most people know. It had a hand in the Setauket spy ring during the American revolution. Ernesto is former black ops, more specifically psyche ops. He’ll mess you mind nine ways to Sunday and you’ll still say a prayer for him.
The lights finally went out as the mist rolled in off the SOund. All horrors seem to come from Conneticut. The Shade was feeding on children. This was not unheard of. But this one was feeding on youth. A vampiric pedophile that kepts his innocent playthings immortal. So they’d never grow up. Never age, never be too old for him.
Then I felt the thumps on the roof. It sent a few of it’s puppets at me. I plowed into the woods with the girl babbling in Spanish. The puppets are servitors, feral Nosferatum dead pale alabaster skinned with verticle mouths up the center of their peeled skeletal faces. Their eyes, black as a sharks, no discernable nose. Their limbs appear as a skinless corpse of muscle, flesh and exposed bone. They were robed in black and strong as Johnny Walker blue but without the smoothness.
My truck skidded as it hit the wood. The two flew off. Bounced off the trees none the worse for wear. I was lightly armed, one Barong, and my Cavalry sabre. I thought of the duel I fought in Port Jerrson son long ago, and I thought of Emma.
One was going for the girl, One for me.
The one going for the girl smashed my side window and was truying to pull her out. I was more worried about the the smarter one. It would skin me and wear my flesh. After of course feeding on me for it’s master.
It fought with a katar and scimitar. It swung the scimitar hitting Roxanne on the hood with a loudish clang. I dodged. Lunged then took to the air with a cavalry cut. It swept under with the katar and we spun giving me enough of an opening to clip it on the back of the head. The hit would have killed a human. I just managed to irritate it. It backhanded my sending me into the trees about twenty feet. It looked at me and charged. It came at my in prima. I went to quarta. It swung. I parried and splayed down. It was commiting too much to the thrust, not out of carlessness but opportunism, it was biting at my chest. I pommeled it onn both sides of it’s head, and then brought my blades across. Taking off it’s head.
The sun would get rid of the evidence. The girl was gone but now I had a trail.

The man who could not be killed - hunter story part 1

2011-01-22T09:48:00.001-08:00

She was young, half dressed and hysterical walking down the highway. It was cold and a fresh layer of Decmeber snow had fallen on the ground. I repressed the Memeory of a a winter 20 years earlier when I heeded the call for revenge. First mission was to get her out of traffic. Careless humanity honking horns speeding passed. Some men slowing down asking if she wanted a ride. Well ride something at least. I pulled over said a short prayer and thanked my truck for holding itself together. The police would come soon and I knew she was either a vic or bait. The bites were apparent and there was a nest nearby. I could hear Calice talking to me her voice, an echoing vibrato like she was talking through a fan. Indistinct at first it became clearer and clearer.

CHALICE – Save her.

RONIN – What do you think I’m doing boss.

Traffic started to screech to a halt. A few choice words were spoken by some young touch until he saw me and promptly learned the value of silence. Sinatra Blue eyes beneath a face that looked like 10 miles of bad road. My hair blonde and graying cut short to keep out of my eyes. I wasn’t undercover so I was me for the first time in a while.

I scooped her up, she weighed nothing. She was tiny. About 24, hispanic. Tan skin peering out of a red lingerie. She was babbling in Spanish. “Feo”

I forced down my inate lechery.

CHALICE – Repress that.

RONIN – Already on it boss.

My truck is named Roxanne for the heroine muse of another ugly hero. Roxie has always treated me well. I put the vic or bait in the back. She hadn’t turned.

Chalice appear differently to every hunter. Some of us have even speculated she’s a kind of shared hallucination. But you always recognize her. She gives you some assignments. She puts people in your path to train. I have an idea of who she is. But I ain’t telling just yet.

She appeared to me, Emma’s face. White face, blooded lips and dead eyes.

CHALICE – Get her someplace safe and warm.

RONIN – Yeah boss, I figured.

CHALICE – As much as you are one of my favorites. You need to start training again. The average life expectancy of a hunter is five years. You’ve been doing it twenty. You know what the other crews call you.

RONIN – The man who can’t be killed.

CHALICE – Let’s not make liars of them, Shall we my knight.

She always called me “My knight” as a harsh reminder of Emma. To me we hunters were always somewhere between Knight, Viking, Samurai, and Gladiator. Fighting to earn our spurs and freedom from the madness. We travel fight the wars and are as much her vassals as part of her stable. Sometimes it was as much about the story of the fight and the roar of the crowd who’s cheers and boos we could hear.

Some idiots believe that humanity is secretly under the thrall of alien lizards and radio waves are a form of mind control controlled by a pro Zionist conspiracy. These bastards are perfect fodder for the shades. Yes the governments know there are monsters and yes they have been in bed with some of the more civilized shades for some time. Don't trust anyone unless they're your crew of they've been vetted Chalice. Her intelligence ops keep eyes on everything. She can give you reconassaince and targets. She also is not adverse to giving orders.

Not to get her someplace safe and warm. And I need a drink.

a little prep - Prologue 2

2011-01-21T11:49:00.001-08:00

The thing about hunting monsters is that you have got to be scarier than they are. When the Shades tranforms and the veneer of reality melts away like a cheap candle, When you are facing some unknowable thing straigtht out of nightmares the best you can do is listen to your amygdala. Fight or flight.

Trust no one but your crew. Your team and contacts are what keep you alive. Chalice is good for that. Putting red herrings in the way of Shade and servitor alike. Do not get caught. Torture is an ineffective means of getting information but it is an even worse way to die. If you get caught, this isn't the movies where your crew can launch a rescue operation and get you home safe and sound before the commercial break. If you get caught and it's a choice between you and your crew. Have you crew put a bullet in your head. No one withstands torture and you will give up everything to save yourself.
You have to know what your facing and always be prepared. Always have a gun. They never work against the big bads themselves or their servents but they tend to put down those annoying humans. Mr. Colt made everyone equal. For the Shades your best bet is steel and wood. You have to know how to fight with weapon and fist. And even more annoying some of the shades don't disintergrate in sunlight. So you have the added problem of corpse removal and evidence tampering. You do not get caught. It's always good to have a legend prepared to through the human autorities off the scent. I'll get more into that later.

The madness of the job creeps in. The horror bleeds into your psyche. It’s unavoidable. We all cope in different ways.

Understnading is key. I carry a few hunting kits in my truck for just such occasions. Do not make too much of a show of yourself. Do not stnd out, until you have to. When stalking the shades it's best you make yourself the target.

I will elaborate more on preparations and the cultivation of assets later. You will learn to use money, ideology, cpmpromise and ego to extortion to turn the human against their best interest. Know your prey. Find the chinks in the armor and peel away the well designed masks. Everyone has secrets.

We are just flesh. Chalice knows this. But we made the descision to fight and they can keep you going with intel and safe houses. If there is even a suspision of being turned, crew or not. I'll kill you myself.

As you put together you gear remember. This isn't about justice, it's about revenge.

Rules of the game

2011-01-20T08:32:00.001-08:00

Rules of the Game - The Rule of 3

I hate those idiots who think that vampires are romantic and tragic creatures. They dress in black and complaint about life as if Nihilism was an original concept. It's too damn easy to bitch and complain. But that nonsense stops when you are balls deep in blood. Vampires ,which we in the profession call shades, exist in some many different forms. There are as many types of Shade as there methods of predation. They've been with us from time immemorial and will outlast us until the sun goes nova. I give you this warning. If you take up the fight realize you will die violently, emotionally scarred, insane and invariably alone. When Chalice asked me to write a guide about "Monster Slaying" I relunctantly took up the challenge. I'm Ronin a masterless hunter. I broke my ties with order years ago. Sacrificing a support network for autonomy.

Rule 1 - All Shades must feed on something, it could be blood, flesh, strength, beauty, intelligence, youth, heartache, fear or a myriad of other things. Each is unique and what kills one won't necessarily kill another.
Rule 2 - Hit it with cold steel or wood till it stops moving, remove the head and heart, then burn it. In my experience this will kill 80% of the Shades out there. The method also kills humans 100% or the time, just incase you are wondering. Other weaknesses specific to them may become apparent. Do your research.
Rule 3 - Stay alive.

The following tales are from my journals.

Stay alive and Keep Hitting.

to phil, my teacher

2011-01-15T09:52:00.001-08:00

the time never changes
drifts in fields of snow
a scope to find the ranges
of who and what I know
my own self unforgiven
...and facing the times black
a word once given
turned to an attack
but on I go to the chill
blood falling to the white
my loss a winter's kill
and thus the hearts delight

Shakespearean Insults and fights

2011-01-08T15:07:00.000-08:00

Directions:
Combine one word from each of the three columns below, preface with "Thou" and thus shalt thou have the perfect insult. Let thyself go -- mix and match to find a barb worthy of the Bard

Or

Convert it into a fight using the alphabet

Column 1 Column 2 Column 3
artless base-co...urt apple-john
bawdy bat-fowling baggage
beslubbering beef-witted barnacle
bootless beetle-headed bladder
churlish boil-brained boar-pig
cockered clapper-clawed bugbear
clouted clay-brained bum-bailey
craven common-kissing canker-blossom
currish crook-pated clack-dish
dankish dismal-dreaming clotpole
dissembling dizzy-eyed coxcomb
droning doghearted codpiece
errant dread-bolted death-token
fawning earth-vexing dewberry
fobbing elf-skinned flap-dragon
froward fat-kidneyed flax-wench
frothy fen-sucked flirt-gill
gleeking flap-mouthed foot-licker
goatish fly-bitten fustilarian
gorbellied folly-fallen giglet
impertinent fool-born gudgeon
infectious full-gorged haggard
jarring guts-griping harpy
loggerheaded half-faced hedge-pig
lumpish hasty-witted horn-beast
mammering hedge-born hugger-mugger
mangled hell-hated jolthead
mewling idle-headed lewdster
paunchy ill-breeding lout
pribbling ill-nurtured maggot-pie
puking knotty-pated malt-worm
puny milk-livered mammet
quailing motley-minded measle
rank onion-eyed minnow
reeky plume-plucked miscreant
roguish pottle-deep moldwarp
ruttish pox-marked mumble-news
saucy reeling-ripe nut-hook
spleeny rough-hewn pigeon-egg
spongy rude-growing pignut
surly rump-fed puttock
tottering shard-borne pumpion
unmuzzled sheep-biting ratsbane
vain spur-galled scut
venomed swag-bellied skainsmate
villainous tardy-gaited strumpet
warped tickle-brained varlot
wayward toad-spotted vassal
weedy unchin-snouted whey-face
yeasty weather-bitten wagtailSee More

2011-01-04T11:40:00.001-08:00

Hippocrates had once said
As Galen gladiators tended
Where sensation and though were wed
When head injury went unmended

......Tis some mystery why neurons fire
In thoughts both stern and ecclectic
no wonder why we describe desire
In terms of the electric

Like Venice we have ion channel,
Gondoliers wade not in vein,
Neurotransmitters span a great well,
For both pleasure and pain,

So daring in this electric maze
where phantasmal dragon dwell
The seat of souls are where wit plays
When you have it’s tale to tell.

war paint and ash

2010-12-17T21:53:00.005-08:00

There are the hardest lesson learn,
when fire and clock save face,
in sadness tears may burn,
when with the pyre and cruel time race,

soot becomes our paint of war,
our faces stoic and stern,
when in that season of hell we tour,
for a few more minutes yearn,

we go where others don't,
an we have to stay appearing strong,
but sometimes the fascade wont,
hide the tears of a lost song.

so in the quiestest rage,
the anger we must contain,
when paper embers of temder age.
of a song cut short a refrain

war paint and ash

2010-12-17T21:53:00.001-08:00

a skald in winter

2010-12-16T09:25:00.001-08:00

A SKALD IN WINTER

There is a weaving. The patterns translated from the sinawali madness.
I was asked by a buddy of mine who after years of training got into a fight and hurt the opponent badly. He wrote me terrified and I started writing back. He asked my how do I reconcile what I can do with my hands with the realities of the world. How do I deal with the sad culture of text before talk? How do I deal with the catastrophic inequities of power? There have been too many times in my life when it would have been so much easier to confront condescension with barbarism. When the person behind the desk desperately needed their blood spilled as a life lesson. There are too many who never had to shed blood to survive or even eat. There are too many that didn’t risk their health for a paycheck. Normally I live go to “the Flow” and use it to live formless in the moment. I try to be like water, sometimes I am rain to stream, stream to river, river to ocean, ocean to vapor, vapor to rain. I use improvised poetry and weaving patterns of steel. The snow has caught my attention now. I am frozen. I am a creature out of time. The words are exo-skeletal they hold me together with pins and screws scars and stories. The water is converted to steam that pushes what’s left of my body in iron armor. My mind goes back to when I was a brutalized shy kid, then to my cold and cruel guro, then to my past careers. There are only fighter’s allowed here.
The point is always at the opponent’s eyes. I had to ask him. Who are you fighting, the weapon or the person behind it? And aren’t you also behind the weapon. These enemies, they are fiercer than any monster, blacker than any troll, they are subtle and deceitful the one’s that steal your soul. We are and fight the Dreaming shadow in skin. SO with blackest ink I pour out the remnants my soul on to paper, cold and clean like a field in snow. You are also the one behind the pen. There are too many dragon’s to slay without you doing war with yourself. In the end we are all memory. Just be sure you have a good tale to tell, and be on the right side of the blade when Morrigan comes.
We are the shears of the Fates.

Ballad of the Sky Knight

2010-12-14T13:52:00.001-08:00

When those diamond stars fall
And sounds of intimate thunder
Entranced the spirit recall
The power glory and wonder

In the sepulcher flesh entomb,
Blood and bone of little worth,
This shell tis the spirit womb,
And weaves it for rebirth.

Be it memory ghost or wraith,
A chilling touch define,
Love and war are acts of faith,
When earthen powers devine.

A scholar in book scribe,
The soldier to his task,
The poet to his glass imbibe,
The terrible wisdom of the flask,

Heat and pressure forge the stone,
Conflict of clouds a bolt form,
In the fray you aren’t alone,
When daring to love the storm

I don the armor

2010-12-09T18:27:00.001-08:00

I don the armor,
The scars scribe a tome
Placing it with honor,
The blade finds it home

Shifting chains of steel,
This battered coat of mail,
Links to fortune’s wheel,
What this instrument avail.

And to my ancient marrow,
And hairs of bleeding gray,
Two steps from the barrow,
This bastard of the fray,

The tome is of the music,
The song runs forward and back,
In times both joyful and tragic,
When heart’s own shadow attack.

The song still ear caress,
And tis love’s battle cry,
And in these cloaks address,
The bardic trysting tie,

For the armor is of honor,
And the scars are of fate,
The blade its own charmer,
Defies despite the weight

There I sip from the chalice,
And face the night a knight.
To old hands so callous,
Coveting this fight.

2010-12-08T10:35:00.001-08:00

If you look to others for fulfillment, you will never truly be fulfilled. If your happiness depends on money, you will never be happy with yourself. Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you. -Lao Tzu

2010-12-01T13:41:00.001-08:00

She has eyes of twilight

and silver laughter

a blessing to sight

that smile I'm after

a warrior poet's duty,

in his own swashbuckling style,

he writes a poem for this beauty

in hopes to make her smile

so to you, I know it's raining

and we look to graying skies,

my goal is in the obtaining

of being lost in twilight eyes

combat and love

2010-12-01T09:25:00.001-08:00

They say that love is combat
Barbs flying by the score
Hopes and expectation say that
This is the purest war.

The parties tell their story
Each from lack of information
And soon the fight is gory
Through lack of communication

“Tell me what you want”, you ask
But “you should already know” replied,
The espionage hides a mask
Of the problem you have spied

It is in the strike dodge and thrust,
And the often well timed parry,
One can mistake love for lust,
And to that illusion marry.

Of all the fights I have lived,
Under bloody moon and sun,
Unchecked words go un-forgived,
With intimacy as the weapon,

Conscience weighted in bloody red,
And the pain will not surcease,
When all is said, Ishtar bled
My love is still my peace

war and winning

2010-11-18T10:33:00.001-08:00

There is no war
That cannot be won
With courage in store
and mead by the ton

As long as there is meat,
and blood, bone for fire,
sweet words will defeat,
the wraiths of the pyre.

And under the stars,
in campfire alight,
we children of Mars,
will war with the night.

The night has come,
and we battle at day,
so grab you lover,
before you are taken away,

A tale of glory,
must still be told,
love is war is the story,
luck and courage hold.

To the warrior poet,
there is only the fight,
our words will show it,
with fiercest delight.

in the fields of war,
is no place for the flighty,
Mars' muscles are poor,
to the whims of Aphrodite

winter

2010-11-13T10:17:00.001-08:00

the maiden fairest to my sight.
sees me with glacial stare
for death comes to foes this night,
with the chillness of the air
My blades are "winter" named
they are the caress of frost,
for the frozen heart now untamed,
her kiss is but the cost
bitter november wind does blow
the leaves make a deadened wall
in drifts like earth toned snow
There is a reason they call it fall
crunching underfoot like bones
the winter maiden brings her chill
colors turn to dirges tones
as she prepares for the kill.
And in these days entice,
with white silvered hand and crystal sky,
the warrior poet embraces the ice,
for someday even death may die
the battle won survivors gather
to lick thier wounds and sing praise
for the gods despise loser's blather
in the dying final days
so it is to my chilling lover
I sacrifice to this season,
though I love her like no other,
she rarely listens to reason
The skald will sing his tune,
unsheath his blade with boldness
his art will sketch the rune
steely kiss in winter's coldness

sorry been a while

2010-11-11T11:24:00.000-08:00

It's been a hectic few months for me, traveling, journalism and studying. But I will soon blog again

old poetry

2010-10-29T10:40:00.000-07:00

.

In Laughter

twilight time in equal measure
between midnight and dawn
taking quills at words displeasure
naught but blank pages to look upon

the love I have written for
in this lightning wrought tome
shocks when my tears pour
and calls my lost love home.

I etch my thoughts in paper's flesh
and write these letters new
the song whispered heard fresh
and with rune power imbue

letters carved with pen or blade
in one flesh or another
open territory these words invade
the quill is the blade's brother

in these thoughts there is a magic
when I go without a muse
this rhyme shall not end tragic
when the battle ensues

of the poems and lightning thrust
letters and solid strike
the fates know to be unjust
but as diamond like cuts like

the love I call from nere forgot
the time we spoke in verse
bloods stains this inkling blot
paying all from my heart's purse

take my words my love
my heart is your possession
and remember the time spoke of
and humor my obsession

for on this earth we will join
and live happily ever after
paying Charon heart's purse coin
till the twilight rings with laughter

The Lady of Glass

She was one but more than one
Overlooking the starry sea
I am a shadow to her sun
Born from starlight was she

Looking deep in the solid well
To come and set me free
From her loss made a most intimate hell
The lady of glass was she

Her death is the warning
The battle has begun
This wayfarer’s doom is dawning
To return to him if she’s won

Old lords of lost and forgotten dread
Demons they are called
Fly from the spaces beyond the dead
Where the borders are not walled

The dark lord the one you cannot escape
And will stab you in the back as you pass
He’ll attack the living you from a deathscape
To shatter my true lady of glass

monsters come to conquer
The innocent waiting to dream
The forgotten, lost, and rebels sever
Beings to asleep to scream

They’ll attack across spaces and times
To many worlds they’ll teem
To stop this most horrid of crimes
It’ll take a ship strong of beam

But she knows these tale of woes
A lover's poem at her lips
She and others will smite her foes
From the darkest eclipse

And when she enters from the planes above
A song of triumph I’ll sing
For against these foes who destroy my love
I'll cut down and with my sabres swing

And I greet her with open arms
And skill to guard her back
I'll give her foes a world of harms
Through the oceans of time I'll track

Soon she’ll come and rescue me
From that which is not what it seems
Allies made in war’s blood paid to thee
I'll join her in my dreams

And so our tale ends and yet begins
Against these foes who figth en masse
No being of ill intent wins
Against my true lady of glass

In Soulful Eyes

In soulful eyes and alabaster skin
she holds my heart and mind
I await the hours till I see her again
to treat her in all ways kind

I wait to hear her voice aloud
and feel those eyes cut so deep
for there's the voice usurps the crowd
and sings war chants in my sleep

this fiercest angel should always know
the soft power she holds and keeps
for her I would withstand any blow
and dry her crystal tears when she weeps

Her heart is safe I tell myself
As it beats within her chest
For her smile is all my wealth
and for her all wrongs redressed

this warrior goddess child
deserves far better than she feels
and holds these truths in dispostion wild
as furtive glances from me she steals

A dreaming shadow in skin
Vibrance glowing of scarlet hue
Verdant oceans to cross and win
To give this valkyrie her due

she is so alive as I keep her safe
as warrior poets long to do
to keep her happy and to hear that laugh
and protect a with heart so true

A Gauntlet Thrown

A gauntlet thrown her will is shown
To the warrior she turns and faces
her skill unrivaled her name unknown
she'll put this lout through his paces

sword gleaming anger teeming
she steel herself for the fight
his face drops her calm unseeming
as her twin blades take flight

in a dance a speed and grace
and true power artfully hid
she calls out " I own this place "
his courage faulters utterly undid

and in a rush he runs twice the time
to a place he cares not where he flies
for her sowrds unsheathed she seems relieved
as she cut him deeply with her eyes

As Dragons Come

As dragons come and ogres raid
the villages of the east
citizen fall in blood debts paid
and the evil sits to feast

the warrior came in armor bright
shining like the sun
this horizon will bring day to night
and cast out the shadows err she's won

the evil stood in her path
all garbed in scarlet and black
and with a wry smile she did the math
and ran in to the attack

she swept the evil away
with only blade and wit
she still yearned to this day
the heart she lost as her sword bit

swinging wild , temper mild
she ran into the fray.
with cut and thrust she did what she must
and with love's true skill won the day

the legends sing of this warrior goddess free
and the love both won and lost
she is the graceful hand of destiny
and will repay the cost

for in her heart there was a wonder
of a love both future and past
true love no two hearts asunder
she'll love and fight, day or night until reunited at last

Valkerie's Prayer

She, a warrior known as Chooser of the Slain
She, finds those worthy to fight again
But now for the warrior of the skies
I wish she would see herself through this poet’s eyes
That all things the comprise her mysteries
Are in her blindness of these properties
She is seeker, a dreamer, and the last true believer
She has eyes that shine as sunrises
She know all save herself
She knows well the danger of all life's surprises
And this is a pity, she sees not her great wealth
Of warrior, dancer, protector and kindly beauty
Are all in this prayer for a Valkerie
That she sees with my eyes and with those subtle glances
Spies the person I see and all she entrances
With fiery spirit, this bright burning flame
Is as wondrous, warm, and welcome as the Dawn that sings her name.

Slayin Dragons

For blood that's spilled and treasure gain

My chalice filled , my thoughts refrain

To that day of scale and steel

Fire and fray , Naked blade reveal

To rescue damsel, Bright and fair

Eyes of hazel, Flame red hair

I called upon, My sacred vow

To right the wrong, I'll tell you how

When dragons come, stand your ground

A fine death becomes, your funeral mound

Fire erupts, tooth, claw and tail

Remember these words and never fail

" AT ME !" you scream, with all your might

Steel your courage for the fight

Fight the monster with strike ,parry, thrust

Fear is no master, don't slake its lust

Drive your blade home to the dragon's heart

And from it's body, its soul depart

And with this wisdom you cannot lose

Conquer your fear and then you choose

Mirana's Song

In the ancient days of yore
fro those that follow the warriors way
Knows Great warriors will fall by the score
But Against the odds they’ll win this day
And In this lost and forgotten lore
To face the evil their hearts betray
There are no winners in a war
And conquer the heart gone astray

I wish to study and always learn
That Love should never regret
And From these bloody lessons earn
It’s origin in hearts beget
There is wisdom from books that burn
It’s true nature wrought with threat
And from light and dark discern
A thousand foes would soon beset

But she who holds my own soul
And whom a host of hell’s I’d storm
I’d learn the truth in it’s whole
For this vision given form
A sacred gamble this dice I’ll roll
For that touch that’s safe and warm

Sing again to me again I call to thee
For that song that sets me free

Forget the odds, for Tonight we drink with Gods

When to many blades fall prey
And heart sword and skill win not
Faith cowers not this day
Send your foes in graves to rot

Worry never what will befall
Those fears that lurk in the mind
Stand firm, proud and tall
And at them with steel remind

The warrior’s life is fierce and bright
Under he gaze of tyrant time
Show the foe who is in the right
Bury them in pits of lyme

The warriors way, glorius and brief
Will carry you through the throng
A noble death holds stark relief
From a coward’s life lived too long

Here my words in blood debt repay
For a life not destined to last
And remember the warriors way
Blades will earn and with God’s repast.

Secret Loves – The Poems Hidden

I write these words
For those both past and Never
For love calls my souls girds
The loves last needs be clever

The she’s I wrote them for
Never knows oftimes the deed
This poet’s rages keep not score
When only my eyes to read

These poems of love
Even for a moments grace
Will follows me to the lands above
Hold in my heart the dearest place

The she’s that taught me to see
All nature’s wondrous splendor
Have meant entire worlds to me
Quiet love their own hearts defender

But know this those who read
I loved as deeply as only few
I’ll be there when there is a need
To save her from what evils do

A heroes pledge, a sacred vow
To save the her’s I’ve loved and known
My hearts partitioned here and now
An infinite vessel of unyielding love sewn

Know I’m here should need arise
As my heart when loves honor flies

The Geography of Yearning

Maps to Terra Incognita
Lands and Worlds unknown
Undiscovered yet within her
The geography of yearning shown

To know love and yet lost
Is this poet’s mead
To withstand the dreadful cost
Heart follow ere it lead

To find her once again
And keep her for our sake
To bring the now from then
Leaving destruction in it’s wake

I will fight and die for those eyes
And this love that I hold dear
On that kiss forever lies
And of softest lips appear

Many foes and tales of woes
Will flood into this breach
But in heart danger wisdom grows
When the gods of love beseech

Learn from this my student
And learn this lesson well
Love is never imprudent
When you have it’s tale to tell

When you doubt loves fables
And you’re searching for it’s theme
It’s life without that turns the tables
It’s a rhyme sans a scheme

Love has it’s own wisdom
Though not always clear
And when a guest in it’s kingdom
Embrace it without fear

Cause it’s times are few and far
Grab it when it arrives
It’s loss is worth the scar
But life without none survives.

Searching for My Muse

Long ago and far away
through times of strife and deepest pain
true love demands and I obey
this feeling I feel is not in vain

I miss you when you are not around
living through hard hearted grace
your eyes believe the soul confound
with a glance no eyes can replace

A poet talks his words do fly
What he feels is his hearts song
But hear this poet's sacred cry
Going without you far too long

He apologizes for the nights of loss
when I showed up too late
the deeds done were black across
the fields of troubles he's had to debate

Let his love not scare you
for a heart beats but a life
He longs to be a heart that's fair to you
While old wounds cut him like a knife

In forgiveness he asks to see you again
And tenderness comes through these hands
I will be there to save you then
And do heart’s justice as it demands

I kiss and miss and long to see
these eyes that wishes return to me

For the Asking

Of oldest themes and warrior sages
Tell of tales of daring do
The poems last beyond the ages
And keep heroes hearts true

It’s the damsel that keeps them going
Through the battles melee
The need see her once again is growing
Her eyes drive him through the fray

Of all the monsters I have seen
With scars I have paid this toll
The hardest foes have always been
Are the ones that take your soul

But a soul that’s freely given
Like a man’s word or deed
Will by the gods be forgiven
For the gods obey this creed

A love that true and selfless
A love greater than onself
Will give bounties endless
Then some dusty tome upon a shelf

So many hide in stony tower
Never taking this chance
To lose yourself to a higher power
And ask that damsel to dance

Tales of a Skald

When many hero tales start with long ago
Like heroes exist only in the past
We few exist to live by example show
The few brave souls that stand to the last

Back to back the heroes stood
Against this darkness feral black
The warriors hearts burned with fire good
Then light's warriors yelled "Attack!"

Times like this are few and far
When there is a code we heed
Honour etched every scar
As warriors are judged by deed.

So stand with me my allies
As we turn and to darkness spite
The code will carry us the skies
If we die in this fight

But to live and tell it's tale
The warriors way is right and true
An honourable life shall never fail
When the stories told anew

In The Open

Take your time the master shouted
And choose your moment wisely
Speed has power undoubted
But it means nothing if you miss me

Seduction in blade and deed
Is like guarding your center line
keep it closed until you succeed
and hit a hit finer than sweet wine

Parry, retreat and disengage
Dodge from side to side
Build in the opponent a quiet rage
Let not your blows swing wide

Then when that heart is open
strike strong, fast, and clean
And above all see and listen
Their body tells the scene

Combat is that sacred art
Of hitting and not getting hit
All players play their part
Of blades of steel and wit

Above all take those moments
Feel them in your chest
Give your foe gentle torments
And give them no time for rest

So remember this my novices
There are many ways to miss
But of all of wit's and steel's promises
Seal it with a kiss

In Praise of Bats

She of darkness born
This petite nocturne flies
Knowing she is Sunlight’s scorn
and to challengers Victories denies

She lingers like a haunting
A rapturous shadowy ephemeral tune
But the task before me is daunting
to capture this roving daughter of the moon

Ears that hear distant footfalls
Stars she wears like a crown
Singing like angel calls
Even when hanging upside down

So be aware my younglings
There is cause to fear and love the night
With a silent flutter of bat wings
this bat winged angel takes flight

The Muse

I hear her siren voice in the winds
These words she gives me in whispers
The poets need to write begins
and the warrior never slumbers

Of her beauty I can say so much
In paths like strikes, so many ways
But her angelic voice her voice is such
And there is where my heart stays

Please milady say my name
And give me those words I need
To keep you alive all the same
In all these words for you I read

To see you my celestial vision
And please know I write always for you
It points out the grand collision
Between spirit and flesh true

Someday you'll return to me
As loves like rhyme oft repeat
That day my soul will be set free
Until then I scribble on this paper sheet

My muse of swords and quills
You are my reason for being
And time without you slowly kills
Your love is light worth seeing

So my candle dims, my fingers ink stained
Night has turned to radiant song
Please remember warrior poets need be trained
Not to go on too long

But one last stanza before I go
And face this luminous day
For you My muse, my love, my fights, my words, will show
They are worth the whispers, for which I pray

the day before - prologue

2010-09-05T07:34:00.000-07:00

My TESOL class strarts tomorrow and I am back in London. I was here two months ago to write a newspaper article. I've been studying hardcore for three weeks. Realizing that God created Egnlish to over compicate things. I haven't been in a classroom where I wasn't the teacher in over 20 years. I think of the changes, the old life, the commaraderie of the sword. The language has it's flows and it's ebbs. I admit I'm a little scared. Probably more intimidated than scared. Neither emotion I'm used to dealing with. Just relax and breath, find the flow, yield to overcome,feel the fear and go on. The price, the fee of fear is in not paying it. It when you don't let yourself feel it it exacts it's toll. I haven't been blogging much recently. Very little to say. But now as my mind frees itself and see what may be a future. I feel the warrior poet's song again.

Proverbs

2010-07-28T21:03:00.001-07:00

Proverbs -

12 New Cuts

1. Mercy cut - Mercy resides in God; deeds are in men.

1. Left Hip, Right Temple, Right Hip, Left Temple, Collar bone cut
– now reverse –
Collar bone cut, Left Temple, Right Hip, Right Temple, Left Hip.

2. Rage cut - He who cackled is the guilty party or A person who is outwardly calm has anger raging inside.

2. Left Shoulder, Right Knee, Right Shoulder, Left Knee, Throat cut
– now reverse-
Throat cut, Left Knee, Right Shoulder, Right Knee, Left Shoulder

3. Tears cut - There is no earthly bliss not watered by tears.

3. Left Eye, Right Rib, Right Eye, Left Rib, Eyes cut

– now reverse –

4. Dawn cut - Early dawn precedes sunrise. True well-being is found in happiness, not in prosperity.

4. Low X, Throat cut, Femoral cut, Wrist cut

– now reverse –

SET 2

5. Perseverance cut - If you don't persevere, you can expect no reward. Or No undertaking is difficult if pursued with perseverance.

5. Left Collar Bone, Right Femoral , Right Collar Bone, Left Femoral, Ribs cut

– now reverse –

6. Rust cut - Nothing destroys iron but its own corrosion.

6. Left Eye, Right Wrist, Right Eye, Left Wrist, Knee cut

– now reverse –

7. Fear Not cut - To a fearless person, no fence is high enough. Or I fear Niether Lions or Tigers why Should I fear you or A patriot who is wounded becomes more courageous.

7. Left Rib, Throat cut, Right Rib, Eyes cut

– now reverse –

8. Wheel cut - It is never too late to offer anything that is good. Life is like a wheel; sometimes you are on top, sometimes you are in the bottom. Emulate what is good, ignore what is bad.

8. Left Femoral, Mid X, Right Femoral, Throat cut

– now reverse –

SET 3

9. Sweet cut - Not all goodness brings sweetness. Not all badness are a sign of evil.

9. Left Wrist, Mid X, Right Wrist

– now reverse –

10. Long Knives cut – A desperate person will grab at a knife. Or A knife Cannot carve it’s own handle.

10. Throat cut, High X, Wrist Cut, Throat cut

– now reverse –

11. Dead Horse cut - What good is the grass if the horse is already dead. If it is not relevant, it makes no difference.

11. Left Knee, Mid X, Right Knee, Femoral cut

– now reverse –

12. Heavenward Stone cut - When you throw a stone heavenward don’t complain if it falls on your head or No matter how long the procession, it still ends up in church.

12. Left Temple, High X, Right Temple, Eyes cut

– now reverse –

Water Poem

2010-07-28T08:15:00.000-07:00

The rain falls in our spring,
And gives the food to the flowers,
The watery cycle forms a ring,
And it starts in with minor showers

In the beginning there is the stream
That flows from the slight trickle,
Carrying further to the dream,
And our fancies it starts to tickle.

It then progresses through the land
Then the stream becomes a river,
The whimsy forces of the moon command
And she will always deliver,

Then it an ocean transforms,
Of crashing rock, storm and wave,
Water cannot be held it informs.
And why should it behave.

Then it’s vapor made by the sun,
Following all the changes as it flows.
We are mostly water everyone,
It’s birth celebrated by rainbows.

Then to the heavens it turns again to rain,
Like family, friends, sky, sun and moon.
As instruments connected in sweet refrain.
For we all whisper it’s tune.

advanced siniwalis

2010-07-25T03:57:00.001-07:00

Advanced Siniwalis

There are the 6 basic siniwalis

8point
Inayan
Abaniko

Suicide Cut
Cripple Cut
Iron Maiden Cut

Now do – in thrusts

8point
Inayan
Abaniko

Suicide Thrust
Cripple Thrust
Iron Maiden Thrust

Now do – as punjo ( pommel strike )

8point
Inayan
Abaniko

Suicide Punjo
Cripple Punjo
Iron Maiden Punjo

Mix and match, cut, thrust and punjos to the siniwalis

Add windmills and cavalry cuts as thrusts and punjos

Do all thrusts as punjos

Now add Dobletes and Dobladas

torches

2010-07-23T19:21:00.000-07:00

the torch once lit is forever carried,never extinguished, we hold our loves forever burning bright, and even the embers shine. For that brief moment it gave you light in the dark. Even when love turns to cinders and smoulders, and taste vaguely of sugar, salt or ash. The old torches warm and burn forever in the catacombs of our heart.

moon

2010-07-23T15:51:00.001-07:00

moon shyly smiling,
behind the cloudy knife edge,
night whispers my name

haiku - zest

2010-07-22T21:27:00.001-07:00

the monk hanging from
cliff by plant tiger below,
eat the strawberry

double negative

2010-07-22T21:25:00.001-07:00

and so you sit and ramble,
about the losing wins the gamble
folding double to kiss the page,
we pay the war in fights we wage
shadows bright incite we live,... See More
it can't not be double negative

Monday or what spawned my weeks rants

2010-07-19T11:56:00.001-07:00

What spawned bad decisions=good stories. My week begins. Monday was a day like any other. Sun was shining. I took out my pressed suit for an interview. All immaculately pressed. Even checked the weather. Drove to the interview place early, they had three streets with the same name in the same industrial park.. Got lost, went to wrong place. Find it. Go in, they suddenly a downpour the likes of which the gods have never seen. Me without an umbrella, soaked to the bone ( resembling a drowned muppet ). I go to the interview, ace it. Head back out into the wet. Rain in buckets , rain in barrels. Get home and the minute I pull in it stops. I then want to give the gods a job interview, to see if they are good potential candidates for omnipotence. You want to ask the gods “Really now, so it’s gonna be like that is it.?”

Bad decisions=good stories

2010-07-19T11:26:00.001-07:00

Bad decisions=good stories

MONDAY

Bad decisions= good stories - nothing sucks more than that moment during a argument when you realize you are completely wrong. So you have two choices admit you are wrong ( not an option ) or end up as a story told decades later of a guy who drank St. Ives while on codine and ran around the woods half naked thinking he was Puck from Midsummer Night's Dream.

Bad decisions = good stories ; "Kindness gives birth to kindness." - Sophocles. Well obviously Sophocles besides beign a great playwright was also a NINJA.

TUESDAY

Bad Decisions = Good Stories - I totally envy all those times I took nap when I was younger. Little child slackers. You know I fear children they are here to replace us. They want my stuff. Children should be eaten and not heard. Send them to the toddler mines!

Bad Decisions = Good Stories - Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. I mean besides all the free food and cheap artifacts you find at the funeral. Obits would be interesting. Especially if they have a Darwin awards aspect to them. Natural causes – boring. But found naked handcuffed to an inflatable partner while covered in coolwhip – 5 stars.

WEDNESDAY

Bad Decisions = Good Stories – Word program is tricksey. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my two hundred page epic poem “ Ode to a con girl dressed like Zatanna but she hasn’t noticed me for I failed my saving throw vs Charisma” that I swear I did not make any changes to. Cunning program steals great art. Why change perfection. Bloody word fascist.

Bad Decisions = Good Stories – The saying “ Everyday you are above ground is a good day.” Well that’s just racist against Mole People and other subterranean species. SO you are telling me that blind albino salamanders or crayfish are not capable of moments of bliss. Intolerance annoys me.

THURSDAY

Bad Decision = good story - I hate leaving my house confident and looking good ( a rare occasion ) and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day ( despite stalking and restraining orders. That’s profiling dammit ). What a waste. SO I decide to look like death on a stick everyday just to trick them.

Bad Decision = good story - As a driver I hate pedestrians ( get a car hoofer ) there should be a point system for hitting them, and I always hate cyclists ( join in the death of the planet, splitter, the two wheeled hellspawn of vehicular ignorance ). Lance Armstrong their leader is the devil. Hitting him should be worth at least a million points and a hummer that is powered by equal parts kittens, souls, and Victorian era child labor. Like Dick Cheney’s truck.

FRIDAY

Bad Decision = good story - I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet any weekend night at Rudy’s Tap room and taxidermy parlor. More kisses ( and regrets) begin with bachelorette parties, Long Island ice teas, a stripper named Fernando and a cheap hotel than Kay Jewelers.

glomp

2010-07-18T00:29:00.000-07:00

In my gypsy life,
I thought never hear,
Throughout the cold strife,
And visceral fear

Bladed pen and page,
blooded tear hath shed,
despite the old age,
and the torment fed

that a type of kind,
love dear as water,
in the fray remind,
gift of my daughter

I thought never hear,
As I sullen lad,
Words I hold as dear,
As “I love you dad.”

quick blitz thrust drill

2010-07-16T16:46:00.000-07:00

quick blitz thrust drill, = head groin thrust to sternum.
collar bone strike followed by underthrust
femoral strike followed by overthrust
rib strike followed by pommel/punjo to head.
eye strike followed by reverse thrust.

Retaliation Drill

2010-07-10T12:23:00.001-07:00

RETALIATION – DRILLS

Variations on Groin, Head, Eye drill

The old standby drill,

Choose a person to engage the attack, They are the Attacker, The defender , parries the attackers strike and retaliates.

You eventually develop a nice flow with it.

Drill 1

Attacker – Strikes at Groin
Defender – now strikes at opponents Head
Attacker – Strikes at opponents Eye

Then switch it.

Defender – strikes at opponents Groin
Attacker – now strikes at opponents Head
Defender – strikes at opponents Eye

Drill 2

Attacker - Left Temple,
Defender - Right Floating Rib
Attacker - Right Temple,
Defender - Left Floating Rib

Then switch it.

Defender - Left Temple,
Attacker - Right Floating Rib
Defender - Right Temple,
Attacker - Left Floating Rib

Drill 3

Attacker -Left Inside Kneecap,
Defender - Right Collar Bone
Attacker -Right Inside Kneecap,
Defender - Left Collar Bone

The switch it

Drill 4

Attacker - Left Inside Wrist,
Defender - Head,
Attacker – Right Inside Wrist,
Defender – Groin
Then switch it.

Drill 5

Attacker -Left Femoral Artery,
Defender - Right Temple,
Attacker - Left Collar Bone
Defender - Right Femoral Artery,
Attacker - Left Temple,
Defender - Right Collar Bone

Then switch it

Drill 6

Pick a drill, change Left to Right and switch Head and Groin

Drill 7

THRUSTS drill

Straight Thrust
Overthrust
Underthrust
Left Side Thrust
Right Side Thrust
Reverse Thrust
Retreat Thrust

Drill 8

Pick a drill, add a thrust instead of one of the strikes

Drill 9

Use Right Hip, Left Hip, Right Shoulder, Left Shoulder, Head or Groin – Pick 3 , use as exchange
Drill 10

A and B of the Alphabet – Break into an exchange Drill. – Have them flow together

Drill 11

C of the Alphabet – Break into an exchange Drill.

Drill 12

D and E of the Alphabet – Break into an exchange Drill. – Have them flow together

Ko Mi drill

2010-07-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

KO-MI drill

Mixing hand to hand with single weapon.

1. Spiral – death through cuts

Cuts – Hips, Shoulders, elbow to ribs, Cut Collar Bone

2. Tangle – death through pommels

Punjo to Head, Punjo to Shoulders, Punjo to Ribs. Punjo to groin

3. Funnel – death up to down

Cut to Eyes, Collar Bone, Ribs, Femoral Artery, straight punch throat

4. Tunnel – death through thrusts

Thrusts to – Throat, Shoulders, Hips, straight punch Sternum

5. Sheet – death horizontally

Cuts – Hammerfist to Eyes, Cut to Hips, Hammerfist to Ribs, Cut to Throat

6. Dome – death form above

Straight punch to Head, Cut to Eyes, Cut to Collar Bone, reverse thrust to Throat

7. Orb – death vertically

Cut to Femoral , straight punch to Head ,Cut to Collar Bone, punjo punch Groin,

8. Trapdoor – death from below

Pass cut to Achilles tendon, kick to Knees, Femoral Artery Cut, Knee to Groin

Building from the basic patterns –

Alphabet
8 point
Earth Mother
Fan
Suicide Cut
Cripple Cut
Iron Maiden Cut

Punjo – Pommel strike
Hand to hand –

Hammer Fist, Straight Punch, Ridge Hand, Elbows, Knees

Basic cuts covered in Drill

Head – vertical – cut /thrust
Eyes – horizontal – cut /thrust
Collar Bone – diagonal – cut /thrust
Throat – horizontal – cut /thrust
Shoulders – horizontal – cut /thrust
Hands / Wrist – X cut– cut /thrust
Ribs - Horizontal– cut /thrust
Hips - Horizontal– cut /thrust
Femoral Artery - diagonal– cut /thrust
Groin – Vertical up– cut /thrust
Knees – X cut– cut /thrust
Pass cut – Miss pass cut to Achilles tendon

A wink and a smile

2010-06-29T22:34:00.000-07:00

A wink and a smile

The time of ages suited in grey,
A war with ever flowing sand,
The ruin of the sacred day,
The dominant right of command,
For a story fortune’s fool,
Against the dice way you weighted
A chance to except accept the rule,
All parts the player played.
Tis the answer also the riddle,
Was it worth sweet elation,
Both ends burning mourn the middle
You sit in actor’s interrogation
A chilling spectre touching freeze,
Smiling in the dark lady’s face
Fear’s sickle kills by degrees.
Although it’s swung with grace.
SO the deny the fear to overtake,
I say without compunction,
I’ll go on and make fear quake.
Cause my form is my function.
“AT ME !!” fair spirit , I raise this toast,
It is a greater cause to drink,
With blade and wit, I’ll war this ghost,
With a smile and a wink.

pearls

2010-06-25T11:37:00.001-07:00

if there eyes closed seeming,
of thought of me engaged,
I see you when dreaming,
a perfect picture never aged.
moments like pearls dangle on string,
each perfect with subtle flaw,
and dwell upon the little things,
of these dreams I wish you saw.
so as I in deep ocean sleep,
make these pearls from grains of sand.
a bitter treasure built in scar so deep
anger tastes of salt and reprimand.

learning

2010-06-24T09:48:00.000-07:00

When the name of friend represented,
And the only sin is sharing,
The teacher is often resented,
For the hubris of caring.
As you know to options loyal,
Most are but gladly not all.
As in your labors seeks fruit for toil,
The rise is so much slower than fall.
Truth has legs and gossip wings.
It’s to stamina this pain outlast.
Petty hurts can be minor things,
When choosing friends look to cast,
Then are friends or acquataince overreach.
With false tongues un-discerning.
Resent the savior sent to teach.
But true love is in the learning.

happiness?

2010-06-23T12:52:00.001-07:00

when you feel like cruel fortune's toy
and even the truest words feel sappy,
forget not in absence of joy.
The rareness of being happy.
like the old teddy bear,
losing stuffing from worn out seam,
too much love can seem unfair,
holding on to a dream
That between the highs and lows,
when the fates seem unforgiving,
and even friends become foes,
with no cause for thanksgiving,
embrace the joyous stranger meeting,
and enjoy saccharine prose,
for one truth is worth repeating,
happy is a decision to one who knows.

a dance in time - a request

2010-06-23T11:04:00.000-07:00

seeking balance sword in flight,
in symmetry with the hand,
emerging bloody feral night,
at all your passions demand,
and stinging lip in harshest kiss
is the cut in blooded waters wade,
lessons over, the teacher shall dismiss
when by ones own skill betrayed,
a sight across the crowded floor,
eyes meet in captured glance,
all souls in that one look implore,
the killing kindness of the dance.
outstretched hand, and sweet laughter,
as the music of war mistook,
a polite bow, will see them after.
the consequnces of that look.
feel the weight and see the touch,
gods will forgive this crime.
no lover had I ever loved this much,
then when blade and I dance in time.

going through old poetry

2010-06-16T12:37:00.000-07:00

Been plowing through my notes and slowly preparing my submissions for the poetry residency. There are so many poems. So many pieces that I shared with only the one person I was writing for at the time. SO many truly beautiful and tragic emotions. Some have never seen the light of day. SOme are the property of only one other set of eyes. I'll ask permission for those.

Cannot wait for the article to be published, so I can blog about my experiences in the UK.

dress up

2010-06-11T09:05:00.000-07:00

Adressing others in robe borrow,
In fashion calm the blue heart,
Fixing paint and to sorrow,
The mirror judges from the start.

So to the closet seek refuge,
In costume we take to task,
To prevent the sad deluge,
And lose yet find the mask.

For in the wonders of dressing,
It covers many a stealthy scar,
And to the silent glass impressing,
The reflecting judge goes to far.

It only shows what it sees
thus is the mirrors duty,
You the only judge needs please.
But sans masks lies true beauty.

uk 2

2010-06-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

Of JFK and Camelot.

JFK airport is my favorite New York City Airport. I always seem to leave from there. And now my trip to Londinium begins. But JFK has a deeper meaning to me now. When I think of his Camelot. I think of a shining place. I think of a time when politician or kings were just and fair. A place where all are equal at the table. An ideal place shrouded in Mists of myth. And JFK like all just kings, the few that were, his reign was far too short. I know in my heart , JFK’s reign was just as much myth. I always thought of him as “our American” Arthur although his proclivities were more towards Lancelot. NYC , my home was always Avalon. And now it’s my turn to seek the grail.

the Thames

2010-05-17T01:22:00.000-07:00

The thames has always been a river of my dreams. To see it and feel it's flow. And the dueling ground tour has been exciting me imagination. Boudiccia kept us from speaking Latin but shakespeare gave us a muse of fire. Here on the streets you hear hoofbeats of armoured knights and hear the rush of carriages. And I reated to the sodier in Henry Five. Wishing for that piece of home at Agincourt. The desire to be in Thames up to the neck.

UK explorations - week 1

2010-05-17T01:10:00.000-07:00

AFter what sounds like the beginning of an adventure novel I made it to the UK one week ago. Most of my exprations were of sites historical sties that I can do on the cheap.
The story begins with my explorations of my local area. Going to see the Thames off putney bridge and exploring the locale. I then traveled to Hyde park, roamed around Buckingham Paace and Wellington arch. I saw big Ben and the London eye. Listen to English blues and even met another poet. I got to improvise poetry in a Phoenix. I went to the Roman wall to thank the Iceni and ended up giving a brief lecture on the subject and meandered around whitechapel. Where the crays murdered and Jack stalked.
I aso saw the tower. All were places I read of. Pictures soon.

poem for mother earth

2010-05-08T09:22:00.001-07:00

mother terra from which we grow
in the circles of twilight.
winking tis the stars that know,
the love we hold for this night,

as seedling grows to flowered bud,
to those uncaring lights we pray,
blooden water makes our earth mud.
and fire makes us clay

the wind gives us heat and chill,
without only poets giving reason,
she has born us to love and kill,
depending on the season.

when in sultry time or battle seeth,
we are caught in her gentle net,
but as a kiss in her we breate,
her blood and tears our sweat.

please tell me mother,
I mean this with out scorn,
you sustain me like no other,
every minute I'm reborn.

so the silent stars remember,
mute to our smallish cries,
we love them as moth to ember,
as earthen hearts soar to the skies

2010-05-01T08:32:00.001-07:00

In nature the season is the thing,
making all us animals react,
and too our baser thought we sing
in our acncient seasonal contract,

to fresh coats and claws now hunt.
on talon, wing, tooth and claw,
time to eat and kills, to be blunt,
that is old earths first law.

it is to the golden father sun,
and to star silver sister moon,
to Gaia's beauty the tale is spun,
and all her voices humm the tune.

when the fecund gods scream "celebrate",
as to the rituals of matings assails,
to the columns the gods whisper fornicate,
to the chorus of animals wails,

the ocean roars and trees entice,
in turbluent blues and sordid green,
to the ancient gods we sacrifice,
though lusty nature seeming serene.

2010-04-28T15:21:00.001-07:00

In the chamber I sit and listen,
to whispers and love's echoes,
tear shed eyes staring glisten,
with the gift of dying rose.

When they left a holding place,
now kept companion with gentle song,
only physics needs time and space,
and the wait shall not be long,

to lose my heart in musician's feeling,
plays the overture my heart compose,
till the next love sends senses reeling,
till then only the music knows.

only the lonely hears this tune,
one the pages some player wrote,
not to the music I impugn,
it's the player and not the note.

2010-04-28T15:13:00.001-07:00

We in times when e mail send,
And in love and honor bound,
Sometimes the voice I would recommend
To state feelings so profound

Distance is quite the chasm,
When times communication demand,
E-mail loses essential sarcasm,
And some may mis-understand.

But through patience and deep care,
Words means come through
And in just enough time to spare.
The affection held for few.

For the love few have shown,
And the words that meet in deed
The text if this little article shown,
Are clear despite the speed.

SO from the friends we take the cues,
And hope for meeting bright,
Although poets are easy to confuse,
When they haven’t slept that night.

So enjoy, and pages scribble.
To speak to the times said the sage.
Good friend get over any quibble,
And friendship comes it’s own language.

next life and tax day

2010-04-14T21:30:00.000-07:00

It is an anniversary, a day of vows and words. When obligations were forever. Where there was a promise of a future. I visited the sacred grove. Talked to ghosts and listened for her whispers. Sometimes the ocean misses the sky more than it can bear. Forever together, forever apart. Next life. I wish I didn’t know what I know. But then that’s the burden of knowledge. Just remember the good and the love that was pure. Remember the bargains kept and obligation upheld. I’ll see you in my dreams. Just remember I loved you and always will. Such is the blessing of the poet. Next life. Be safe.

blood brothers - a request

2010-04-14T18:09:00.000-07:00

There are quiet times,
In the face of deadly foes,
We steel ourselves with martial rhymes,
and face the joys and woes.

But in the torrent of our blood,
to our friends abscond,
Kinship when knee deep in mud,
sings to a deeper bond.

And together you face the wrath,
and with tears bloody laughter,
sometimes they dwell another path,
then the one you are looking after,

But it is the path of life,
Blood brothers may have to part.
Closer than to some wife.
Nearer to the heart.

For few know what's in store.
Palms slit, vows made.
That the brothers made in war.
Oaths never be betrayed.

So the time now is soon,
When in battle shields and blades break,
SO high they bleed the moon.
Tied until our very wake.

Pondering a night sky

2010-04-04T21:41:00.000-07:00

Speed of Darkness.

Pondering loneliness, a quantum singularity. A black hole where even light doesn’t escape. I wrote a note to a friend in need, as part of this text. I hope it helps.
Those who pick fights, shouldn’t complain when they are beat down. An old saying I learned in the art. With the art comes the flow, with the flow comes the strength to adapt and change. To me the flow was always a matter of faith. It’s very hard to become soft. Such is the dichotomy of the style and the dangerous path we all as martial artists walk. With words I have saved many, from being beaten down. From unleashing the art in it’s purest form. The defense of self. I have often been told. That the self is destructive, it is the core of suffering. Life and limb must be protected. But what else? Attack is defense, defense is attack. Water may be the form we seek to achieve but we also can drown in it. My form is my function, as is my formlessness. Such is the path. SO I flow, like the blood in my veins and the words in my soul.
I can in more ways than you know, relate to pain, and pressure, the pressure to defy gravity and not plunge to the earth, when to fall would feel like a release. and I understand exhaustion, bone crushing and blood deep. My response from the deepest, loving, part of my soul is this. Is remarkably ...simple. The force that has always kept me strong in the most impossible situations and grueling of circumstances is love. Through love we sacrifice and through love we suffer, through love we lose our minds and through through love we learn the true meaning of feeling and forgiveness. Love is an act of faith that borders on myth. For we have to believe in what we can't see. The love you give and receive validates that prayer. You will endure this, and yes the torments and harder than stone and twice as unforgiving. But love, like the flow is eternal. All things change, even the bad things. You will withstand because of that small act of faith that lights the stars, begets the flow, and keeps us going.

the Easter Horror

2010-04-04T09:47:00.000-07:00

On this holiday the difference begs,
What goings on ‘tween rabbits and eggs,
Chicken rabbit means engenders fears,
Of feathers, buck teeth, wings and ears.

The candy is out for the small,
Great weather promises the catch of the ball,
Long off course throws you must grab it.
While keeps eyes open for the chicken rabbit.

It stalks the night when it’s candy you seek,
But beware it’s sharp talon and fur covered beak.
The sight of the creature of evokes fears,
Of getting caught in the range of sensitive ears.

Chocolate and candy the vendors must sell it,
Or be covered in cedar shaves and rabbit pellet,
And even though I know it’s not funny.
To fear the dark spawn of the easter bunny.

2010-04-03T13:32:00.001-07:00

Do you feel it.

A shadow close as skin,
Across the soul intuit,
The heart that beats akin,
Half sworn sword spirit,

I miss your smile,
This mask I adorn,
And it’s scars compile,
Yet still it is worn.

The eyes brim sadness,
you are hid from sight,
love a gentle madness.
I turn to face it’s might,

It is for you I bled,
for the missing bliss,
Only silence instead,
A steep cost for a kiss.

April's Fool from the new story

2010-04-01T11:06:00.000-07:00

I officially despise April with the power of 1000 white hot suns.

Always without fail has been a bad month for me. Just wondering if in the mists of memory the dead remember. If upon walking the road of shadows, between the dreaming and the dead, do you remember all your joys born of my sacrifice. Do you know ?, do you care?

Foolish I know. But today is the day for fools and I have been both Jester and Prohphet. I've been the omniscient Greek chorus and the knavish clown.

But I always think in my dark moments what it is to be erased what it is to wipe out all in a quest to wipe out the bad with the blood the good.

Tell me it was real with more than just a few banal words. Tell me it was worth it. Sometimes gods should reward us for our faith. That love is eternal when it is sworn.

It is the doom of men that we forget but the fool remebers all. So do you remember me. Confirmation of a vow and a memory of love made long ago. Or am I now the secret shadow across your soul.

But you've gone across the veil. The Harlequin is just a witness.