Criminal and When We Were Almost Young





The way you look at me,

Seduces all that is immoral within me,

Your eyes hold the image of angels in flight, yet,

Your lips breathe the dance of dangerous devils.

And I want to hold you like I want to live,

Spirits bound through the catacombs of my mind,

My thoughts cringe before the wicked voices,

That scream your name in the valley of my conscience,

And carnivorous demons feast on my soul,

For what I am thinking I would like to do to you.

The way you make me feel is criminal.



When We Were almost Young


Do you recall our tree?  The Blanket and the bed made of hay?

The special feeling we thought was love, the others thought it play,

Do you remember our walks up the railway track, always hand in hand?

Our elders thought us silly, they could never understand,

How we felt that summer, when we pretty much lived at the lake,

Such an amazing season, I made only one mistake,

And that was to let you go that winter, oh! How my heart was stung!

It is still strange that we felt so much, when we were almost young.


And now the years and miles are between us, I still think of you,

Wondering where you are, how you are doing, are you thinking of me too?

Do you recall the poetry and the letters?  The time we spent in bed?

Just listening to music, one look, one touch and everything was said,

The days that went on forever, the nights gone in a blink,

I remember you smiling always (and that mischievous little wink),

Do you remember the laughter, how we always had so much fun?

I miss your company and your kisses and when we were almost young.


Beware the Barrows!

Beware the barrows!
Be wary of the Wight,
The Banshee, oh how she,
Wails in the night!
Fear is nectar to the Specter,
Such tears of terror, shed,
The spirits here are restless,
Leave well alone, the dead!

Leave well alone, the dead!
Avoid the Ghost and Ghouls,
No treasure is worth,
Damnation, fools!
Animated remains will attack,
With ghostly swords and arrows,
Flee! Be gone! Go back!
Beware of the barrows!

Appendix for those who enjoy traveling in Cyralost with me:

The Barrows

In the North-West of Tarkus, west of the imperial palace, lies an immense series of small hills, all hallowed out to hold the remains of the realm’s finest, the champions, heroes and anyone rich or famous enough to have bought or earned a place there.
The Barrows is a network of man (and Dwarf) –made caves and cairns, tombs and burial mounds, ranging from simple piles of rock and stone to elaborate monuments, sarcophagi and mausoleums. This necropolis sports evidence of every known faith in Cyralost and no tradition goes unobserved (if only the world’s inhabitants could live in the same harmony in which they die).
There is a well armed guard station that houses a delegation of imperial soldiers that diligently patrol the area and execute would-be grave robbers. The guard post was positioned following the raid that desecrated the burial ground of Bryn Battlehammer, a hero, long deceased. Bryn’s remains and belongings were all taken but many still visit to pay their respects (and there are many curious ‘tourists’).
Many of the barrows are said to be haunted, rumors and ghost stories involving mummified remains becoming animated, walking skeleton warriors, restless spirits, Banshees and Wights (and all manner of undead) believed to be in residence, though the guards are vague in their accounts of such; usually deflecting this kind of conversation but encouraging enough belief to deter visitors at night.
Who knows…?