Dragonsblade => Eric Klein

Blue-steel, unknown and never rules, 
the light abandoned, the surface cools 
a tiny stream, a reddish glint 
drips the weapon, the dragons gift 
But the blood, the beads, force their path 
Sent to flow, the watchers wrath 
The hilt alone holds no blood 
For blue-steel gauntlets cloaked the flood 

The light, now, continues to fade 
the sapphire hilt, the blue-steel blade, 
The gauntlets, though, continue their grasp 
the crystal hidden, the motion, to last 

But, halt your slaughter, commanded the dead, 
spirits, the enemy, and those that have lead 
The battle is over, the carrion birds call, 
your side has won, but friends still fall 

For the wielder, now, was ruled by the sword 
that flowed and felled, her friends, her lord, 
The blue-steel gift continued to impale, 
to slash, to center, to piece their mail 

The watchers, lightning reflecting black scale, 
their laughter, cackled, thru thunder and hail 
The sight, euphoric, as wind gives them lift, 
the hillside, the wielder, the sword their gift. 
The wielder, possessed, looked onward to find 
those left alive, and more humankind, 
And when the blade finished, and none were left, 
it turned on its wielder, its gift of death. 

The Folly Of Being Comforted => by William Butler Yeats

ONE that is ever kind said yesterday: 
"Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey, 
And little shadows come about her eyes; 
Time can but make it easier to be wise 
Though now it seems impossible, and so 
All that you need is patience." 
Heart cries, "No, 
I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain. 
Time can but make her beauty over again: 
Because of that great nobleness of hers 
The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs, 
Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways 
When all the wild Summer was in her gaze." 
Heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head, 
You'd know the folly of being comforted. 

    
Never Give All The Heart => by Willim Butler Yeats

NEVER give all the heart, for love 
Will hardly seem worth thinking of 
To passionate women if it seem 
Certain, and they never dream 
That it fades out from kiss to kiss; 
For everything that's lovely is 
But a brief, dreamy. Kind delight. 
O never give the heart outright, 
For they, for all smooth lips can say, 
Have given their hearts up to the play. 
And who could play it well enough 
If deaf and dumb and blind with love? 
He that made this knows all the cost, 
For he gave all his heart and lost. 

The Raven => by Edgar Allen Poe 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door- 
Only this, and nothing more." 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow 
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore- 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore- 
Nameless here for evermore. 

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; 
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, 
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;- 
This it is, and nothing more." 

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, 
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, 
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;- 
Darkness there, and nothing more. 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; 
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, 
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!" 
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"- 
Merely this, and nothing more. 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. 
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice: 
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore- 
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;- 
'Tis the wind and nothing more." 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; 
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; 
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door- 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door- 
Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. 
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, 
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore- 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" 
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore; 
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door- 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, 
With such name as "Nevermore." 

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. 
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered- 
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before- 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." 
Then the bird said, "Nevermore." 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, 
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster 
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore- 
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 
Of 'Never- nevermore'." 

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; 
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore- 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore 
Meant in croaking "Nevermore." 

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; 
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, 
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er, 
She shall press, ah, nevermore! 

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer 
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. 
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee 
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore! 
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" 
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or devil!- 
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, 
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted- 
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore- 
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!" 
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or devil! 
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore- 
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore- 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." 
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting- 
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! 
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! 
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door! 
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" 
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; 
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, 
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; 
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 
Shall be lifted- nevermore! 

I Have A Friend => Elizabeth Worthington

I have a friend who reads and reads 
And lets his yard grow into weeds. 
I said, that's too high to let it grow! 
He said, Quoth the raven, "Never mow." 

Romeo and Juliet Act I Scene iv Lines 46-55 => William Shakespeare

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! 
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! 
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, 
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. 
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! 
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.  

BloodKiss

By Snowgirl


Cold eyes that shine in the moonlight
Glare at me 
Hate me 
The touch of your fingers makes my spine curl 
Laugh, it echoes 
The evil stings 
Am I supposed to be afraid?
I can hear the silence 
I feel nothing 
You're too close 
Eyes red like the sun 
Clothes black like the night 
Crimson lips dripping with blood 
Wicked smile, your teeth shine in the moonlight
Hair red like fire 
Start now 
Pull me in 
Lay me down 
Take my soul 
I have no breath 
She is the kiss of death

Despair

By NightMyst


I am the black bride of Despair, 
a future of dank darkness before me.
I tye up ribbons in my hair, 
and await the dark ceremony.

My dark groom binds me to him
the ring a shackle in his hand.
My fear rises to the brim, 
as he to takes me to his land.

His land so dark and bitter, 
full of fear and hate.
his world never gets better, 
no matter how long I wait.

I silently walk down the isle, 
of this world of my dark Despair.
It stretches for many a mile, 
But he pushes me onward there.

I hang my head in sorrow, 
giving up all premise of hope.
I wait for no tomorrow, 
And trudge down his spirling slope.

Now I am part of his world, 
and I'll never be free again.
The truth is slowly unfurled, 
Despair, my husband, the Madman.



copyright shannon Evans Bickford, 1996-1997

 	
My Angel

By ^LiquidSky^


There's a dark figure
Who stands at my door
Every nite
I believe he is my guardian angel
He comes to me and holds me
He stops the pain
That everyone brings to me
His touch is oh so gentil
I cry on his shoulder
And in my mind
I can hear him say 
Everything will be fine
I'll open my eyes 
To see his face
And everything is black again
Blacker than night 
For this is death.

Concave Scream

In the city, where angels fear to hover and devils come to croon,
the sex of the night lets down her black narcotic hair under a
yellow opium moon. Here a shadow of a shadow, an earthbound ghost
shivers, not from October chill, but in erotic pain. He says to
his dead lover, "We should never have come here, with flesh so
soft and hearts so unwise, but like tigers in tall tall grass,
like Christ in the garden of Gethsemane, we sucked in our fear
and we came here. Now all the atrocitites are replayed, like
a late late show. We came here but we never should have stayed.
Though we had inertia and radius and deapth, we took the last
train with velocity and passed our own deaths." 

So, The Crow spirals down through a collapsed dream and the only sound he makes is... 

Like a concave scream 

Death

It's not death if you refuse it...
It is if you accept it. 

Warrior

I am nothing but pain
My blood dripping slowly in the rain
It mixes slowly with the mud
I am but tears and blood 

The fire in my heart and eyes is out
All that remains is doubt
For me there is no mercy
I am my own law, judge and jury 

On the wings of vengance i fly
With my sword in hand and my head held high
Nothing lasts forever and i will not be denied 
From the shores of Scotland to the streets of Detroit
I am the immortal warrior lost in time