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Man, I saw something last night.
It was great - I was flyin' high on a nicotine buzz and those four double shots of old Mr. Daniels
Were just starting to reach my head

when I saw something
something so great,
so inspirational

That I stopped dead in my tracks
transfixed
But roaring thunder crashed behind my back
Shaking my reverie apart with anticipation
And, like a drunk without a bottle
I tore the night a new asshole
With a cackle, the mad, triumphant laugh
Of a wise man dancing with ludicrosity
and I went flyin' through the streets at four steps a heartbeat
Laughing and Dancing until Dame Tired herself
Whacked me in the kneecaps with her ugly stick
I hit the ground screaming and rolling
Lyin' flat on my back yukkin' it up to the streetlamps around me.
They seemed to taunt me, to egg me on
"Hey, boy, you got the life in ya, you got the life in ya, You just gonna lie there?"
And I grinned, fire blazing beneath my lids as they serenaded me to sleep with their cries of exaltation.

Mephistophelean Toad

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*Deep within the caverns he calls his home, Deadend broods. Long has he remained enclosed in his halls, awaiting the day he felt the desire to return to the surface. As he sits in front of his fireplace he reads the journal he has kept these many long months since the Black Raven Inn closed it's doors. His thoughts turn to those he once called family. Something pulls at his consciousness, however...something very familiar. Slowly, he closes the journal and rises. He is ready...it is time. He grabs his favorite smoking jacket and walks to the entrance to his caverns.

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Come night,
Come brooding time of dark desires.


Come dark,
Come cool, safe place in which to hide.


Come lightening,
Come streak the sky with natures blaze.


Come thunder,
Come roar your power to the world below.


Come night,
Come give me life once more.


Raven
February 12, 2002

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Kiss the blade. . .
Smooth raptured curves
Offer escape and entry
Pulsating, my veins cry out for
Release
A blister upon the
Soft velvet of my heart
Slowly weeps. . .poisoning my mind
With one merciful cut
Could be set free
Merciful
A fist clenched
Around the weak curve of my throat
Thieves the words to make this real
In one joyous stroke
It could be opened
Spilling out as much truth as I am worth


The soft caress
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At the base of the Bihor mountains in Rumania,
The village of Solta is the place,
Where the Vampire's stirring in the night takes place,
As he impoverishes the town,
In his quest for sanguine ecstacy!


There are no such things or are there?
This morning I awoke in an utmost stupor!
Two puncture holes above my jugular,
He will strike again tonight!
When the moon is full and bright,
Leaving me almost dead and in agony!


By day the children search for garlic buds,
To be placed in the windows,

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A collection of poetry and prose submitted to VO in 2002.

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