I have always been impetuous, stubborn simply out of arrogant spite. To my shame, I cannot claim it to have been a trait that died in my adolescence; it has always been as much a part of me as my lungs or my heart; it has always been true that my mouth runs faster than my feet. As you can imagine, this has landed me in trouble on countless occasions. A disgruntled bar patron, a jealous boyfriend, a law-loving officer – a lot of bruises and blackeyes, pretty much all deserved. I remember the day I've regretted all this time; the crime that brings me to you. Thank you for granting me audience. It's so damn good to be able to be honest for just this moment. I wish I had known of your magic long ago, but I suppose I don't even deserve this reprieve. I suppose you already know of Verital, Goddess of Truth? Well she was my deity at birth. Born under her star in the fourteenth month of the year. I thought she would always have my back. I remember my dad telling me "Callous, gods are not
Magic has distinct aromas. The fresh vibrant scent like freshly cut grass as healing winds bless one's wounds. A sharp, distinct acidic shock like bitter lemons when creatures are summoned into being. Then there is the sickening fowl stench of death. You may think you know it, but unless you have witnessed the curse, you know not of its vile smell. It drenches every pore of your skin with a vomitous bile that even divine tears could never wash out. Even your tears are polluted with the toxic waste of the curse as they fall from stinging bloodshot eyes. Yannis. Lazarus. Taven. Harvarous. Their oozing, decaying corpses lay rotting at my feet, their blood tainted to an odorous, viscus, grey substance that stained the ground beneath them; their eyes melted into black, rotten piles of gelatinous slag. The liquified skin gently flowed like a dead river, collecting at my feet. Yet the greatest offence to my senses was the sound of laughter. Grating, high-pitched, wretched cackling. The mage –
A Diamond is a Diamond by SteveJones313, literature
Literature
A Diamond is a Diamond
How vast the ignorance of man is, unmasked and revealed by beauty’s own presence. For give a man a diamond, gifted not sold. Say, take it – this is yours. Ask no price, but their awe and appreciation. And man, with doubt and vanity will say “this thing is but a broken rock.” This vanity of man sees not its gleam nor shine, but the style of cut, For love is less its worth than its form be. What ignorance hath man that he doth care more for one’s shell than that which resides within them. In burning sands of desert plains, would men find water safe to drink, If its flavour be fowl, a fool would spit life back upon the sands of death, And with such ire bellow “I cannot drink this; its taste is fowl to me.” How precious is the gift of life and love. And yet, man cares little for true beauty and only for its form. Coins scarred and bent are tossed so fools may fawn o’er just one perfect golden penny. And love is lost in petty pursuits of fleshed perfection. Love’s beauty is its grace. A
Like a Tempest (rewrite) by SteveJones313, literature
Literature
Like a Tempest (rewrite)
Tossed and turned am I,
My ocean disturbed by Tempest’s devastating power,
And all I can do is hide and cower,
In hope that She, or in fear that I, will die.
Yet once Tempest remained naught but a fabrication of my mind;
A dream yet undreamt, a concept yet conceived;
The gift, the curse, the present of her presence,
Was something I had no desire to receive.
For years my oceans were calm and tranquil,
I bathed in the gentle caress of an untainted tide,
Seas of serenity, waters of wisdom;
Before the days I felt the pull of Tempest inside.
I heard tales of a storm devoutly worshipped,
A goddess of madmen, valentines and cupids,
But I di
To a Lost Friend (re-write) by SteveJones313, literature
Literature
To a Lost Friend (re-write)
Did you hear my cries, though we were far apart?
Could you feel the tears of loss pour from my ripped heart?
Did you find some small measure of peace in your final breath?
Are we so selfish that we feel victims in the wake of your death?
Did history replay before your eyes?
Is it a final encore or life reprise, or just comforting lies?
Did you recall the time your lover first said yes?
Did you remember telling everyone you felt blessed?
My friend, did you recall when we first met?
In the last of my breaths, it will never be a memory I could forget.
Were you numbed to the unjust pain?
Did you know that you would never wake again?
Does an ess
I have known rage like a shadow
A forced companion that stalks me;
Despite where I hide it always knows,
Exactly where I will be.
And fear clings to my leg,
Slowing me to a walk as I drag him along;
It wants nothing than for me to have nothing,
To deafen me to Hope's song.
Envy and jealous follow my path,
The green twins at either side of my vision;
They inspire the fiery destructive raging wrath,
That oft' turns wise patience to reckless decision.
But all my demons bow before their diety;
Lady Guilt, Madame Mourning;
Mistress of my undying macabre memory.
What vile succubus tempts my mind,
Her fingers caressing my loss and broken heart,
Sh
If it must be that I should feel such pain,
I'll learn from it, to treat the ills of others.
And if I must be left behind again,
I will remember the loliness so I may never abandon my brothers.
If my heart should be broken and I sob with despair,
I shall paint a waterfall with my tears;
Should I be locked in a cage with my nightmares laid bare,
I shall find the strength to protect others from their fears.
I shall break diamond walls,
Before I let an ally fall.
Though I live in mourning for friends who have died,
I shall ne'er perish so long as you'll have me by your side.
I tried to dance with the Rose by moonlight's gaze
Enthralled by a delicate angel of ruby beauty;
By my own carelessness, I lost my footing,
And my hands met her thorns.
Though a red river of error trickled down the Rose's defences,
The blood was on my hands alone,
For I could not hold grudges against the Rose;
If I had treated her with care, I would have never felt the thorns.