P-Morgoti: A horse alive but dead a rider riding slumped over, over a plain of skulls and dead strewn around, or semblance of life is all you see.. Rider comes closer and you see the horse is not living but not dead, but someplace in between or parody of life it stands there with rider, sitting rider with eyes dead and lost, lost to the now, and the past, or even future for each is just living. Living a life that is not living, he knows the pain of loss, not only life but of faith, alone he stands, but not alone, for he is crawling with life but not life, small and nimble they are, they keep him alive even when he no longer wishes to live. Dead many times, some he remembers some he forgets for the remembering is pain, to forget, the only cure, or solution, as much as he feels anything any more for his humanity was gone long ago, how long no one knows for he has lost the wish to keep time, just that this is the now and he wishes to be dead to it, but can not die, for they keep him alive if you can call being more machine than man, living. Not obvious, but they are there. You look in his eyes, and all is dead, but replaced by nothing for what is a man with out hope, dreams and desires, emotions and the will to live? You look around and all that seems normal is not, you realize with a start the trees, bushes and animals all are dead, or some pale semblance of life, for all are imperfect copies made for the rider but he no longer cares, it is just there, they just exist and he cares not. No one else is here for all died ages ago, in some thing the man knows of but not telling but knowing is madness as it is for he was the one who brought it about, in his pride, ignorance or just plain stupidity he let it go and all died from it, for all was consumed by it what it is is, all you need to see around to know but you can not see for you are not really here? or he is killing you eating your soul draining your life but he knows not is not conscious of it, for he no longer wants to know, blocked from his mind and memories is your passing, only that he keeps going not that he wants to keep going but he plods one foot in front of the other, or on the horse being he rides to the next victim, for he has died many times to be taken back to living for they will not let his body die even if his soul died an age ago. Mike 2005 ----- P-Morrigen Morrigen, avenge me, she screams, with last breath, save me from this demon made flesh. a mortal man, whose hate for me is most foul? What did I do to deserve this I ask of him with no reply, for he has none.. Save me and mine from the torment he brings to us, the lost child, the lost love, the dead who scream in agony. The living lost in death, for not knowing, are they dead, in torment, or what? Morrigen a women tall and dark, hair and visage, like a raven intent on pray, she stalks her prey, those far from innocent stalks, not a innocent one, but pray most foul. Morrigen like a goddess, a women dark of hair and visage. like a raven tall and strong, with eyes that pierce the darkness.. To bring the unknown guilty to the light of truth, with mind and spirit. Knowledge and cunning, wisdom and persistence, to give the victims peace, their families hope, and those affected a sense of closure. Morrigen we cry to drive the demons away, not ones of spirit and nature biblical, but ones most foul and mortal.. Mortal ones, who prey and hide, who slither in the darkness, who rise up and slaughter, hurt and maim, driving those who protect to madness.. Madness of frustration of egos crossed and battered minds, so to Morgan we fly to find the guy, or who she is, what they know and feel, to profile them and draw the shades from the abyss of ignorance, and bring them to the light, of truth, and justice, most swift. To burn them in holy light. by hells fire and drive them from our mind and fears, to draw away the anger, and pain and agony of their victims, give them peace of knowing they can walk the streets and by ways, to love again, to touch again, to feel again, and breath deeply and feel not danger at every step. And just feel safe Mike Adams 2005 (2006) For a buddy. Find who he or she is, and bring them to justice, please. Morrigen was three women, ravens.. Chooser of the slain, the worthy.. it is okay my dear warrior one of the three, chooser of the slain and warrior of blood. of the Morrrigan. ------- P-Death and Dying Dying yes, dead not yet for with out life, then you have death or without hope there is death giving up before the mark of death arrives to soon to give up to be given to the pile or corpses piled high before hells door given up to the disease called dying, or cancer or some other malady that saps our strengths and pulls us down down to the ground and in or to pyres high. glory, is just an excuse for dying better than others dead. Mike 2005
Posted on: Tue, 27 Aug 2013 02:24:57 +0000
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