Nathrangking

Poem #18                                                                Raging Maelstrom

Mountains tremble as a voice calls out from regions unspoiled by the destroying eyes of demons wreathed in chains that drip boiling poison. The whole of the earth is split and cleaved in two. Armies freeze as their weapons become dust and ash in their hands. Beasts of prey tumble through the air as they leap and fall short as through a barrier holds them back. Vast oceans caught in storm rage as no more than ineffectual petulant children. Whirlwinds transport legions into forests older than mortal memories. In the dark razors painted with scarlet flecks seek to strip back flesh and tear the living spirit from both the living and the dead. Arrows of lightning fall from archers hands and ignite an inferno that illuminates the world from one edge of the mortal plane to the other. Agony rushes through city streets with the wild abandon beasts stricken with the crazed touch of Bacchus. Nemesis and her legions descend upon this damned place calling upon the weavers of Pluto's realm to employ their unfeeling shears. Jove's eagles fly across the heavens reaching their talons to rip away the tributes that the fearful try to secret away. Deep chasms offer no place to hide from the eyes of the furies as they glare into the void of living souls. All that exists is stripped bare and ravaged by immortals whose foolish whims drive the ground to fracture. Minerva and her shield stand aside in silence allowing carnage to roll across the land as though Neptune's hand was guiding the absolute destruction. Even the Avenger is left without words or thoughts. Every power in the cosmos acts at the same time with the precision that only primordial beings are capable. Kings cower in crumbled palaces surrounded by rains of dust which is their gilt and treasure. An epoch that consumes has grabbed hold of this pitiful realm. No end is near for any, but the single one who slips away with their cloaked back to the storm. 

If all of you will permit me I must rant again! I'm being jerked around like some kind of marionette by two people who clearly don't care what happens to me one way or the other. They both wear false smiles and make claims of trying to go the distance so that all problems that require resolutions will be resolved. Neither of them could be bothered to check whether their words match the reality, Let me let you in on a secret. Their words become less convincing by the day. If either of them truly wanted to maker sure that things were not simply allowed to get worse then the first thing they would do is consider that I am caught between them. Forget fairness for a minute. How about you don't trap me in a hopeless situation where I will be the one who truly suffers. Frustrating is not the word. It cannot begin to describe how I'm feeling. I'm rage personified right now. That can't even do it justice. A cycle of of unending fire and icy loathing mix within me.

I always rant and you are always the greatest. Thank you for listening when others don't.

Poem #17                                                                 Fantasy in Shadow

Chains drawn from shadows blessed by those who would dare contravene laws made real in the forges of primordial deities bind all of reality. Poison drips down and tears flesh from bone exposing awful agony for all of the world to know. Pitiful cries ascend to the heavens calling for swift spirits to descend and deliver justice for those whose forms have withered and been rendered without power. Weapons not of any describable steel or iron cleave walls once thought to be unassailable. Oceans roil in a storm that only grows in intensity as it seeks to consume everything that it can take under it's influence. From the furthest distance its winds are a cooling breeze that chases the oppressive heat that stands in opposition to its dominion. However, the depths of this maelstrom contains malice and trickery bound together in opaque glass. None seem capable of standing firm before the fires from above and the unforgiving cold. Demons twisted and rancorous sing and dance to music that if mortals could hear them they would never cease spilling tears of contrition for whatever crime brought these monsters to their gates. Blood drains slowly into the waters and boils upon the doorsteps of crumbled citadels. Languishing souls turn this way and that, but cannot escape the prison which has damned them in ways that few could ever conceive of in the darkest of nightmares. What vitality exists in this place seems to be only a dream. Inferno and ice are together shattering all of the bonds that hold existence firm in its place. One cannot wake from that for which one is already awake. Gates hold firm if you can. The chains, storm, and heat must eventually fade as all things do. When time forgets them will the cries be remembered or will they too be only imaginings in a place hidden from the vision of those who know not what they see? 

For all those who are interested I have updated my experimental story. 

Diary.docx

                            Poem #16                      Imprisoned by choice?

The waters are alive with a hidden soul chiseled from a source secreted far beyond the ability of eyes to scry. There is a calm, pure, complete, and undisturbed that makes this place its home. Violence is tossed aside and banished to the deepest of pits where not even the essence of nightmares dare. Winds caressing and speaking secrets softly in an almost hum flit lope about in this infinite plane. Neither night nor day obscures or reveals any deities at work holding back the wiles of mortal beings. Armies cannot touch this liquid jewel or try to tame its waters in a game of conquest. It is no prize to be taken to sate the greed of monarchs so petty that their drunk blades carve vast breaches in the tree of their kin. Flames do not come to present their challenges to their brother. Up above not even a bird can be perceived flying through the endless and most unyielding void. Are the secrets summoning malevolent gods to this place? Thunderheads suddenly crash and bring with them tempest winds. They roar in a unity that cannot be found in a forest of emerald teeming with fallible beasts. Torches thrown from on high stab the air as though to draw from it every ounce of lifeblood. Frantic waves shred the treasure once untouched even by the raw rage of primordial beings. Day and night still have no meaning, but now wrath is loose upon this once idyllic place. Spirits upon the gales seek out the forbidden vision which was denied to them for eons. Walls rise and fall creating chaos utterly unbound by any kind of law or sacred commandment. What remains of shackles descend into a faraway chasm at the heart of what once was. When this will end none can know. A force unhindered floats away into the anarchy to chart its own path.

Happy storming Birthday!

Happy birthday, my dude!