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Tempest


I was born on the Saint Lawrence River, in the midst of the Thousand Islands in Upstate New York. I have traveled to the Extreme Northwest to Anchorage Alaska, and down to the Heat Seared Desert of Nevada, creating the life experiences needed to write these pieces of soul on paper. Not to say my Hometown didn’t give me plenty of inspiration, I was no stranger to occurrence… I left my Father and Grandmother sadly, resting in Peace in the same cemetery I played in as a child. The shining light in my life, my Princess Olivia, is responsible for inadvertently driving me to become better at writing, and driving me insane in the process. For these things I love her with everything in my heart. Also, to my best friend… Julianne, my favorite Militant Hippie, she has given me the courage to follow a dream that I thought was nothing more than dust. She helped me wake up and smell the roses… and follow my bliss. You are my Shiny, now and always! My devoted mother, Nora and various relatives still reside in the North Country and so does the inspiration for efforts at writing today, Ms. Campany, my 12th grade English Teacher. I will never forget the words that she had posted on the wall that greeted us everyday. “Carpe Diem”, Seize the Day. Those words inspired me, as did this most glorious example of what a Teacher really is. I don’t have any more education than a high school diploma, and what life has taught me, I will never stop learning. I haven’t won a Pulitzer Prize… yet, but that is next on my agenda. I am macabre, fanciful, and I am a hopeless romantic, but I am me and that is all I will be. This is what I have come to believe everyone should aspire to be… Themselves.

*~*Soul Asylum ~*~*




Pious daughter in hallowed robes,
Clutches wooden beads to her heart,
Running blindly into woodland darkness,
Her story has begun...

Eyes that once warmed, now cold, vacant,
Fingers gently entwined with prayer,
Now fisted, knotted in pain and degradation,
How far she has truly come...

Blood stains, mar the vestiges,
Of once pure white linen,
Coloring her pale lucent skin, vermillion,
A mortal sin upon her soul…

Chastity and virtue vanish in a night,
As he stole every goodness, every light,
Burying it deep inside his own withered heart,
While spewing forth, untold anguish.

Oh, how he paid…

Within the fold of desolation,
In a frail, ravaged body,
Creation, a warped miracle,
Lay cocooned, quiescent in sweet peace.

As the rains poured down,
She flees the only life she knew,
Through the Iron Gates of Hell,
A Mansion looms in dire distance.

Thunder clad, lightening cracked skies,
Silhouette night birds of prey,
A venerable Crow, mocks her frantic step,
As a warrior Hawk swoops low, trailing her.

Wailing winds carry Wolf Song to her ears,
Light from a blackened doorway beckons,
Shadowing a demented Mistress,
While glorifying a depraved Empress…

The Roses dressed in midnight, assemble,
Welcoming this needful thing,
As they cross over a crimson pentacle,
Ushering her through, dark Chapel doors…

Welcome Home, Little One…