Thursday, December 29, 2011

Wot? Happy Birthday?

Today is a very special day. And since I can... here's the ABC's of Jen!

Jovial and Jesting, a Joker at heart,
Endearingly Energetic, Witty and Smart!
Nicely Naughty at times, And Nerdy to boot,
Neighborly and Nurturing, does that compute?
Interesting, Incredible, and in Indigo, Ideal
Frisky and Flirtatious, Her Funkness is real!
Effervescent and Excellent, a gift from above,
Real, without question, is this woman I love.

Happy Birthday. There is such beauty in you, and I am happy, proud, and honored to be near you.  Cheers to  you, and to the amazing woman you are.  Here's to many more. 


Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas


 For the first time in my life, I woke up on Christmas morning physically alone. Not alone in spirit, nor truly alone, but physically. No warm, loving body beside me, no sounds of the Holiday rustling around outside the bedroom door, no children bouncing impatiently to open the Christmas Booty.  Just me, my cat, and a laptop screen.  I should not feel alone, as I am more loved than I have ever been as an adult. I have no real reason to have this wandering through my head, or my heart, but I do.  So I'll deal with it as I do so many other emotions. I'll write.

Maestro, cue the orchestra...

     On this particular Christmas Morning, I have a gift I have not ever had before. Silence. I'll take that gift and use it to reflect. And this morning, I will reflect upon my wishes for all of you.

For those of you with family members serving in the military, I offer you hope that you will see them today, or at least speak with them. When you do, please thank them for me? I would love to shake each of their hands and express my appreciation personally, but since I cannot, please... and thank you for doing so.

For those of you experiencing a first Christmas without a loved one who has passed on this year, I offer you my heartfelt condolences, and the knowledge that comes from experience that it is always going to be difficult if you can't let yourself celebrate in their stead. Keep their memories alive, and honor them by sharing their lives with the world.

For those of you having a difficult Christmas for other reasons - childhood memories, depression, heartbreak, health issues, whatever - please know that I am thinking of you. Not that it should bring you great comfort, but being thought of might help ease just a small bit of that pain.  You are in my heart.

And for all of you, each and every one, I offer you my friendship. It is a gift I can always afford, and I am happy to give to you. Truly happy. You are all a blessing in my life, and I am thankful for being allowed the chance to be a part of yours. You tolerate my ramblings, you shake your head at my antics, and you are there for me when I need someone.  I hope to be there for you.

So, this morning I will raise a mug and toss a handful of glitter in the air. I will let the joys of the season warm me, and I hope it warms all of you. Be with family and friends, and love, love , love.

Merry Christmas friends. I love you all.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

My Father's Doves

Strung about the Christmas Tree
They lie in wait for one short flight
So briefly alighting upon firred boughs
    Daren't blink, lest they be missed
    On their last briefly-seasoned night

Lighted from without you'll see
Internal luminescence dark
No matter, brightly they still glow
    Handle carefully, they are fragile yet
    Before into rest they do embark

Glitter-skinned, no feathers plumed
And years-worn showing through
I see you there, at Christmas time
    Your presence felt through empty space
    Your doves, and I, miss you.

Christmas 2011
In Memoriam 

Monday, December 19, 2011

The Light On Broadway

     Snow fell in a hush as the brightly-colored lights danced off the dropping flakes. The streets were greasy black, frozen in the pre-dawn cold., and barren except for the scant few stragglers still out and about from the previous night's merry-making. The city was alive in it's silence, and a lone figure moved gracefully from one streetlight to the next with an elegance unnoticed by anyone else. He was tall, broad across the shoulders, but with a classic form. He was ancient, and at peace with the night.  He was Angus MacRae and he was a vampire.  He had walked these streets for a very, very long time, and tonight he moved with a purpose.  He had a gift to deliver.

He stood at the door. It was plain and unremarkable for such a beautiful building. Angus loved 71 Broadway. It was built in 1897 and had remained largely unchanged since. Here now at his destination on the 12th floor, he slowed his breathing and smiled slightly, crookedly. He had done this so many times before, and each time he filled with joy. A simple pleasure for a kindness unseen.  Angus closed his eyes and stepped through the locked door.

The apartment was dark, illuminated only by the dim glow of the few colored lights adorning the thin tree standing precariously in the corner. He sniffed deeply, taking the scent of pine into his famished lungs, and smiled again.  Christmas was truly one of his favorite times of year.  One of the saddest, as well, but still, he held onto the memories of the previous gifts he had delivered so many times before on the Eve of the day celebrated by so many in the city.  He shifted, and turned to see her standing there, as they so often do. A tiny child, waifish and sleepy-eyed. The smile warmed on Angus' face, and his eyes beamed.  The child's bald head still had the marks from where the pillow had wrinkled and bunched against the tender skin. Her eyes widened slightly as she began to grasp at the possibilities of the situation. "Dear child..." Angus began, filling the girl with his Command Voice, heard only by her, and calming her entirely. "Come closer, my sweet..."

"Are you, no... of course not... he's not real..."
"Am I Santa Clause? No, dear. I'm not. I'm real, and I have a gift for you"
"What do you have for me? Mom said there would not be presents this year, that the treatment was too expensive..." the little girl absentmindedly touched her head, stroking a scar there...
"Oh, your mother was not entirely wrong, there won't be presents for her. But you, my love, YOU have one coming to you.  Would you like to have it?  I promise it will make your mother happy as well, even if she doesn't yet understand..." Angus allowed his mind to wander back to the first time he saw this little thing, and remembered her struggling to carry her tiny backpack into the hospital. He had seen her around the streets, her illness taking it's toll, and her mother struggling more and more to make ends meet as the disease progressed as resisted treatment after treatment.  He listened in when the doctors told her mother that the prognosis was not positive, and treatment could realistically be suspended at any time in order to improve her quality of life.  Her mother had wept, hard. Night after night Angus heard the tears streaming down her face, over her tender skin.  He chose this young girl this year, simply because he wanted to.  She deserved this gift, and her mother would be able to finally begin healing her broken, work-weary heart.

"Yes, please.  But who are you?" the girl asked, her eyes clearing of the Voice that Angus placed there.

"My name is Angus MacRae. I am a Vampire. I am here because your mother asked for help, pleaded for it, and when I asked her if I was welcome in her home someday, she said I was as long as I could help her.  So here I am. I am going to give you something very special.  You will not understand it for a long time, but I am going to ask you one time my dear, and only one time.  Would you like to never have to go to the hospital again?"

The girl started, and looked puzzled. She had many questions, but the most important one came out first, "You are really a vampire?"

"I am."

"And you want to help me?  Don't vampires want to eat people?"

"I do not need to explain further than this is my choice" Angus replied, firmly, but not in anger. He'd heard this before, and anticipated the next question. "And no, I am not going to make you a vampire like me. I will change you, for certain, but you will not need to feed upon the blood of innocents or any such nonsense."

"Are you English?"

The question actually caught Angus off guard.  He grinned again, laughed a bit, and said "No, my dear. I'm Scottish"

"So what will you do to me?  Kill me?  Kill us all?"

"No. And again, do you want this gift?"

The girl shifted her weight from foot to foot.  She looked down and said "Of course I do..."

Angus was on her in a flash. He drew her soul to the surface, staring into her eyes. He felt her drift away, falling helplessly into the black behind her eyelids. He opened his mouth, and sunk his fangs into her neck, the skin so soft and delicate that he had to be very careful of the wound lest he tear her open completely. He drank deeply, feeling her approach death, feeling her heart struggle to beat against his will.  He allowed the gift to begin, felt the power in himself, felt the light in the girl's soul. He waited for the moment and then released the power from his grasp, felt her shudder and die. And he smiled again.  Woefully, he remembered his first love, dying and helpless at the time.  He felt the warmth of a thousand fires fill his own spirit, felt the joy of giving swell inside him.  He carried her limp body back to her bed, and covered her to the neck.  He placed a small bell near her head, and left, silently, as he had come.

This year, this child would be spared from death.  Her mother would wake to find a whole being, rather than a sick and dying one.  This year, a mother would find faith in her prayers, and would never again weep tears for the death of her child.  And years later, that beautiful child would grow and remember one very special Christmas.  She would never tell anyone of the vampire, and would always carry a love for that dark creature until she parted this lifetime.

And when she did, Angus was there again. Holding her hand.  Allowing her to remember each and every Christmas from their first meeting to their last. He would celebrate her lifetime, one he made possible with that wondrous gift so many years ago. He would embrace her, an ease her passing with a kiss and a single word...


And the vampire would weep again.

Humming A Few Bars...

Towards the sky, my eyes lift
Into the empty blue
I remember your scented skin
I remember you
I see your smile from my warm embrace
While the air was cold
I listened as your voice sung songs
I listened to stories told
I feel your lips upon my slumbering skin 
Thick with love and dreams
I know what we want to share
I know what all this means
Coming again not soon enough
Your hand I long to feel
The presence of my love afar
The presence that makes it real

And yet once more, I turn to see 
A smiling, loving face
Again my heart is filled with joy
Again we do embrace
I missed you so while I was elated
My heart turned round and round
Wanting you with empty arms
Wanting you in tears I drowned
Two loves upon a leaping heart
One missed as one returns
Reveals the ebb and flow of us
Reveals what my heart learns
Day by day love marches on
Into the unknown start
Understanding more each passing day
Understanding the love in our heart


Another goodbye, another hello, and another time for reflection.  It's not easy, my friends.  It's far more difficult than one could imagine, but it is worth all the effort to be allowed to love these be allowed that incredible gift.  

Such wonders exist in the depths of one's heart. Such amazing places.  I cannot express enough how perfectly loved my heart is, and how painful it can be to miss each love in turn. Easier to pick one, you might say.  I counter that the pain is worth it if the reward is the love of amazing, powerful, independent, and beautiful women the likes of which I challenge anyone to equal. These hearts are jewels, treasures each. They deserve to be heralded with trumpets and angels singing their names aloud. Such beauty and grace in each, such incredible tenderness, compassion, and understanding.  These are women worthy of gifts untold. These are women brave enough to withstand the doubt of the undiscovered, and bold enough to blaze a path unseen by so many.  

I love you both so very much.  

There is more to this song... I just need to find the right melody. 

(image was found here:

Monday, November 28, 2011


I am not proud to know you
Nor am I glad we shared
Those six years of my life
I wish I'd never cared

Now all those memories
I wish I could erase
And all those kisses I gave you
I want to take back from your face

I'm ashamed of the support I gave freely
And erase every loving word
From that thing you call a soul
For mine that you butchered

I take back my life I wanted to share
And pray you remain alone
No one to come and lay
Fresh flowers on your tombstone

And when I close my eyes at night
I wish upon a star
That you know inside your shriveled heart
I can't stand who you really are

Loathe you call me friend
You are that which I regret
I am not proud to know you
I wish we'd never met

(image is from

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Beauty, Unchained

I bask in the fragrant decadence and stroke the desire as it lingers, fitfully, on my skin. The night air, itself, clings to my slumber-ridden mind, memories and thoughts of a life unfold in the spiraling staircase that leads to the innermost depths of my consciousness.  And at the bottom of those steps lies Beauty, chained, encased in glass, the poison apple motionless by her delicate fingertips. I know what must be done, and gingerly remove the apple from Her presence...Her voluminous hair spilling around Her smooth shoulders. Her skin like fresh cream, Her lips like buttered rubies. I lean in, filling my eyes and my heart with what could never have been had I not stumbled blindly into the trap that led me to this place.

I lean in slowly, realizing too late that the poison was not intended to be consumed, rather simply contacted by the unsuspecting victim. My hand, wretched with venom, burns as I lean in to kiss Her, a fairy tale in the making... She accepts my mouth hungrily, She takes my ache and makes it her own, She sings the song of Angels and Demons.  She rises from the case, hair blazing from Her head, eyes aflame with arcane power. Her voice, thunderous in my head as the poison works into my essence, echoes as she speaks my name.

"Daring to bring Beauty into this world takes courage, my love. It takes more than most are willing to give. You have sacrificed your flesh in order to summon me here, into your life. Your body will be reborn in time, but your soul, your wondrous and caring soul will forever have been touched by my kiss."

I feel the darkness claiming me, I feel cold and damp, but unable to warm myself.  I sense pressure all around me as I fall, headlong into the case. And in that place, deep in my soul, I become eternal. I become myth. And Beauty, unchained, walks in my stead.

(inspired by two simple words, and a life most fulfilling)
image is "Goddess 14" from

Thursday, November 24, 2011


(Thanksgiving in Camp by Alfred Waud)

With clarity and brightness, I stare at the electronic page before me and think about what it is I will offer you all today. I think I should just let my gratitude guide me and see where it goes. So pull up a chair and grab a deck of cards... you can flip through them or play solitaire while I type, it's okay with me.

I remember being young, my family gathering around the house. I remember the big bowl of nuts in the shell, and that I liked the almonds and the hazel nuts best, but walnuts were a pain to eat. I remember my Grandfather hovering over the pickles and the olives. I remember the smells of the meal being prepared, the potatoes being whipped in the giant old aluminum pot, the meat stuffing being heated again after cooling all night in the unheated front hall (did we ALWAYS have one of those no matter where we lived?  Seems it!). I remember the turnips and carrots and sweet potato and just so much food there on the table... it was glorious to a kid to see all of it spread out and waiting.   And I remember the comically large turkey being summoned from the oven and placed at the head of the table where my Grandfather sat.  He would carve it up, dish it, and then it would be passed around to join the other foods already plated or being plated as we talked and laughed.  Oddly, here my brain takes a detour.  My Grandfather was the one who always carved the turkey.  not my Father. And up until right now, I wondered about that. But I'll give the man a nod and a huge amount of respect for deferring that honor to his wife's father for the entirety of the man's stay in this life.  That's a lot of respect that drives a decision like that, and I think my Father deserves the same.

Where was I?
Oh, the turkey.
It was never dry, as I remember it.  I've cooked some doozies in my life, but my mother didn't. Tradition and care drove her ability to cook a beautiful bird.

Then came the football, and the cleaning, and the loafing.  It seems that my clarity ends after the meal, and it becomes a muddied mess.  Dishes, of course, and some chatting, but I think the meal really overshadowed the rest of the day.

Today, things are a little different. I used to go to my wife's family for the meal, then dessert with my family (if at all), but that's not happening this year.  So for the return to my joining my family for the meal, drama-free, I am thankful.

I am also thankful for a great many other things... shall I list a few?

  • My health, and the health of my family. We're getting older for sure, but we're still kicking.  
  • My children. Both of them.  My son making a life for himself in a different state, and my daughter finding ways to grow up too quickly.  
  • My family. All of it.  Even the new members I recently added by way of reunion or by choice. I am grateful for the support, for the sharing, and for the love you give.
  • My life, and the opportunities I have in it. 
  • My art, and the chances I have been given to explore things I never thought possible.  
  • My memories of those who have passed. 
  • My kitteh, Magic. (who is sleeping the day away it seems!)
  • You. All of you. Those of you who visit my blog to see what the hell I am up to now, or to read the latest babbling or poem or story or whatever... why you come here is not important, but that you do is.  
  • My friends. Old, new, often or seldom seen. The ones with whom I have crazy adventures and the ones I have touching, quiet moments with.  The ones who take me up on the offer of a shoulder, and the ones I cry on. I am grateful for your friendship. Always.

So there it is. A very short list of just a few of the things I am thankful for this year.

Oh, yeah. I might have a couple things that I didn't mention.
Gina and Jennifer.
Yeah. I'm pretty thankful for them being here, in my life so boldly and bravely. I am thankful for the trust they display, and the kindness, and of course the love.  That glorious, warming love.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you.

I love you.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Weight of the Past

Burning daylight in your eyes, I fully expect to feel your gaze upon me, asking if I will squander yet another beautiful day. I wait, breathlessly for the words to fall from your lips, cutting me down for wanting to be here, quietly in your arms. I let my breath begin again, ever so quietly, lest I provoke you into yet another verbal tirade, tearing down my already injured soul.  I can feel the weight of your words forming in your throat...

And you whisper "I love you" instead.

Tears stream down my face as I realize that you are not her, that all the years I spent being trained to respond are gone, the demands for obedience and impossibly high expectations replaced now with love and tenderness.  And I tremble inside for having thought of you that way. I shudder at the thought of having to overcome these feelings in the presence of wonderful you, and I hope deeply that you can see who I am through the conditioned reactions.

"I love you, too," I reply, my hand tracing lazily over your cheek.

We are fragile things, conditioned over years by our partners, by our friends, or family members. Sometimes those conditioned responses spill over into every other part of our lives, and we begin to break down our natural responses and replace them with what is expected.  Sometimes for the better, often at the expense of ourselves. So when the expected response is turned on it's ear, we hopefully begin to see that we CAN feel good about our own reactions, and with some luck, they return along with who we really are inside. To all those suffering from this affliction, my heart goes out to you.  And I include myself in those people, and I try as hard as anyone to rid myself of those reactions that have been needled into me, but I fail from time to time.

So with love, and hope, I'll keep trying.

I hope others do as well.  Life IS beautiful.  We just need to remind ourselves of that from time to time.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Lazily Down the River...

So, yeah. Things move on in strange ways, and we are sometimes unprepared for them. Kind of like when friends just drop by and you are sitting there in your underwear wanting a burger and some tater tots, you know?    I had a wonderful trip to beautiful and sunny Los Angeles recently. It was full of family and friends, and felt more like coming home than going away, which is good. I had the chance to actually contribute a little something to a CD release party for someone famous, met some exceptional people, and even got to help make the caterers happy at the end of the night.  The Feast of Samhain was just fabulous, and I even got to celebrate with my Pagan lovelies! Not to mention seeing the Amanda Palmer show and meeting a really interesting human being there... It was just a great trip.

The return flight was supposed to be a sleep-fest, since I was just plain-old beat, but instead I discovered that I was seated to just the most fabulous human being and had a great conversation about so many different things.  Truly, one of the best trips out there. And then I returned, into the arms of my other love.  As I previously spoke, a goodbye into a hello, and it was warm and caring... more than I ever dreamed possible.  And then the news fell.  My sweetie in LA was suddenly given the chance to start a new career, and our life together became more possible. So here I sit, staring down the barrel of another holiday season, but this year I am not wallowing in the turmoil of a fading marriage, but instead I am reveling in the hearts of women I love, friends I care for, and family more than ever.  It is a wondrous feeling, indeed.

Moving along (please keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times), I get to thinking about how people perceive my public blathering about Polyamory. I wonder if there are a lot of folks just shaking their head. I'm sure most of you who read this blog know how I see the world.  If not, well stay tuned, will you?  But I do wonder sometimes.  I get asked here and there if it's really necessary to be so public about my life.  I think it is.  I think that it's important to be open about this stuff (within reason, that is). There are certain details I don't need to disclose, and I don't. I DO think it is meaningful and positive to be up front about it, and to live by example... (and I often call myself "Mr. Bad Example" as many of you know).

Honestly, there are a couple things that cropped up lately in conversation that I'd like to share.  The first is the concept that polyamory is somehow wrong.  It isn't. It's beautiful.  It's comfortable. It's honest and open. And it's for me.  It might not be for you, but it IS for me.  One of the concerns that pops up now and then is everyone getting enough time. Admittedly, it's tough.  Sometimes very tough.  But we keep trying to find ways to make it work.  It's obvious that it is important to keep talking about all of the issues as they come up, and this one does from time to time.  So far, it's worked out.  As we spend more time actually together, I am hopeful that it will settle into a comfortable rhythm.  We've had things that needed compromise, and we have managed pretty well so far.  I'm certain we will continue to be considerate of each other's needs. Love goes a long way.

Another thing that popped up in conversation is the subject of someone wanting more as things progress.  Probably.  Who knows, right?  I answered that poke with the same thought that I answer most other questions about things that haven't happened yet - I simply put my faith in our lines of communication. I think that we will be able to handle those kinds of things as life marches on.  It will certainly be difficult to come to an agreement  but again, I think that we can all be considerate.  I'm even pretty sure that if one or the other need a little more time (or even ME!!), then we will be able to work out something that allows all of us to feel comfortable. I have lots of faith in what we share.

I'd be really happy to answer questions regarding any of this stuff.  I believe in this life, and I love what I have.

Wrapping up, I suppose. Here is a toast, to starting new lives, to having new homes, and for the very best to those I love.

Without the trust and understanding of two very incredible women, all of this would simply be another life.  Instead, it is truly magical. Onward and upward to the future.  I don't know where it leads either, but this road rarely traveled sure has some beautiful scenery.

Thank you.

I love you both.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Coming Home

One of the more difficult parts of long-distance relationships is the goodbye at the end of the trip.  It's never easy in any circumstance, and certainly not here, but there's a twist. This goodbye also ends in a hello. Polyamory sometimes comes across as something other than the beautiful, caring thing that it really is.  But here, nearing the sadnessof goodbye, I am also faced with another joyful hello.

I have said many times recently that the presence of one heart does not make the absence of the other any easier. I miss each one, I long to feel that closeness and be near to the melodious sounds of my love's voice. Each of them. It's so damned hard to say hello without remembering that there was just a goodbye. It seems so easy to some who do not understand, but it is far from that.  There is the aching, the stinging, and the sense of loss that comes with each goodbye.  There is, of course, also the joyous elation of each hello, as well. That warm sense of tenderness with that very first hug, that very first kiss.  It is beauty in sadness. The easy solution, as so stated to me from time to time, is to choose one. But would it be easy for you to choose one of your children over the other?  I didn't think so. Each is loved completely. Each a part of you.  The case is the same here.

Instead, I will embrace each heart as I do, I will love and care as I do. And I will miss each heart as I do.  But I will also be so very grateful for that first embrace, that first gaze into loving eyes.

In this case, coming home means leaving home. Just as it did a week ago. Just as it will over and over again.


(the image is shared from a facebook posting - if it's yours, just ask and I'll take it down)

Monday, October 31, 2011

The Feast of Samhain

Autumn blooms
the wheel goes 'round
into the darkness
we are bound
in solemn gait
the veil lies thin
this world and theirs
this Feast begins

To all those who celebrate something greater than just dragging the kids around to get candy from the neighbors, I offer you a warm, honest, and deeply meant 'Blessed Samhain'. To my family, East and West, I offer my heart, and I wish for the day when all of those I care for are at peace with the dead. Last night, I sat with my West coast family and ate well. We brought memories to a table together, and laughed as much as reminisced. It was beautiful in it's simplicity, and it was so good to sit with these people I call brothers, and sister, and nephew.  It was a joy to bring my long-time traditions to a new family.

I love you all.

And I miss those only able to be here, at our table, in spirit.

And to my family back East, you were here as well.  I kept you close to my heart, each of you, and shared the night.  My friends, my sister and brother, my niece and nephews, my mother. All those I cannot or did not name, YOU were here, with me, as you are all part of me.

The Feast of Samhain awaits.

My love to you.

Blessed Be!

(Image is Snap Apple Night by Daniel Maclise 1833)

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Another Flight

I fly West. The Airbus A320 carries me and my bags toward the setting sun once again, and my day becomes 27 hours. I don't mind, since I am streaking along at about 450 mph. It's exhilarating, as you all know, that rush of the takeoff...the way the multi-ton airframe pivots so delicately on it's wing tips...I love it all.

I also love that my life has become more interesting as of late.  If you read this blog, you know how I live, and it is so freeing to be able to begin working towards a future with those I love.  Slowly, with a light step -  but it IS movement forward.  It's so beautiful to experience trust and honesty at such a high level.  It feels so right to be able to see relationships blossom through hard work, and faith that it can work well as long as communication remains open. Love blossoms again, and hope springs forth, bringing with it the chance to be loved again as never before, and never as imagined.

Here's to goodbyes and homecomings.  Here's to kindness and understanding. Here's to new beginnings and second chances on love.


Holding those I love close to me with open hands, I fly West.  And I have both a kiss goodbye and a kiss hello waiting on each side of this flight.  How perfect is that?

<3 <3

Saturday, October 15, 2011


Beautiful the hourglass before me
Pale by moon's soft light
Caressed in gentle stroking
Curves bring eyes delight
An' in the morn by sunlight
Kiss'd in blissful song
Stroking sleep-soft shoulders
My heart aching, longs.
For love is the grace of pleasure
Being held by caring arms
Trapped happily in your gaze
I surrender to your charms

To Remember

It seems so very long ago that my father died.  Cancer took him from us without mercy or kindness or understanding.  It took him from my mother's side, from our family's table, and from our children's lives forever.  It didn't ask if it would be okay, nor did it send us a little note after we buried him saying it was sorry for the chain of events that led up to him departing this world.

Cancer just fucking killed him.

We have memories, and we tell his stories, some of which still make ALL of us laugh out together - the Swedish Chef, Marie bring me a trash bag, his painting adventures, all the junk that the man drove around in, and so many others.  Without question, someone brings him to the table for our annual Samhain Dumb Supper, where we honor our dead. We talk about him, and we notice the holes he left in our lives when he left.  We all miss him...each of us in our own way, and we all think about him whenever we gather for the holidays.  Now, understand that the man was not the model of healthy living. He smoked cigarettes and drank coffee like a truck driver (well, actually he WAS a truck driver for most of my life, but that's sort of beside the point here). He didn't frequent doctor's offices much, either, which might have been a factor in his death. He really didn't take very good care of himself at all.


He took good care of us.  We didn't learn a lot about saving for the future, nor about making good career choices, or even about being open-minded. Instead he taught us about caring for the children, about seeing that there was fun in life, and that his family could actually have that.  He was a loving man without the emotional vocabulary to fully express it.  But he loved us, all of us, and wanted us all to have a better life than he ever had.  And so, we did.  But sadly, we had to live it without him.

I remember my father, as he would have appreciated, and I miss him.

Robert O. LaBelle
10.14.1946 - 8.10.1993

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Little Kindnesses

When I was a younger man, a dear friend of mine did something extraordinary. Let me share the story with you...

Somewhere in the late spring of 1986, I came down with Strep Throat.  It fell upon me, as it usually does, with a high fever and those really awful body aches. I spent some time in bed.  On this certain day, I opened my eyes late in the morning to see my wonderful friend sitting by my bedside, reading his book (Very well might have been Harlan Ellison's Deathbird Stories, but I can't be completely sure of that), and waiting patiently for me to rise.  He had ditched school to be there with me. My mother would check in from time to time and I would dreamily hear him tell her that I was okay and no, he didn't want something to eat.  It was incredibly selfless of him to do this for me, and I cherish the memory of that act.  I also use it as a guidepost to how to treat others.

We are long-grown now, but I still see him and we are still fast friends, close and comfortable - the way good friendships should be.  But I still carry the impact of that act with me through life, and I recognize the importance of those things, those little kindnesses that we can give so freely and cost us nothing except maybe a few moments out of our own lives.  Things like listening, and being someone that others can count on in times of need, and being a shoulder when things are really tough. Simple things like cornering someone at a party and making sure that they are really as okay as they say.  A cup of coffee with a friend, or even just a text message to say good morning.  These things we can do add a richness to our relationships with others, and sometimes open up conversations that reveal more of a person than they would have ever dared show to you.  Life should be about being good to the people you care about, don't you think?

And besides, sometimes sitting quietly while a sick friend sleeps is more rewarding than anything.

<3 <3

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

I see the stars still shine
And the moon still hangs
I see the blue skies
And the Sunshine
Why didn't you tell me that the hurt would never go away?

I see the seas still rise
And the tide comes in
I see the harbors still full
And the docks still float
Why didn't you tell me that the hurt would never go away?

I see my life moving forward
And adventures anew
I see paths never taken
And destinations unknown
Why didn't you tell me that the hurt would never go away?

I feel the distance ever growing
And the familiar fading away
I see new faces where we used to stand
And I miss you


(note: Found this in the list of posts still listed as draft.  Seems okay to post it now...)

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Still Twisting by the Pool...

Yeah.  So I get asked a lot of questions sometimes about Polyamory.  This is not so much a surprise to me, since this really does fall far beyond the boundaries of what people consider 'normal', but sometimes the questions seem more like punctuated statements than questions.  I got a peach of one today.

"So why do this?  Just to prove to yourself that it can be done?"

(I'll leave the byline off, since that's not important, but I will grant full credit if the questioner would like it...)

Good one, huh? So where do I begin?

  • I do this, I love like this, because I can.  
  • I love like this because it is rewarding and beautiful to those who understand and appreciate the choices. 
  • I love like this because I can bring love to more than just a single soul.  
  • I love like this because I can lift others up without feeling guilty that I am letting anyone else down.  
  • I love like this because there are beautiful souls needing to be cared for, appreciated, and loved.  I have enough love to go around, nobody I care for is getting slighted, and it feels damned good to do it.  
  • I love like this because love is one of those wonderful elements that you end up with more of if you keep giving it away.  
  • I love like this because, well, because I choose to.  The people I am involved with get complete honesty from me about what is going on, and I get complete honesty from them just the same.  It's difficult at times, but there are hurdles in every relationship, and honestly, it just feels right.  
  • I love like this because I think it's a beautiful thing. 

As I have said before, it certainly isn't for everyone, and the hurdles can seem insurmountable when viewed from the perspective of a traditional relationship, but they can be bested with work and love, love, love. Not forcing anything helps greatly, as well (It's a very difficult thing to try and fit a puzzle together if the Polaroid has not yet fully developed yet), and making sure that each person gets what is important to them whenever possible goes miles towards showing their importance. 

In the end, it takes patience, understanding, and maybe a little bit of luck in finding the right combination of people, circumstances, and emotional desire to make it work best.  

And I am feeling very, very lucky.  

<3 <3

My dear Gina said something about how I love today that made me smile an awful lot. She said, "Most people will walk past that tiny little flower growing in a crack of the sidewalk and never even notice it at all.  You stop, lift it up, admire it's beauty, it's tenacious spirit, tell it how perfect an example to others it is, and point it out to the rest of the world.  You let that flower shine to all others."

I was totally flattered by this, of course, but I accept that I TRY to do this for people.  I TRY to make them feel as important as they deserve to feel.  Isn't that worth doing?  Isn't that what we should all try to do for others?  

Love each other.  It's important. 

Monday, October 10, 2011


The brass'd clock thrice turned in endless glory
When at last time in march began to sing
Two voices, harmony, tell a story
Unexpectedly love blooms in the Spring

As the Western sky calls the heart away
From the comforts of the unrealized home
To begin anew and live for today
Learn'd from tenderness one's ne'er alone

With hope in the guise of newly found joy
Eyes opened to possibilities new
Spoke in the dark with a whispering voice
Deep into her scented hair "I Love You"

You taught me to love as free as a bird
You changed my life with that magical word

Shortly After

Countless stars in the sky with names unknown
There are mountains mysterious and lost
Wonders my eyes will not ever be shown
But I will love you no matter the cost

Fathoms beneath the tumultuous Sea
Miles above in the Heavens so fair
I embrace your heart. kind, caring, and free
And encourage you to be brave and dare

A beauty beyond a mere mortal gleam
Cloudless skies no comparative measure 
Brighter than church bells pealed loudly in dreams
Her bright smile a grandiose pleasure

Impossible for these words to capture
My amazing love brings me to rapture 

Monday, October 3, 2011


Red in the sky
Heart on the ground
Hands held in love
To those I have bound

Kisses from lips
A tender sweet touch
Joys in my heart
I love them so much

Watching the sky
For a shooting star
Warm in the eyes
Of love near and far

The black bird beholds
A Dryad in green
A Star from the sky
Things are more than they seem

Tuesday, September 27, 2011


The raven scanned the ground below for the gift he'd long-ago lost.  It seemed like a lifetime since he'd seen it, that beautiful gift that he meant to give to her.  But it was gone. Lost forever in the thickly-wooded places where he'd hidden his heart.  Probably for the best, anyway. She'd burned their hideaway, smashing every window with  a hammer before lighting the fire herself. He sat quietly on the familiar branch, looking down at the bare patch that used to be the yard in which he'd hidden treasures.  He jumped from branch to branch, settled in on the familiar places, and tried to remember the place he'd called home.  Then he saw them, flitting in the wind, caught in the pine boughs high up off the ground.  He leapt, half-flying to them, and gathered one up in his beak.  Tears welled in his eyes as he took wing and soared away, a tattered plum scrap helping him remember the night sky...

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Life is Good

I saw the stars and heard the angels
While I waited for a sign
I felt the brush and hoped again
For a chance that she'd be mine

Weaving through a Summer's day
Or dancing in the snow
My heart it leapt and sung aloud
When again her smile glowed

Those beaming eyes, those ruby lips
Waiting for the day
When we could again just be in love
Somehow, Somewhere, Some way

Love then old, now new again
We knew that we would try
And as we laughed at hidden jokes
We agree that we gotta fly

<3 You

Seeing Red

She is beautiful
And she is kind

She is sweet
Her heart is mine

She is skilled
And she is bright

She holds my hand
In darkest night

She helps me sleep
When eyes won't close

She calms my soul
Inspires prose

She watches over
My slumbering heart

Holding it sweetly
Creating art

With starry love
Her eyes do shine

So lucky I am
To call her mine

For Gina.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Twisting by the Pool

Polyamory  \ˌpä-lē-ˈa-mə-rē\
The state or practice of having more than one open romantic relationship at a time
I wonder how many people would be happier if they were able to move freely from one relationship to another? Rather than having divorce after divorce, and homes broken into splintered camps for the sake of whatever nonsensical paradigm holds us fast, I wonder if being free to love would change the world? I'm pretty sure it would, since I know that it made a huge difference in MY life, although accepting that this was actually a real alternative was very difficult at first.  Let's be honest here, I mean how does this even seem like a possibility?  In a society so monogamous and enslaved to a paradigm where we consider our hearts property, it sounds wrong  to consider loving another if they make you happy. But it is a real choice.  The "And" rather than the "Or" when dealing with love...being able to honestly say "I love you" to more than just a single person and meaning it completely.  It's freeing, and I think that in this world of ever-failing marriages, having an alternative is a good thing. Holding someone close to you, but not smothering them or expecting them to change for you.  Letting them be who they are as you love them.

Finding what we need in others is damned nice.  Finding comfort, understanding, passion, creativity, or sometimes even just a hand to hold... these things we crave emotionally... it is wonderful and rewarding.  To have this with more than one person is truly amazing. Especially when it is in a Polyamorous situation rather than some back-alley thing - Openly, honestly, and completely above boards. And being Poly does not mean sex with everyone you see.  Quite the contrary, actually.  It's about the relationship more than anything else. It's about finding emotionally rewarding situations and being free and open enough to take advantage of them.  And it is most certainly not a new name for swinging.  It's about love, and caring.  It's about kindness and joy.  It's about listening and being heard. And it is SO wonderful. It is adding rather than replacing.  Realizing that it is possible, and wonderful, to love many is, itself, liberating, but being honest and open with all involved can be scary as hell, and has the potential to hurt no matter the intention.  It happens, and it gets dealt with, and we move on.  Those discussions are sometimes not for the weak of heart, but you really find out who you are.

As Harlan Ellison wrote: "Why does he tell us this?"  I tell you this so you understand.  I tell you this so my life can be open and free, without the need for excuses.  This is who I am.  I am not ashamed of it, I am not going to suddenly wake up tomorrow and be cured.  This is part of my wiring.  It has taken me a long time to not only accept this, but to even discover that this can be a very wonderful thing.  Something else I have learned is that there is plenty of love to go around. 



Something I didn't mention, but should talk about, is about how it is incredibly rewarding to be so trusted and loved in this way.  I will be the first to tell you that it most certainly is a considerable amount of work. More work than I have ever put into any relationship.  But it truly is worth it.  To feel this close, this cared about, and to be able to care for others so much,'s fantastic.  One of the emotional wonders of the human experience. 


Monday, September 5, 2011

Waffles with Chuck

     Plates clank in the air as the steaming coffee warms my lips.  I sit, watching her from across the room, chatting with the gentleman in front of her with grace and beauty, her head tipping back and forth, as she responded to his conversational advances.  She smiles that smile and my heart breaks into a sprint for just a beat or two. That smile.  The way she flips her hair to open her face up and expose the glowing skin to the daytime.  The gentleman showed his own smile to her, one well worn and toothy.  A smile that has charmed so many hearts over so long a life.  He reached out for her hand, and she took it with care, and heartfelt warmth.  He slowed a bit, grasped her hand in return, and I saw him melt some.

     The waitress returned, a butterfly to the flowers of their mugs, filling them with fresh, hot liquid.  They released their grasp, added cream and sweetener, and sipped delicately, smiles still firmly in place. They continued their conversation, both talking in turn, and listening intently to each other, interjecting words as they were needed.  I sat back, twirled my bowler on the chair next to me, and drank from my own cooling cup. My own server flitted by, refilling, and continuing on her way. I smiled at her, catching her eye and eliciting a smile. I laughed inside as I turned back to watch the kindness pour from that beautiful woman just a few tables away, her red hair spilling out from under her hat, her eyes bright as she conversed with a man twice her age.  She looked away for a moment, seemed to check some unseen clock and wiped her mouth with the napkin folded neatly in her lap.  They rose together, moved to greet one another, and embraced.  His hand moved from her shoulders, slowly down her back, coming to rest just over the top of her skirt. It moved with care and compassion, as her hands moved over his shoulders, criss-crossing as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.  They parted, their hands being the last contact point between them.  He took his seat as he watched her go, finishing his coffee and slowly wiping his lips. 

     I got up, dropped enough cash on the table to cover the bill and the tip, picked up my bowler, and crossed the room.  I snaked my way to his table, and paused over his shoulder. He smiled up at me, and spoke to me.
 "Nice hat," the old man said quietly.
"Thanks.  You played well last night"
"We did, thanks.  Something I can do for you, young man?"
"Oh.. no.  I saw her dancing last night with you.  She's beautiful"
"Red? Yeah.  She's something.  Heart of gold, too."
"I bet.  That was quite a smile."
"Are you kidding me?  It's a damn shame."
I started, feeling as though that was a strange thing to say. "Huh? Why?"
"Boy, that girl is in love."


Thursday, September 1, 2011


When the veil falls upon our weary eyes, all that remains is the shell that carried our soul through this lifetime, and memories of how we lived.  Some people live so boisterously that their impressions are laid upon the face of the earth itself, and others live so meekly that one has to investigate the nuances of the historic recorded to find even the smallest trace of their existence, often through their influence on other more noticeable events.  Somewhere in the middle lie the rest of us.

Strength is one of the many characteristics that we remember. Strength of character, strength of will, strength of personality, or the strength of our faith.  When things are difficult, and lives become serious challenges, it is our strength that finds us able to stand up and function, able to be there for others, or be the one others turn to in order to find inspiration for their own weary souls.  It carries us through the darkness and back out into the glorious sunlight when we can finally find a quiet corner and expose our weakness, through tears or writing or nervous habits.  It is our strength that allows us to brave those moments and see ourselves as we really are - Beautiful spirits traveling through a journey like no other.

I knew Joan only peripherally, though she had been a part of my family's life since I was a very young man.  I saw her casually at various holidays, birthday parties, and other milestone family events. I heard stories of her over the years, and I watched her children from afar.  As the twilight fell, I sat by her bedside and hopefully brought her some comfort before the sun finally set.  I spoke to her, as perhaps I should have so many years ago, but did not.  And I listened to her. The silence spoke volumes.  Even in so late an hour, her strength carried her beating heart into the night far beyond expectations of others. 

Beating the odds, succeeding where others expected failure, resisting.  These things indicate the strength of Joan's character. She was a strong woman, providing a home for her children and expecting more from them than perhaps they did of themselves. I wonder to myself what they will remember most of her after forgiveness and understanding fall upon their years. I wonder if they will recognize and appreciate her strength?

I offer you my heartfelt wishes that your memories are filled with gratitude and your hearts remember the lessons she taught. I am here, with you all, celebrating Joan's life, and being glad to have been in it no matter how small a part I played.  I hold your hands, to perhaps give you some strength, and to help you remember that she will always be a part of you.

Merry Meet
Merry Part
Merry Meet Again.                                                                        

Written for Joan Robillard and Family.  We laid her to rest as she wished today, honoring her faith and her memory. 
To all of her family, I DO offer my heart, my hand, and my shoulder.

Her Obituary

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

It's Where The Heart Is...

Fly fly fly!
Storms begone from my wings!
Fly Fly Fly!
My heart finds a voice and sings!
Dark clouds weigh my soul no more!
Let sunshine grace my door!
Fly Fly Fly!
I seek my way home to rest!
Fly fly fly!
Where my heart is always loved best. <3

Home is so many places.  Where the heart settles in close and warm to another, where the sea meets the shore, where the sky meets the earth.  The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? I am certain there are arms waiting to hold me there.  Where there is love, there will always be a place to build a home upon. 
Bricks and mortar need not apply, it is love Love LOVE that makes me fly. <3 <3 <3

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Light in the Tunnel

  My heart so heavy in tunnels dark
I held the tears of pain
Without a shining smile to guide
Those tears fell down like rain

And in the blackest pitch of night
I touched my gift from you
And before I knew it gone my pain
And the love in my heart grew

No sadness weighs my smile now
No grim feelings here
No remorse for days gone by
Your love displaced my fear

So it goes til journey's end
Until the darkness binds
I shall be joyous with your heart
And to your soul be kind

The smiles you gave to my aching heart
Shall let us grow, to ne'er part

Written for my son's endeavor.  Give it a look and share the love, will you?

Friday, August 19, 2011

Ten Years

A child grows and seasons change
From Fall to Spring again
And while the grass grows green and full
I sit and remember when

There was no love nor smiles dear
Nor holding of our hands
There was no laughter warm and sweet
Before we two began

And in the years we've cherished dear
So close to touching hearts
The love we made brings us close
So close to ne'er part

For all the winds that filled our sails
And all the sunny days
We two, together built a life
And here we wish to stay

Until sun sets upon our cheeks
Until the sails lie down
Until the grass turns from green
Our love shall be our crown

Nestled lightly on our brow
It's weight no earthly chore
To lift us up in joyous praise
We shall love for ever more

With love and respect for Tess and Tim Gilmer.
A glass raised to a lifetime of love.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Proper Use And Care of a Soul

Every woman is a Goddess.  Every man is a God.  And far too often, we forget that very important piece of information.  Too often, we lose sight of the powerful beings in the room with us, sitting in the chair across from us, or just sharing our space. We forget. We lose sight of the fact that these individuals should be revered and honored with kindness and love. They should have adoration rained down upon them in a manner befitting a Celestial being.  They deserve to be respected for who they are and what they bring into our lives.  But many times we find ourselves without the proper respect for such a deity. And that is when we miss something worth paying attention to. 

So my advice to all of you out there is to reach out your hand, and place it lovingly over the hand of the Divine Being beside you.  Take that flesh into your own, and caress it, stroke it, demonstrate that you feel for them the way they deserve. Let them believe that you do, as only a lover can. Divinity deserves attention, and care, and open displays of affection.  So be attentive and caring to that wonder in your life before you wake up one day and regret your inattentiveness.

You will miss them when they are gone.

So today, right now, take the time to see the wonder inside your partner. Revel in their differences, and rejoice in their presence. Celebrate each day you have with them in a way that is meaningful and pleasurable, and brings you BOTH (or as many of you are involved...) happiness and laughter.  See the beauty that lies behind those eyes, and sing praises about them.  Love that Goddess, Love that God.  Revere them, and show them off to the world.  Love them and hold them close, but hold them close with an open hand, not possessively, but gently and with respect.  Do this, and you never know how your inner Divinity will reward you.

As is stated in Doreen Valiente's Charge of the Star Goddess, "All acts of love and pleasure are My rituals".  Be mindful of that and you might be a more worthy worshipper.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Dream of the Raven's Gate XII

The sea carried my body from the shores of Sanity. I felt the ebb and flow of the tide against my fragile mind.  Screams and furor filled my ears and my voice, shrill and broken, poured from my mouth soundlessly.  I was lost.

Green and slithering, His Voice poured into my hollow shell with all the fluidity of Virginia mud.  It's thick, viscous slime tainting the essence of what little self I had left inside the feeble confines of my consciousness.  It crawled like a living thing, it accompanied the taproots that bored themselves into my soul.  I floated along, unable to steer myself in any direction, unable to see my destination,  but feeling the pull of the deepening Madness. I was going to be taken there... to R'Lyeh... and I was going to become a servant to the Great Old One.  I could feel the changes being made to me as Karasu had been changed so long ago.

 Karasu.  I knew him, didn't I? My mind wandered to distant shores, to places I had never been, and to scenes I could not have witnessed.   I saw a ship thrown about in a raging storm, I was a great city rise from the sea and feel the terror of men over generations.  Karasu.  How was this finding it's way here, inside me now?   How was it that I could feel lost in eternity, yet tied to that foul creature?  He called me 'child'.  Why?  And where was that damned Key, anyway?  Where did I leave it? Where had it gotten off to?  Suddenly, I felt a great urge to find it.  I felt a powerful drive to seek out my Key. Now.  Frenzied I wanted to thrash, to flail against my mental bindings... to rebel against the power holding my broken mind in it's grasp.  A sound, not His, reached my core.  Three Caws. Again. And Again.  A crow? Here at sea? How... And my mind fell away into the depths of confusion.

Colors swirled against the sky, disjointed scents filled my nostrils, and non-rhythmic drums hammered against my chest. 
And again...

Caw. Caw. Caw...

<a noise like a muffled scream...>


The Story So Far

Fingers, ancient and clumsy, turn the gilded pages of my life's story.  Some chapters are written so beautifully that tears pour from the corners of wrinkled eyes. Others make the pruned lips mouth "Who the hell edited THIS?"

Good and bad, our stories are written by our own hands. Our choices shape words, sentences, paragraphs, and eventually chapters.  Often, those chapters end unexpectedly, but as always, the story continues until no more ink runs from the pen and we close our eyes on the last page.  A recent status update from a friend pointed to an article about regrets. We all have them.  It's how we learn from the choices we made that led to those regrets that makes us better people. 

I've made more mistakes than some, less than others.  I have beautiful, flowery prose filling volumes of my life's story, and I have train wrecks that end those chapters.  I struggle to be better, I try as hard as I can to be more than I think I can be.  I make every effort to give back to the world as best I can.  Somewhere, in the cryptic lines that fill parts of my story so far, I see the markers, I note the places where I might have made different choices, and I accept that at every single fork, I took the road that led me here. 
And I do not regret the choices I made.  I regret that my choices sometimes hurt myself or those I love.  I regret that I could not give more, do more, or be more to those who needed it.   But I will keep trying to see the smiles, to bring sunshine. and to love, Love, LOVE! 

To you all, I offer my hand, my ear, my shoulder, my very being.  I am happy to have you along as characters in my own story, and I am honored and humbled to be a part of yours.

Thank you. 
I love you <3

"A hand held over a candle in angst-fuelled bravado
A carbon trail scores a moist stretched palm
Trapped in the indecision of another fine menu
And you sit there and ask me to tell you the story so far
This is the story so far"
                    "Slainte Mhath"

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Fly. Be Free.

Today I caught your eyes
Peeking out at me
From the Liquid Crystal
So bright and so cheery

Inside I know the reason
Things are how they need to be
So I opened up my heart
And gladly set you free

No matter the size of the cage, it is still a cage.  Freedom must be whole, it must be complete, or it is meaningless.  The weight of captivity can drag the most stoic heart from the sky and grind it into the earth like broken glass.

The singing heart is caged no more, the bars are razed and the sky looms above without limit.  Now I watch the songbird take flight, steel against the blowing winds, and with but a quick glance back, off it goes.

The weight lifted at last. <3

"Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is. "
-Jim Morrison

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

A Long Time Coming...

I dipped my finger in the sky
the beauty of it made me weep
and I held it there for as long as i could
until the clouds dripped into my smile
and the sunshine wrapped itself gently around my eyes
while the blue crept down my finger
and made me remember rainy afternoons spent daydreaming
lost in the wilderness of my heart
and of the blue skies
we used to sing of
in dreams...

Sunday, July 17, 2011

This I Believe...

Once upon a time, I gave someone some advice.  Without filling in the context, the advice was more or less as follows:

"Love brutally and with all the caution of a Great White Shark. Throw yourself into it with wild abandon.  Let it out. Love stupidly. You're probably going to get hurt, for sure, but the time before the hurt... damn!"

There is so much more than the obvious advice here.  The Great White Shark is a pretty serious fish. It's one of the largest predators in the ocean, and yet they have so many vulnerabilities. They are at the mercy of their environment, for starters. They have to keep moving so as not to die, and that makes nets a serious threat.  And they see the world with their mouths. What's this?  I don't understand it.  Let me bump it with my nose, so very close to my eyes and see if it's interesting...  Let me take it into my mouth and see if it is food or not. Let me bring this strange thing inside of me, into a place so very vulnerable and close to my brain.  Let me take this unknown thing into me and taste it.  Let me see if it is good or bad, soft or spiny, edible or killing.

This is a wonder to me.  In order to Grok it's world, the shark must put it's own life at risk. In order to know if this love is going to be a good thing, one must take it inside of oneself, let it fill you up.  Only then will you know if it's going to help you grow or going to drag you into the depths of madness.  Interesting, huh?

So these days I find myself taking love inside, examining it, turning it over to see if it is good or bad, soft or spiny, nourishing or killing.  And what I have in me is most incredible, most nourishing, and more perfect in every way.
Love.  Free and Open.  Honest.  Pure. A Living, breathing creature needing to cared for with tenderness and understanding.  I am thankful for all I have close to me and my heart.  And I believe that the Great White Shark is a noble and majestic creature that deserves to be respected and revered.

Like I said, if I were a Snapple Cap, I'd say "Be the shark"

How about you?


Friday, July 8, 2011


The Grand Gray Shark cut through the thick atmosphere with fins rigidly out and a toothy grin feeding twin mouths.  The skysea lapped at it's flanks, tugging without effect and longing to slow the great creature to stall and fall to the earth below.  But it kept gulping mightily, swallowing air and super-heating it, cruising gracefully as it left condensate in it's path, remnants of collided vapor that belied it's stealthy way.  From inside it's gullet, I dreamed of love, of life, and of that I left behind.  I dreamed of the future, and of the arms into which I would be falling so soon.  I dreamed of the never-has-been, and the unforeseeable futures left open to unseeing eyes.  All the while, the Grand Gray Shark fed.

My ears caught the familiar tell-tale of a bell, rousing me from my slumber. Attendants skimmed to and for, watering and feeding my cabin mates, easing weary stomaches and begging the leftovers with outstretched hands, wrapped delicately in latex-free gloves so as not to become infected by attachment to any one passenger.  Nothing puts a crimp in a free-flying lifestyle like attachment. 

But that isn't true. 

Attachment is what drives my life.  I find myself crossing the continent yet again heading West to share space, contact, and air with my love.  I have ached for so long to feel her hand in mine.  I have gazed upon her visage illuminated in the night and cast into my eyes through liquid crystal, but that is a sorry substitute for standing beside her, feeling her fingertips reaching out to mine, proving once again that this love is real, that our feelings have merit, and that I am worthy of such a love.  I am aware that it is unfair of me to sing this song without glancing back to my Easterly residence and winking at my love there, as well.  She smiles at me the same, her twinkling eyes bringing me joy in subtly different ways, but joy just the same.  Two different loves, with freedom and trust the fruits born of a tree grown from hard work, honesty, and many a tear.  On the surface, freedom is enviable, but where it counts, one realizes that it is not so easily attained.  One must be vigilant against so many emotions waiting to tear at the heart of the love, coiled like a fierce creature ready to pounce and render all that effort wasted.  It takes courage to bear one's soul to another, let alone two or more.  It is the most rewarding, yet the most demanding lifestyle I could ever have imagined.  And yet, I rise early each morning and lie down late each evening to make sure I have spent what time I can with each of them.  I look into the future and wonder if this will last, then I look into the past and smile knowingly.  Yes.  IT will last as long as the love between us, as long as the love among us, continues. 

My heart is singing a song loud enough to share.  And my life's journey continues to get more and more interesting as the days march on. 

I ask you to not judge me.  If you must, I ask that you judge me for the example I set, rather than your personal view of right or wrong.  

(Note: I wasn't sure if I would post this, but those who know me won't be surprised that I did.  Love to those who believe in me, and who continue to support me in my travels.  <3<3)

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Dream of the Raven's Gate XI

I opened my eyes.  There was no sensation of movement, no sound to be heard.  It was dark, so very dark, and I strained to see anything.  Wait...Whispers.  Shuffling or scuffing of some kind. I tried to speak, found I had no voice, not even a hint of breath, no sound at all.  Was I bound as well?  Was I floating?  Difficult to tell, still disoriented from waking...

Something brushed against me, something small, but sharp.  It slid across my cheek like a fish, it's long body undulating in some unknown current.  Slime coated me where it touched my skin and my mind twitched - sharp and slimy made little sense.  Then another. Then many more.  Again, my mind raced wildly, unable to gain information from my eyes, I relied on the sensations against my skin and my ears to determine what was going on here. What might have been a school of fish covered in sharp glass scales rushed past me, I could feel the warm trickle of blood on my cheeks, and I now realized that I must have been bound in some manner as I was truly unable to move.  The rushing sensations stopped suddnly, and I could almost feel a change in the darkness, a deepening. 

A voice spoke, wet and thick with ageless depth. "The Key" It was nearly unintelligible, but still clear in intent.  I had a key... a silver one... it was power and it allowed me passage...
"The Key..." The voice spoke again.  Deep, like a bass drum submerged in a swamp.  "Give me the Key..."
I tried to make sounds, again, no matter how hard I tried, I could not. Then a new sensation in my head, behind my eyes.  Crawling uncontrollably over my thoughts, I could only describe it as the tentacled arms of dozens of sea creatures.  It was maddening. They stroked my memories, they caressed my every thought as though those were solid and tangible.  They stroked the flesh inside my throbbing, lost skull as a lover caresses the skin of his beloved. Intense pain erupted when they would snag on one memory or another and pluck at it like the string of some infernal instrument.  The sound a raucous note ringing forever, a vibrato stroke against a moldy cello...  My head begged release, and I began to see lights and flashes.
"The Key... It is there... give it to Meeeeeee..."
I fought to maintain my grip on reality, or what I believed was reality.  My fingers wanting to catch hold of the bleeding wounds on my face, the pain a stark contrast to the madness boiling inside me now. That pain as real, here, and with cause.  The madness in my head might be imagined, or the tail end of some dream unknown to all others.  The tendrils bored into the meaty flesh of my recollections.  They discovered the soft folds of my mind, and rent a path into the center of my being. 

I wept openly.

Each taproot finding purchase in the fertile soil of my mind, each one taking a different hole and making it their own. They prodded and ransacked, they dug deep and plucked at the memories, making sounds into a hellish symphony, one made up of memories. The emotions surrounding each memory erupted again and again, while my captor, unseen in the black, began to answer the notes with his own music.  Each memory inciting a response from the madness in the black, a scream from a new voice each time.  It felt like ages before I realized that it was my voice screaming...


Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Dream of the Raven's Gate I - X

As I begin to embark on this path again, I felt it worthy to assemble the entirety of this work so far in one place.  I've been asked for this before, and just never got around to it.  So here it is, essentially unedited from the originally posted version.  You do know what this means, don't you?  That's right.  XI is in the pipeline.  

Enjoy the ride and thank my Muse.  She's a keeper...  
With love.  And with a respectful nod to Howard Phillips Lovecraft, without whom, this would not be possible. 



Dream of the Raven's Gate
I there anything sweeter in life than to travel with your eyes filled with the future, your hands held with care, your heart filled with love, and adventure yet to come?

I don't think so either.


The rain soaked the world outside my window as I lay in the bed wondering how long I had until the alarm finally screamed at me from the bedside table. It was still raining when I rolled over to turn the still-silent clock off, and when I fell back to sleep in the pre-dawn darkness. That same darkness crept slowly across my bedroom and perched atop my dreaming brow.

"Wake up, child" It hissed And I opened my eyes on the far side of a familiar landscape clutching the Silver Key. I choked and gasped, but the dream held me and began to grow beyond the initial musings.

"Where am I?"
"Here, Child"
"Where? And who are you?" I demanded of the unseen voice. "What am I doing here?"
"A dream, Child. Your dream. And you hold the Great Key in your grasp. A treasure many would kill for" The menacing hiss dragged me along deeper into the spawning world around me. Hedges, rolling fields, intricate iron gates, each feature growing out of the nothingness that was before. My eyes brightened with the realization that this was MY world, and I could make it anyway I wanted.

Monday Still

The Darkness hissed from somewhere outside my ears, but my world grew still. Upwards and outwards, beyond all measure of my imaginational limits. From a blank canvas sprung the meadows and glades, while a breath of wind sweept the barley into a wave that carried lover's wishes away into the newly-formed azuline sky. All of this driven by my whim, my wish, my desire, my lust. But there was another side to this Dream World. And from the hissing the Darkness spat upon my painting, I felt the stirrings some where deep down of a creature I did not yet believe in. It's tentacled face blank and it's eyes closed still. Quietly, the Silver Key trembled in my grasp as the stirrings began.

A glorious sunny day opened before me. The wild creatures I had become accustomed to were there in abundance, as well as animals I did not recognize. Half-formed abominations that slunk away under shrubs I could not honestly identify. But this was MY world, and as such I expected that those unfamiliar things to be nothing more than fleeting memories from forgotten days. I turned around on the neatly groomed path upon which I stood to face her, suddenly there, and wearing the same squint I wore from the golden rays. Turning again to the path, I felt her gaze no more, and did not think twice until much later. "You must continue, Child" the Darkness whispered into me, "Don't stop there. Bring them here, you will see how much you missed them when you see them for yourself".

"Who? And What do I call you?"
"I am the ancient, and I am the sleepless. Call me what you will, but I call myself Karasu." I was shocked at the name. Karasu. The Raven. Where had I heard that before? The thought was hung there in my sleeping mind and I hoped I would remember to check when I woke from this slumber.
"Why won't you bring them here, to us? You know they want to be here, don't you? Bring them" Karasu seemed to writhe with anticipation. But still I knew not of what he spoke.

And the Silver Key trembled again.

Lost In Time

The Great Old One lay cold in his tomb. Shadows, aeons old, draped themselves around his bloated, slime-covered body and stilled the creature beyond death. But the beast had long waited to return, so long that Death itself had finally turned a blind eye to the demon so patiently counting the untold millennia. As the Dream Land was formed above, strange energies began to stir deep within a long-forgotten place below. And somewhere in our world, men young and old began to gray overnight, and woke with eyes wild from the impending madness. Those who listen too closely to the whispering in the night and mumbled nonsensical words in their slumber began to focus power in an unthinkable direction... Backwards and forwards through time and space... from this dimension to the land that lies between dusk and dawn.

And ever so lightly, the Great Creature began to take it in. The waves of madness and dementia pulled from the world we know being consumed without conscious effort by an Evil beyond all limits of comprehension. Few other times in our recorded past had this evil been stirred, and the ensuing madness guaranteed that the memories of It's coming are unreliable, disjointed things that were not meant for the newspapers, but rather for filling the pages of fantasy novels.

And still, it slumbered. But just as the most insignificant light can be seen in the pitch blackness of the ocean depths, so could the faintest of green glows be barely made out from beyond the Old One's eyes...


Sunlight beamed into my face, burning the sleep from my eyes and wrenching me from the world I had seen within myself. It was morning, apparently, but I had no recollection of the night's wonders. Like the early-morning fog, the daylight cast my dreams aside and dragged me into the here and now. I was again chained to reality, grounded in today, and bound to labor another day of my life wastefully away. I was out of bed and showered before I felt even the slightest pang of remorse. And I didn't even remember what felt badly about. But I felt it. And it passed quietly as I started my day with a cup of coffee and a pasted-on grin.

At lunch, another ice-cold spike buried itself in my spine. I didn't know why, but it was there in me, and I could not shake the sensation. I began to feel quite tired, and had to force myself to stay awake throughout the rest of the afternoon. As my day closed, I finally had to succumb to the irresistible urge to sleep. I pulled off the road for just a moment, to rub my eyes and try and stay awake. I could not resist. My eyes closed. And when they snapped open, I was standing before an enormous iron gate. A gate I recognized. And in my hands quivered the Silver Key. A smile broke across my face and I unlocked the gate and it swung freely open unto a world of my own creation. I stepped through and left any memory of the world I was born into behind me.

And beneath the swirling darkness, a faint green glow pulsed ever stronger. And a vast evil imperceptibly shuddered with a coming greatness...

Lost In Time

I danced with my long-lost lovers, and I sang with the greatest bands I ever knew. I rolled like a child down the green hills of places I had only ever read about in books, and lay on my back looking up at the brilliant sun. My heart was dancing and my soul was so sated that I could not imagine what to do next. I spun around on the largest carousel I had ever seen, manned by REAL dragons, eagles, seahorses, and all manner of whimsical creature. I wandered the world I have imagined. And I knew, deep within me, that there was still more to see, and experience, and enjoy, and much more.

My long-silent companion slunk from the shadows and spoke. "Having fun, Child?"

"Yes, thank you" I replied, my lips suddenly cold and tight.

"Why won't you bring them here, Child? I know you need them here, so why won't you just show them the way? It is simple for one so skilled..."

"Who are you talking about, and why should I care?" My heart was now racing, my skin cold...Why was he asking me to bring them here? Should I know who he was talking about? Was I missing something important?

"Child," the darkness hissed at me, "Look into the spaces you haven't filled. You can see them, can't you? The lost and ready? The ones you need here. Bring them." The creature's voice seemed to boil from the darkness around me. I could feel the first pangs of ... what? Frustration? Hurt? Need? It was difficult to tell, but there was most certainly an undertone of tension. The creature, Karasu, watched me from the pits of the underdark. My heart became still and refused to beat until I cast my gaze away.

"I don't know what it is you speak of, beast. Who? And why the need for others. There are already so many here with us..." my voice left my throat in a ghastly whisper.

"Fool of a child. Look. You will see."


A knocking began to drag me from my world. Over and over the rap-rap-rap pulled me higher and higher, until I opened my weary eyes. A police officer was standing beside my window, and my car was not running. It was running just a second ago. And why was it so dark out? What time was it? I just pulled over a sec... I looked in disbelief at my watch. It was tomorrow. Very early in the morning. RAP-RAP-RAP. I turned my face to the window and reached to crank it down. The reflection in the glass told a story I had not expected. My eyes... my blue eyes were now dark.


I awoke in my bed, sweating and exhausted as the the sun warmed my room. I had some far-off memory of a dream and some hint of a nightmare, but my mind was completely blank. I couldn't even remember getting into bed, but I must have, since I was here. There was a rather odd sensation in the sheets, and I threw them back to find my linens filthy and damp. My feet were covered in grass clippings and mud. I had no lawn, and no recollection of having gone out barefoot in the night. A sinister dread filled my thoughts as I began to examine the rest of my body. My knees ached, and both knees and my right hand were swollen and bruised. My head hurt some, but not like any headache I had ever felt. More like trying to think under water whilst a marching band played just above the surface. I turned in the bed, dropped my soiled feet onto the floor and discovered immediately that I must have had some kind of episode during the night. My room was a mess, the drawers of my dresser and armoire open and rummaged through. 'How strange' I thought to myself as I began to make my way out of the bed holding me captive.

I stopped as I rose, my reflection in the obviously broken mirror halting all voluntary muscle control. My face was bruised, a shiner hung on my left eye like a badge of confusion. But worse than that, someone had put contact in my eyes! My eyes were dark, and hollow, and something else... difficult to nail down, but I looked older somehow. I got to my feet as quickly as I could, and to my amazement, could barely walk. The pain in my leg was excruciating, and flared from my ankle into my calf. "Fucking tore a tendon?" I asked the empty bedroom. So I hobbled to the bathroom, and began the arduous task of washing my battered body. While I was standing before the bathroom mirror, I realized I could not take the contacts out. Maybe I was drugged? Maybe something happened to me and I have blood in my eyes or something.... First to wash, then to call my doctor. I washed...and cried... and the pain made it impossible to do anything but.

After my visit to the doctor's office (thank God for sick-visit priority), I mulled over the results. Acquired heterochromia, probably caused by blunt trauma to the head. The other damage seemed to be a result of some kind of bar fight (me? In a bar fight?). The memory loss was also attributed to blunt-force trauma. CT scans and a bloodwork showed nothing abnormal, so the doctor chalked it up to a fight and told me to get some rest. So that was the plan... home to rest. Wish I had before putting the TV on.

"...officer was beaten to death and found mutilated..."

"In a dumpster" I finished, chiming along with the announcer.

"...Police are currently investigating, and remain tight-lipped" the TV barked at me as my head swam with fear and confusion. The face of the young policeman on the screen smiled back at me, his cadet-new shirt contrasting with his pale skin. I had seen this man before, somewhere, and recently. But where? And why did I seem to know that his body was found in a dumpster before I heard the words coming out of the newscaster's mouth? "Well, I must have heard it somewhere in my travels, then." It was my rational mind commanding to quell the madness swelling in side of me. "But his face!!!!" Again... my mind reared up...

"You did thisss"

I started, my heart racing. "Who said that?" I screamed into the empty apartment. But there was no one there. I was alone.

Wednesday Still

Screaming, I fled to the sanctuary of the bathroom. My mind raced, my heart pounded, and my skin was peppered with goose flesh. I ran the cold water from the sink into my hands, and splashed it copiously onto my face trying to shock myself back from the brink of madness. Rising, I caught my reflection in the mirror and made a horrifying connection. I was graying. Not only were my eyes darkening, but my hair was graying. It was a very subtle change, but I finally accepted the only possible explanation: I was mad.

I threw open the vanity drawers and found the bottle lying like a cat ready to pounce. I hadn't liked taking them when I hurt my ankle last year, and left the pills in the drawer. "Madness cannot fight death" I thought. I poured a handful out and threw them in my mouth. I sucked water from the faucet and crumpled to the floor below. No more of this. No more. My mind screamed at me "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I babbled as I began to feel that light, far-off feeling swoon over my head and face...

I felt the train coming down the track as I stepped into the glare of the station. And suddenly I was standing on the platform, while an evil creature resembling a locomotive skulked along the tracks. It's sinuosity repulsed me, the glistening black and chrome skin slid past the platform and dragged to a halt as a door opened up and what might have been ochre-black rot fell out of the doorway. A woman exited the beast, looked at me from behind her wedding veil, and smiled. "Good evening, my dear" she said flatly. "Would you please help me with my luggage?" My eyes darted from her face, to the open, oozing door, and back to her face. She seemed perfectly rational. It had to have been me. I nodded, stepped towards the open wound, and stepped inside. Instantly, the wound closed, and I felt the beast lurch along the tracks. I was trapped in side this thing, this demon. Spinning, I fell into a waiting bench, and struck my head on the rail just above. A tiny trickle of blood began to run from my skin, down my face, and dripped rhythmically onto the floor where it was lapped up by what I thought were half-formed shadows. I felt sick, crazed, and amused all at once. Then the Creature swooped into my vision, a shadow of memories and desires. Karasu.
"Foolish child. What have you done?" Karasu asked me. I did not want to answer, but I couldn't stop myself.
"Ended it. Ended this madness."
"No, fool. You began a different journey. One that you are not yet prepared for. Why didn't you bring them here, instead? You know how much you needed them here?"
"You weak child. You do know. You don't remember the first time you saw me? They were with you. They came with you and you were complete. Now there is no hope."
"I DON'T KN....oh my god. My god my god my god! I remember... I ..." fear washed over me. I had some tickle deep inside me that made my dream-skin crawl even more than it had in the real world... back there... where my body lay dying...

In the darkest of night, in the heart of hate, a faint green glow was pierced by a noise that could have sounded like laughter.

Lost In The Timelessness Of The Dream World

A shiver ran across the spine of the Great Key. It's silver skin flashed the subtlest of despair, and it once again resumed it's place in my mind.

My body lay dying on the cold tile of the bathroom. I could not hear the shouts of the men at my door, nor could I feel the tugging and pulling as the scene developed in slow-motion into one of the many stereotypical take-down reels to be shown at police conferences for years to come. The one overzealous rookie shot me 4 times after I convulsed, and would never again serve in the uniform. The paramedics arrived, working frantically to save this murderer, and the scene continued to spiral deeper into chaos. I was dragged off, resuscitated, with the hope that I would make a recovery and be able to be held accountable for my egregious actions. I saw all of this through the far-off eyes of my dream-self, and prayed that I would forget before waking. My home was ransacked, and my life rent asunder by the men trying to prove my guilt. It should not have been so difficult, as the clothing I had worn was in plain view, and my bedclothes were still covered in the filth of the night.

In the darkness of a long-dead tomb, a green glow began to pulse with certainty. The faintest of glows began to spread into the retched darkness, and Death still hadn't taken notice. So finally, after so very long, The Great Old One stirred. Storms, the like unseen for centuries, spread over the seas in places rarely covered on maps. Ships caught in these storms suffered as few living understood. And for so many, madness came in their sleep. Words, unspoken and strange, were uttered in the sleep from the very mouth of chaos. Children begged for their mothers and babies started awake unable to be cooed back into slumber. It had truly begun, and there in the cell where He had been bound, He began to prepare for the coming reign.

Karasu frowned at me from the shadows... He could see the recognition on my face. He knew I knew, and could not yet decide if I should be led into the arms of understanding. He decided to leave, and turned away from my eyes and vanished into the nether. The train sidled onwards...


A young boy stood silently at the top of a carpeted flight of stairs. In the rooms below, he heard his father's demands of his mother, and was too frightened to venture past this top step, but too interested to move away. His father had been a sailor. His mother would become a widow. And in the years between, the child would grow into a man. But not yet.


From somewhere, the sound of a far-off train whistle cut the night in two and started a young boy from his peaceful slumber. He opened his dark eyes, sat bolt-upright in bed, and looked about the room. When his eyes fell upon the open window, he began to sob to himself, tears streaming down his cheeks and dampening his crisp white sheet. The whistle sounded again, and a strange light began to drip into his room from the open window. The boy leaned back as the light fell upon his bare floor, and he cringed as the pool began to grow, it's luminosity consuming the darkness in the boy's room. Fear and dread took hold of his heart and all the world was lost to him in an instant.


Suddenly, he was on the open ocean, a man now, and the waves slammed the boat from all sides. Great, calamitous thunder rolled overhead and the Johanson looked worriedly at the compass which spun wildly, never pausing more than a second at any one heading. The ship, The Alert, was slightly tattered, and it seemed impossible that the charts could be right since there was an island out there... but how? Then they were screaming and leaping.. running from the thing behind them, and the the darkness grasping the breath from his very lungs...The darkness called.. the hate and the rage and the confusion... all of it welled up. He ran, fearing for his life... he pivoted, and he cast his eye upon the lumbering madness behind... The horrific Star Child, freshly born from his beyond-death slumber. Like a tsunami crashing upon a thin strip of beach, his sanity broke, and forever more, a young man would see eternity in the black behind his closed eyes.

Death eventually came for the man. It swept him up and ushered him into the waiting arms of the Great Old One. And in the decades that passed, an average and unremarkable sailor became the agent of something not of this world. He was transformed... and took a name he had heard in some far-away land on some long-forgotten voyage...Better now, here as an escort in the Dream World, then as some shoddy man toiling on the thankless sea.


Forward in time, now... a child sits with three woman and another man. The woman are dressed for a party, while the man has the air of a huckster. They are excited to be there, the oldest most of all. The man begins by turning the lights down even lower, until they can barely make out each other's faces. He says strange words in the hot little room, the boy can feel beads of sweat on his face, and wants to wipe them away, but the women are clinging to his hands from either side, as well as each other. The man continues to chant, and smoke begins to billow out of the censer to the man's right. It startles the women, and makes the boy grasp their hands tighter. The man shudders, now even stranger words are coming out of his mouth, but they no longer feel like the work of a sham -they feel unnatural and alarming. The women panic slightly when the man quiets down and speaks in a voice not his own.

"Margaret. My sweet Margaret. I left you so suddenly, and I am sorry for that... I see our beautiful Helen is with you. I missed her life and beg you to forgive me. Could this be another of ours, Margaret?" The room was chilled, and the man was not moving as he had before. He was far away and lost in the moment. The youngest woman began to shake, The oldest, Margaret, wept openly and was both joyful and saddened. The middle woman, Helen, simply stared in disbelief.

"Da...Daddy? She said almost imperceptibly, "Daddy, is that really you?" The voice returned to the man's mouth with rush, "Yes, Helen. It's Daddy. I've missed you so much, my darling. The sparrows came for me, sweetheart. But I see you in your dreams, and I love you still." The women all wept now.

Then Margaret spoke "This is your granddaughter, Norma, and her son. He has your eyes." The voice turned and looked. "And he doesn't know you. Only that you were a sailor."

"My granddaughter, my great-grandson, how perfect a vision. I see you all in the dreams, of course, but here and now, in this place, I am sorry for my absence. I mustn't stay long, my loves. I must not be missed for too long a time, as it will not be wise. But I am glad to be here and to have seen you all. You, boy - come to me with these women someday. You will need them. The Silver Key is yours, child. It will come to you in your lifetime. Use it wisely. Now I cannot speak further. The seas will rise and R'Leyh will come again -" And with that, the man crumbled into a soft pile, his hair once black now gray, and his eyes blank with some unknown madness.


Standing now, a shadow in the corners of a quiet place. Rich fabrics and soft carpet set the scene. The creature slips from shadow to shadow, edging closer to the open casket. Margaret's body lies in eternal peace, he knows this. But he is drawn to this mortal capsule, to the face of the woman he loved. His presence goes unnoticed, as the visitors have all long-since gone, and the staff is safe in bed for the night. Just a shadow and a few select lamps to illuminate the moment. He stand before her, and lets himself remember the day he left her standing upon that dock. He had promised to come back. He had promised to see his darling daughter before her next birthday. How long ago was that? Seventy years? She was still so beautiful to his eyes, and for the first time in as many years, the creature wept a tear. A single salty tear that fell upon the empty shell of the woman he remembered. The track it took down his face burned like the sun itself was scorching him. But it was worth the pain. He remembered the dripping sky of his childhood, and how the star-spawn had somehow chosen him to be his agent. He remembered the glowing fear that visited him, and guided him to choose this woman from so many others. He didn't understand then, and would have eternity to ponder it all. He loved her, despite his being guided towards her. She had shown him the joys in life, and he left her to die alone.

The Great Old One called him from his beyond-death slumber. His return was coming, and the creature had to begin his tasks. The Key had to be granted, and it fell to him to find it and pass it on. That damned Carter had changed so much of the landscape... And now it must change again.

The creature bent down low, kissed the lips of the woman who's body lie before him, and slid back into the shadows. Karasu flew into the Dreamlands, alone as always.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn

Lost In The Timelessness Of The Dream World

Karasu stood before the great door and waited for the madness to overtake him. It never came. Instead, he waited, unflinching before the impending strike of confusion and hate, the driving storm of yammering gibberish that would again fill his mind as it had so long ago. He stood. He counted out the seconds, the hours, the days.

It wasn't coming.


The Great Old One stirred. His timeless slumber roused by the loving caress of a madness so complete that he longed for it's touch. A great slimy body floated in the void between worlds. Trapped here on this plane, he roused himself so slowly as to trick death yet again... to have death pass his eye unknowingly over his already dead body. The dreams kept pouring in, breathing life into his lifeless form. The dreams. The means to connect him to this world forever, to begin his reign of madness again. The Great Old One once dreamed. He was falling, falling, falling through space and time... falling to this dreadful place where the creatures were small, weak, and unimaginative. But he was taken in as a God, and worshiped, and countless innocents were slaughtered in His name. Natives danced, and civilized people reduced themselves to lusting, blood-thirsty savages all to appease His will.

And still he roused slowly...


Swirling though the void, minds racing to and fro, dreaming men sought to find purchase in the brewing storm of chaos in their minds. Overnight, sane men went mad, hair grayed in the brief moments between closing their eyes and seeing the sunshine again. Inescapable horror chased them in a dreamland they never expected - and above all else, a feeling of impending doom upon their brows. Wives and lovers woke from fitful sleep to scream in terror as the madmen replaced their husbands and partners. Mothers fell to their knees as their sons stared into the eternal night of crazed babbling and the rage of lunacy. And still the Star Child roused ever so slowly...


Somewhere, in the beautiful lands formed by one man's imagination, the locomotive trudged on along a track made of broken dreams, human bones, and the knowledge of a coming evil. Inside, a man was trapped in this world, unable to wake into his body, newly revived and resting peacefully back where it was chained to a hospital bed. Elsewhere in this world a trio of women dressed in white stepped off of a stone stair together, opened an immense iron gate adorned with ravens and spires, and began a journey of hope.


Karasu waited for the storm to start.

But it hadn't yet.