COMES
Canto I
Come
Canto II
Before the light there was light the lands dwells grasses;
Canto IIl
Come
Canto IIll
God stood still His brilliants shun so shines
Canto IIlll
Come
Canto VI
night drops its cloak across embracement black.
Canto VIl
night drops its cloak across embracement black.
Canto VIll
Come
Canto lX
Lose He spoke life words dominance creation of light
Canto X
Before the moon and sun shown
Canto XI
No shape darkness empty everything things He spoke by dawn,
Come forth come
Canto XII
The wanderer has crossed the pass.
Canto XIII
Come
Canto XIV
Gathering in one spot cover then and withdraw from the lands
Canto XV
Continues…..
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count down
familiar six- day creation structure right you know found in other Abrahamic traditions it's the specific wording and
0:31
31 seconds
the emphasis yeah that makes it so compelling okay so let's get into those six days okay day one kicks off with
0:39
39 seconds
9/3/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
I think when i count the stars at night
I'm counting the numbers of luck
I want to hit my destiny
Although a pregnant cloud
Sits in the sky
And hope is held down by storm
The world is always busy at it disposal
Moving freely while cracking glasses
I think a starry night can reproduce my shine
Darkness is everywhere
Laughing at people's freedom
I see everything through the eyes of my window glass
My bard has an apple belly
And i need to bless it
Only if the stars are here to give my palms luck
I think when i count the stars at night
I'm gathering some numbers of fortune into my destiny
Everything is in the stars
And life knows how to breath there
Brilliant execution
Orders followed
Self preservation
Far from battle
Cloistered warmly, safe
Divinely chosen to sit
In Bill's house on the hill
Awaiting the body count
Lives snuffed out
Two years ago
Did not go away
Now back to haunt
Karma is real; payback
In other lives and places
Time's a continuum
Matter's indestructible
Tough . . .
so rough!
Words must pop
please no AI slop
up to 25 words please
even fewer words, just no sleaze.
Tough . . .
and so rough!
in a moment things could change, make every minute count
"Dear Dracula, pale and wan,
you lie so peacefully with your coffin lid on.
We've had good times, but this you must believe -
it is time for me to take my leave."
This news, from the lady with no more blood,
landed with an audible thud.
"These words are spiders banging in my head,
shouting loud, 'you're dead, you're dead, you're dead!'
Through my heart, this is a stake.
Could there have been some mistake?"
Count Dracula,
Quite spectacular
Woke at night
What a fright
The Count of Monte Cristo -
I met him in a fine French bistro.
I wondered - could I believe the tale
of this man who once set sail.
In society I would fix this
popular vote would trump an electoral college
honesty would be more important than money
integrity would count
no one would generalize or stereotype others
we would truly all strive for the greater good
Don't just live life- make everyday count
when I am forced to condense words
required to throw out the extras
given a small word count
my writing improves
yet I always do this paring down reluctantly
kicking and screaming my protest
even though I know it’s going to get better
no idea why
The setting sun is his delight
For he is a creature of the night
He lusts for blood; all types are right
Then he'll take that infamous bite
The night is his, the day his foe
As dawn breaks, to his coffin he must go
There he'll sleep until the night returns
Once again for blood he'll yearn
To lure his victims, his charm must be paramount
Upon him is bestowed the title of Count
The Count is many centuries old
It seems his blood never runs cold
The women love him for his charm
He uses it to disarm
If they only knew what was at "stake"
When to their necks a move he makes
1-5-2026
Death a solemn promise
is a thief in the night
who with no sign of remorse
steals all the light
or by day does away
with the warmth of the sun
where once we were many
then there were none
arriving unasked take it to task
and your fate into account
fight for the right to live a little longer
make the amount of every breath count
The Count, a lasting manifestation of awful villainy
in the domain of Dungeons and Dragons,
where he is not just a lord vampire, but a grave essence
of Barovia where the danger of dread gravitates,
reflecting him through the shroud of misty tragedy.
In moments of frenzy his tryst with darkness
configures his predator psyche into castle Ravenloft,
a momentous monument of unfulfilled thoughts,
shaped as unending flight of stairs winding inward
into the frigid vault where his mind resides.
He is not a despot of cosmic empire, but a hunter of heart,
a sovereign of shadows ruling a land of lone internment.
He is a cue that the darkest dungeons are not built of stones,
but of desire, defended by the memory
of a man created by his own darkness.
Why do you look at me so odd?
I am your own devoted Count Strahd,
and you, my alluring love,
are Tatyana, sent from above.
Come close! Give me a little peck.
Oh my, but what a lovely neck.
Just lend me a trickle (not a flood)
of your warm, enticing blood.
Your alabaster skin so fair
and your winding blood-red hair,
engorge my heart and make it thump,
as yours, does, crimson fluid, pump.
One day, by death's morbid greed,
you will carry my deathly seed.
We'll raise our children very well,
as they grow in Ravenloft's hell.
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