A storm floods a sacred temple,
hatred runs along the waves.
Choking on dirt and dread,
with rotten thoughts filling his head.
A distaste for what makes people human,
finding comfort in cold corners.
With every corpse, his soul bled,
warrior of light, now painted red.
As the winter faded into black,
he traded light for a twisted smile.
The purest soul was led astray,
drawing out darkness
during the day.
A product of regret and shame,
Traveling on broken paths, stained by sin.
Spreading sickness with each conjured flame.
Crimson dust, cobalt cosmic skies,
The endless black prolongs the harvest.
What is a shadow lord without his endless darkness?
Has thou not earned haunting spirits?
Malicious intent lurking over thy shoulders,
Cloaked in a facade, the decaying heart lies.
Not even in slumber will you know peace.
Such power is wasted.
Rituals to fuel this poison,
Undead militia, this pitiful bone brigade.
No matter how many gather together—
Worms are still worms.
Must this always end in violence?
There is nothing left.
Summon your perfect solution.
Alone in darkness, yet you crave a kingdom.
What do you have to say?
Tell me in worm words.
The shadow monarch arrives.
Cloaked in silence, radiating focus.
A swift motion of symbols and hands.
Red skies, darkened clouds.
Beneath the ruined soul,
A raging fire is ignited.
Hearts beat once more,
Loathing that glorious purpose.
In hushed unison,
What is thy bidding, master?
With no mouth to bark—
and a heart that’s cold,
The Lord of Shadow looks at his army.
A mutual understanding between the two forces.
A long walk to the edge of the world,
marching, unwavering loyalty.
Good soldiers follow orders,
silence echoes the crowded wastelands.
Arriving at the destination,
the king aims towards the sky.
With a single red spark, crimson lightning strikes.
Signaling the call for justice.
As the undead dominate with overwhelming strength,
The Shadow Monarch gazes upon his former kingdom.
He looks onward, a new era of tranquility.
Alone in darkness, as was always intended.
Whispers ignite bones,
shadows rise at my command.
The master of death.
Subtle tee preferred the company of those in sweet repose
His presence needless to say, an easiness would impose
We tried to engage him but this seemed to enrage him
So we settled for making him the subject of this prose.
Watch the magician place magic in her hat
feel the incantation as she,
in stealth-like fashion
feasts one eye on you....
She is an alchemist with a sword of illusion
rabbit tricks hold you spellbound;
Blurring the lines between fantasy and reality
with the sleight of her hand
she transforms and vanishes !
Zig zag lady tricks, divided into sections
high magic, low magic
a benevolent white dove appears
Observe carefully the magic that occurs
Chronometer moments vanishing time
luxurious ships are launched,
inside your mind !
Hypno-levitation wands and magical performances
a necromancer holding alchemy in her bare hands.
(fresh ink for my friend leanne)
Silent mist
within the night
what is this
sorrow
what is this
sight?
Ancient ruler
creeping
seeping into
the trees
slowly spreading
foul disease.
I am the
dreaded necromancer
of a
woeful gloom
creator and catalyst
of a
heinous doom.
Pewter powder
hellish gore
my poison
decimates
the forest floor.
I bring my shadows
from the deep
to imprison all
within my keep
to suffer
an eternal
insufferable sleep.
(click on the picture for Angst & Anger)
I appear with the unbegotten
In the hollows of the seen
A shadow of the soon forgotten
I enter through the dream
Inhabiting the void
In the source of germ and seed
I bring forth the undestroyed
As time and space recede
In nightmares where the banished dwell
In spells inciting ire
I swallow up a newborn hell
Bound by wind and fire
Snuffing out a sun or two
As a galaxy expires
I take root in empty truths
With flesh as my attire
As ill-starred seers stutter
And oracles retire
I awake the muted echoes
In the ruins of desire
Written by © Raven Drake
The Necromancer Of Love
I'm in love with you but when did I fall for you.can someone fall for someone and then for another at the same time? How come love is so lovely yet so terrible I'm hurting because of my conflicts with myself.Tell everyone tell them how I loved you and yet love'd another conflicted I start running I start to hide ,I know it impossible to to know what true happiness feels like.Can I fight for myself how did I in trap you in my webs of many lines.I knew it was trouble when it came to love and yet I went on.As i break down here trying to figure out my emotions and where my hearts truly lies.Sometime i wish my life will be taken so i can never love again,I hope to never have another fall for me for there hearts to be broken.I weep for I only know how to destroy for I know I am the necromancer of love falling in love but i destroy someone heart in the process.I hope to fall and never to wake up to know what it feel like not to wake up and feel the sun on my golden pasted skin.How i hope i don't break another for I shall fall and my tears shall run only to know that they men nothing more then what are feeling inside
Raven stood in the foggy moon illuminated graveyard
searching for that one dirty grey tombstone.
The memories are still painful and hard;
Yet she lives! But not so alone.
Black crows pass above in the midnight sky,
and Raven becomes an necromancer.
The spirit tells her, "He wasn't ready to die,"
And he would like a few answers.
Painful as it is for Raven to respond,
she finds her voice and does so.
"I murdered you standing next to our fishing pond
for reasons you well know!"
The spirit gets angry screaming, "Why, why?!"
For he obviously don't know what he did.
Raven says, "Child molesters deserve to die!
Now you remember what your hands did to me as a kid?"
The pathetic spirit begins to quietly weep,
and shake beyond control.
Raven has no remorse for the emotional scars are deep;
And Raven has long ago forfeited her soul!!
Note: Wrote for A Rambling Poets contest "Among the Dead"
By Jimmy Anderson
In the cemetery I walk, so dark it is this night.
Hoping that the Ghouls won't start to bite.
I feel the tug of the dead, as each grave I pass.
Thankful this nervous tension won't last.
Armed with my Animation supplies,
I stare out at all the green glowing eyes.
A chicken for my blood sacrifice,
Raising the dead, there's always a price.
The salt keeps the dead inside.
Using the machete our magic, we'll ride.
Salt is for everybody's protection.
Cold steal seals out any deception.
To prime the earth so the dead will rise,
cast the blood and create our ties.
Focus my energy and the ground starts to shake.
Winds whip through the area and the on-lookers quake.
I command all that is at least 3 days dead.
Just enough time for the soul to move ahead.
Born with this power as a Necromancer,
When I will my power all the dead have to answer.
I look to Sandra Hudson, who hired me,
to raise the dead and hear their screams.
I call Illyanna De La Keur from her deep, dark grave.
Her words are scary so be very, very brave.
For John Loving III's "Haunted Poets Society"
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