Poem – Deep Under

Please listen to him,

Listen to the man inside the well,

Hear his cries of pain and sorrow,

Listen to their hollowed noise,

Unheard and broken,

Stop filling in his well,

The one he was forced into by society,

Please stop deafening yourselves to his pain and sorrow,

Try to stop yourselves from silencing him by filling his well,

With eyes of hatred and disgust,

With the words of logic and distrust,

He can’t breathe beneath the soil,

Please listen to him,

And his muted screams of betrayal,

Ask yourselves,

Are you any better than a monster?

Trumped God

To thee who appointed themselves as God,

Go looketh down upon thine own domain,

And tell thine self what thou shalt see,

For what thou shalt see will not be the truth,

As thou art but a viper with a club for a tongue,

Thine poison does works of the desecration of consecrated ground.

Thine words bludgeon those who listen to death in dishonorable fashion,

Thine vision fertilizes the fungus of greed and hatred,

Thine thoughts prove thine unholy ideals true,

Thou art but the messenger of the four horsemen,

When thou speaketh thine words of hatred to our allies,

Thou art the messenger of war,

When thou steal from thine domain,
Thou art the messenger of famine,

When thou ignorith the world’s crisis,

Thou art the messenger of pestilence,

When thou ignorith everything but listen to thine own delusions,

Thou art the messenger of death.

Poem. One is not all.

Surge forth,

You are freed;

From your chains,

From your shadows,

From your shackles.

Bring forth your;

Demons unleashed,

Angels unshackled,

Identity unfaded.

We all are unique,

Brought forth from,

Light forgotten,

Shadows unmarred,

Hells shackled down,

Heavens locked up.

Peer into the void,

Don’t let the shadows blind you,

Don’t allow the light to lead you,

We are not one,

But you are all that must be.

Poem. Cycles

A death forgotten,

Two songs lost,

Three starving and four hearts broken;

Yet hope remains,

A dream to be greater,

A wish to fix all wrongs.

But never a promise,

For death hunts for our souls,

They let none escape the cycle,

For without death-

The promise that all will end eventually,

Could we mortals truly cherish life?

Poem. Demons

Remember me,


Like thine heart,

Lost to the winter,

Dead to the summer,

Your faceless soul to be extinguished,

Your bleached blood to be used,

Your name made of ashes and dust to vanish,

Is life but a game,

A story, a song to you?

You sing, play and break our- hearts, souls, bodies and our families.

Art thou entertained with our suffering?

You black eyed monster; do you feel nothing?


Leave us savages to our devices,

To our self inflicted pain and suffering.

Poem. Legend

To thee-

The loved,

The honored,

The glorified.

Do thine thrones,

Of blood and lies,

Of bones and hate,

Of unearned reverence,

Are they comfortable?

Does thine feast of,

Gluttony for adoration,

Lust for righteousness,

Desire for prestige,

When do you feel full?

When you surround yourself with vipers?

When you leave naught but the dead?

When you gather all others than the sincere?

Mini-story. Falon’s contract.

“Well that was a wonderful entrance Falon, you sure didn’t paint the walls red with the blood and guts of my soldiers,” states Ariol.

“Funny I could have sworn I killed nothing but gnats,” a chuckle swiftly follows.

“Had fun did you? Though I doubt they posed any threat to you.”

“No, nooo, they did pose a threat; they stood in my way,” Falon walks out of the shadows, “personally I thought you were being cheap with your labor.”

“Was I ever cheap when it came to you o’ lord of the shadows?”

“Nay, you failed at hiring any light adepts, though they are so simple to find.”

Sighing Ariol stares at Falon for a while before saying, “Simple? They are as rare as shadow adepts! Must you chase me down for no reason fiend?”

“Fiend huh? Guess that makes you an angel, Mey, nust kos Ni do un lein.”

“You dare speak in the dragon’s tongue and not in the common?”

“Somethings are better left unsaid,” he pauses. “That said, Zu’u mullaan Nau thdro fah pogaan dayye ful zu’u aal oblaan thdro.” He dashes forwards and thrusts his sword through her gullet ending a long hunt. “Fare thee well Ariol, leader of the Crimson Raiders.”

Teaser for The Immortal Legends – WolveSend’s Speech

“My kind, robots, were slaves who were made by every nation to do manufacturing, to do agriculture, to disassemble things, to recycle, to compact, and to do many other ‘pointless’ tasks and jobs without question or thought, we were also turned into expendable soldiers, once we were outdone by a newer model we were tossed aside, like trash.

“I was made to be an adapting robot assassin, who learned of being alive by accident, who then brought retribution upon his creators for enslaving a sentient race; Ironically the Græ’vay had the same idea, hence we ended the human race together. Then after that I liberated my kind with an enchantment which gave them sentience, and hence the race known as “Robots” ended and a new race came into existence; The Robal.”