Two Pirate Lords

There once was a Scandanavian, a Viking he was
Scourge of the Saskatchewan, fear's cause

His heart grew cold, cold as ice
No mercy or pity, only greed would suffice

He grew tired of raiding the poor grain barge
And decided to roam the sea at large

Across the seven seas his shadow spread
With fearful rumor and tale dread

Till last his reputation reached the shore
Of the lost continent of mysterious lore

There lived a terrible pirate queen
Who loved most the doubloon's sheen

Upon hearing of this upstart Viking
She declared, "This is none to my liking

There's no room on this cruel sea
For two pirate lords such as we"

Her aspect was fearsome and uncommon grim
Yet as beautiful as a old haunting hymn

She sat and honed two cutlass' quick
And with a flash, sheathed them, snickety-snick

"On the high seas, I shall meet this upstart,
And skewer him with my swords through the heart!"

She boarded her bark, the Black Medusa
And sought out the Viking, his presence, anathema

Far and wide the Black Medusa would range
Across waves untouched and wondrous strange

Until the Norseman she caught
And in her trap was the prey she sought

With the wind on her side
His Norse boat had no cove to hide

Her fierce cannon unleashed a full broadside
And for the first time, the Viking's mouth dried

The blast of these guns did sear
His cold icicle heart with fear

The pirate queen grin a fey grin
"Throw out the grapples, bring the buggers in!"

Her murderous crew pulled the boat over
A thunderous game of maritime red rover

She grabbed a line and swing over to board
"Where are you, you bilge rat," she roared

The Viking, who'd felt his 1st taste of fear,
Trembled seeing its source so near,

But drew his saber to face his foe
Sparks soon fell on the decks of ruin and woe

Full hurricanes could not contend
With the force that theses swords did rend

Until with a twist of the wrist the saber flew
And his fate, cold and grim, the Viking knew

As he looked in the face of his conquerer
A most curious thing did occur

His hoary frosted heart began to melt
His feelings, sharp and dark became soft as felt

"At least I shall die seeing Paradise
And not waves sweeping over, cold as ice"

And seeing her foes strange wonder
And heart feeling a furious thunder

She said "rise my old enemy
Today is a day of my clemency,

And together we shall rule the great blue sea!"

Wordpress or Blogger?

Lately, I've been experimenting with page design to figure out what fits me best

Here's the wordpress version of this site: http://forgepoetry.wordpress.com/

Let me know what you think!

Crash

Words meet in thunderous impact, a sonic cacophonic attack,
jack-knifing through your eardrums, rumbling through your chest,
and you anticipate the rest with bated breath.

It's an 18 syllable pileup but it's no accident.
It's a poetic axe - hellbent on smashing a rent through the fabric of a complacent mind.

You hear that?
It's the basso boom of the gasoline tank of the tongue going up in stereophonic flames.
The concussive force of this ballad's blast breaks through the barricade of boredom

It crashes through glass windshields of mass ignorance,
And shards of shining syntax penetrate the cerebrum
And here there are no airbags of empty MTV soundbites,
No cushion of cotton-candy cable tv,
No pablum opiates of over-produced American Idols pandering panaceas to bleeding ears
No seatbelt that will save you from the sibilant soundwaves that meet in destructive interference
No, there is nothing to protect you from this incoming contact that creates a craters out of chests

And now your mind is a wreck that needs to be checked over
by the paramedics of prose who apply bandages of passionate poetry,
sutures of sincere sentences
They perform CPR of rhythm and beat,
flailing the chest and ribs creak with its marvelous movement and meter,
It's a Mouth-to-mouth of Milton, Mary Shelley or some Margaret Atwood
It's First aid of Faust and they're pushing in an IV of iambic pentameter,
Quick! you need 10ccs of Tennyson, or some epinephrine of the epic that Eliot wrote.

They're rushing you to the hospital in an ambulance of alliteration
You're in the ER of Emerson
And the doctors of diction are working feverishly to stop the flatlining of the imagination
Because it's just been in a car crash of creative force

It Has Begun

A few months ago, I started to brainstorm a second web project that would focus solely on my poetry. Since then, I've been writing, but not online. I've been compiling ideas, putting pen to paper for poetry and essays for class, but nothing on the web

Until today.

So, here we go! I have big dreams for the website, and ideally this will become the online repository for all my oeuvre... and perhaps some gold.

Welcome to the Forge