(?) poem (?) Buckit list



for more to BUCK






made to DANCE

hoofs to PRANCE

on the graves of EQUINE FOES


keep them on their TOES

EVEN if they got none of THOSE


battle on

buck on


Poem – Catching a Nightmare

You’ll never know my inside

You don’t know my insight

Never appreciate my sacrifice

Being a good man is a sacrifice-


-I could be a bad man

Easy for me to be a bad man

I have before, been a bad man

a cruel man a bad man


That’s why you love me

Start a fight then want to love me

but I just want to break you


You’re chasing madness

you’re chasing a dream

you’re chasing me

catching a nightmare


Poem – Today

I want to set this day in stone

enough have escaped me

trap this time alone

something to remember it by


what can I do today

so I won’t forget today


something that is permanent

that from me cannot be rent


I want to look back on me here

and know that something happened every year

even if I ain’t nothing

I did something

I did something.

Poem – The Flowering of Ruins

Aqua flower here it blooms

nestled in a thrown of reeds

luminescent on a pond

buried neath a sky of trees


soft and faerie, light it shows

the path through broken column rows

a thing of beauty, that knows no day

the lovely child of decay


for it was once pruned

from midst walkway stone

but aside from ghosts

is now alone


with majesty

it stands,  a stave

an epitaph

on an empire’s grave

Poem – Temple of a Dead god

Yawning mouth of stone

and eyes once set alight

the vacant home of false gods worshiped

still stands here day and night


here poor imitators,

were worshiped all the same

blood coursed down these stone’d steps

in a scowling blood god’s name


all his worshipers are ashes

rites unremembered dust

nothing but this tomb of sin

remain of misspent trust

Poem – Stone Soldiers

Sworn in life to serve their land

they died, but lost their way in death

stolen from that final light

and to them granted a new breath


but breath unnatural, breath of steam

breath stored in a marble seam

cut from stone they rose once more

to follow kings of flesh to war


in facsimile of armors made

armed with spear and sword and glave

with heavy tread marched forth the dead

to keep their former nation fed


called from slumber a last resort

in a desperate time of fire and blood

stone does not bleed nor does it burn

but souls of men for peace they yearn


motionless as their faces lay

their torment grew each sleepless day

thus slowly they forgot themselves

and crushed the land where ruins dwell


so if you see a man of stone

atop a plinth, in his ruined home,

recall and fear that mortal sin

of calling back departed kin

What Makes Fantasy Good?

Taste and temperament are the obvious answers, but that is not the good that I refer to. What elements move fantasy from mere delusion to something uplifting?

What makes a fantastic story inspirational instead of a siren call?

I look around and see so many men buried alive in paper and have to wonder if the lore they consumed was deadly to them.

Is this the work of the zeitgeist, the method of delivery, or is there poison in the myths they read?

Perhaps the true heroic narrative is unknown to them.

Perhaps the combination of extreme discipline and wild fortunes that makes heroes in reality is rare in the stories they choose.

If we take the hyper abstraction of reality that most fantasy is and boil it down to its more grounded elements, perhaps we would find that the good narratives have ingredients that lay out a path to greatness rather than day dreaming about it.

Does this speak to the character of the author?

It certainly displays their presuppositions.

Poem – Foolish thoughts to Ponder

I bow my head in supplication, to the King of every nation,

the one who holds all men’s hearts

in his hand.

On my knees earnest intent,

I speak the words of a man spent,

when before the master of all I dare not stand.


Here I am at the throne of God

and here,

I think,

of money.


Here I kneel to the King of Kings,

and my tongue,

it longs,

for honey.


Of such sweet things my vain mind sings

how can I know such distraction?

When be-fore almighty God

of whom I know but a fraction?


What is more enticing than, the mind of my Father?

How can I consider somthing

other than the potter?

When God is near,

His creation here

for me in awe to wander,

how is it that,

I find other

foolish thoughts to ponder?

Poem – Death of a Poet

Based on events from A Throne of Bones

A mortally wounded flier, upon returning to his forest home meets the weeping bride of his distant youth. Instead of relishing these precious moments he icily reacts to her desperate attempts to soothe his passing with song. His bitter knowledge of the coming ruin speaks through this final soliloquy.

Sing to me your swan song

sing to me your lie

spread your pretty lips let out

the swaying locust cry


drown out all the ringing in

my battle damaged ears

let it soothe the killing wound

and soon reali-zed fears


I want to now feel hopeful

for hopes lost yesterday

lie to me, sing your sweet lies

until I pass away

Poem – The Four Horsemen

all the world shall then be trampled
neath the hooves of horses four
in due response the mouths of man
in woe will sing a fruitless roar

that final note of undue pride
will sound the end
of sin’s cruel song
And God will let his justice ride
four beasts abreast
four horsemen strong