I’m Going to Doodle You

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I’m just going to be visiting around and about catching up with you guys online tomorrow – maybe a bit of sharing, so for those of you with muses as sweet as mine, I’ll leave you with two doodles of the sometimes outrageous ways she treats me. She generally wears all leather, and I’m pretty sure only changed because she knew I had pics in mind. She’s clever like that. Are you stuck? Staring at a blank screen. Just be grateful that you don’t also get lashings of hot cigar ash in your ear all day, and spilled absinthe garlic champagne cocktails spilled down your cleavage. OK. That’s a guy in the pic. I’m trying not to be sexist, and I do have much nicer boobs and taste in shirts. Sorry guys.


Then – just when I’ve been awake for three days straight for all sorts of really stupid reasons, and I lay my weary head upon my pillow, sigh as the sleepy softness envelopes me, and begin to drift off, she gets some super cool ideas, and it’s time to SHARE WITH ME BABY! Still. Got to love her.

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In those old times of war and blight
Faces turned from crimes of day and night
Chose not to see our world die behind lie on lie.
When those fiery riders came that final time, to forever shield the light
Falling scales of apathy, too late forced truth to every shuttered eye.
It was too late to rebel. Too late to fight.

She rose from the ashes after those fire years. That warrior lord
When the Earth could take no more.
She allowed no further crime to wound the face of God.
She called her hidden armies, so ridiculed before.
They came from their secret places, and their places of helpless war
To protect the weak and the voiceless with swords that cut and burned. Words no more.

Now we see those wrongs that we unthinking wrought
Those unseen evils of greed, and stolen beauty bought.
Shame-filled tears too late for those gone before
Too late for this Earth shrouded in endless night.
The warrior lord watches. It is our world no more
Now is time for rebirth. Of the innocent and the wild.
The moment of man is done now. Too little, too late, emblazons our shrine,
And the warrior’s sword falls only for the souls of light.