First

A woodsman was walking with a hatchet in hand
his hair was untended to the end of each strand
the forest he walks on, so vast and so grand
in his wake fall the trees, they fall down to land

but woe by so much was this hard working man
for past his skin, his sweat had ran
he spoke of his name--Riguardo Zan
ending his life, he considered a plan

his wife had another; a fact he was sure
her daughter defiled by a priest he thought pure
his son, by the bandits, was caught by their lure
with his hatchet raised high, its blade was his cure

but his flesh was too weak, his arm could not drop.
and his heart was too meek, he could not make the chop.

his life was a pit
and no candle was lit
so I whispered him "do it."
in his head the blade fit.

Eighth

Three weeks have passed
Seven souls have gone down
their ends came so fast
If I could, I would frown

Now comes my eighth
I must deliver his fate
through the woods he strolls late
in his heart was vast hate

A fair girl was his love
she was white as a dove
his hopes high above
but was slapped with a glove

"Hideous bastard, do not be nigh!"
all he could do was give out a sigh
for more than a year, in wait, he was shy
A truth was untold; that she had a guy

"Do not fear death," is what I had said.
"I loved her too much," ago was he dead.
"Lie down these thorns, lie down thy head."
and then he had rest... wooden spikes was his bed.

Whisperer's Den

Though many have come, quite few made it back.
And according to some, my presence is black.

Through lips and ears, my feats were spread
With sniffs and tears, they mourn their dead.

"This must not wage on," squealed them brave men.
"So armors you don," the people said then.

When the night had grown old,
they then made a charge.
torches and pitchforks they hold,
in the forest they barge.

"Be with us you murderer!" The loudest one roared.
"Face us damned Lucifer!" They were a great horde.

But I am just a voice, I have no true form.
walk home girls and boys, I will not take form.

they all tried in vain, again and again.
thus they named my domain "The Whisperer's Den."

Two Hundred Forty First

Years have passed but their fears remained.
Their corpses last but their breaths refrained.

Despite the horrors, another fool walks
In a forest of terrors, around here he gawks

"So they see you as folly?" I feel pity for this.
"They shamed me so gravely," his pride's at abyss.

"I feel thou art lonely," I gave him a hiss.
"Rejected by Mary," so, he wanted a kiss.

"She hates you, my friend," I showed him the cliff.
"With this, will it end?" his body went stiff.

"Most likely it will," I gave him my word.
"All them speak so ill," he left now this world.

Two Hundred Forty Second

The fool's vessel was found
five mornings after death.
People gathered round.
Newcomers gasped a breath.

A pair of eyes gazed quite more than the rest.
The conscience of Mary was then put to test.
The man he saw nothing more than a pest
was also the man who loved him the best.

That night, as well, she sought for my aid.
"A wise decision," I admit it well played.
At the brink of a cliff, a farewell she bade.
For all her misdeeds, the penance was made.

Melancholy

For every last breath,
I wonder more so.
In the time after death,
where do their boats row?

I tried many times,
I sought my own end.
To atone for my crimes,
and my deeds they have penned.

Amidst all these woods, this darkness, this mist,
They pass all in hoods, with a dagger in their fist.

If thy knives can do harm, I would let me be stabbed.
But even if you all swarm, you cannot have me grabbed.

I, too, wish a halt; an end to this sadness.
But they too are at fault, they are bested by madness.

I wish to meet one... who can bring me delight.
for there is no fun... if they cannot best plight.

A Woman

In the dead of the night, this woman walks by.
I see her a goddess and I wonder why.

She wanders alone.
Does she not fear me?
I sense fright in her tone.
I will not leave her be.

So I come to one beast.
To its flesh I make feast.
Though she might not be pleased,
she would see me at least.

I marched to her sight as a demon in shape.
With fangs to make bite and spikes on my nape.
With limbs that can fight as strong as an ape,
I walked to her right and deprived her escape.

She was too fair a damsel, too fair I must say.
A queen of a castle, though in truth she is nay.

As I touched her soft cheek, she was frightened as hell.
She could not make a shriek, so I went with my tell.

"Fear thy beauty, fear it most.
For a curse so deadly, you are host.

Countless men shall fall for thee.
Among the fools, a friend of ye.
He shall give you poems, one, two, and three.
Too sad is his fate, oh woe is he.

A depressing death, he deserves not.
For the efforts to have you, he reserves not.
So touch now my hand, my dear Arza Faith.
I will make it swift, in me place your faith."

But before she could choose, a young man arrived.
From nothing but words, his swords were derived.

Its radiance alone, it vanquished the dark
If he was a fish, the mighty white shark.

With a single command, they all charged to me.
and before I was harmed, they stopped at his plea.

"Insolent," I groaned, and then made away.
I left them together, "Good luck then," I pray.
He met her at last, I am Cupid today.
At the end of his novel, I am evil at bay.


Prepare, Forger.

Five Hundred Second and Five Hundred Third

Tonight it was different,
a couple this time.
They both were insistent.
Their clothes much a grime.

They stood by the cliff where many had fallen.
A gamble to hell or a passage to heaven.

The love they so cherished,
gave all four parents disgust.
And so they have perished
from their parents' distrust.

They could not elope
for they had no wealth.
They lost all the hope
so they came here in stealth.

"Claira, my love, our hardships end here."
As he held her hand, from his eye peeked a tear.
His lover replied, "Eternal, Vamir,
one leap of faith, we need not to fear."


A man who is loving and a damsel so fair.
For the first time, at last, I felt something so rare.
Though they had problems, through too much to bear,
I see their survival in each other's care.

I rushed to their heads and screamed with all might,
"DIE NOT, YOU LOST FOOLS! LIVE ON AND SEE LIGHT!"

They knew of my presence.
They knew I was there.
But they still jumped in silence.
God, please, bless this blind pair.

Their choice was not right.
I daresay improper.
A stain to my sight.
From love they must not suffer.

In truth, they were young. They were unfit to die.
If I had eyes to shed tears, for those fools...


I would cry.

Five Hundred Eleventh

Amidst the dull night, I found a new toy.
A man in full height who sought to destroy.

He was an archer
and can aim with such haste.
On his back was a quiver
and three daggers by his waist.

"Reveal yourself, Lucifer. In light if you are brave.
I fear no whisperer! I deliver your grave!"

This man has burning courage; he came at me alone.
And so he shall be rewarded, he shall hear my wretched tone.

"At ease, you brash child.
and only hear my whisper."
But still he acted wild.
He pulled one from his quiver.

"You level your bow, but I ask, you aim where?
You may aim high and low, but I say, I'm not there."

"Then tell where you stand!" his eyes were made keen.
Then released his locked hand though I still am unseen.

"Enough with the arrows for I cannot be wounded."
"I know you are here!" I think him retarded.

I see a strange marking drawn over his right arm.
The mark of the devils... who, for bounty, can harm.

"Do you not feel the guilt from those you have killed?"
"I feel no remorse. For their deaths, I have willed."
"But you move for mere riches. Is that not a bit low?"
"And you kill for amusement. A sad fate you bestow."

"They wish for no more torment, so I do what I must.
Unlike you who makes no judgement, I can say that I am just.
If you can kill for payment, then you are less than dust.
If you remain so violent, then you will lose all trust."

His mind was too narrow,
so my words struck him well.
And now I am his gallow,
his evil, I shall quell.

I came at him again and assaulted with my voice.
He could bear me no longer, more arrows he deploys.


"Do you hear not them little children?
Are you deaf to their shattered cries?
For their parents lives were taken,
they will always have darker skies.

Bounty hunter, you worship greed.
You steal the people that they need.
Bounty hunter, from deaths you feed.
In a meadow thou art weed."

"Make halt with your words for I know of your game!"
Himself, he could no longer tame.
"I feel no remorse! And I do not feel shame!"
No truth can be heard from his claim.

"Thy heart can speak louder."
My words had lifted his shroud.
"Though in flesh thou art stronger,
thy conscience is not proud."

My words became his undoing.
He readied the bow to his head.
Through his brain, the arrow went passing.
He fell with not a word said.

I Listened

As the sun greets goodbye,
two men gave my silence mayhem.
In their talks I am to pry.
Perhaps I am to "aid" them.

One appears a decent.
The other somewhat not.
They speak of a trial quite recent,
and a damsel, and a written plot.

Their quarrel seems intriguing
until I saw one feat.
The poet started speaking
while a tree stump was his seat.

He told his friend to "forge" a sword
one so strong and great.
So out his friend, this fire poured
from loving, not from hate.

From nothing but words and empty space,
produced was a flaming rod.
After his chants were made, not moving in place,
forged was a blade so broad.

I now recall who this man is.
The forger

from before.
I know he seeks a woman's kiss,
the bewitcher he fell for.

By the damsel's voice and its beauty,
he felt so truly enchanted.
And thus he wrote a novel so lengthy
for her smile is what he wanted.

The poet whose name was Gin
offered a gamble to shatter his will.
if it ends the poets win,
they both discard their quill.

They battled with words, they battled with sound,
while the sword stood firmly on ground.
With every harsh word, the sword received cracks.
It was tortured from the poets attacks.

"Listen to me Axev, she fancies you not.
In her eyes you are only a dot."
The most cruel of truths, this poet can spout.
he swings too heavy a clout.

but the forger held tight
and answered with all his might.
"I am not dust! I will prove it to you..
with the novel, I will conquer her true."

The forger's resolve, it made the least sense
he aims to court Faith with pens.
their talking was long but the forger had won.
the novel will thus be done.

And now I wait to what he does after
shall it be sorrow or merry laughter?
to court with a book, that feat is quite rare.
...and to impress a bewitcher so fair.

A Book's End

At last it has been made
the book to prove that his love won't fade.
shall he be rewarded after all efforts paid,
or on an ocean of sorrow shall he wade.

the tale of his conquest
is most unusual and best.
shall he escape bewitcher's charm?
or again shall the curse grant him harm?

After a searching, they finally met.
Axev and Arza... the pieces are set.
He gave her the book, he would never regret.
His novel a victor is what I would bet.

I followed this Arza, I followed her well.
From the place they last met to the merchants that sell.
I wished to see her read it. To hear what she would yell.
But god damn the truth! To someone else she fell!


Without the knowing of Axev, her hand grasps another.
This man gives me a craving for murder.
This miscreant is not part of the tale!
To his life I will be the gale.

This story is horrid, I must better its course.
Whatever my actions, I would feel no remorse.
To stop the spilling, one would need many corks.
I must learn this man's name and turn him a corpse.

For all time, now and ever,
Arza never gave him an answer.
In loneliness did Axev Mied hover.
for her words, he was left to ponder.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 13.10.2012

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Widmung:
"I have known my existence for so many years that I lost count... and I have learned that humans are soft as ever."