Brought forth stained…

A kite without the wind found upon the shore, a tragic little tale, and how its…. found upon this place…………………………
sailing on the clouds resting upon the wind, tethered to this cord, the look upon your face. Wound out a mile or so it always seemed so short, sands pulled up through backwards now, to the fates I willingly court. Upon the birth, out past the break, to a receding dawn and a land that quakes, illuminating loss in sight, led along by this candles light
in search for water, you drown in the pond, snuffing the fire of times found fond. reflecting back from the waters break, for deaths frigid touch she seemed to ache……………………………. nothing more to say this time, there is no where to run…………………………forgotten faded memory of rains that fell in spring, off to death’s unforgiving grip… and to the emptiness it will bring..  #burnout #fadeaway #ftw #lonewolfstories

…just burning some time

…just burning some time

The Outskirts of Reality…

Applaud as life burns, cheer as their erased… misstep,fall backwards as words found misplaced.  One current drags out while another takes flight…one heart left bleeding, while its the others last fight.  Detacted, left stunned at the raw sight of forever, the outskirts of reality it all sounded so clever.. innocently left to ash in the treads, forbearance, forewarning  unwound out like thread. Threading through time, memory and space, I just found you now, but I remember your face. Facing through mirrors of a place just beyond, somewhere out there, where the heavens greet the dawn. The mists of cold days and the absence of light, all buckled up and on comes the fight. ~Lonewolf~

The beauty of well withheld anger…

The beauty of well withheld anger…

…out in the fields

…out in the fields

…out in the fields

..just a word about the last little bit I wrote. Yes it should remind you of in Flanders fields and yes it was written that way on purpose. Trying to tie those acts of bravery and feeling of loss in with the bravery and lost feeling I see in the veterans of todays conflicts. survivors that come home dont always come all the way home. These Kings deserve crowns.

I had a soldier friend once and Gordie was his name…

…somewhere in the fields..

In foggy dark  places…lines row in row, the courageous left lying with one final blow.. reaching for freedom we some how lost grip…once all on high, how sacrifice rips..

we are the living..

from hells palaces we came to welcome us home to places we loved we no longer roam ..To the hells mouth we’re born and hellmouth  we’re drown… every beauty has rotted in this place where were found

We are the dead…
once we lived freely and gave of ourselves, freedom  our safety now stored up on shelves.

You say that you have… no more to give, our lives weren’t enough, we have no more to live.. hellish broad landscapes of memory held dear, the blood was left there… the war rages here.I love you my darling my red white and red, I loved you so much but now I am…..

my souls left on fire and matches the beat the drums left there drumming but death missed this street. Alone in the shallow I ponder this place, thought and all memories of beauty and grace. Lifted on high to sound of the call, now left here alone to stare at these walls.
How proudly and eager I signed on that line, threw on my armor, my axe sharpened fine.. off to the front and into the fight, fuck your emotions and swallow the fright. Plans of the future, the laughter of fate..life left in neutral.. to no future date..Left there now bleeding…that man was my friend…screams crying torture were all there at his end.. replaced with no place no  where to run, I love you my darling but these ghosts are no fun.. They pull in the hours where rest has escaped, with one final pull they’ve finally pulled off my cape… final resting his head with trigger below, this soldiers watch over… but no one will know…

HAIL!! To long life, and all passions that grow… in that old field left empty… where poppies still blow….

🖤 from Valhalla…

The tattered cuffs of this old Jean jacket..

…a trigger was pulled…the sorrow began
The course was set and off they all ran. To the starboard side and out to the dawn,the settling of frost over hills and beyond. Smashing temptations while holding your breath, plaid coats and blue jeans, half lives and death.  The remnants of memory, clouded by time…ticking of seconds lost in a rhythm.  Found off course broken and beginning to rust,  lost progress running while ash turns to dust… 🐺

…in the daze of July…

…in the daze of July…

…Muninns return

…Muninns return