Chronicles of Lady Death - Countess Of Death

"Why should I fear death?
If I am, then death is not. If Death is, then I am not.
Why should I fear that which can only exist when I do not?..." - Epicurus

Youth, the fountain of joy, yet thee evade my grasp,
Youth, the lust of freedom, born out of a divine lie.

The blood of the un-bled, I hope is my cure,
As I lay, parched from within, yet wet to my core,
Crimson stains, they refuse to wash off.

Youth, the forbidden truth, suckling on death.
Youth, Edith's worry, a mystical piece of jewel.

Here I grow old, time my foe, it grows, it wriggles, 
Scarred by time, I wrinkle, shrivel, yet 
Thee oh my love, I bathe in, as I inch closer to death

Youth, the unquenchable thirst, hope of death,
Youth, thou the lavish fantasy of men.

I have bathed a million times, yet time wins,
Time my foe, since I first knew love,
You will wither, he said, a kiss his farewell.

Youth, the unfound treasure, I yern for thee,
Youth, behold your mistress, make me yours.

They stand at my gate, a hundred deaths upon me,
They stand to judge, I wash my hands in blood,
I am yours, Oh fable of the victorious.

I am yours my love, and in death we shall be one.

- Elizabeth Báthory

Night Train to Velli

Amid the tight glances, I stood,
Steadfast, a word less searched for,
By the foot hold of the last wagon,
Of the Queen as she chugged through.

Black clouds rose in the night sky,
Moon and stars blanketed by her gurgling smog,
Each cloud a plumage of the night bird, fluffy coal candies.

The ride was long, I was told,
I ignored, rather enjoyed the rumble,
The tics and taks on the metal rail,
As the wheels echoed on, into the darkness.

An amber shone bright in the distance,
And the Queen started the long screech,
Pungent whiff of her diesel fog,  her engines coma-ed.

My fears grew roots, As the queen halted,
The amber turned to red, gale birthed a gentle breeze,
The smell of screeching metal fumed the night air,
The Queen had stoped her righteous stride.

I alighted the royal gait, stepping into the cold sand,
The red turned to green, but miles away was I,
My legs, my chariots, fear my fuel.

The Queen started her slow chug, the royal march,
The faint echo of her wail, annoyance it did speak,
I heard her slow rumble, as she regained her posture,
But miles away I was from her, moon my witness.

My captors turned red in her bosom, as she chugged,
Their sleep played the Judas in the grand scheme,
I felt the cold sand beneath my feet, freedom I guess.

I do feel pity for the gallows waiting for me,
The lonely little hoops, but what is mercy to me,
As I ran to the freedom, and the Queen conquered new shores. 

Insomnia

My dreams spake to me, in the riddled morning sunlight,
Clamoured by the knights shinning armour, it spoke,
"Shiny", my little voice echoed, shiny indeed.

My dreams spake to me, clearing its voice it spoke,
The devil's hour is upon your soul, sleep, the little voice echoed,
"The darkest hour foresees a sunshine", I replied.

My dreams spake to me, chanting mystic words of a world lost,
As the seven colours played, dwarfs in the plot of the White,
The Evil Queen resumed her verbose with the mirror, sleep the mirror did.

My dreams spake to me, shivers, cold, the mind games played,
The balance unhinged, darker powers spooked by the purple Jedi,
The metal has lost its sheen, rapped by the dubbed steps of pain.

My dreams spake to me, shivers,  I feel a disturbed force,
Fear me for the force is strong on my side, I am the chosen one, he says
She slapped, I slapped, he slapped, the words play their parts.

My dreams spake to me, sleep is the mistress I long to forget,
For my love lays in my arms, sleep lurking by the edges,
I want to sleep, but she my life(Oh, mind the rhyme), has different plans.

My dreams spake to me, falter I did, cheat I did, suffer I did,
The truth spoke higher than the dreams, engulfed in the darkness,
Sleep my mistress, my long forgotten love, seconded by knowledge.

Knowledge, my life long strife.

The Chronicles of Lady Death - Olga of Kiev

The three horsemen smiled,
One by one she called their names,
Rise they did, from graves forgotten.

Pestilence my friend, she would sing,
As men burned in the bathrobe,
The best of their land, burned to ashes,
'No more suitors', the Pale horseman sang.

The wise and righteous of the land folcked,
War smiled, as he sharpened the swords,
Bidding her cry for revenge, patience a fools virtue

Patience paid its wage, in her court,
As he wetted his blade, bathed in blood,
Olga smiled, as five thousand lay dead,
Soldiers sheathed their swords, so did the Black horseman, 

Her long lost love she mourned,

Olga wailed, as her love lay drenched in crimson.

The lure to mourn spawned the empire.

Famine hit the twenty of the best, 

Dirt rose high, life smothered till the last breath.

The White horseman raised his sword,

As he stole the dying breath, of the men who came to mourn.

My son shall live on, Olga chimed,

For a price of pigeons and sparrows, three a piece,
Fire rained from heavens, Gomorrah witnessed its end.

Death devoured her love,   Drevlian murderers,
She mourned long and hard,
As she became the last rider of apocalypse,
Thus was sang the chronicles of lady death,

The chronicles of Saint Olga of Kiev's

St. Olga of Kiev - Wiki

Nightingale's Wail

The curtains fall, an applause follows,

Her flamboyance seconded by the moon.

The lights dim, her pride wallows.

Countless are her adeptes assidus.

Men flock, boys swoon, at  the tender voice,

Yet guarded she stands, her hands perched high.

The night is young, she says,  a perfect choice,

She picks the one with the shiniest bag.

The crack of the dawn, sets the stage,

She clears her throat, smiles, shies away.

Her smile hides the infuriating rage.

As the night fades, the morning bird sings,

She collects her toils of the night.

Gathering the little garbs off her wings.

She flies home, walking the walk of shame

At length, home, and the comfort of her mirror.

Her beauty faded than the day before.

She clears her throat once again.

A crackled voice, of a girl in pain.

The wail of a lost nightingale.

The Traveler-6: The Black Plague

"Will you cleanse the world for me", the Devil drawled...

I remember the night of the rain,  the shards of nature's fury,
Hitting across my face, as I rode.

I remember the night of the trade, an enticing piece of apatite,
The night I traded all pains for my soul.

The devil dressed in a purple haze, a dream I wished weren't true.

The words echoed, his voice glared, the darkness shrank to a corner,
A diabolic deal did I make, the devil smirked.

In exchange for my soul, I took a bite out of the forbidden knowledge,
I disappeared, as light engulfed me.

The devil dresses in a purple haze, a dream I wished weren't true.

I find my self seated, centre of attention, the spotlight of the day,
The future I present, the devil storied.

The future was bleak, wars, I recall, misery I try to forget,
The future is bleak, but a deal is a deal.

The devil dressed in a purple haze, a dream I wished were true.

One particular instance I do recall, misery he did foretell,
Death I do promise, he said.

A man I was introduced to, a traveller the devil, I recall,
A traveller from the silk route.

The devil dresses in a purple haze, silken dreams, I try to forget.

I talk to the man, devil incarnated, an apatite for destruction,
I was immortal, he would sneer.

Did you make a deal too, I would ask, a grin for a reply,
I hated him, for the knowledge foretold everything.

The devil dresses in sheep skin, a purple haze I try to forget.

I brought the sickness in my ships of immorality, ships of false promise,
I was a merchant of death, I hated his soul.

I brought death to the world, I cleansed the un-clean,
Do I hate him still, may be, I sighed.

The devil rides the chariot, the chariot of a purple haze.

I cleansed the world of wickedness,  or so I was told,  he chimed,
I cleaned the sin out of the world.

My immortality I traded for a better world, but at what expense,
A million souls lost to the darkness.

The devil reigns over your dreams, a purple haze.

I cleansed sins, the traveller sang, I cleansed the world.
I ridded the world of immorality.

I had a liking to him, wars were of a past while the plague lasted,
People turned to God, the world was better.

The wolf among sheep, a purple dream of haze.

Will you cleanse the world for me, the Devil drawled,
It has turned to wicked ways, he sang.

I was inclined to say a no, but what is immortality without power,
You are doing God's work, I was bribed.

The devil dressed in a purple haze, a nightmare I wished weren't true.

I remember my choice, as I became, one of the travellers,
A traveller in the Devil's catalogue.

I remember my choice, as I flew in a metal bird,
The deliverer of God's wrath, on a folk of innocent horde.

The devil tricked me, tricked me in my purple dream.

I remember my immortal pride taking a plunge from the skies,
As the cleansing of an era took toll,

Millions died, futures saw a distorted dream, I am guilty,
I am guilty, I sang, as the devil sew me to his soul.

The sheep in wolfs cloth, a dream of a purple haze.

-Scribbled by Tim

The Traveler - 1

When the grass is always greener

On the other side, ...

Apples grow on the tiny blades of grass,
Butterflies plant new trees,
Birds chirp a new anthem.

On the other side, ...

The water is crisp, blue color of glass,
Allies rise up in arms,
Kids slurp on the candy cream.

On the other side, ...

Shrilled songs of love, sung by highland lass,
Prize antelope hung by the pyre,
Little twerps, sing their fabled rhymes.

On the other side, ...

Life is always cute, live by the crass,
Cacophonies of a dreams lost,
But alas, the other side, is the other side.

On the other side, ...

The weed is the greener plant.