The Eleventh Day of October in the Year of our Lord 2010
22:51

Star in heaven shining bright,
showering the Beast with your light.
Your image reflecting in it´s eyes.
Two pools of deceiving forever light,
for beneath them eternal darkness lies.

Darkness velvet as the night sky you call your home-
Darkness as slick as oil

Star in heaven shining bright,
illuminating the world with your light.
Diamond clear and razor sharp,
your light cuts mercyless thru the dark.

Where Beasts live and shadow rejoys-
Where you can find lost childhood toys.

Star in heaven shining bright,
caressing the night with your light.
You fall on man and Beast alike,
guiding us safely thru the night.

A night otherwise black as cole-
Only appreciated by the common mole..

The Fifteenth Day of September in the Year of our Lord 2010
12:56

I woke to another gray day,
full of mist and rain.
The windows with water stain,
and my body in pain.

Outside the mist was swirling
silently thru the trees.
Leaving everything it touched in
a damp freeze.

And there,behold,from the dancing mist!
A phantom starts to form,
a creature from despair and darkness
born.
It´s very being vibrating with scorn.

It sits on top of the bookcase,peering down at me.
I wonder,In it´s minds eye what does it see?
Does it even bother to acknowledge me?
Or am I just a shadow in the outskirts of it´s life-
a mere trifle.

Suddenly in a burst of energy,
it leaps from the bookcase and races thru the room.
Sending everything in it´s way to it´s doom.

So it continues until noon,
sprinting thru kitchen and living room.
Then as suddenly as it started,it stops.
It hurls itself onto the carpet with a chilling scream,
and then lies quietly, as if it´s mad rampage has never been.

It lies there staring at me for a while,
it´s eyes oozing with bile.
Then turns and enters it´s cave,
never to be seen for the rest of the day.

In the cave it made out of my bedspread,
it rests it´s wicked head.
Surely thinking of ways to
make me a little more dead.

The First Day of September in the Year of our Lord 2010
17:21
Colder winds and nature dressed in colours bright,
means autumn has arrived with fair lady September
walking in front of the line.
And all that can be heard of the Beast
is a low growl coming from deep inside it´s mine.

While she´s painting the world in colours lush-
It lies sulking on a pillow made of plush..
Longing for the days of summer,
thinking that autumn is such a bummer.

Remembering when innocent June stroke it´s fur
with sunshine warm and bright.
Caressing it with her light.

Beautiful July with flowers in her hair.
Making the air ripe the yummy smells
of roses,grass and fish-Theese are the smells it´s gonna miss.

Finally August always laughing and full of fun.
Making it easy chasing magpies and squirrels on the run.

But now those days are gone.
All that are left are the distant songs of what once was.
Like the lawn now by September covered in soft moss.

Salamander Jones

Salamander Jones had a pocket full of bones.
Where other people kept they´re phones,
Salamander kept his bones.

The bones he kept were from animals
great and small.
Who had met they´re maker thru car,
predator or maybe a nasty fall.
He would pick the bones up
and take them home-home to his other
friends who were all made of bone.

You see,Salamander had a gift.
So extraordinary you would´nt think it to exist.
With just a touch of his finger,
the owners of the bones would no longer
in Deaths Kingdom linger.
They would come to life all shiny and white.
This was Salamanders might.

Today he found the bones of a bird
scattered under a tree.
Quickly he picked up all the bones he could see-
The temptation was to great,he could not let them be.

At home he started to mend his new skeletal friend.
He worked quickly without a word,
and then as always it would happen-happen to the bird.

It lifted it´s wing and started to sing.
Born again,it was the most peculiar thing!

But such is the life of Salamander Jones.
Salamander Jones and his lovely bones.

The Ninth Day of August in the Year of our Lord 2010
21:16
Every night when I go to bed,to rest my weary head,
on the pillows in my bed.
I hope of dreams of wonder and of adventures that was.
But instead it´s the nightmare that finds me- it always does.

´Cause when I get in my bed to get some sleep,
The Beast gets out of his to the night greet.
Immediately it starts spreading it´s terror,
it never misses a beat.

In the darkness it stretches and yawns,and then-
light footsteps on the floor.
Drawing closer to the bed,
visions of what it´s gonna do to me pop up in my head.
Visions of razor teeth and sharpen´d claw.
These are the images of terror it likes to sow.
It keeps haunting me,
O why,why can´t it let me be!

Then silence enters the room
and I can feel the imminent doom.
The footsteps have stopped.
It has reached the bed.
Soon it will be in it,
and I can feel I to fear have submit.

"If you don´t get up and feed me"
It vows "Im gonna start nibbling on your toes"

Must we go thru this every night!
Why does it persist in putting me in such a fright.
Staring into it´s eyes where the fires of madness burn hot and deep,
I find myself starting to weep.

"Relax" It purrs in my ear.
"For it is not me that you should fear."
I cry,O what other horrors could be hiding in the night.
That could be worse than this fourlegged furry fright!

It jumps of my legs and lays itself to rest,not on the pillow,
but on my head,
And I find myself thinking, My God it wants me dead!

Then it starts purring me the Tale of Salamander Jones.
Salamander Jones and his lovely bones.

The Twenty-first Day of June in the Year of our Lord 2010
16:28
On Midsummers eve the Beast ventures deep into the forest alone.
Beckoned by a sirensong
it finds it´s way - it can´t go wrong

There deep in the forest together with goblin,elf and faerie,
it celebrates all night long.
The beauty and wonder that summer makes life become.

The Beast invites to a merry jig,
upon the leaves of ivy,birch and fig.
And so they carry on feasting all night long-
Dancing to Pans happy song.

The Thirteenth Day of June in the Year of our Lord 2010
01:35

Hell Luna,Light of the night!
You who inspires madness bravery and fright
in Beast and man alike.
When twilight turns into night
you are the jewel that shines in the
heavens bright.

The Beast sits in the window-
eyes fix´d at your face.
Mesmerized by your beauty it can do nothing but gaze.

Known thru the ages as Artemis, Anatis
and Cerridwen.
It is you wh ohave inspired poets to pick up they´re pen.
And musicans to write sonnets to thee-
Dreams spun on your beams are the most magical to see.

Slowly the Beast gives up a howl-a gentle song.
A serenade that will never fade.

Staring at the sky,
your sister stars reflecting in it´s eyes-
or is it just a disguise?
Is it the stories you whisper that are dancing in it´s eyes?