The blog of my stories and poetry, including "The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep" my fantasy novel, as well as humorous poetry and other poetry, science fiction and fantasy stories, as well as general writing and blogging information.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Posted by admin on December 12, 2008
I squashed a bug, smash.
Gross huh. It was cool, squash.
Another one bit the dust, wipe.
There go two more in one big swipe.
Hurry, kill another two or three
before someone steps on you or me.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on December 3, 2008
To be in here alone is almost wrong.
The spirit by me is so very strong.
To not share thatbright hope with a loved one
Is to face death beyond without someone
for all of us to learn is heaven sent
But to grow alone is not His intent.
A pair no one will make eternity
The others are simple frivolity.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on November 28, 2008
Homeless dance the pastures green;
free of dusty bonds or slavers mean.
The fields all glow with warm moonlight
the day I feign embrace my Lady Night.
Tho’ dark and thick as ink or embers cold,
her locks prss down with heat untold.
The latter end of sweet emptiness
goes to touch her saintly tress.
In peace she waits impassive.
Dead to my pleas wrought whole in massive
sorrow, I find my need to pass
the chance to cut the veins of tainted grass.
Lady Night n bland triumph takes my hand,
cold and trembling, where a good man
can see the sharp grass that poisoned cows,
and view skulls of broken vows.
The death fields above me soar
and stagger, then rise to flight once more.
I, with grace my cold libation
lat at the alter of her damnation.
I’ll not be taught to sing the silent death
song through bleak mankind’s breathless breath.
Night and those whose blackness round her shines,
with my fields of patient kine,
ponder the chance life has laid,
to give each of us a place pre-paid,
and we say “no,” or so it seems,
until sweetest Night and I dream our dreams.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on November 26, 2008
Vociferous emancipation,
Hard gained through long toil,
Boils down the shafts of history.
Ebbing at imprudent intervals,
Freedom’s voice resurges,
Emerges without mystery.
The heart of man,
His brain and tired soul,
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on November 7, 2008
Mired in blackness, running within
Surrounded, beseeched, and alone.
Have I failed? Have I won?
Why don’t I know?
I can’t see the end or beginning
Of my time here. The stinging
Of my soul has roots in eternity.
Unbroken, unfettered, they cleave me.
Gaunt, pale, shunning life and light,
A creature huddling in the dark of noon.
No solace saves. No heroes fight.
Only monotony’s horrific boon.
Is today really different from his predecessors
Who brought me, rambling, to this place?
No. No different, only repetition.
Blunt, hard, slipping through mind’s recesses.
Light. I have seen, but not today.
Light. I have touched, but not now.
Only dark and coarse and slow
I wind myself along the blackened way.
Posted by admin on November 5, 2008
Anger wells up in an impoverished imp.
Sadness.
Longing.
As the brittle malnourished wings crimp
In scorching infernal blaze.
Cast away as a broken birthday toy.
Weakness.
Suffering.
The tiny claws scratch malice from joy
Lost in the grey infernal haze.
Approaching ember-glow sears the eyes.
Fearful.
Painful.
It scurries to its master, whimpers, cries
To serve out the infernal days.
A lost imprisoned, destitute mind
Unworthy
Unjust
Silent comes, cool from behind
To steal its infernal wage.
A soul is a feast upon which it gluts.
Devours.
Vomits.
Stolen from the hand that cuts
And beats it with infernal rage.
Now it stands strong, full of contraband power.
Seething.
Snarling.
Over the old master who bleeds hour by hour
And curses that infernal mage.
Posted by admin on October 31, 2008
Grappling is not an art or science,
Mostly its just pain. You start at white
And no matter how hard you fight
Nothing works. You lose and lose
And then you hurt. And then you lose
Some more.
Then one day you get a belt that’s blue.
And you think you understand.
Till your butt is kicked and you hurt
Even worse, and still nothing works
And you continue to lose. But at least you
Can beat the hell outta white belts if they get
Pissy anymore.
A long road follows, and mostly you wish
You were dead, or at least quadriplegic.
Now everything hurts, and it doesn’t stop.
Still nothing works, except on those blues,
And they don’t know anything anyway.
Purple isn’t all its cracked up to be, but someday
At least you’ll be brown.
What’s the point of this belt? Brown, sure
I can beat up half the planet,
But that isn’t the half I care about.
By now there should be a better way than pain,
Don’t tell me we have to do all this again?
I thought I knew that move, and that one too,
Now I’m getting a little frustrated.
At last I’ve got a black belt. Woot, woot.
I can beat all but a few of the best
Unless they bring a two by four.
All that hard work, that agony, and
Near despair. Just to learned what I knew
When I began. I still have a lot to learn.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on October 24, 2008
Video games and legerdemain
Mix like chex inside my brain.
Hours spent (okay, wasted)
With too much Mountain dew
And not enough working.
But I don’t care, cause my Paladin’s
Maxed his ranks and my barb
Can’t be flanked. Even that gobby
Can dish it out in need.
And I’ll blow you away
With some rocket spray
If you keep camping your ass
In the elevator shaft.
Not to mention how I’ll be happy
To tap a few more mana
And then combo away
While you cry and complain,
And ask me to explain
All of those dumb rules again.
I’ll toss you the book
And give a look
That says quite clear
Its all in here, and if you
Really wanted to win
You’d have already taken it in.
So give up and go home
There is no such thing as a friendly
Time. Losing is (I’m pretty sure) a crime.
Either that or shut up
And pass the chips.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
Posted by admin on October 15, 2008
Cold as ice and bound for hell
the dogs pounded a thrashing knell
of death beyond the moonlight clean,
while I with mine began to scream.
The fate of men wrought clear with blood
came howling down like devil’s love
to drown the hopes and mysteries
bound within my poetry.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
I hope you got a laugh from this. I find the frustration of writing so annoying that sometimes I just have to find the humor somewhere.
Posted by admin on January 21, 2008
Wandering the stars of infinite
Fears, a traveller stumbles
In pools of tears. When dry dreams
Crumble into white stardust
And the hopelessness of wanderlust.
Across the blankness that covers
destiny flits a shadow to knock
at reality. The bittersweet
shade of doubt that tingles steady
nerves until hopes and reason mingle.
‘Til painted sunshine sends a twist
of fate to churn travelling hearts
while time grows late. Then haunted
rainbows pitch back and careen,
while the shadow that slept begins to weep.
But this traveller of the misty
deep has found the answer
to a hope he needs. The hope that lives
where rabbits fly or spin. Makes
nonsense rational and whiteness sin.
This shadowy mystical hope
that sings is really just the scent
of love in spring when first the
traveller met the grace that bounced
in rainbows from her smiling face.
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A Belated Verse of Untitled Fate – Audio
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
