The walkin' Dude

Ode to Stephen King, ye wordslinger, ye

Alas,

There walks a man that wears naught

but black,

a raven on his shoulder dwells,

sometimes a spell is cast

forth from his forked tongue

swaying the hearts of man and beast.

Tarry not in his company, 

lest your mind be lost

to the crimson king;

nay, lost amidst

the todash space

between the worlds where

monsters feast.

Mother dearest,

let me rest

turn my feet 

from this quest

That far dark tower

point me away

and let me live out

the rest of my days.

The path is dim

and full of terror

let not my curse be

in this course

but let me sleep

behind closed doors.

a bed may still 

await me yet,

a lover's touch

i will not forget

I wish to cast

away these guns

but...

my father's face

must not be forgotten.

And ka is a wheel,

ever-turning

-yearninng

-learning

Reviews

[The Girl That Let You G..]

I like this piece. You conveyed imagery well. Great write