She was with me when I let out my first cry
And she’ll hold my hand when its time to die
All men are equal in her eyes or so they say
She gets closer with the passing of everyday
I grew up hard and I grew up mean
Shot my first man at age seventeen
From my holster I drew my gun
Pulled the trigger, his life was done
It made no difference what city or town
I only left after cutting someone down
Didn’t do it for money, didn’t do it for fame
Across the wicked west men feared my name
But the day is coming when she claims her own
And no longer will I walk this world alone
She will take this lost soul by the hand
And deliverer me unto the Promised Land
Yeah, she will take this lost soul by the hand
And deliverer me unto the Promised Land
I chased down murderers across the open plains
Escorted stagecoaches through driving rains
Dueled in smokey saloons or the dirty street
And stepped over the dead with my booted feet
There is no quitting or sudden change of heart
Not when it
Jason-Zapata
Sir ReginaldNewest Deviations
Literature
Death And The Cowboy
Jason-Zapata Jason-Zapata
6
8
Literature
Into The Night
There’s no going quietly into the night.
No surrendering to inevitabilities of time
Or taking shelter in memory and old age.
Not when there’s still something to prove.
There’s no going quietly into the night.
Dignity be damned. I’ll do what must be done.
I’ll fight the tireless enemy that approaches
To give a dying dream another chance.
I will not compromise. I will not be swayed.
These words are not lies. It’s a promise I’ve made.
My fate can’t be postponed. This is a final reckoning.
Cowardice won’t be condoned. My destiny is beckoning.
All debts will be settled. All will be made right…
There’s no going quietly into the night.
Everything I’ve done. Every decision made
Determined this collision course I charted.
And I don’t expect to walk away from this.
There’s no going quietly into the night
I’ve made my peace. And it doesn’t matter
Who’s left standing when the smoke clears.
So lon
No surrendering to inevitabilities of time
Or taking shelter in memory and old age.
Not when there’s still something to prove.
There’s no going quietly into the night.
Dignity be damned. I’ll do what must be done.
I’ll fight the tireless enemy that approaches
To give a dying dream another chance.
I will not compromise. I will not be swayed.
These words are not lies. It’s a promise I’ve made.
My fate can’t be postponed. This is a final reckoning.
Cowardice won’t be condoned. My destiny is beckoning.
All debts will be settled. All will be made right…
There’s no going quietly into the night.
Everything I’ve done. Every decision made
Determined this collision course I charted.
And I don’t expect to walk away from this.
There’s no going quietly into the night
I’ve made my peace. And it doesn’t matter
Who’s left standing when the smoke clears.
So lon
Jason-Zapata Jason-Zapata
3
5
Literature
I, Dracula: Transformation into the Lord of Shadow
By the Order of The Dragon I was knighted
To defend Wallachia and faithfully support
His holiness Pope Pius II’s crusade to thwart
The Turks who left Constantinople blighted
Crescent moons marked that land as benighted
Many prayed for the fall of the Ottoman Court
I never possessed a tongue for such a resort
Battle was the only psalm I wished recited
The Sultan’s claim of sovereignty I would refute
Treating his demands and envoys with disrespect
Turbans nailed to their heads had the desired effect
Of showing I held Mehmed’s authority in disrepute
Denying him the men and gold he took as tribute
The riches of Wallachia were no longer his to collect
My beautiful wife and kingdom I swore to protect
Against my hated adversaries that were en route
Safe from danger I intended Elizabeta to be kept
But Poenari’s castle walls could not withhold
The army of Romanian Janissaries that did enfold
Life in captivity was something she could not accept
So from the heights of her
To defend Wallachia and faithfully support
His holiness Pope Pius II’s crusade to thwart
The Turks who left Constantinople blighted
Crescent moons marked that land as benighted
Many prayed for the fall of the Ottoman Court
I never possessed a tongue for such a resort
Battle was the only psalm I wished recited
The Sultan’s claim of sovereignty I would refute
Treating his demands and envoys with disrespect
Turbans nailed to their heads had the desired effect
Of showing I held Mehmed’s authority in disrepute
Denying him the men and gold he took as tribute
The riches of Wallachia were no longer his to collect
My beautiful wife and kingdom I swore to protect
Against my hated adversaries that were en route
Safe from danger I intended Elizabeta to be kept
But Poenari’s castle walls could not withhold
The army of Romanian Janissaries that did enfold
Life in captivity was something she could not accept
So from the heights of her
Jason-Zapata Jason-Zapata
14
9
Literature
Banshee's Wail
This says I is the truth
Or let the Saints forsake me.
The night was distressed.
And the moon peered warily
Through a veil of clouds.
Trudging home from the inn,
I heard a chilling scream.
It echoed across the fields,
Filled and rattled my bones.
And I felt cold. Terribly cold.
Though the wind shrieked
Through bare branches of winter.
The eerie scream resounded,
Even as the squall relented.
She appeared before me then.
Her moonstone eyes met mine.
Mercury colored tears streamed,
Down undulating, mist like skin.
I speak plainly, I don't connive,
T'was no illusion drink contrives.
Believe this frightful tale,
Beware the Banshee's wail.
She screams when death arrives
This says I is the Truth
Or let the Devil take me.
The Banshee keened once more,
Then glided away into the night.
Instilled with a deep foreboding,
I sprinted home but to no avail.
Sprawled upon the parlor floor,
Lay my stricken wife Sháuna.
Her murderer had fled the scene,
Leaving only a crimson trail.
In the haunting n
Or let the Saints forsake me.
The night was distressed.
And the moon peered warily
Through a veil of clouds.
Trudging home from the inn,
I heard a chilling scream.
It echoed across the fields,
Filled and rattled my bones.
And I felt cold. Terribly cold.
Though the wind shrieked
Through bare branches of winter.
The eerie scream resounded,
Even as the squall relented.
She appeared before me then.
Her moonstone eyes met mine.
Mercury colored tears streamed,
Down undulating, mist like skin.
I speak plainly, I don't connive,
T'was no illusion drink contrives.
Believe this frightful tale,
Beware the Banshee's wail.
She screams when death arrives
This says I is the Truth
Or let the Devil take me.
The Banshee keened once more,
Then glided away into the night.
Instilled with a deep foreboding,
I sprinted home but to no avail.
Sprawled upon the parlor floor,
Lay my stricken wife Sháuna.
Her murderer had fled the scene,
Leaving only a crimson trail.
In the haunting n
Jason-Zapata Jason-Zapata
1
0
Literature
Tasoula The Rogue
Stars twinkled brightly in the clear Neverwinter night sky. The trees swayed in a steady breeze that cooled Tasoula's face and hands. The halfling looked up at the waxing moon hanging over the outpost. Its light briefly chased away the shadow her cloak cast on her face. It was a beautiful night for a heist.
Like most of her kin, Tasoula's features were usually cherubic. However, her face was now a mask of concentration as she observed her objective. With its decrepit central tower partially ringed in half toppled walls, the outpost was little more than a ruin.
Still, it served as a lair for the men gathered here. If discover and cornered they wouldn't hesitate in killing her.
Especially since the rogue was hired to reclaim an heirloom they'd stolen from her wealthy benefactor. Through various contacts within Neverwinter, Tasoula's guild had located the whereabouts of the heirloom. She was then assigned to recover it. Given the clandestine means chosen to reacquire it, the heirloom was
Like most of her kin, Tasoula's features were usually cherubic. However, her face was now a mask of concentration as she observed her objective. With its decrepit central tower partially ringed in half toppled walls, the outpost was little more than a ruin.
Still, it served as a lair for the men gathered here. If discover and cornered they wouldn't hesitate in killing her.
Especially since the rogue was hired to reclaim an heirloom they'd stolen from her wealthy benefactor. Through various contacts within Neverwinter, Tasoula's guild had located the whereabouts of the heirloom. She was then assigned to recover it. Given the clandestine means chosen to reacquire it, the heirloom was
Jason-Zapata Jason-Zapata
2
1
Literature
The Emperors New Clothes
Ignorant of his troubled kingdom and
His subject's woes
Someone needs to tell the emperor to
Put on some clothes
But uttering this awkward truth aloud
Is a transgression
So heads remain bowed in resignation
At this sad procession
Of a monarch lost in hopeless denial
As he marches past
And we're all left to wonder how long
His reign will last
His subject's woes
Someone needs to tell the emperor to
Put on some clothes
But uttering this awkward truth aloud
Is a transgression
So heads remain bowed in resignation
At this sad procession
Of a monarch lost in hopeless denial
As he marches past
And we're all left to wonder how long
His reign will last
Jason-Zapata Jason-Zapata
1
0
Literature
Bright Blushes of Color
The trees shed their leaves
In bright blushes of color
When your hand - still warm with summer
Reaches out and claims my own
In bright blushes of color
When your hand - still warm with summer
Reaches out and claims my own
Jason-Zapata Jason-Zapata
1
0
Literature
Dance For Me
From the refuge of a lonely rooftop
I watch paupers and princes fight
Their battles fill the streets below
There's no reason to get involved
In the class warfare being waged
So with a half blind, mute charm
I walk self consciously amongst them
Embraced as the King of Fools
She is our singular commonality
This kind and innocent gypsy girl
Drawing crowds when she dances
A princess of the Court of Miracles
Where one can witness the wonders
Only thieves and frauds can create
She's the only wonder I care about
So Esmeralda won't you dance for me?
But such neutrality cannot last and
We're soon embroiled in the conflict
I want to protect her and offer
Sanctuary from the Frollos and Clopins
Who covet and seek to possess her
Notre Dame's bells are tolling now
And this war may have another casualty
So Esmeralda won't you dance for me?
I watch paupers and princes fight
Their battles fill the streets below
There's no reason to get involved
In the class warfare being waged
So with a half blind, mute charm
I walk self consciously amongst them
Embraced as the King of Fools
She is our singular commonality
This kind and innocent gypsy girl
Drawing crowds when she dances
A princess of the Court of Miracles
Where one can witness the wonders
Only thieves and frauds can create
She's the only wonder I care about
So Esmeralda won't you dance for me?
But such neutrality cannot last and
We're soon embroiled in the conflict
I want to protect her and offer
Sanctuary from the Frollos and Clopins
Who covet and seek to possess her
Notre Dame's bells are tolling now
And this war may have another casualty
So Esmeralda won't you dance for me?
Jason-Zapata Jason-Zapata
0
0
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Activity
So I finally took off of work on a Saturday. I really wanted to spend some time on Reginald. I'm super proud of this project and the support its received from the deviantArt community. Which is why I spent the weekend "pulling" the story together.
"14 Years: The Chronicles of Sir Reginald The Damned" is an ongoing story in its fourth installment. But I really failed in tying the stories together chronologically. I wanted readers to have a sense of time passing as Reginald continued down the path of his dark crusade. And I believe I've remedied this.
Every story now has a year stamped at the top. It was an easy way to show passage of time and provide an order in which to read the series. The description field of every entry now has links - making it easier to read the next part or view the Reginald gallery to select a new story.
I'm also looking to expand the readership. There's a number of groups that I will be joining and reconnecting with in the next few weeks. I strongly believe in this character and the story. I'd like to see it enjoy mainstream popularity one day. And I believe it can happen so long as I put the time into it and provide readers with experience they'll enjoy.
Again, thank you all for taking time out to support my work and I promise the best is yet to come.
- Z -
"14 Years: The Chronicles of Sir Reginald The Damned" is an ongoing story in its fourth installment. But I really failed in tying the stories together chronologically. I wanted readers to have a sense of time passing as Reginald continued down the path of his dark crusade. And I believe I've remedied this.
Every story now has a year stamped at the top. It was an easy way to show passage of time and provide an order in which to read the series. The description field of every entry now has links - making it easier to read the next part or view the Reginald gallery to select a new story.
I'm also looking to expand the readership. There's a number of groups that I will be joining and reconnecting with in the next few weeks. I strongly believe in this character and the story. I'd like to see it enjoy mainstream popularity one day. And I believe it can happen so long as I put the time into it and provide readers with experience they'll enjoy.
Again, thank you all for taking time out to support my work and I promise the best is yet to come.
- Z -
deviantID
Jason-Zapata
Jason Zapata
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
|
My name is Jason Zapata. I'm a thirty-year-old writer living in Scranton, PA. My work includes poetry and fiction writing. I graduated from the University of Scranton. Besides a minor in writing and communication, my education was in history. I'm currently seeking publication for two major projects. "Ask the Leper" a collection of poetry and "The Jester's Mask" a fictional novel. Major influences for me: The writings of Neil Gaiman, Terry Brooks, and Anne Rice. In terms of art, I really enjoy the contemporary works posted in Deviant Art. I think there’s an abundance of talent that really needs to be recognized more. Too many galleries are filled with pretentious, abstract nonsense. Current artists I follow include Catherine Langwagen, Stanley Lau, and Javier Miranda. The golden age of 80's fantasy movies also inspired me (Labyrinth, Willow, Legend, Lady Hawke, The Never Ending Story, ect.). My major goals are to get my current projects published. I would like write one further collection of poetry and have the “The Jester’s Mask” end up being a successful trilogy. Current Residence: Scranton, PA Favourite genre of music: Metal / Hard Rock Favourite style of art: Digital Personal Quote: Letting your enemy win without a fight is defeat. I'd rather die than be defeated. |
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