In a castle in Ireland
There lived a fair princess
Her eyes could stare into souls
Her lips radiated with warmth
Her hair soft
Her skin gentle and sweet
She lived a life sheltered from the world
No soul ever looked upon her
Aside from other residents of the castle
She grew sad
Because no one told her of her beauty
Late one night a visitior came to the castle
His knocks echoed through the castle
The Princess awoke from her sleep
She glided like an angel down the steps
She opened the door the visitor stood there
He looked at the ground and spoke
"I beg your pardon could you perhaps direct me to...."
His eyes moved up past her body to her face
He began to speak
Unable to speak straight and look into her loving eyes
He looked down again and spoke
"an inn for the night."
The Princess looked at this young man
Eyeing him carefully she beckoned him in
"Stay here the night, sleep in a guest room."
The visitor was shocked
"Madam you are as kind as you are beautiful."
The Princess n
'A Sad Story of an Angel'
As the sweet angel sits
Her eyes pass over a book of poems
Some late Keats
Filled with pain and sorrow
Pain from Tuberculosis
Sorrow from lack of love
Tears flow down her face
A face as gentle as the flower she holds in her left hand
A gentle breezze blows
Filling the air with a smell of wild flowers
Yet the angel still weeps
The poets words are her own
The Angel prays for an end to sorrow
Time goes on
Spring becomes fall
She still weeps
One day her knight in shining armor comes
The angel turns him away
She still weeps
The Knight rides on settling in a nearby villiage
He pulls out his Book of Keats
He begins to weep
A gentle breeze blows
Filling the air with the smell of dead flowers
He still weeps
He prays for an answer
An answer to why the Angel turned him away
No answer comes
God looks down on the scene
It begins to rain
Light at first then heavier
The rain fills the air with the smell of sorrow
The Angel is covered in rain
She wishes she could play in it
However her heart is low
My thoughts on suicide
Teenage Suicide In America
Before I begin on the issue of suicide, it begins with it. The dictionary says; a) The act of killing oneself intentionally. But it is deeper than that, more than 5000 teenagers 8-24 kill themselves each year. And the number grows bigger and bigger each year. They use words like: hopeless, sorrow, drained, lonely, dejected, rejected, woeful, dismal, desperate, fearful, frantic. And say things like: "I just wanted to sleep and never wake." "either I kill myself or I'll always feel this pain." "Soon I won't hurt anymore." " I wish I had never been born." " They'll be sorry when I'm gone." "They won't have to put up with me much longer." "I wondered what it is like to be buried." "Does dying hurt?" "They'll be better off without me." "I feel so dumb.' "Everything is so unreal." "I can't bear this much pain anymore, I shall end it quickly..."
The main cause of attempted Teenage Suicide is; 1) Trouble at home. (Parent's fighting, death, or di
Ah Dear Friend if you only knew how much regret I hold inside. I'm full of shame and sadness. I wish I could somehow make you see inside of me to see all the pain I hold. Weeping Willow I'm so very sorry. Sorrow fills my waking breath and my dreams beginning, my dreams haunt me like a cancer all day. I think of all the evil I've done to you. You always were an angel. "Why am I an angel?" You ask. What are angels? "They are all around us, watching over us, protecting us. Sometimes we can't see them, sometimes they are in disguise, but they are there. They influence the hearts of those around them, they speak and somehow it sings like a song written to the soul. It sings of the Love it shows. "Love is the only engine of survival." As Leonard Cohen would say. Their 'Song of Love' echos inside those they touch. Some lucky few, even become friens with an angel. Like I was with you. The friendship would blossom from seeds planted deep in the heart. I wish I didn't kill the beautiful flower b
So beautiful she is
Her eyes flash a secret
Held in the Depth of her Soul
They shine with a strange and magical light
So beautiful she is
Her lips show sweetness I've never seen the likes of
How I wish could learn the secret
How wish I could taste the sweetness
How I wish I could know the language of her heart
Sadly she speaks in the Language of Love
With the Tongue of an Angel
I know not any of its words
She has a tenderness I've never known
She has the body of an angel
Her demeanor is as mild as a breeze
She is as fragrant as wildflowers
Her touch as gentle as moonlight
Her face shows a mystery
I've tried to learn the secret
All my attempts so helpless
I've sought to find out more about her
However her beauty transfixes me
The sweetness of her voice
It takes away my breath
I can't seem to find the words
Even if I could she still speaks in
A language unknown to my soul
My mind seems to struggle like
A thousand other minds are locked inside
There is something in her eyes
Something I ca
The second story
This is a crazy story, I type but sure enough as I am over three centuries old. My name is Caine de Coupe-Jarret. It is not crazy, I am the undead this little log is a summary of a larger one written over two centuries. This is my log, for tomorrow I may be killed by those who hunt me, or have a wooden steak through my cold heart. This is my story take of it what you will...
I grew up locked in a home with my brother Christophe. Never loved, never wanted, I took up the name "Douleur" and played in a forest of broken dreams. There I learned how free my brother wished to be, and how lonely I was to be. When I was little I discovered father worshipped a devil, I however did not worship the Devil or God. I wanted so bad to belong with my father that I made myself believe in a devil, made myself believe as father.
Soon father wished to leave or group of devil-worshippping called "The Circle" Though I never believed the talk of Satan, I had to kill father, for the group had more support than
The origins of my current book
In a home I forgot long ago, lived my brother. Not a normal man, not a joyful man, a sad man he was. He called himself "Douleur" which is French for sorrow. His birthname was Caine. given the name from Cain who slew Abel, for our mother was killed bringing life to him.
When we grew up , we lived the life of princes. Our father was the mayor of a small town called Brive. The town looked nice, but everyone had their own little, dirty secrets. Every five months on the sixth day, a body would turn up in our town from towns nearby. The body was brutally destroyed, exposing ribs, blood everywhere, and claw marks down their faces. Nearby the body, in the victims blood, was a pentagram. The work of a devil-worshipper.
After every murder, my father would run around like a mad man, demanding the sheriff to do something. Each time, the sheriff could do nothing fo no evidence was left. This practice went on a hundred years before my birth, and will most likely continue a hundred, maybe two or thre
I am racked with negative emotions, I find it hard to think about being the Jester, I can not, think about how it was, or anything happy. I feel like dying, but I can not because it is not the thing to do. I know I need to work throught his depression, and confusing problem, but I am the one people, talk to cheer up. I am the Jester, but who keeps the Jester from depression. No one, I may be doomed. I need a sign, or something, I have no idea, why I am typing or anything. I am completely confused, I am going mad in the sanctuary of my mind. I am walking the line entering the darkness, I am entering, the dark. Knowing nothing, see nothing, I am turning into the darkness, I am becoming nothing. I am part of it, it is part of me. The insanity is setting in.
We piece together are own jigsaw puzzle of words, and we dance, daning around it saying "Hallelujah"
Praising a being that we say does everything and blames him for our own problems. What? There is no god. Why? Because... Meaningness,
I woke up on a blue towel on the beach; I'm wearing a red shirt and pants. I climb to my feet and look up and down the beach, it seems endless. I began to walk up the beach. I stop to listen to the serene environment. The sea gulls fly by squawking, the ocean waves are crashing. Suddenly there is an eerie silence and Mae Lin emerges from the water. I stared at Mae Lin lost for my words. As she steps out of the ocean and reaches the beach she magically becomes dry. I was so overjoyed to see her. I finally gathered my thoughts together and spoke "I've wished for you to come to me for so long."
She began to cry "I've missed you." she said, "I've missed us."
I touched my hands to my lips then reached for her. I touched her face. She closed her eyes. I felt so sad at that moment. I guess she could feel the sadness growing in me, because she grabbed my hands and held them tight. I felt so befriended, so loved. I leaned forward and kissed her, she didn't respond she just allowed herself to be