Captian's Log… Update: The Eyes of God 25 Apr 2018 Check out the update to The Eyes of God: “Am I mad? Has reason abandoned me that I now consort with fowl? Perhaps I still within the knotted roots of death,…
Captian's Log . . . And Another Thing 24 Apr 201824 Apr 2018 “Now it is time that we were going, I to die and you to live, but which of us has the happier prospect is unknown to anyone but God.” ~Apologia…
Captian's Log Invitation Only 23 Apr 201825 Apr 2018 Scene: On an old porch swing sits a young man. It’s late, and out of the house another youth comes looking exhausted. Youth 1: I thought vampires only came out…
Captian's Log Poem: Death Stalked 22 Apr 2018 Here is something of an unfinished thought I've explored in troubled verse. Death, in his black outfit stalked me: Whispering softly a song, following all summer long, Th’specter tonight has…
Captian's Log Poem: The Bitter Heartbeat 21 Apr 2018 Check out: The Bitter Heartbeat Here another sonnet I present: Its argument should not be taken lightly, and yet as gospel would turn the reader wrong. From a perspective the voice…
Captian's Log… Update: The Eyes of God 20 Apr 2018 Check out the update to The Eyes of God: “Am I mad? Has reason abandoned me that I now consort with fowl? Perhaps I still within the knotted roots of death,…
Captian's Log The Werewolf Epic (Blood and Water) 19 Apr 2018 Check out Open Link Night on dVerse. I proffered my unfinished epic, of which you may read tonight's addition below, or follow the link to peruse the whole work. Read: The…
Captian's Log Let There Be. . . 18 Apr 2018 In the darkness, whispers hold on long past their dying echo’s final refrain, and here I am with the countless chords of the past surrounding. Alone in the dark, without…
Captian's Log An Insight from Exodus 17 Apr 2018 The Bible speaks to one and all differently its message. To one its poetry brings light, to another its history; to me, when first knuckling down and slogging through it…
Captian's Log The Catacombs 16 Apr 2018 Deep within the forsaken tombs: The world is cold. The tendrils of the ever-present fog creep around my feet as the starved fire slowly wanes to ash and ember. The…
Tale Told 