Sweet Dew

And just when I thought

My desire for you

Any stronger could not 

Then you go and find

A way to further stimulate

My body spirit and mind 

And now I’m completely lost

In the midst of my endless lust 

Leave me out of breath with eyes crossed

I’ll always cherish you 

My beautiful and wicked queen 

Ever enjoying your sweet dew

Sipping my Poison

From a toxic relationship…

My stein filled to the brim

With both blessing and sin

With light inviting foam

Once down will make me groan

For although I like this drink

Something’s in it that stinks

A flavor that turns sour

At any given hour

Still I keep on drinking

My heart keeps on dreaming

That one day we’ll be fine

You happily all mine

But then you make me sick

Proving you are toxic

Poison to my spirit

Plan again to exit

So intoxicating

You are so enslaving

Slowly killing my soul

You’re filling my stein full

Soldier’s qualification

The air is hot and thick and full of smoke,

It’s hard to breath, some cough and choke,

The sun burns down hot with all its might,

When looking around eyes are burned by the light,

Salty sticky sweat pours over rough skin,

Jagged sharp rocks cut the body like pins,

Squinting hard through the tiny sights,

Hand shaking while grasping with all its might,

Freddie pops up and glares with glee,

Gently squeeze the trigger and kill him angrily.


I was working on a novella to accompany my Sureshot books. After some thought about what to do I decided a man versus beast story was best. Then the only question was what beast? I totally want to do some writing with dragons, however, I already have a character to deal with them. So dragons will have to wait. Goblins? Already writing stories with them as well. Orcs? Nah, too much of a tribe for a pair of hunters to deal with. Trolls also tend to live in little families according to folklore. So it’s gotta be an ogre! 

According to lore, ogres are essentially super greedy disgusting humans. They can be large and glutinous and they are perfect for what I want. They appear to really just represent that part of us which can be really greedy and disgusting. In many tales they even eat babies or children which offends virtually everyone so they are a perfect target for a pair of nobel and just hunters. 

The analogy using ogres could actually get really deep considering their similarity to people. Not sure I’m going to go there in a shorter story but it does have me thinking about how to use such a creature as a commentary on humanity and our excesses. But that’s for another time. For now, look out for a greedy ogre to find himself in Adar and Durar’s quarry.

Fairy Tales

Fairies may tell our story

Our battles won with glory

For once we were both captives

Our wells soiled with acid

Corroding our hearts away

In desperate need of escape

Fought the monsters in our lives

Before all love in us died

But a princess you emerged

The evil from your life purged

Beautiful and strange still 

With room in your heart to fill

And I my own battles won

A life of joy I begun

Answered your call for a prince

Pursuing you ever since

Held your beauty in my eye

My love for you will not die

Our very own fairy tale

Our hearts soar with golden sails

Fuel for the Body

Energy cold, pure and full of potential,

Is in this world deathly essential.

Energy makes our fast moving cars go,

Our tractors for our fields sow,

Our powerful planes soar through the heavens,

Our ships sail through the seas of seven.

Still the most important fuel comes from the heart.

Strong legs can take a man a long distance,

Skilled hands build things for assistance,

Brilliant minds create new things for existence,

But without blood they are all completely useless.

So beware not to damage any hearts,

For they are the most important of parts.

The White Man’s Burden

I am teaching 19th century imperialism and we broke down this poem. As I read it though it was almost like reading about 21st century America rather than 1899 America. It appears we really did embrace this “burden” with all of its consequences.

My favorite lines are “the savage wars of peace.” What a fantastic oxymoron. And “to seek another’s profit and work another’s gain” how true that still is today.

Take up the White Man’s burden—
Send forth the best ye breed—
Go send your sons to exile
To serve your captives’ need
To wait in heavy harness
On fluttered folk and wild—
Your new-caught, sullen peoples,
Half devil and half child
Take up the White Man’s burden
In patience to abide
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple
An hundred times made plain
To seek another’s profit
And work another’s gain
Take up the White Man’s burden—
And reap his old reward:
The blame of those ye better
The hate of those ye guard—
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah slowly) to the light:
“Why brought ye us from bondage,
“Our loved Egyptian night?”
Take up the White Man’s burden-
Have done with childish days-
The lightly proffered laurel,
The easy, ungrudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years,
Cold-edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers!


The French monarchy was a shining beacon of tranny. King Louis XIV was called “the Sun King,” and built the greatest monument to aristocracy ever; the Palace of Versailles. Many were born and died under the feet of the ruling class who feasted on the blood and spirit of the peasantry. Life, under their rule, was suffering.

Eventually the tyranny was too much and the King who wielded it too weak to cling to its blade. It was torn from King Louis XVI who was far too inept to defend his kingdom from his own, enlightened, people.

But in doing so, oppressed turned tyrant. Centuries of pain was unleashed on the aristocracy and when they had no more blood to bleed, it was unleashed each other. The guillotine lopped off heads as if preparing a chicken dinner for a celebration of the new republic.

King Louis was not spared, of course. His blood was demanded to seal, once and for all, the tomb of the French monarchy. But his was not enough.

The Queen may have been even more reviled than her husband. Pretty, wealthy, elite, aloof she was hated deeply by virtually all of the citizens of the new Republic and therefor they thirsted for her blood above all other’s.

She was broken and destroyed emotionally and mentally. Her husband, the king, was killed. Her children were taken from her. Her young boy tortured. She was dead inside; a shell of a woman. Put on trial, she was found guilty and sentenced to death. The anger of the nation was heaped on her. And in the final moment, something moving happened.

Legend has it that as Marie Antoinette was making her way up the steps of the guillotine she stepped on the foot of the executioner and muttered a single word, “pardon.” it was the last word she ever spoke. “I’m sorry.”

While she likely simply meant she was sorry for stepping on his foot, her manners still deeply imbedded in her heart, in that moment the words carried far more weight.

Was she sorry for looking down on those she felt were not her equal (everyone)? Was she sorry for not caring for her fellow human? Was she sorry for her elitism and gluttony and hedonism?

I like to think, in that moment, she was sorry for the life she lived. I like to think, in that moment, she repented to humankind for being such an awful, tyrannical, monster.

If that is true, if she truly was sorry in that moment, I for one, forgive her.

In Other News…

I know I haven’t been posting much. Honestly I’ve been crazy busy with work. I’m a teacher and obviously we are back in school but besides that I also have 6 children with their various sports or activities and I also started announcing some of the sporting events. There are many days I leave the house at 6:30 and don’t return until 7:30 or 8:00. I know there are many other people working as hard or harder so I’m not complaining, just explaining.

I actually wanted to share something that happened in my class because I found it inspiring and touching. I teach 10th grade world history, among other things, and as part of the curriculum I taught a lesson about independence movements across Latin America. To front load the lesson I taught about how there were three distinct group of people with very different wants and needs all across the Americas, mainly: Natives, Colonists and West African slaves. We had a discussion about how there were many communities of people who had distinct languages, cultures and religions and they maintain much of that today.

Part of the lesson was about the grito de Dolores, which was in part, a call for independence for Mexico. Some of my students knew exactly what that was and were excited to share more about what they know and how they mark the anniversary of the event. They also shared their unique cultural experiences and how it differs from the dominant culture at times. Some of them were engaged in the lesson like never before.

The point is this: we all want to be validated. Whether it’s our race, religion, culture sexuality or anything else that makes us who we are, we want to be validated. There is much value in celebrating the achievements of ones people. There is value in learning about and embracing positive aspects of ones ancestors. For some reason, it makes us feel much more connected when others know us and accept us.

It’s part of the reason I love history so much. The study of the past helps us appreciate the present. It’s why I love story telling. We all want to identify with a hero and those stories inspire us.

I hope to get back to producing more writing very soon. Perhaps even something that explores the idea of validating ones identity. I have so many stories to tell still. I must find time for them.