You've pressured me into joining in. :P

Okay, so I must be a real sucker to have two identical posts on a forum at the same time, but this post seems more at home here than in its previous thread, anyway. I now post my ... post.

Greetings gang! Just thought I'd throw this Blood poem in. I wrote this back in November 2001, if I recall, so don't shoot me if the style or wording is a bit simple! Anyway, it's named after me! Enjoy! - http://www.the-postmortem.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=5281#p5281

-=THE DREAMING GOD=-
by Daedalus » May 26th, 2006, 19:22 

Upon a tall, dark hill shrouded in mist,
A raven's cry, omen of death, pierces the gloom.
The hill is held in darkness, like a clenched fist,
Bearing witness to the dark overseer above; the luminescent full moon.

The twisted trees hold council, standing scattered,
The dead's gravestones go unnoticed in the black.
The old sign reading: "Cemetery" is tattered,
And in the deathly silence there isn't so much as a crack.

But the stillness of the night is slowly shattered,
And not by the trees, rising out of sight.
A silhouette approaches, hunched, facing downward and battered,
It comes, disregarding its immense plight.

Its cloak is blowing with the silent wind, it pulls down the brim of its hat,
Surveys the landscape with blood red eyes.
Weapon, trusty shotgun, against its leg flat,
Shoes caked with mud, it sighs.

"I'm getting too old for this crap!" It states,
"Though it is still kinda fun."
"Now where the hell are those bloody temple gates?"
"I'll make those bastards run!"

With that he proceeded and waded through the night,
For now his anger was at a low ebb.
He reloaded his shotgun, ready to fight,
This man's name was Caleb.

He approached the temple gates and searched for a door-handle,
But to no avail, looking up to the temple rising into the clouds.
The uppermost window held a candle,
Caleb began to have his doubts.

He looked for a switch, anything would suffice,
And the large stone door stared at him mockingly.
All this did was intensify his malice,
And he cursed rather shockingly.

Then he sighted a glint of light,
Reflected from a camouflaged switch.
He pulled the lever with all his might,
Stood back, trigger finger began to twitch.

From inside the temple came a deep, slow bellow,
The door rose slowly and the ancient dust departed.
Light poured forth from flames within, illuminating yellow,
This was where Caleb started.

He stood alone in a great dark hall,
The voices of the eternally damned sounding in his ears,
But he had heard them many times before,
Lanterns in the silence like everlasting tears.

Paths of madness, cultists down the hall,
Zombies rising from the dead.
Gargoyles, hearing their awakening call,
And hell hounds - where few dare to tread.

Mountains, haunted mansions, a hedge maze,
Crypts, forests, cemeteries.
Hellish realms, dark castles, dimensions out of phase,
This wanderer has marched many centuries.

Through monasteries plagued with hundreds of servants,
Being the Cabal and Cerberus; the great hell dog.
But on this path there is only one deterrent;
The killing of the One that Binds; Tchernobog.

Death to Cheogh, lord of gargoyles,
See the mangled body of Shial the fallen,
Cerberus passes on, but now tension boils,
For now Tchernobog is callen.

Caleb stands before the Hall of Epiphany,
Shotgun and Tommygun standing ready.
The great doors open by some form of wizardry,
Caleb enters carefully.

Caleb enters under Tchernobog's burning gaze,
Two worlds together hold their breath.
Napalm launchers set the room ablaze,
A thousand cries, all alone; one of the titans has suffered death.

Tchernobog lies dead,
Though no answer Caleb finds.
Smoke rising; the smell of burnt lead
Roles have been replaced it seems; Caleb; the One that Binds!