Author: Zeddicus Zane

The Inescapable Storm

As I sit here staring at the rain
A past lesson floods into my brain
2015 was the year Wilma came
Much destruction was her blame
She brought the hurricane’s bane

That Monday morning I wake to see
Hurricane dumping tons of the sea
Trees bent to their breaking point
The house shaking at every joint
Yet there’s nowhere else I can be

The oppressive winds loosen the hold
But the rain is still falling, ever so cold
I open the door to see the leftover mess
I was worried of other’s deaths, I confess,
But gathered my strength and grew bold

I make my way through all the debris
There were many a downed trees
Street lights and power lines dangling
Wind chimes were very much jangling
Wilma came, but here, she was a tease

The next few months were of rebuilding
But the Floridians were not yielding
The city was built better that it was
Which is what a people usually does
When they loose all their shielding

Then I remembered of the pine tree
A marvelous example of rebirth to see
For when the temperature thus rises,
The cone opens because it recognizes
It is time for the seeds to up and flee

But this is only part of the pine’s greatness
Because even though the tree is brainless
It knows when it needs to release the seed
Especially when the fires increase in speed
In its lasts moments, the tree gets courageous

You see, the temperature is raised by fire
So when the situation becomes quite dire
The pine tree opens its cones into the wind
So that, in time, to new tree life, it can extend
This story is meant to be one to inspire

There are times when storms are inevitable
At some point, they are even inescapable
But whether by raging fire or hurricane rain
There is so much potential for great gain
For once the old is cleared, new life is capable

The Special One

There was a child emotionally unavailable
But intellectually he was quite capable
He memorized every book on the shelf
But always kept quietly, all to himself.
To be misunderstood was unescapable

This child had an IQ of a hundred eighty
At 6, he explained the theory of relativity
He was said to be on the spectrum
As he marched to his own drum
He was a genius but had no human empathy

When a child’s mind is wired differently
We have to proceed ever so gently
A mind so brilliant, usually lacks emotion
Normal triggers to him is like an explosion
So we listen and watch him intently

A beautiful mind has much to offer us
Even if at normal things it tends to fuss
We need to protect and nurture that mind
For, after all, he is still of our very own kind
A thing we really shouldn’t have to discuss

Of Reparations

I have a thought about reparations
About race and money separations
A thing happened 400 years ago
Africans were chained toe to toe
And then brought to the U.S.A.
Reparations are considered today
I bring forth a idea from 1879
Separation of the church kind

You see the fathers had foresight
They knew religion starts a fight
This is why religion is not in schools
Its not that religion is for the fools
Instead, its to protect from all of them
Lets consider all U.S. religious limbs
At least 310 religions in this land
Isn’t that something quite grand

Now consider allowing religion in school
To do so, you would be quite the fool
Because if you allow just one inside
With all of them you have to abide
Now. Do you see the can of worms
Reparations has the exact same terms
If we allow reparations for one group
Then all have to allowed into the loop

Let me give you few examples of this
Native Americans evicted into the abyss
All the land that was taken from them
The trail of tears was an event so grim
60 thousand women burned at the stake
Alleged “witches” killed. That pontiff snake!
As you can see, reparation is very bad idea
As bad as a can of worms with gonorrhea

With all the above, being thus far said,
You want reparations, go right ahead
But be prepared to pay every single one
And let the U.S.A be rapidly undone
But don’t get me wrong though
Certain things are a big no no
Actions must be accounted for
The Bible says 7 years. No more.

Deuteronomy 15, verse one.
That was written for everyone.
At the end of the seventh year
All debts must be totally clear
So why, then, even consider
Four hundred years earlier?

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Man on a Sabbatical

Let me give you a hypothetical
About a man on a sabbatical
Not much is known after his birth
As if he had vanished from earth
Then at 33 he is now a radical

Where was he for all those years
He definitely wasn’t with peers
Yet now at 33 he had 12 students
Teaching them with much prudence
While holding back all the tears

But the hypothetical is this
Was he in the great abyss?
Was he learning in the east
The the Taoists did he feast?
Did he learn to predict the kiss?

What if he wasn’t really a savior?
What if he was just a man of yore?
What if he learned from the mystics
Out in the far east Indian sticks?
What if it was thier stories he bore?

The Elven Fire

Shaneise, a little birdie told me of your b-day.
There is so much good stuff for her to say.
You’re the only one shes ever connected.
So deeply, as if by universe, you were selected,
And your fashion sense does apparently slay.

So just like her sister’s poem before you,
You get a very special rhyming tale too
A tale of a woman so natural and wise
One who helps others in a state of demise
Adding yet another Gryffindor to the slew

This tale will be of a magical woman
That was bound to no mortal man
She came from the land of dragonshire
And to be a fashion model she did aspire
To show the world her skin ever so tan

But little did she know about her past
Of how much magic her line had amassed
900 years of magic concentrated down
Now triggering the final countdown
To the cleansing of the great Belfast

1000 years ago the great seer saw
Images of when the land would thaw
‘Tis when the great evil will be free
To corrupt from the land to the sea
But he wouldn’t be any ole outlaw

As Shaneise was born way too soon,
Another born to an Aquarian moon,
She was left to a fragile single mother
But then she was passed to another
As the sun rose on a hot day in June

Taken away before she could learn
About the inner magics that burn
So she led a eccentric girl’s unique life
Accompanied by lots of grief and strife
From a mother that was greatly stern

The ragged clothes she always wore
Greatly affected her to her very core
So every day she plotted her escape
For a life that she could reshape
And by that she absolutely swore

One day she saw an opened door
An escape she could easily score
For there was a call for females tall
To model in Belfast and bare it all
This was what she was made for

She arrives to the Celtic city
Looking like grace and beauty
The city was sprawling and grand
Ready for molding at her hand
And not ready for one so pretty

From here the story gets good
In a land where evil once stood
A pretty little wood elf now resides
In fashion she makes great strides
Magically weaving cloak and hood

But then a strange thing occurred
When she read an ancient word
Her unseen runes went neon
Her magic now fully turned on
Her vision blurry and words slurred

The power rushed through her core
Dropping her to the cold hard floor
She rose with rune tattoos glowing
Strength and power now overflowing
The elf is now ready for the new war

As the shockwaves rocked the nine hells
And penetrated the space-time parallels
Lord Dughall new the time had come
And sounded the demon war drum
Into Shaneise flooded ancient spells

The Lord Mayor unleashed the nether
The tear brought dark, stormy weather
The people of Belfast dropped to knees
Uttering prayers in repeats of threes
But Shaneise pulled them all together

As unimaginable evil rapidly descended
The entire town she fervently defended
earth, air, fire, water, and aether merged
So that the horrible evils could be purged
In the beautiful lands that were contended

Lord Dughall descended to the battle field
With is demon enchanted sword and shield
Shaneise’s power was almost depleted
But the Lord Mayor was overly conceited
The young elf refused to get herself killed

With her strength now almost expended
She lifter her head with her arms extended
With her last breath, she dug deep within
And the runes lifted off of her elven skin
The explosion had time and space bended

As evil was defeated and nether closed
Shaneise’s body lay lifeless and exposed
But the story wasn’t over for the heroine
The girl from Gryffindor had narrowed in
Primrose came and her life was reimposed

Masculine Sun

The sun. Masculine giver of light
2025 his spots reach thier height
His prime cycle of double one
When he dies, we are all done
And cold will be that fateful night.

Isn’t strange that Jesus was thirty three
Dying, completing three cycles, did he
And on top of that he is the “SON”
Do you see what I’ve just done?
I made the sun a part of the holy trinity

When men harnesses the sun power
The world will see a great light shower
Apollo, god of the sun, bringer of light
The masculine holder of oracle sight
More men need to harness this power

The Feminine Moon

Moon. Feminine mirror of the light
She lights up the darkest of night
When she’s full, she radiates energy
Charging crystals and water so tenderly
Sometimes she’s red and others white

The masculine are powered from the sun
But the feminine get to have more fun
As they power up from sun and moon
With the moon their bodies attune
With twice power, emotions can overrun

Apollo’s twin, Artemis, the moon deity
Goddess of the wilderness and chastity
She represents equality between gender
Reminding women to never surrender
To be any man’s acquired “property”

A Cold Winter’s Night

Once upon a cold winter’s night
Snow began to fall ever so slight
The moon is full and ever so bright
On this night there is no fight

They come from all corners of the map
To connect and with the energies to tap
Where the ley lines come to overlap
Knowledge received will fill the gap

Knowledge of the gods to be spread
Secrets that accompany the dead
What knowledge was in their head?
What words could have been said?

We may never know of their demise
But to study their ruins we’d be wise
Who knows what profound treasure lies
Completely hidden from the world’s eyes