Author: Zeddicus Zane

The Demiurge

When chaos and tragedy emerge
Before the eyes life’s events merge
To look up is many people’s urge,
But No matter where beliefs diverge,
Almost all paths eventually converge
And bring us back to the demiurge
What matters is where we splurge
Which things we choose to purge
And that we don’t become a scourge

The Imbolc Sonnet

As the women prepare baths
And the men start the bon fires
The floating rose pedal halves
Cold gives way to warm desires

Effigies of Brigid dressed in lace
To welcome in spring fertility
Blessed by Brigid in this place
There is an increase of virility

The seeds are thus planted
In advance of spring showers
While the goddess enchanted
Come spring comes flowers

The cold and dark near the close
As the bucks move in on the does

The Angel’s Touch

Though he traveled alone
And shivered to the bone,
Darkness was his respite;
So, from light he did exit,
buying time for to atone

She watched him from afar.
Every alley, street and bar
She saw through his façade
And cornered him in Cape Cod
As he was meeting a porn star

She felt a kind of chemistry.
Like an unsolved mystery,
The attraction was baffling.
Oh, the hormones shes battling,
Her next move makes history

As her arms reach from behind
And his chest they certainly find,
A bright light penetrates inwards
But also violently blasts outwards
Leaving them confused and blind

He felt an energy never gotten
His aura turned as white as cotton
His darkness she had purified
Allowing his heart to opened wide
He was no longer dirty and rotten

Lights flicker when they touch
Their energy surges so much
She collapses with every kiss
Her heart racing, lying in bliss
With legs shaking and such

The moral of the story is this:
Even if you are rotten as piss,
An angel’s touch is a game changer
Removing the darkness and danger
Creating lots of ecstasy and bliss

The Message

I know not to whom this is for
But like wind through a door
To me a vision came before
In my mind words did pour
“Know that you are so much more
Even if you’re amidst an inner war”

The solitary life allows us to atone.
But you don’t have to go at it alone
You are a brilliantly lit capstone,
A flawlessly crafted gemstone.
Let no one take away your throne

The Invisible Passenger

He is my most trusted advisor
Compared to me he is the wiser
He knows my every thought
Even all the things that I forgot
He’s smarter than that McGyver

Once I was traveling alone
My presence was unknown
My Patience was wearing thin
So he finally decided to dial in
Before my flight had flown

Feeling his presence near me
I closed my eyes so I could see
He presented me with visions
Visions of fights and divisions
That were fast approaching me

We talked for about an hour
Two times the brainpower
Visions inside my mind’s eye
Showed that which was nigh
Arming me with firepower

I knew what signs to watch for
So I looked for my open door
Soon I saw what I needed to see
And approached the mad fightee
Before there was any of the gore

Only I can see he who is invisible
He and I are truly indivisible
He keeps me on the right path
From becoming a sociopath
My Higher self: Passenger invisible.

The Wild One

She was the one they called wild.
Labeled when she’s still a child.
“Shes a witch” they cried out.
She was different. No doubt.
But her history has been filed.

At 19 she burned at the stake,
But only after her Orleans wake.
But that’s the course of man’s fear:
That women take what’s dear.
The testimonies they tried to fake.

You see, before she was twenty,
She out performed men a plenty.
Her courage was truly unmatched,
But Burgundy’s plan was hatched.
And to a fiery death went she.

Witch or not, she had divine spark,
And got the dreaded witch’s mark
Her life was glorious, but short,
When she failed the bishop’s court.
But now she is [Saint] Joan of Arc.

The Regression

Let me tell you a fantastic story
An adventure of magic and glory
A saga about a necromancer of night
A despicable creature named Dwight
But no elves dressed whorey

Now that the backstory is set
Into my past regression we get
To get deep into this trance
I thought of the walrus dance
And an ice cream quartet

As the higher vibrations begin
A blue-ish purple portal sets in
As I step into the watery portal
I realize it’s actually a wormhole
Which dropped me near a war pen

I soon realize that I am in a war
Without pause, I loudly roar
And rush to a seven foot orc
Putting my magics to work
And then the ground up and tore

A truce between races was struck
But soon we ran out of good luck
After days of stillness and peace
Hatred was on a fast increase
And then came back all the muck

The evil Dwight raised souls from hell
To pile the dead into his evil sex cell
His fetish: deformed toes and necrophilia
Spanned across the human and reptilila
But served him in his sinister spell

Incantations charged his man seed
To create an enhanced undead breed
One that can not easily be stopped
Thus the great war he did concoct
Only for his insatiable sexual need

As the undead horde descended
The humans and elves pretended
That they were hereby oblivious
To he who was ever so devious
And left the walls undefended

As the mighty castle was overran
So started phase one of the plan
Unknown to Dwight, we had planted
Many boxes of disposium enchanted
Before the main undead rush began

As the dreaded creatures got near
I gripped my staff’s crystal sphere
“Ek tu grok skret mi posk tuuk tet”
I uttered. then staff and ground met
Channeling the entire atmosphere

As my staff forcefully detonated
A shockwave rapidly emanated
A chain reaction of disposium
Created an undead symposium
As the land became consecrated

I knew then why I regressed here
To awaken inside me the sightseer
The remembering my days as a sage
Days of me being the great war mage
So that I may elevate to a higher tier