Please take a moment to fave my work, it adds to my popularity ranking and really let's me know you've enjoyed my work ^^

If you'd like to hear me read poems and do a little comedy live then then check out episode 3 of my live show here: [link]

Author's Comment:

Arrr, before anyone tells me. YES, I know th' phrase at the end o' th' poem is incorrect. I had t' improvise. Why? The proper Norwegian translation for (For My Father) is:

"For min Far"

Now the Dutch translation is "Voor mijn Vader" (which is pronouced almost th' same way as is written in th' poem). Hence, in order fer people who don't speak either o' these languages t' understand the impact of what the barbarian is sayin' at the end before 'e meets his destiny, I combined both to create "For Min Fader", which sounds pretty good in my opinion

Anywho, the poem I wrote t'night is a shot-glass style poem, although slightly longer than normal, but it also combines an emotional element and fantasy element (two prominent choices in the polls).

For those who voted fer 'Sadistic darkness', ye'll get what ye need on Saturday, ye can BELIEVE me about that :3. "Sensual Torture" will be released then AND read Live ;3

As fer the beast he's facin', I call it a Sungril Hellhound, which will be featured in the collaborative "Monster Compendium" between me uncles and me, ye'll have t' wait till next year t' get proper news about it, but here's a quick snippet from the Hellhound:

"The Sungril Hellhound, unlike the rest of its kin, is unique because it dwells only in the Frozen North-lands or in extremely cold places. It is also well known for being the toughest and most vicious species of Hellhound, owing to the fact that it can cast both Ice and Fire aligned spells. Consequently, it is immune to both types and therefore ridiculously difficult for any adventurer to best. The only elements that can scratch its thick, magic resilient hide are the elements of Earth and Lightning. Unfortunately, both will do a pitiful amount of visible damage as the Hellhound is of the demon race and hence bears an incredible resistance to any sort of magic. Pray that your warriors are strong enough to cut its flesh with the sharpness of their weapons alone, or you might quickly find yourself dying a rather ignominious death..."

Hope ye enjoyed that little snippet and remember, ye can always look forward t' a Chen-style fantasy, because I'll be showin' ye a world ye ain't never seen before lads... (and lasses xD)

-Captain Chenbeard o' th' Black Fedora Pirates

Other Poems by Me:

This is Halloween!This is Halloween:

Boys and girls of every age
Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

Come with me and you will see
The friends I've hung down from this tree...

This is Halloween, this is Halloween
Corpses scream in the dead of night!

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene
Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna die of fright.
It's our town, everybody scream!
In this town of Halloween...

I am the one hiding under your bed;
Licking your hand with a tongue so red and -

I am the one crawling up your stairs,
Thump-thump-drag, when no one's there...

This is Halloween, this is Halloween

Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Hallo

There are Things Beneath the GardenThere Are Things Beneath the Garden:

~

There are things beneath the garden,
Which you really shouldn't see.

There are things beneath the garden,
That don't belong to me.

There are things beneath the garden,
Gone rotten blue and black.

There are things beneath the garden,
In a dripping gunny sack...

~

There are flowers in the garden,
Which you really shouldn't pull.

There are flowers in the garden,
That sit on top of wool.

There are flowers in the garden,
With a really rotten scent.

There are flowers in the garden,
Above bodies burnt and bent...

~

I love this little garden,
It's a special place to me.

I love this little g

DishonouredDishonoured:

He stands before the adoring crowd,
Basking in their cheers and standing ovation.
But he has already been dishonoured -
By means of his perverse innovation.

For none could know of the dark secret;
About the art that he claims to be his own.
It is naught but an illusion, smoke and mirrors -
A theft for which he must atone...

But this disgusting creature, this worthless abhuman;
So desperate for the glory which he sees upon the stage!
Will quietly don the skin of another;
An urge he must assuage...

Biting his nails, a cracked smile upon his lips, he whispers:
"No one will know, no one will find it and I am great..."

Other Literature by Me:

Mercenary 1-1MERCENARY

Chapter 1: Blood is Beauty

Release One: Pages 1 - 3

THE COLD AIR in Baron Rorke's study did little to calm his nerves. He was expecting visitors this night and they were not the best of company. A shiver of dread ran down his spine and he spent most of the twilight hours staring out of a large window which stood behind his writing desk. It was amazing, he felt, how quickly a man could become attached to a life of luxury; only to be made painfully aware of how easy it was to lose it. War was always a frightening thing, even more so when one had the knowledge and sense to realise that it was no longer an exercise of glory, but a si