KIRK B FORSETH II

  A grove of weeping willows in decay The impending doom fills all with dismay Guarded by an ominous black steel gate It definitely knows no time or date Always gloomy is this foreboding place Such a relief to see an angel’s face From a distance, they’re imperceptible You’re welcome, for all are acceptable You can always find the ones you’re seeking Silence is golden for no one’s speaking Knowledge coming from the deep impressions None holding onto worldly possessions All shapes and sizes with the marbled mark Remember to leave before it gets dark Some visitors are often heard sobbing While the other choose to do some robbing The residents never have grunts or groans One day you’ll be in this garden of stones

    It all started with the Mogul horde When they were mysteriously floored Throwing their dead right over the wall This act would be the start of it all All the way to Italy it came For history is never the same Way across Europe, it quickly spread Thousands of people would soon be dead Extending from the rat’s parasites The church leaders refused to give the Last Rites No one’s safe, not even the royals Each of them was marked with blackened boils Physicians at that time racked their brains How to put an end to all the pains Soon you will breathe your very last breath Finally succumbing to the black death Brought and dumped into an unmarked grave One more soul to be the reaper’s slave

  Eric wasn’t a stupid kid, not by a long shot. He was tying his shoes and reciting the alphabet, both in English and in Sign Language, by the time he was four. There were several times when he became bored in class, as he had already learned what was happening in kindergarten. His teacher, Mrs. Harris, was a proud black woman, and it was the late 70s. One thing she didn’t like was the smart-ass white kid who shouldn’t have been in her class to begin with. However, he couldn’t skip a grade; he had to complete the curriculum. All this came to a head on a fateful day, when she brought in albums by various black artists. She had Earth, Wind, and Fire, Stevie Wonder, and Isaac Hayes, to name a few. Then it came time to present them to the class. She showed them to the class, mostly white and Hispanic kids, who they were. None of the kids knew who they were. Then she went to Isaac Hayes and asked if they knew who he was. Right away, Eric raised his hand enthusiastically. He knew that an...

    You say love was never your token That your heart was severely broken Never liked the odds to be so plain In a world filled with oh so much pain Playing craps with the six-sided bones Looking for more carbon copy clones Don’t regret the risks that might have been Wondering if you’re living in sin Hoping to God love is in your fate ’Cause all good things come to those who wait One day, your prince will come with his ring In jubilation, your heart will sing You’ll look gorgeous in your wedding dress And you’ll never again second-guess

  Bullet tears like knives through butter So much pain, his heart starts to flutter He never signed up for this strife Slowly, he loses his crimson life The country had lost its glamor Once the bombs started to hammer The medic tries to do his best But soon he’ll take his final rest Try as he may, the blood won’t stop Cleared away from the napalm drop Some morphine was given to him Pain is gone, and the light grows dim He only went to Vietnam To serve his much-loved Uncle Sam His last hope is that it’s God he seeks Away goes the color in his cheeks

  Eric Cafferty was born at the end of May 1974 to Deanna and Eric. According to them, he was wanted; however, the way they acted towards him made it clear he wasn’t. While the pictures of his humble beginnings showed a happy child, his memories began when he was four years old. Sounds remarkable, but his earliest memory deals with him in Florida with his maternal grandmother and his Uncle Lewis. They were feeding ducks; however, Eric went to feed the baby ducks. The mature ducks took it that the child was attacking their offspring, and they flocked upon him. He remembered the feeding of the duckies and then the attack. The bills were flying on him, pecking away angrily. He also remembered the laughter as Lewis found the humor in it all. This wasn’t done out of cruelty or malice; he just happened to come from a long line of sarcastic smart asses. This must have come from the paternal grandfather’s side, as his grandmother, Thelma, wasn’t at all, nor was his eldest uncle, Jason. Lew...

She sings to me from an outstretched arm Can’t help being seduced by her charm Don’t know why she converses with me I love her tone indefinitely She fills my heart with complete desire While it’s burning like napalm fire Like a diamond in a piece of coal The hypnotic sound engulfs my soul Something out of a wonderful dream Just like lying on clouds of whipped cream I’m basking in a sunlight cascade As festive as a Christmas parade Waiting for the treasure to begin The gentle sounds of the violin

 This week's Character Corner features Temur Beg. He is the Mongolian warrior who raids and pillages the village where Draco Lavanov's family lived. Killing the Lavanovs, he is the catalyst that led Draco down the path that made him a vampire—tracking this brutal killer down and killing him in the darkness.

  The grand ballroom is completely filled to the brink Each and every one of the them I would surely drink Their white painted faces make them look like cheap whores Eventually, they’ll all wash up onto the shores They all bow and curtsy with such a grand splendor That will end when I start my evil endeavor Biding time up in the rafter’s shadowy gloom Not one of them aware of the impending doom The corruption consumes every part of their soul Their kindness is as false as their painted-on mole For the chosen one, I will extinguish their fun My gullet will be satisfied when all is done

  Here I sit, pondering whether the spirit of Christmas has gone Absent is it from the commercial displays on our front lawn The time has come for the ChEaster’s to act holier than thou Then on Christmas Day, they will stuff themselves full like an old sow It’s been a long time since charity has been replaced with greed We’re now like Scrooge refusing to give to the children in need There once was a time when people's faces were filled with joy Now we have the ravenous beings fighting over a toy Where are the vendors on the corner selling roasted chestnuts Instead, we have big corporations handing out huge pay cuts Whatever happened to the carolers and the songs they’d sing To the warmth and happiness their songs in unison would bring No longer are the red stockings hung by the chimney with care If the toys the kids wanted are not there, their anger will flare The tune of “give me, give me, give me” has replaced peace on earth We’ve forgotten it's ...

 This week's Character Corner features Sophia Chambers. She is the English representative of the Vampire Council. She is the vampiric maker and wife of Patrick "Paddy" O'Malley. After his death, she is torn between her blind loyalty to Callabah and the Vampire Council and her friendship with Draco Lavanov. 

 This week's Character Corner, meet the Lycanthrope Alpha of the Northside of Glen Cove, Simon Phelps. One of the Seven Alpha, he is the one who runs the railroads and heroin distribution. It was he who ordered that, due to a faulty batch, Chucky Vance be evicted from his home and his bank accounts be frozen. This was the catalyst for the New Era.

  No one said I was wrongfully accused The justice system corrupt and abused The righteous celebrate my dark demise I became the one that they could chastise Here I swing with the noose around my neck Waiting for the reaper to cash the check   The blood vessels are bursting in my eyes I can still hear my future widow’s cries Feeling the blood rushing into my face My pounding heart is picking up the pace Piss running down my leg, crap down my rear My death is bringing nothing but cheer   Begin to lose feeling in my toes That is the very least of all my woes I prayed to God for my neck to have broke But instead, I hang here and slowly choke Trying to free my hands from the tight ropes Thinking of the jurors, all of them dopes   And now my eyes roll back into my head I know pretty soon that I will be dead Pain so intense I wait for death’s embrace To be laid in a box covered in lace Finally, the chimes of the death bell ...