Grimacing when he noticed the last beer at the back of the refrigerator, Boone grabbed the sweaty bottle by the neck. Standing too fast he hit his head on the freezer door. Kicking the door closed he opened the beer with the church key he wore on a silver chain around his neck like the […]
Irish German blood boils volatile magic burning blasting firing mystical dreams conjuring Celtic tribes’ witchcraft born of pagan belief as fierce Druid priests also curse fools who step on crickets
the Red Witch teaches never kill a cricket expect trouble if you do get ready for pure German pow-wow power coming to curse you your son your daughters years beyond your cricket murder payback for your human evil manifested in pain so know well my Pennsylvania Dutch spell we protect crickets at all cost
if you saw fire blaze east to west across black and blue southern night sky you might understand nature’s blazing tip blasting white hot tailpipe exhaust shooting star inferno into nighttime pagan nature that one day will snuff the world with ease blowing out life’s candle to say creation’s final good night to man-made gods
getting older day by day tight stiff hesitant to step into fire still burning dark shadow scars on life’s charred walls so warm yourself in reflection welcome fears as sweet gifts prepare to face the fire god who remains our barbaric friend wielding a burning sword to stand fierce with us until the end
