Ask Yourself

What is it about your beliefs 

That make you think you have the right or the responsibility to tell others how to live?  

Have you been given a mandate to ignore your own short comings 

In order to point someone else’s out?  

Have you been told that your actions are so beyond reproach

That you have the right to convict, condemn or penalize another?  

You claim to worship the same God I do 

Yet your understanding of his golden rule is vastly different than my own.  

I say you have been listening to gossips and liars.  

I say you have allowed someone to pervert the gospel of love and forgiveness

Turning it into one of judgment and hatred.  

I say you need to repent and rediscover the love of the Christ in your heart.  

The time is short; if we do not find love,

we will surely loose our lives.

Mother

Life such an unkind blessing at times
Tortured by demons pursued by curses
Given children who did not understand
Sacrifices punctuated by blasphemies and unuttered verses

A voice that longed to sing
Silenced by shame and fear
A soul that longs to soar
Fettered by those who will not even shed a tear

Mother I forgive all
Mamma I ask forgiveness in return
Dear God, what would I be
Without the lessons, from you, I've learned

I will champion your freedom
Where I failed you before
If I showed disrespect
I will err no more

Your bravery, valor, never again in question
Your music running through my veins
Your imagination, your joy, will live
Your family will not fail you again

Life, was not wasted
Lessons, great teacher, have been learned
Liberation, brave soul, you shall find
Love, dear mother, has been earned

The ghouls will not have you
To poke and prod  nor dissect you as you languish
For once mom, I will not fail
I will allow you to see the finish

Heaven will open unto you
If such a place exist for anyone
If there is justice, honor, or strength in me
So help me, I will do my duty as your son

Tomorrow mother, your children will come
In your defense, we will fight
Give you peace and dignity
Those things you earned by right

Mamma, I love you
The tears I cry, are tears of shame
For every time, no matter why
I ever cursed your name

I know the value
Of you above all others
She who gave me life
My dear sweet loving Mother


Margy Clark Born to miners, lived as a teacher and nurse care giver, fighting for her children who'll never forget.  Sacrificing for babes that have grown fierce.  Mother, teacher, nurse, friend, human, sweet spirit who deserves peace.  Gladys and I will fight for you mom.  So help me God.

And Still

At the first glance

I was done, I knew

I had no chance

It has always been you

Battered dreams

Feeble hopes, false starts

Advances, retreats, all tearing at the seams

Alone, a glass, a hotel room and Makers Mark

Stranded in paradise

Etta swings and I sing mournful and out of key 

Salted water hiding in my eye

What would you think, if you could see

Night and day, baby it's you

No matter who I'm with 

Regardless of what I do

Memories passing through bring me bliss

Pour another plastic cup

In my solitude, Billie surely knew

Perhaps, I should just give up

Hold no dream to get me through

Damn the thoughts that keep me sparkin'

Cursed hunger yearning to taste those lips

Purgatory, torturous hell, lovely voice to which I hearken

Longing for pleasures between those hips

O' divine vision, obsession, since first impression

Sate me, release me, kill me a thousand times

Lift me from this fool's deception

Release me Lord from passion's crimes

But prisoner I will ever be

A sweet and bitter pill

Forever locked and chained by she

Love's prisoner, laying here, quiet, and still

Roger H. P. Clark

The Necromata
(RM)

On the Death of Noble Rat

Some would say you were only a rat

Vermin, source of disease and destroyer of property

I was content to let you live because you offered no insult

You committed no crimes against me

I denied you your sources of food

I hoped you would just leave

But you were cunning and still you thrived

I admired you and your perseverance

You began to destroy wires and chew through things

Much as I might, if left to starve

You fought to live

You fought to survive

In my anger, I set plan in motion

I would be avenged for having to repair that which you had broken

I laid trap, and bait and I would wait

And in my snare you would fall

My "genius" bore fruit

You did succumb

And as you lay helpless

My hammer fell ending your spark

I name myself villain

My new name fiend

But how to make recompense

How to cleanse my sin

I will honor you, adversary

I will fast and pray

That your small soul will find home

That your journey will begin anew

As for me there is no pride

I will not be hypocrite adding to my crime

I will simply say this chapter is done

And move on and hope to do better than before

I name you Noble Rat

No Apologies

I will not apologize for my success

"Mea culpa maxima" will not  be my song

 Nor will I blame you for my failure

I'll accept it free of guilt, unless I have done you wrong

I will not rend my skin

For the blessings in my arms

Nor wear sack cloth nor ash

Unless they come somehow from harm

I will enjoy the fruits of my labor

Knowing that I will pass along much

And hope you wish me well

The result of reaping such

I will not curse the gifts of God Almighty

So that you might find me humble

I will make a joyful noise unto the world

So that others might not stumble

I will not curse my fortune

Nor hide from light of day

I will not build the darkness

But, help you light your way

If I should fail to give praise

what more then would I be

A thief, charlatan and liar

Like scribes and Pharisees

  

If I should lack in happiness

Well what then do I offer

Another cursed penny

Inside the devil's  coffers

I will seek to deliver joy

So you see that it is real

And not be lost in blasphemies

Of bogus cause and zeal

I shall proclaim good news and hope

Offer succor when it's needed

So that the work of the light is done

And cannot be impeded

Roger H. P. Clark

The Necromata

Radically Insensitive

Image by Sciencephoto.com

I want to be radically insensitive

I do not wish to know you

By the color of your skin

I'll know when your heart's true

And gladly name you kin

Why is pallor so provocative?

Nothing more than chemical coding

Don't you know a soul's a soul?

A faithless heart's far more foreboding

Separation bears the deeper toll

I want to be radically Insensitive

Destroy the angry rhetoric

Judged only by my deeds

Free from rules and etiquette

To meet our people's needs

My color not representative

If I could tear this skin asunder

At times I think I would

Many days I have to wonder

If in fact I should

Roger H. P. Clark

The Necromata

Congratulations U. S. A.

Congratulations U. S. A. I really think it's great

You've won the right to smoke your weed  in nearly every state

With your shiny new found health care you'll likely get it free

But now they have the numbers of every T and H and C

I hear you all turned in your guns

"It was the civil thing to do"

But now nobody's watching

The ones who're watching you

So sit back in your stupor

Cause you are too high to see

The drones they've launched "protecting you"

Are scouting down the street

They've made you safe from internet

And every form of speech

Your children all are there to learn

The doctrines they teach

You'll soon be safe from everything

They'll soon be in control

Too late when finally realized

You've sold your very soul

So off now, slumber peacefully

By all means, do sleep tight

But tomorrow in the food lines

Don't dare argue push or fight

Sit back and watch your Tele-garbage

In the home you do not own

And never mind who's listening

As you're talking on the phone

You've no more responsibility

Oh joy!  How great!  How grand!

And never mind your neighbor's gone

Because he took a stand

A cowardly new world approaches

Where safety matters most

Stripped of our Democracy

Our voice and dreams and hopes

  

We'll be well taken care of

Tucked warm inside our beds

Free of pain and misery

With the new chips in our heads

Congratulations U. S. A.

You finally won your weed

That thirty year old bong you hold

Says it was a right you didn't need...

Roger H. P. Clark

The Necromata

Stanless Steal Defender of Twilight (Origins)

I do not remember my birth parents or anything of my old life.

I was no more than 3 years old when Gunn, the man who I call father, saved me from a shipwreck near the mouth of White River in Skyrim. Gunn and Freyja Steal took me in and raised me as their own child alongside their daughter AEstrid. We lived close to the great city of Windhelm. I was raised to honor all the eight Divines. My father also paid special tribute to a Daedrik Princess, the Lady Nocturnal. Gunn always said that he was led to find me by a vision imparted to him by Nocturnal and that we both owed her a great debt as a result.

I adored Gunn and Freyja. I followed Gunn everywhere, including to his forge, from an early age. Gunn always told me that the metal and fire were alive. He said that they were cousins born of the mountain’s heart and that properly joined the metal would sing with the magic of the gods. I loved working the forge with Gunn. Shaping metal and making it sing I found peace. Gunn’s weapons and armor were renowned. His work could be found in the halls of the King and the lodges of the Thanes. It was said that his skill was indeed a gift from the gods themselves. Gunn had even made a special set of weapons just for me. They were exquisite. He told me that on my 15th name day the set would be mine.

Gunn spent time with me in those days teaching me the way of the dagger and the sword. He said that in order to create a thing you had to understand its essence. Gunn was a very talented fighter. He taught me the way of fighting with sword and shield and those of the Bidenhänder, but he said a warrior was at his best when he could wield a blade in each hand. Gunn would tell me sword play was a a deadly dance between two souls. He emphasized respecting your opponent's ability while making him underestimate your own. I took to these lessons like a bird to flight.

Freyja was a strong Nord woman in every sense. She kept a tidy home, and an impressive garden of the herbs and vegetables that grow in our area. She taught AEstrid and me which herbs would heal and which would cause harm. Freyja was also a shrewd trader. It was rumored that she had been raised by witches as a girl; she always laughed if this was brought up and called the stories nonsense spread by busy-bodies.

AEstrid and I were as close as any two children could be. If there was mischief to be found, AEstrid and I would find it. AEstrid and I played hiding and tracking games. We would test each other’s cunning and perceptions constantly. We were also fond of swiping pies or fruit from the local vendors. We didn’t steal them, mind you; we made a game of snatching the goods and leaving the pay in the trade box or the vendor’s pockets without being seen. In early years, we were in constant trouble for playing these pranks but, the punishment was mild because we would always pay.

The winter of my 12th named day changed everything. The snows had come in a particularly harsh fashion. Gunn and some of the other men were busy seeing to our neighbors and the elderly in the area. AEstrid and I were practicing our lessons by the hearth when an incredible gust of wind smashed the front door open. I knew something was terribly wrong because Freyja screamed in anger and fear for AEstrid and me to get in the cellar. Freyja changed. A glow of power surrounded her and she looked at us with eyes like coal and shouted “NOW” in an unearthly voice. AEstrid and I bolted for the cellar and sealed the door above us.

The cellar became unbelievably quiet.Infact, there was no sound at all. I could not even hear my own breath. Startled, I tried to cry out and found that I could not. I grabbed AEstrid and led her to the darkest corner of the cellar. I placed myself in front of her, as if I could protect her.

I don’t know what happened next, only that I awoke in a bed that was not my own, to the sound of Gunn bellowing with anger. I jumped up and ran to the sound of his voice and found that we were in the home of a neighbor, Tobor Jorgen. I ran to Gunn and hugged him both in relief and fear. He knelt down and hugged me so tight I could feel the breath leave me. Then I began to ask after Freyja and AEstrid. A single tear ran down Gunn's face as he began.

I learned that Freyja had been killed and AEstrid abducted. Tobor blamed someone called the Altmer. Gunn and some other men formed a hunting party to rescue AEstrid. I insisted on going with him. Tobor said I was too young but Gunn said that I had every right to avenge my mother and find my sister. He said sometimes the situation, and not the season, made you a man. I remember a feeling of both pride and rage; pride at being allowed to help and rage because someone had harmed my family.

Gunn, who had never been at a loss for words, became a very solemn, stoic man. He outfitted the party with the best armor and weapons in his shop. I was given leather breeches, a thick leather cuirass and cloak. Gunn made some adjustments with leather cords so I would not look or feel like a rag doll. He then handed me the short sword and dagger that he had promised me for my 15th name day. He told me that no matter what happened to keep my eyes and ears open and heed the lessons he had given me.

We set off several hours before the dawn of the next day. Though most people would never have been able to track anything in these conditions, we are Nord and know this land like our own skin. Our scouts found the Altmer party on the third day. We trailed them at a safe distance and waited for night fall. These Altmer were a strange looking bunch. Thin and tall, they had fair skin and not one of them wore a beard. They looked much like children themselves except they had pointy ears!

The tent where AEstrid was being held was in the very center of the camp. We outnumbered the Altmer by nearly two to one. We snuck up to the outskirts of the camp careful to cut off any routes for escape. Our scouts made short work of the guards. Altmer died in their sleep as their blood froze in the snow. Not an honorable death; it was very fitting for these foul skeevers.

As we approached the center tent we could hear singing. No that isn't right; it was more like chanting. Gunn started to open the tent flap when he was hit with a ball of bluish energy that crackled like lightning. Our men rushed in from all sides and many were quickly dispatched by more lightning, fire, and shards of ice. Nord, Altmer and Daedra now fought and died in the snow; it was chaos. We Nords do not know fear. We began to win through. I ran to Gunn to see if he was still alive.

Gunn was only barely holding on. He looked me hard in the eyes and whispered "Riften... Nightingales..." He gasped. I had lost track of the battle around us but, things had grown eerily quiet. Gunn uttered one last thing before his eyes closed, never to open again. "Fus Ro Dah... I pass my voice and force to you... my son..." I felt an energy pass into me, through me. It resonated to my very bones. 

I turned around in anger. The camp was in shambles Nord and Altmer lay amongst piles of ash.  A lone Altmer stood where the tent had been AEstrid was with her in glowing shackles, tethered and in tow. Behind them was... A shimmering hole in the air. He... No, SHE regarded me disdainfully and started to say something I couldn't make out.

I felt nothing but rage. I would not let this Daedra spawn take my sister away. Suddenly, the rage inside of me found a clear... voice. I looked at the Altmer and as she began glow with power, I shouted out those words given to me by my father... "FUS RO DAH!!!" My voice made the very air and earth tremble. The Altmer opened her eye wide in utter disbelief. The force of my shout flung her through the hole, back and out of sight.

I ran to AEstrid. "I'll free you" I told her. She was just out of my reach. The chain pulled taught. AEstrid was yanked through that hole; she was... Gone. Everyone was gone. I was completely alone.

I thought hard on what had transpired. I burned with anger; with hatred for these, Altmer. None of this made any sense. So many questions and the only clues I had were Riften, Nightingales and this new powerful new weapon. The voice. Fus Ro Dah. I had heard stories of Riften. A prosperous town with a shady history. I would begin my search for answers there.

"And this Bjorn, is how I came to be here, speaking with you. Can you help me?"

"Well, well... That! 'Youngling', is quite a tale... If true... And ya' seem sincere, mind. Then ya'r Da, was a good friend to me and the boys in The Guild. I'll not turn my back on ya'. But, if ya' want to be one of us ya'll have to Earn a spot see... Well, make yase'f to home at one of the empty beds here... We have one rule sprout... Actually, it's more like a saying... 'Never try to pick the pocket of a pro.' Dinner's in an hour. Get settled, get clean, and we'll talk after vittles."

"My thanks Bjorn. I owe you."

"We may settle accounts someday sprout, but for now, just don't make me regret takin' ya' in."

"I won't Bjorn..." " I will get AEstrid back and we will have our revenge, father and mother. I swear it to the Divines!"

Written by Roger H. P. Clark

The Necromata

2/5/2013

NOTICE:  This story is my original creation.  The story takes place in the Elder Scrolls Universe as created by Bethesda  Softworks LLC in the game series Elder Scrolls.  I am submitting it for review for the Short Story Contest - Hosted by TESO.  Wish me luck :)

When My Own

Windblown new beginning

Going down in flames

Responsible for your happiness?

When my own?

Soft landing, pillow case

Sheets strewn like shards of glass

orgasmic, climatic, frustration, disappointment

Mine is blown

Fallow fields, nothing grown

Blood and sweat, cum and gone

Shade and water hard to find

Cannot make it home

You've had your say

Find another way

 I've already gone

Out on your own

Tears squeezed sponge dry

Suck it up, more to come
Callous fingers working thread

Close wounds stitched up tight

It's just today

A simple pain

No alarms, no alarms, no alarms

I'll be ok

I will stand, be a man

Take control of this life

Direction, decisions, destinations wiser

When my own

Roger H. P. Clark

The Necromata

I Can Choose The Beauty

I woke this morning, the Sun peaking around the corners of my blinds.  The same parrots that have greeted me since my youth laughed outside my window.  My dogs, each vying for position, began jumping up on the bed as if there was a race to see who could be pet first or receive a greater share of my love.  I made my coffee looking out at the San Gabriels as I have done thousands of times before.  Last week’s heat wave, broken for now, gave way to a gorgeous blue sky with just a few puffy white clouds to provide contrast.  I could feel life force soaring within me.

Driving in to work seemed a shame on a day this beautiful but, I have bills to attend to and clients, that I care about, who will need me today.  Technology conspiring against me; I discover my tools are not working as they should.  It doesn't even faze me inside.  I grumble, just loud enough so that my boss will know how “disappointed” I am, not being able to do the work I had scheduled.  Secretly coveting this opportunity to read a few pages of book ten in the “Wheel of Time” series, enjoy my iced tea, and do a little writing.

Billie Holliday serenades my soul with haunting ‘melodies, of days gone by’.  A text or two from my best friend and a chance to breathe a little for a change; who says Mondays have to be all gloom and doom?  I answer a few e-mails, make a few calls and wonder why they call this work.

Next week I travel to Texas to do an installation and training.  I hope to get a chance to meet up with some friends while I am there.  Travel is my favorite part of the job.  I go, I see, I meet, I share, I learn, I come home, I love it.

This isn’t a diary entry.  This isn’t poetry nor a short story.  This is a snapshot of a day that I could have complained about.  It is a declaration of satisfaction that I chose otherwise.  It is a reminder for myself if the occasion arises later for me to forget these simple lessons: 1) enjoy the sunrise 2) love is there 3) smile when things go wrong 4) there is much to look forward to.

I can choose the beauty of contentment.

Roger H. P. Clark

The Necromata