Posts Tagged ‘writing’

The Summoner’s Tale

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The Summoner’s Prologue

Now after hearing upon this sort of story,
The Summoner himself made an inquiry.
He looked into the eye of the Friar and smirked,
And said, with a voice that concealed a quirk,
œSo, he said,
is the Summoner’s who suffer in Hell, ey?
Especially when thy story is that, just a thought to lay.
But what at the end of the night, say ye,
When thy kind are the ones who extort the weak?
Ye are just as foul as the Pardoner,
Who sells the pardons to pay the Gardener.
Of this the Friar grew with anger,
And his thoughts went from holiness to danger.
His chubby lips desired to start,
But the host went in between them to part,
And with a slight sigh said,
œWell, it is true that the matter must be put to bed,
Syn we have allowed the Friar to speak,
So we must allow the Summoner, with curtosy.

The Summoner’s Tale

I smiled at my victory”pathetic, but ’twas on indeed,
And so gan to reap the sown seed;
For, after all, had I not the Friar dearly promised
That I will return the favour of his early demise?
œAnd so, this marks a journey of a little Friar,
A most curious of the English buyers.
Ye note, that for what ’tis worth,
Despite the promise of the Saviour’s consecration at birth
To live a life of poverty
And, of course, a life of chastity.
But this curious Friar, this one who believed
That he was above the law, and of course, was quite relieved
When he learnt that of his fellow Friars who could extort
An amusing and considerable amount of the sorts.
He contemplated his plan, to which he wished to exceed
For in his heart, he wiste no boundaries to his greed.
But one must truly look to see if that was what
This portly man thought it was all about !
Did he in his heart and mind believe that
It was not a plague spreading by the Rat?
Well, one night, taken to his meditation walk as he called !
Which, of course, nothing more than a move most bold,
For ’twas on those nights that he went searching,
Sweven from the high peak he was perching
To find an accomplice, another devious of the sort.
‘Perhaps,’ the Friar thought, ‘a man of the court?
He would be able to help me when needed,
In case, so at least we could partially split the blame for the deeds.
But why two of us take the blame when in fact,
‘Tis not such a sin that am going to commit-
After all, ’tis no more than a Pardoner selling indulgences higher for profit.
So, if a Pardoner is allowed to do as such,
Why should I, a Friar, bother so much?’
He smiled to himself, and took back to his residence,
And gave a prayer of thanks for the thoughts to Providence.


Musings to the Gods

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Have you ever had a day where nothing seemed to go right, and you just wanted to know: what the hell? I had one of those days, and was inspired to write an interrogation of sorts of the Gods. Our interesting (perhaps even thought-provoking) discussion.

Musing to the Gods


Devotional to Enlil, Lord of Air

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You are my madness, my sanity, my corruption and my savior
You are my paradox, my life, my death, my thought
You are my night, my day, that which causes both
You are my nightmare and my dream.

You descend me into madness,
The mere thought of you drives me insane -
How much I want you, adore you, desire and love you.
The mere thought of you suffocates me.

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Pronouncing the Master’s Divine Name

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Bearer of Light, Master of Babylon,
Son of Lucifer, Creator of Satan,
My madness…
What honour can I give upon your name
but speak it?
No harm comes when your name dances
with my soul?
For you dance with me with every pronunciation,
every utterance, of your divine name -
Marduk…


Hybride Fiction

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Something to ease the stressful day, drink some tea and relax to some warm, funny, and sometimes generally disturbing pieces, depending on your mood. Stories in PDF format.


connley.major joehnckyuki