My friend the wolf

I’m dancing under the rainbow lights of a club

Dancing with all my kindred cubs

Wolves of the night we are

Dancing into ever darkness

Prancing

On prey that walks in the night

Like silly beggars looking for a fight

We bite

When we sight them

Tear their throats apart

Till their life ends

We’re wolves

 

This poem is honor of an old friend of mine I lost contact with a year ago, I miss him, he claimed to be involved with lycanthropy, I would say I believe him because I think I’ve seen him start transfiguration one night and he got rather embarrassed by it and touchy, yet he was always searching to be a lycanthrope.

Something happened where he said he sensed something about me and he was worried that he would hurt me as he regarded me as his spiritual sister, so he migrated to Ireland.

I’ve known some strange people in my time, I’ve seen some strange things and you know what?  That’s why I don’t dispute the existence of anything; I fully believe in the paranormal, but I am unsure what to believe in as a main faith.  I am darker than light I reckon, because the light is too bright and cheerful for the likes of me, I like morose, dark fantasy, dark ambiance and nightfall; it’s more peaceful and artistic.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, the dark doesn’t have any real monsters – well not the kind you should be afraid of.  People fear the unknown that darkness brings, yet actually humanity, particularly those involved with any mainstream religion, are probably more monstrous than anything you could possibly find in a horror story.

Whenever anyone is overly zealous about their faith, that’s when I start to worry, that’s when alarm bells ring for me – get away from them as soon as possible, or they’ll send you mad and the people around them, they’re dangerous.

But I only think that because of my experiences with zealots in the past.  I am lucky to be strong minded in regards to keeping an open mind, if I wasn’t; I think I would have been converted to some crazy religion years ago, hell, I had plenty of chances – Jehovah Witnesses coming to my mother’s house every Thursday trying to convert us, occasionally mum would talk with them, but we never got deeply involved, though mum did consider it once or twice, but then got scared off with their stupid ideas about disallowing medical care for herself and such and such, thank goodness for that, really.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems M - O

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s