I hear voices from a far and perfect future,
Voice of morning, voice of silver, voice of spring!
I hear voices, luring to the the path of virtue,
Spinning my head as a seesaw, as a swing!

O far and perfect future,
Don't judge too harsh my culture,
Don't judge too harsh our culture,
Please, don't be too harsh !!!
From headspring I departure
To far and perfect future -
To far and perfect future,
I now begin my path.

I hear voices from a far and perfect future,
And they call me to the marvelous lands!
One of voices asks us all with sharp, stern puncture:
"What was built, now, for the future, by your hands ?"

O far and perfect future,
Don't judge too harsh my culture,
Don't judge too harsh our culture,
Please, don't be too harsh !!!
From headspring I departure
To far and perfect future -
To far and perfect future,
I now begin my path.

And I vow: "I will be cleaner! I'll be kinder!
And I'll never leave in trouble a true friend!"
I hear voices, and leap forward, as a glider,
To a highway with no traces and no end!

O far and perfect future,
Don't judge too harsh my culture,
Don't judge too harsh our culture,
Please, don't be too harsh !!!
From headspring I departure
To far and perfect future -
To far and perfect future,
I now begin my path.

The Necromancer (The King and the Jester)

You say that I'm a demon ?
SO IT IS !
With me, expect you shouldn't any fortune !
My only work is terror and disease.
For demons - no alternatives to torture.

...

How have I deserved a cruel fate of an exile ?
Never to have answer to a question - "who am I" ?
Thoughts that I'm a "demon" often helped me to survive,
Folks have, long before, already branded me as one !

O the ominous moon,
To my torture so attuned,
As you wake me from my bed,
What you're doing with my head ?
Can you even answer why,
All the waking world combined
Hates me with it's very soul ?
And why was I even born ?

I remember angry mob that came to take my life !
Then inqusitors arrived and cut me with a knife !
Unprovoked, all wished for young necromancer's head !
Making me a victim of my talent for the dead !

O the ominous moon,
To my torture so attuned,
As you wake me from my bed,
What you're doing with my head ?
Can you even answer why,
All the waking world combined
Hates me with it's very soul ?
And why was I even born ?

By half, I am a mortal man,
By half, I am a walking dead,
Forever it's in my fate, then,
To sow, among the others, dread !
Of suffering, my life is full,
But choice made by the Fate itself
No, no I cannot just annul,
THE WAR AGAINST MYSELF !

...Can you even answer why,
All the waking world combined
Hates me with it's very soul ?
It's soul...

Humans are my foes - I long for times when they were brothers !
I consigned all lands nearby to curse of doom and hazard !
Crops fail all around, the plague and famine are untold !
Winds from other lands bring only devastating cold !

O the ominous moon,
To my torture so attuned,
As you wake me from my bed,
What you're doing with my head ?
Can you even answer why,
All the waking world combined
Hates me with it's very soul ?
And why was I even born ?

My dear sun, look and see this !
My palm have turned into a fist !
If there's gunpowder, light me a cig !
Like this.

WORK IN PROGRESS

Dagon (The King and the Jester)



In my manuscript...

...

In my manuscript, final chapter is all fine,
Sadly, words cut off in the middle of a line
Over the last year, from the little fishing towns
People disappeared, into mists that over grounds
Hovered from the seas
Every day, in scores
I bore witness to
The deserting of the shores!

World have changed before my eyes!
Force of nature calls and cries,
Sowing the primal fear for lives,
Fear for our lives!
Son of Dagon, in the flesh,
Have arisen from the depths -
The first of fate's unholy signs,
Unholy signs!


Every day, in our minds
The forsaken darkness grinds!

Scrawling down a note: "Yet again I lose my mind.
Yet again I hear those weird noises in the wind.
But today I could make out words amid that mist...
It's a call - one that I'm not sure I can resist."
Thunder outside!
And my eyes go wide!
Popping out of skull!
My reflection's looking foul!

World have changed before my eyes!
Force of nature calls and cries,
Sowing the primal fear for lives,
Fear for our lives!
Son of Dagon, in the flesh,
Have arisen from the depths -
The first of fate's unholy signs,
Unholy signs!


Everyone is on their way
To the sea, as omens say

Someone crawled to shore.
A decrepit shabby dock
In has fate stood for
His last, now unlocked, lock.
In his hands he held
His old manuscript cut short.
On sheer force of will
Tried to finish his report...

And then he dove in!
Deep beneath the storm!
As the surf, in roar
Claimed him as the ocean's own!

World have changed before my eyes!
Force of nature calls and cries,
Sowing the primal fear for lives,
Fear for our lives!
Son of Dagon, in the flesh,
Have arisen from the depths -
The first of fate's unholy signs,
Unholy signs!


A new, young, immortal race
Was born underneath the waves...

The Marionettes (The Time Machine)

Clothing - worn, the paint is fractured.
Are those people or just puppets?
Face - like every face,
Day - like each day.
As from this I am exhausted,
I invite you to the circus,
Where muppets look so much, so much like men.

Harlequins and rowdy pirates,
Winged folk atop the clouds,
And the villain, devilsh and sick,
Wolf and rabbit, caged tigers -
All are simply stringed puppets
In marionettist's crafty grip.

They get moved with grace, in tandem
And their faces look so friendly
And the clown nearby plays tunes on brass.
So as the show is demonstrated,
An impression is created
That puppets on their own can do their dance.

Oh, it's sometimes so disappointing
That the master's not in spotlight!
Up and into dark the strings will lead.
Movements are so well-detailed!
And our minds, so poorly trained
Think the puppets capable to speak.

Puppeteer then shuts the lighting.
Show is over, time for parting,
Now the moon is shining over guests.
And he will then unstring his puppets,
And apply insecticides, and
Fold them down and lock them into chests.