Thursday, September 23, 2004


Something new, yet inspired by older events...

Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Imagine a dark road,
A knight and his mistress,
A tournament won,
The prize – renown, honor.

The forest is bleak,
Near the edge of the boarder,
A rider appears,
A forlorn knight in dark.

He was just the enemy,
A tournament lost,
He announces his intention,
She will accept his largess.

Nay, says the protector,
He will not have his way,
The favor of darkness,
Will not touch her.

Swords drawn,
Battle joined,
Experience versus youth,
But the tide turns to darkness.

The lady cries out,
A distraction,
At the right moment,
Saves the protector.

He rolls away,
While the darkness,
Lunges at his throat,
A sword bites deep.

The forlorn dies,
His aim his downfall,
Blood upon the ground,
The largess crushed beneath.

The protector rolls the dark,
Away to smite the gift,
But only a sundered box,
Holding a black rose.

Crimson stains the petals,
The lady weeps for the dark,
The protector,
Can only find fault within.

Proper burial,
Marked with honor,
Here a knight fell,
Chivalry died with him.

More poetry transfers from the old Crossroads site...

The Beast
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

She stood alone under the streetlight,
Unaware of the danger that stalks the night.
Evil in the darkness...
Spawned of a nightmare.


A beast, best left to the shadow,
To look upon it is worse then death.
It has her now...
Tearing, rending, snapping.


Hunger is all the beast knows.
It is never sated,
It is always hungry...
Down the street it goes.


It hears joy approaching,
A young couple laughing.
Love is like that...
The beast could never understand.


The woman screams, running in panic.
The man... no, the boy is frozen.
Fear takes his soul...
The beast eats his heart.


The beast can smell the woman’s fear,
She hasn’t gone far.
Never far enough...
Terror always makes the kill.


It finds her lost and alone,
Surrounded by steel and glass.
This is the jungle...
Only the strong live here.


The gun came from out of nowhere,
The shot resounds through the jungle.
The beast dies...
A bullet through the skull.


The woman watches in horror,
Beast shifts to man.
Smoking gun...
She sees the face of evil.


The Emotion and the Pain
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

To understand my past is difficult for most.
The way I lived was full of shadow.
My family was my strength, my reason for existing.
God was my only true friend, so caring and understanding.

But I was never complete.
School was a joke, I never fit in or cared.
There were never any good times that I can still remember.
But the worst of times will haunt my dreams.

Society was the enemy, I hated it and myself.
It fed off my emotions like a carnivore enraged.
And the more I fought it, the worse it became.
I was helpless.

A weaker person may have rolled over and died.
But I knew that there was reason for life.
Some day I would find my place in the world.
Even if I had to conquer it first.

Yet as time wore on I cared less.
I was more interested in surviving.
My home became my fortress and my heart, black ice.
I cannot tell you what it was like, living only with hate.

And then a voice from outside the darkness called to me.
"Walk with me, my friend," it said.
Is it God’s holy messenger or the Devil in disguise.
I could not let the doubt, allow the chance to pass by.

At first I was hesitant and suspicious of the voice.
But it showed me a world that I never knew.
And life began to have true meaning at last.
There is a place for me.

While my heart will always remain dark inside.
And my eyes will always have a haunted gaze.
The past that I lived and hate.
Will not destroy the promise of the future.

Yet, I’m still not complete inside.
And while life has some meaning now.
Nothing can help me with my remaining pain.
I have always been alone.

And there I stand at the edge of the world.
Torn between the promise and the pain.
Doomed to an Eternity of life.
My heart has died but I must live.

The Nightmare
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Last night I dreamed of what cannot be.
Through the haze of sleep
I see the dreams of youth come to life in my mind.
The dream of a white picket fence... conforming to societies expectations.
At first the nightmare seems almost joyful...
I am part of it, yet unseen, like looking at oneself through a one way mirror.
The man I could have been is tender, loving, and whole in mind and spirit.
He never went though it, he never changed inside.
He never saw how he would be living a lie to exist that way.
His heart did not evolve... the soul did not see the truth.
I have to show him the truth...
He must know what his life is really about...
No matter what the cost...

I shatter the glass that clouds his mind from the truth.
Everyone in the nightmare turns to see the true reflection...
He stands there and looks at me for an Eternity of seconds.
And then sees the lie he has been living for years.
He knows, he understands...
A woman I’ve never known in my life tries to turn the other me away from the truth.
This woman is the catalyst for the vision.
She is this otherworld’s matrix - she holds it together.
In order to be free of this lie, she must not be here.
He hesitates for a second trying to decide if what he’s about to do is the right thing.
I put my hand on his shoulder, reassuring him this isn’t the end.
It is simply a new beginning...
He nods and reaches out towards her.
She seems to shrink away in size and is soon only this fragile, porcelain doll.
It’s time to stop playing with life...
He shatters the doll with his bare hands and the nightmare ends.

I wake to a warm sunny Saturday morning.
The birds outside have been up for hours, children laugh somewhere in the distance.
It’s a good omen.
I reflect on this dream and what it might mean.
But then I quickly realize that I already knew what it meant.
It was about the truth.
It was about the choice I made to live the way I do.
To live the only way I can and retain what’s left of my soul.
I call it a nightmare because it is a reflection of something that I do not want.
Not any more...
It’s not about faith, love, joy, hate, or anything to do with what I might be missing.
No, it’s as simple as three little words from a song I know.
I AM I...

Thursday, September 16, 2004

A few more poetic transfers...

Night of my Mind
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

The darkness around me while I sleep.
Does not compare with the shadows of my mind.
Follow me now into those shadows.
My soul runs through a darkened landscape.
Yet no real life lives here.
Headstones, shallow graves and desolation,
Consumes the soil.
Horror and evil wanders the shadows.
Dying over and over again each night.
Resurrected by pain.
It runs to free itself.
Through countless fields of torment,
And endless hills of haunted dreams.
I pray it can outrun the darkness. It cannot.

How do you outrun your own darkness?
My soul feels the darkness take control.
It collapses to the barren ground.
The chase is over.
The transformation has begun.
Its breathing grows heavy,
An eerie glow consumes the eyes,
A low growl passes through its lips.
The ground shifts and cracks,
My soul transforms,
The bones crack and flesh tears.
Wicked claws, course hair,
Jagged teeth, form of the beast.
The soul body reforms,
Into what even the shadows fear.
The creature.

It is the master of the darkness of my mind.
It howls its defiance to the shadows.
Smoke billows as it breathes.
Fire burns in its core.
It calls forth its prey.
Millions of the dead,
Crawl from the gravescape.
It howls again.
The dead memories of the past,
Shiver in fear.
It is their own fault that it hunts them.
They created it.
They gave it form and purpose.
Every time a harsh word was whispered.
Every time wicked laughter stole joy.
Every time a cold shoulder killed love.
Dark power.

It begins its hunt.
Mercilessly tearing through the memories.
Good or bad, it doesn’t matter anymore.
The night screams.
Now it is their turn to run.
None will escape this night,
They never do.
And beyond the shadow lands of my mind.
My sleeping form shivers and moans,
In the darkness that surrounds my unrest.
The nightmares will be vivid this night.
My heart races with each death of memory.
The beast inside roars and the body thrashes.
And again and again,
All night, every night,
For as long as I can remember,
The beast has stalked the darkness,
Killing my past,
In the night of my mind.

Remember Shadows
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard
I found myself in the shadows, staring out at the place.
Why do I come here?
It’s late, past midnight I think…
I went to the 7-11 to get some pop.
And then I found myself across the street from it.
Oh sure, I’ve been back…
But I’ve never seen her once…
I don’t want to see her… do I?
I guess there’s a little part of me that misses her.
A middle aged couple walk by.
And then I realize that I should leave.
But I don’t…

I cross the street towards the back of the building.
I run my hand along the cement.
I walk around to the other side.
And lean against the building.
I take a drink from the Sunny D I bought, like it.
I close my eyes.
And remember…
I should have stayed.
No, I never should have taken the job in the first place.
She was everything to me.
And yet, I didn’t really know her…
Not like I should have.
Damn, why do I do this to myself, it isn’t worth it.
She never cared.
I should leave.
But I don’t…

I wait and drink my juice and then I wait some more.
Time passes, I don’t know how long.
I think I cried, I don’t remember.
Then... I left.

Shadow Dancer
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard
The lights, the smoke, the stage,
The show will begin shortly.
Coke for me, beer for my friend.
This is his night out.
I’m just here for the show.
Tight bodies on the unattainable,
Women of the stage,
Dancers or strippers,
Call them what you will.
Tonight they are all goddesses.
Why do they do it?
Maybe for fame, or for money.
But tonight they dance for me.
Oh, I have no allusions,
Only my senses to guide me.
Each will be as spectacular as the last.
I wonder…

Why are there so many women,
Who are completely unattainable?
And not just here in this place,
But everywhere,
At every moment in time.

The announcer breaks the music,
Another beauty for the stage,
Too lure money away from the masses.
Men hoot and holler,
Some women in the crowd as well.
It just shows,
How much our world has changed.
The dancer is haunting and yet distant.
Tall, blonde, dressed in black,
She is confident in her walk.
I am mesmerized,
She is willful in her movement.
Seductive and arrogant,
Tender, yet fierce.
A woman who has lived her way,
And made hard choices in her life.
I wonder…

How did she become this goddess?
So feminine and yet edged,
Like a masterwork sword.
This form in the night,
This… Shadow Dancer.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

A few poems transferred over from The Crossroads.

Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Killing me day by day.
Impossible nights.
The whispering comes.
Comes to steal my soul away.
Pulling me into darkness.

Tearing through me.
Ripping away coils.
Of my mental ball of yarn.
Like a shadow cat.
Its claws bloody.

Can't let it.
Take me back.
To that soulless place.
Five years ago.
When madness almost claimed me.



Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Mistakes… I’ve made my fair share over the years. And now…
Her name is Karen, or Cricket, as she likes to call herself.

I’ve met her online and something about her intrigues me.
But she lives across the country in a place I’ve never been.

I’ve drawn this wonderful image of her in my mind.
She’s beautiful… destined to break a thousand hearts.

Like I said… mistakes…

Even if she is half the dream I see when I close my eyes.
How would I ever win such a goddess?

I’m nothing to look at and who knows how’d she react.
Too say nothing of the fragile condition of my heart.

And now she’s being… I don’t know… playful I guess.
And my words are caught in my throat.

How do I tell her that she’s become something more in my mind?
That I’ve risen her to the heights of goddess in my soul.

Mistakes… always mistakes.

I can not go back now… I can not start over.
I have lost myself to the dream again.


Never Again
Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Lust in the dark.
Torture in the soul.
Fire burning...
For a jewel of passion.
And an existence that betrays.

Troubled thoughts.
Bare my heart wide open.
But I know...
It is not love.
It can never be that.

Never again...

Once I had the desire.
Dreamed of joy, oneness, love.
But now...
Pain incarnate.
My eyes are tinted windows.

Angst rules my nights.
Judge me by soulless rage.
A car did this...
While body didn’t break.
The soul shattered.

And now I see this angel.
Light versus my darkness.
Heaven sent...
To test my courage.
Break my will with desire.

Never again...

I pull the shadows around me.
A cloak of darkness.
Must protect...
The mind shields away.
What the heart must not feel.

Never again... never again.

Wow, is it September already?

Time sure flies when your busy. The last couple of years have seemed to drag on forever, but life is like that when you've been dealing with tons of emotional and physical pain. Now, on the other side of the hill, I'm taking my time, going slow so I don't hurt myself.

I'm leaving for the Steadward Centre in a little while. Because Monday was a holiday here in Alberta (Labour Day), they were closed. I basically took a day off and did writing and design for my campaign world, World of Kulan. (Ok, mostly design.)

The writing project I've been doing with Silverthorne Games has taken up tons of my time over the last month, and as a result I haven't been working on my website, The Crossroads. Now that I have some time, it's time to get back into that. Of course, if Ian e-mails me back in the next couple of day wanting more designs, then all bets are off. Heh!

Yet, I want to redo my website. As it courrently sits, the current website is horribly out of date. The new site design need lots of attention and work before I'm ready to put it online.

Anyway, nuff about that.

I received two interesting e-mails today.

The first one was from my mom. She and Ken (her husband, but not my father) just got back from their trip to Europe yesterday morning. They spent most of their time traveling through Scandinavia visiting relatives and such.

(Actually, I don't know whether or not they went other places besides Scandinavia. I didn't look at the itinerary, they sent before they left, before I accidentally deleted it. Oh well, I'm sure my mom will tell all the next time she has the chance. Plus pitcures, there is always tons of pictures.)

The second one wasn't an e-mail, so much as a newsletter. There is this cool "artist" online named Jillian Ann Durgin. She is an artist, poet, model, photographer, etc. I hadn't been to her site in sometime so it was nice to get a condensed update about what's new with her and her website.

Other than e-mails, messageboard discussions, and writing, life has been fairly quiet lately. My mom and Ken were away, my dad is away in British Columbia until the middle of September, and my brother just went up north to work until the end of December. My sister spent most of July on holidays, working at the local fringe festival, but has now gone back to work. My case manager, from On-Site, was away for two weeks and I was only able to meet with my marketer once during that time.

EN World was down for several days when a hurricane hit Florida and took out the server. Tons of EN Worlders found refuge at Nothingland until EN World returned. Wizards of the Coast has a brand new set of messageboards, which are WAY better than what they use to have.

As I said, things have been subdued lately. I haven't been out with friends in a while, because I always feel guilty about not being able to pay my own way, whether it is one of them paying or my sister having to give me money.

Anyway, I have to get ready to go to the Steadward Centre now.