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Wednesday, January 30, 2013


Her whispers of love caress my heart
As the cold winter rain falls outside
Its liquid rhythm lures me into the night,
In search of her kiss.
Taking my quill for a dip in the inkwell,
I avoid the arms of Morpheus
and retreat into the embrace of my Muse,
I seek the touch of literary inspiration~

Lost in the chill of Winter,
I hide in my new found niche.
Conversation flows around me,
trying to find a way in…
Names and places carved in the tables,
their memory worn to a shadow.
Nameless faces exchange blank stares
Infusing dead spirits with caffeine...
Spring rains will bring hints of her beauty,
roses to sway under heavenly tears.
Madness released with a stroke of my hand
replacing the ashes of genius…
Can wings of desire carry my soul
to the  burning candle in her window?
I long for that moonless night
without shadow, to prove I exist…
Warm whispering winds of Summer,
offer to bring hope and set my ink.
They will fill the air with anticipation
the day of dance draws closer.
Orion's quest to slay the scorpion
seems as endless as my trail to her.
But soon the fires of solstice rites
into the nights will glow…
As I wait for August to fall,
when one kiss leaves a short step to the next.
Time seems to slow to a crawl
so sign the hands behind the crystal.
Aged leaves might dance under the moon
in the warm autumn breeze of harvest.
But it is I that will be lifted upon wind,
when I am touched with her kiss.

© Jan 29, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Saturday, January 26, 2013

When We Dance

When we finally dance...
I will pull you close...
I will whisper my love so softly
that you will swear it was a thought,
a phantom from the ethereal past...
My words shall blow through the forgotten passages
of your subconscious mind...
and enter the hidden and shadowed realms of your heart.
The truth and tenderness will leave traces of forever
etched in time.
You will always remember my love.
It's essence will quietly bleed from my eyes into your soul.
You will be touched
by a love unknown and unmatched...
You have stirred this in me and I now offer it to you...

© Jan 26, 2013  ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic
NOTE: photo is random internet find

Friday, January 25, 2013

left behind?

I was always lost in the maelstrom of political BS as a child. I often overheard the discussions of the sensitivity of the “slow learners” in school. Through the years, I have seen the regression of education to pacify these “unlucky” individuals. The wise are being “dumbed-down” to an average, so that others do not feel left out or left behind. Why? Everyone is not an Einstein, Mozart, or Keats. By lowering standards, laziness becomes a common practice. I see it every day. It is nothing new.
I showed signs of advanced intellect as a child. Nothing was done because my parents were hard working and we barely got by. Had they been rich, I would have been whooshed away to a school of elite, and would be chatting it up with Stephen Hawking. I was showing college level intellect in the 5th grade. I jumped to 7th and passed. But due to fear of me graduating with older kids, I was held back and forced to re-imbibe the curriculum of 7th grade again. I got bored. I was not allowed anything extra to satiate my hunger for higher intelligence. I started rebelling.
I now make it a practice to undermine those that undermine true education. I am not sorry for what I am about to say. “Yes! I believe we should feed everyone’s desire to learn, but if some show signs of advanced intellect…feed them more. Let them digest until they are brain-fat! Limiting a child’s intellect to a class average is like tying weights to the fastest guy on the track so that there is no speed advantage! It is unfair!”
What about the sensitivity of the mentally elevated? Holding them back is more of an evil that leaving behind an occasional straggler. The ones that fall behind WILL redouble their efforts to catch up. Is intellect a curse? It seems to be. The smart kids are now becoming bored and suicidal because they are not offered an outlet for their imagination and depth they have discover in the corridors of their minds. I know that is why I became book lazy. Yes, everything is under Divine Order, but if I play in traffic…I will eventually get run over. I need to cross the road and document my travels. No drugs needed.
This BS of Ritalin at 5 and Prozac at 8 is the cause of developmental problems. Trying to diagnose every child with a mental aberration is a twisted and corrupt evil that is turning tomorrow’s leaders into zombies that have no desire to enter an educational tournament of learning and offers them a way out via psychological evaluations of finger-pointing to strict parents & peer harassment. Psychology for the most part is the science of excuses and redirection of resentment. It creates sheep!
Oh wait! I forgot! The government is breeding and raising sheep. They don’t want intelligence in the public! They want full control of all brainiacs! Fall in to the flock or get tossed to the wolves. And many refuse to believe that the learning curve is directed to an intellectual cliff of stupidity.

Thursday, January 24, 2013


Death in the blood, life in the venom,
the hunter and hunted agree.
Fasting by sun, bask in the moon,
is life to be or not to be…

Run with the foxes, hunt with the hounds,
chasing the faint scent of trust.
Love with the best, lust with the rest,
time slowly turns faith to rust …

Tears blur her eyes, lies burn her heart,
dreams lost behind her smile.
Light drawn from dark, night denies day,
fracturing fate’s delicate shell…

Figures of fire, darkness subdued,
candlelight promises whispered.
Dancing shadows, above and below,
fragments of endless nights with her…

…come to me…

© Jan 22, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic
NOTE: photo courtesy of PaM


Moments together in worlds apart
Dancing upon the hourglass sands
Bottled whispers tossed to sea
The quill of hope, left raw my hands…

Staring out into the dripping gray
The sound of storms drown my tears
Wondering how you are tonight
Lit windows turn to darkened mirrors

I see myself searching for you
Reaching into the water-painted skies
There is no ship cresting the horizon
Fingers remove sight from my eyes

A quill beckons a forgotten passion
Reeling, my soul collides with thunder
As Bassey paints the mood with blues
Deep thoughts turn to sacred letters

I see you thru a pen-hole in my parchment
A love created with a dancing feather
A heart chained to endless inspiration
And freed with ink in the air…

Dreams of tomorrow…
Memories of yesterday…

Can I return us to fields of dreams?
Where faith flows from each soul
Catch butterflies by color-names
Sing songs without my birthright sold?

La de dah de dah de dah
La de dah de dah
Rom ell dee doo de doo
De dah de dah dah de dah
Pic-up-stix and glue…

Innocence cleans the boards
Returns them to blackened slate
Beating erasers free of dust
No biasness no hate….

The children sang and dance
To an old schoolyard chorus
Tattered flags beat by the wind
Join the chanted ruckus…

“…Ring around a rosie…
A pocket full of posie.s…
We all fall down…”

Living, laughing, and loving…

Before our dreams were stolen,
Terrorized and slain
Bottled, labeled, and sold
Wrapped with PG cases…

I offer you a love from the past
When awe and wonder danced
Lightning bugs lit the smiles
Of star turned tiny faces…

Return with me to such a time
When sweet was pre-bitter
Laughter bounced like dime-store balls
And turned the ground to cloud…

A look spoke more than words
Whispers meant more than scream
Love was a flower growing
In the raging stillness of loud…

Can time be bent by memories?

Oh M’lady, I love you…
My ballerina…
My queen, my friend,
My hope and inspiration…

As the fog and mists of yesterday
Dissipate into the fallen trees
I dip my ink-drained quill
Into the waiting well of memories

I gaze back out into the gray
The tears have gone with the night
I made it through the rains
By hiding in their light.

I have brushed your being with quill and ink
Unlocked the door that leads to your essence…
Discovered a treasure of untold tales…
The pearl you offer has enchanted my heart …

I am forever lost in thought…

© Jan 19, 2013  ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic
NOTE: photo courtesy of Pam

Tuesday, January 15, 2013


 After 30+ years, I have finally given in and realized that breathing coconut flakes is NOT in the evolutionary curve for mankind. Choking still occurs. I will continue to try and find alternate things to breathe, but think good ol' air is still the best bet. Below is the chemical composition of air, and I see it does not contain coconut flakes or any other food particle that I frequently attempt to breathe. I have realized that scientific discovery is not my forte.

Thursday, January 10, 2013


Long ago, you were the girl in my dream
I was a boy with simple sights
Sticks, stones, and my inkwell…

Picked my feet up off the floor
To keep out of reach of the dark
Closed my eyes to chase away fears…

…and ran to you…

The passing of time has changed the fantasy
Now you are in my nights
Nothing can bite or rake a nail…

Turn to face the closing door
Let the tears cleanse my heart
Close my eyes to yesteryears…

…and run to you…

All I’ve left is my ink and quill…

I left behind traces of marbles and balls,
yet carry their essence in my jean pocket…
I still dream of walking on the moon,
and of being the “man inside the rocket.”

Scissors, strings, and glue are lost to time…

I no longer focus on “if,” I prefer “will,”
the smooth flowing ink takes me to you.
Reaching though time and space for a dance,
I gaze into your eyes across the blue.

I have yet to find a part of you that isn’t special to me.
Your feet dance across the world and brought you near.
Your hands tell a story as our fingers search in yearning.
Your smile warms my heart after years of winter’s calling.
Your eyes burn with the passion I have never known.
Your heart beats and calls out for my sacred rhythm.
Your body sways in passion and beckons my touch.
I praise the Creator for a treasure such as you.

I drop my traces of childhood fears…
…and run to you…

© Jan 11, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

NOTE: for my WW II girl in from the hillside chateau, my Tyrian queen, My day we will dance...
PHOTO: random internet find

Sunday, January 6, 2013


Darkness engulfs my world.
Bodies from Heaven eerily illuminate.
Shadows blur into the lines;
vagueness bows unto detail…
Feelings bleed from sound
and wash over me…
Slowly I hear the rising
of soft whis’pring winds…
As life itself began,
so a haunting voice enters,
and ensconces all in audience.
As sight is given to life
I fall into the arms of awe…
The majestic figure rises
between the columns that hold the heavens.
Cloaked behind obscurity’s veil,
yet displaying wings of crystal…
My angel steps from the night
and into my lucent world.

© Dec 6, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

PHOTO: courtesy of PaM
NOTE: all thanks to my inspiration.

Saturday, January 5, 2013


I’ve denied reality and found shadows a physical barrier…
I hope if I close my eyes you might appear…
Love is tangible to an open heart, and also to shut eyes…

You are in my heart, yet just out of sight’s reach…
The elasticity between the dark and light binds my hands…
The static between your soul and mine, lights the night skies…

The curtains dance around you, silky and smooth…
Like caressing fingers, liquid from the moon…
Torment burns my mind from half a world away…

Passion’s fires ebb and flow deep within my being…
Last night’s whisper of, “yesssss…come to me…”
Echoes trust in this world of decay…

The veil of evening keeps sound the secrets…
As tears fall quiet in the folds of the gloom…
But my essence hears them as they plunge to a silent pool…

Collect your memories in my cosmic lachrymatory…
Let me offer them before the ancient ones…
Proof of a queen’s love for a hopeless fool…

© Dec 5, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

NOTE: photo courtesy of PaM


The ancients scripts of sages left no clues... calm a heart touched by the breath of an angel... warning whispered into winds of tomorrow... prepare the coming of such love.

The label was peeled from the alchemist's bottle...
...the masses afraid of taking a chance...
...refusing a sip of chance without safety... and I have thrown such caution to the winds.

The wise-men gather under cover of darkness...
...and seek the key to our elixir of love...
...they will not find the answers in books...
...true love is found in the forgotten corners of the heart.

© Jan  5, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic


The great spinning wheel
takes us round thru dark and light.
Moving thru emotions;
breathing the winds of day gone past

Thoughts cast weaving fingers,
yet nothing when we seek to touch.
Faith depends on depth of hope;
hollow or solid, both will shadows cast.

Promises offered to the sky
in hope of gifts returned
Do not renege on the heart’s needs,
and embrace the flesh of wants.

Oh ye of little faith,
Drop your dime-store hymnal.
Forgiveness comes from deep within,
not from shallow sacred water fonts.

Don’t set your eyes on a false horizon
and hope for a sunrise of salvation.
Wake yourself from illusions of hate,
dispel the fog from the mirrors of “if.”

Icy hands of reality reach up to grab
the vanishing treasure chest of love.
Release your misguided destination,
toward becoming the whipping boy of life.

Disrobe yourself of the mantle of despair,
don the rays of truth and trust.
The miser of souls glides thru time
sowing seeds of dissension within the glass.

If you become a frustrated god,
all you touch will turn to fool’s gold.
Return the fallacy of no return,
accept creation as a perfect canvas.

© Jan  5, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Zombie Apocalypse

This is what I see when I look through neighborhoods and in city streets. Bicycles abandoned for computers. Life exchanged for virtual vortices. Children's laughter no longer fills our streets, but their screams fill the halls of our schools as they are slaughtered. It is time to stop the conditioning of violence through mainstream media and halt the infiltration of evil into our homes by via World of Warcraft and such. Unplug your virtual child and let them live. Being attached to a machine 24 hours a day is for someone in the hospital that has no control over bodily functions, not a child that has a whole life in front of them. The Zombie Apocalypse began when we allowed out children to believe that existence depends upon the ability to navigate the internet and drive fasts cars, be a pimp with hos, and shoot police officers. That is a mindset created by the state to breed a future generation of criminals. Unless you wish your child to perish in the streets or behind the walls of a penal institution, get them outside on bicycles and chasing fireflies and butterflies.

 NOTE: photo courtesy of  Sophie Sadovskaya