Traitor’s Hell

Traitor’s Hell

chuck wendig prompt – song lyrics prompt

…”Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep’em on a leash” … HOZIER, ARSONIST’S LULLABY



Cold. Someone slaps me. It’s wet, hard. And freezing. My arms and legs hurt. Can’t move. Getting dark…

“Wake up. You won’t duck justice! WAKE THE FUCK UP! ”


“Call 911! He’s hurt! Bloody traitor… An ambulance, fast!”

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Many Names

Many Names

The Hunt rises, shy at first, she flashes a smile

bright and milky above the star light’s exile

shapes grow solid, fog turns to trees and hills

Isn’t this how the world gets its thrills?


spontaneous existence without cause,

dazed and wedged between universal flaws

a snatch of song under the skin of a lion

sparked by Morningstar in love with Orion. Continue reading “Many Names”

Two Silver Trees

Two Silver Trees

I can’t get over this song….

For hours on end, it is the perfect sound-sphere for me. I sit and listen. I write and listen, I wash, mop up, or do the dishes. And I listen.

Then it finally hit me!
I’ve had this curious feeling before… This painting is one of my favorites. “Homesickness“, 1940, by Renè Magritte. It aches the same way, this song aches me.
Look at that lost and lonely lion. Oh, how he wishes he could go home.
Let me tell you a little story about the lonely lion of my old hometown, in Romania.
In my hometown, there was a zoo, a tiny and more than awful zoo. It must have been hell for all living creatures. The stench was unbelievable. But there was this lion.
When I first saw him, I knew right away, he has born in the wilderness of Africa. He was proud, and still had this extraordinary and stubborn fire in his eyes. He stood and looked. He noted his captors.
The second time I saw him, he didn’t look at the spectators anymore. He paced in that tiny cage (2×3 m). Up and down. Up and down … He was heartbroken.
Still, every morning and every night, the wind carried his roars to my window. He called out. I understood those calls, I pretended – like children do – that I felt his heart.
First his roars were angry.
With each passing month, the rumbling in his throat turned more and more desperate.

Continue reading “Two Silver Trees”