All posts by faithlesspaladin

About faithlesspaladin

I am a writer from the Appalachian Foothills of East Tennessee.

One More Day

The siren call. An ending.

Can’t sleep at night.

No peace in my thoughts.

But I promised, one more day.

The hate ruins everything.

The fear fuels the hate.

I can’t bear these feelings.

But I promised, one more day.

Outside the church, waiting.

I don’t trust these believers.

But she will be here.

And I promised, one more day.

Walk In Light

I walk in a mountain town, late at night, full of suburban sprawl and banality.

But still, people live and die here.

The stars shine where death came, young lives taken, just naive kids.

I try to be pure again, like them.

I walk to the memorial garden, and say a silent prayer for them.

The stars are crisp in a winter sky.

The blooming flowers, spring coming, but little hope now in rebirth.

Walk in light, even as death comes.


The mother and daughter where half-fae changelings, with angular and intoxicating faces.

Sharp and starlight faces, carrying the other world, mists and mysteries and nebulas forming souls.

They had drab high fashion, and white cotton masks with blue bunny rabbits.

Fae stick close, skin to skin touch, holding hands, as the plague takes all of us, all our lives could give.

There eyes look at me, and smile behind a mask, and maybe they do too, for gold has no value.

They are here, fae mother and daughter, as all hope slips away, and Armageddon is a soggy anticlimax.

It might rain, and maybe the flood will finish the job this time, no more rainbows to shine.

The War and The Flood

More than a little bitter, poisoning, pushing out love and melancholy.

I try to focus on her, the one that brightens me with her tenderness.

She speaks with Jesus’ mouth, when the faithful curse with blasphemy.

I asked her to come north with me, to the forests and shadows, cold rivers.

She wouldn’t, and I might be running out again on a shard of Eden, home.

The war has started, and it’s soul to soul conquering, one person at time.

The rain falls as I cross the plateu, and it smears the starlight across my windshield.

Stars are there, and north is the way home, or at least to last the war and the flood.

She sang a lullaby to her baby, that last, rocking him in her arms.

“Forever, forever, forever, we shall be in light.”

“Forever, forever, forever, shall mother hold you tight.”

Apollo’s Favor

Pool water, clear and blue, something clean and pure.

Her bikini, blue as the water. I am in love with her.

Golden hair, strands of Apollo’s favor, glisten in this noon.

She swims smoothly, as if a siren, and she will take me soon.

Blue waters cool the imperious golden sun, give us charity.

She is at peace, and I will go to war, this is my sole clarity.


The snow melted from winter, the blooms of high mountain flowers bobbing in the twilight wind.

The stars are plentiful, and there is quiet still, and in my prayers I ask for life everlasting, world without end.

I cannot name the dead, or those that took them. I know the weight of it drags the sun to the earth.

I gave a coin to an angel, tall and ebony, that I might return to happy fields I knew before my birth my birth.

The nights are still cold, on the edge of spring, as I sit outside the back door, watching for angels in the sky.

I can not recall her face, or what innocence was like. I came to find absolution, but can’t recall why.

Connection and Affection

I drive to a far off mountain town, instead of going to the restaurant where a waitress I have a crush on works.

Hope the humm of the road and all the trees closing in and keeping out the sky will soothe me.

Chasing after connection and affection, anyone who is happy to see me, anyone who will make time for me.

Seeing her is not the way to get what I want.

I drive, try to concentrate and forget everything else. But I meant, will not be at the end of the road, either.

Just Before Dawn

It’s raining, as she wakes in the darkness, just before dawn.

The pitter patter is soothing to her hazy head, her man awake and gone.

She has a little time to stay in bed, and just slip in and out of a dream.

Her and her man, angels and brave, whose wings shine in a moonbeam.

The rain cools the morning and her hot room, as wakefulness settles in.

She watches the raindrops streak across the window, as all time begins.

Mary and the Red Dragon

The first warm nights, out at the old country house, one time home of a ranch Baron.

Flaking paint, left to ruin, we all squatted there, no where else to go, nowhere else to hide.

I fell asleep on the ratty couch on the wrap around porch, open to the thick, dark woods.

I dreamed of a Red Dragon walking and fuming among those ancient trees, patient and vicious.

I dreamed with dread the stars being wiped out of the sky, the floods coming to wash me away.

I woke, deep into the dark of the night, far from dawn, not seeing into the forest, but feeling that old life.

My child started to stir and kick in my belly, and every child is the Christ Child, every soul what They fight for.

I try to sleep, knowing I would be no safer inside, that no wall or door can keep the Red Dragon out.

The war has come, the hard times here, and I fight for my child, as the Red Dragon tries to claim them.


Her and I, in our apartment, holding tight.

The world acts as if there’s nothing wrong.

We lay in bed, no radio, just soothed by shadows.

The plague rolls on and on, and we can’t stay here forever.

I kiss the back of her head, and want this comfort to last as long as it can.

The world and it’s death are patient, and always waiting.

Love brings sweetness and life, but it cannot stop death.