I am her Lancelot and she is my Gwenevere.
A queen skilled in things both earthy and divine.
Of all men I alone see her fully.
I alone can possess her whole.

I am a pillar in her castle.
Cool and quiet, I am invisible
to the horde which seethes around us.
So still and strong that though I hide nothing
they cannot see me at all.

Through all days I stand sentinel over her.
I watch her ally, decieve, enlighten, defend.
The knights at court are pawns before her will
and through them she can achieve great ends.
Her charm overcomes all things.

She arches toward the heavens.
My center holds firm.
With my strength as her foundation
even gravity cannot drag her down.

I guard her through long sleepless nights.
During long candlelit revelries
I stand unseen
in the space behind her shadow.
As I watch her
our shadows meet and meld and kiss.
like pure lake waves upon a velvet shore.
we cannot speak
but I know that each luminous smile - coquettish touch
is meant for my eyes, my skin.
With each lust enflamed she affirms her power and makes me proud.
For to me alone does she give herself whole.

When the border towns were siezed
it was for love of Gwenevere that the knights recaptured them intact.
For her divine favour the people were saved from fiery deaths and hungry enslavement.
her beauty inspires men out of themselves
and moves masses to commit great deeds.
her Eyes admit no defeat
and her voice sings straight every spine.
Her gaze swells with pride the breast of any lucky enough to recieve it.

I am her rock.
Countless times I have ransomed her back from Death.
Not with cold lifeless stones, or yellow cowards gold
but with my body, my sweat, my living sword.

and still they rain spears of vain judgement upon our heads.
They do not understand and seek to destroy
the very force which feeds them life.
Still, it matters not
for our union transcends earthly deliniation.
No mortal strife will ever touch or divide us.

We have learned to swim.
On nights when I climb to her window
the castle's stones pierce my hands
like barnacles clinging to a weatherworn pier.
The world between us is ingravescent.
With each passing day the path to our meeting
grows harder to scale;
the challenge of remaining innocuous
ever more difficult to bear.
Yet like the tide I cannot be checked.
My progress is inexorable.
She is the moon to the vast ocean within me
and we will come together
again.. and again... and again...


The night wind stirs her long white curtains
as I step silently into the room.
I am one with the shadows -
nothing more than a shadow - until
with the softest caress
she lets out her breath and consumes me whole.

When fingers touch
we awaken from deepest slumber.
Dreams of daylight compromise
fade into unreality.
Our eyes meet and speak our secret,
a sacred chant that will never know words or voice.
It hangs for a moment like a moth,
tangible in the air between us.
Then she whispers my name
and all the world ignites.

We are Greek fire, a burning living flame.
Our passion cannot be quenched.
We gasp for breath and take in only awe.
Each movement; full,
like a circle of the stars.
I lift my hands along her back and
it is like touching the spine of life itself.
In reverence I bow my head to her beauty.
With the softest of kisses her petals unfold beneath me
Intoxicating - until all sense of self slips away
and I dive within.

We are lost then in the surf
clinging to each other as the waves surge over us
grinding us into sand.

I arch toward the heavens.
Her center holds firm.
With her strength as my foundation
even gravity cannot drag us down.

March 1, 2002


...Amazing...  *bows*..

...Amazing...  *bows*.. absolutely amazing....

Fanged Films

USA, 1999
USA, 1988
Beverly Hills Vamp

From the Library

As the 20th century evolved, rational man turned to science to explain mythology that had pervaded for thousands of years. How could a man be mistaken for a vampire? How could someone appear to have been the victim of a vampire attack? Science, in time, came back with answers that may surprise you.Anemia
A million fancies strike you when you hear the name: Nosferatu!N O S F E R A T Udoes not die!What do you expect of the first showing of this great work?Aren't you afraid? - Men must die. But legend has it that a vampire, Nosferatu, 'der Untote' (the Undead), lives on men's blood! You want to see a symphony of horror? You may expect more. Be careful. Nosferatu is not just fun, not something to be taken lightly. Once more: beware.- Publicity for Nosferatu in the German magazine Buhne und Film, 1922  

Drawn to Vamps?

Vol. 1 No. 4

Vol. 1 No. 2