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December, 2002 by R. Steven Reynolds

He treads silently through the night
Keeping to the shadows out of sight
His name a mystery without relevancy
Known as The Deacon to the Agency

He is a patriot and a secret warrior
He travels the back streets unfamiliar
Trailing quietly his two legged prey
Looking for an opening, any way

He has done this many times before
His ordained mission to prevent war
The prey ahead is his sworn enemy
He’s no longer a member of humanity

Deacon learned his trade in the war
The horrors there he couldn’t ignore
So they use him to clean up messes
His emotions he always suppresses

Tonight again he will erase a life
With a silent gun, a garrote or knife
Even in blackness he will still see
The dying of his country’s enemy

His thoughts already thinking 'egress'
The distance to the target now is less
A cough in the dark --  the target stops
A softer cough and the target drops

The Deacon continues walking away
Wondering if the world is safer today
Hoping he will become unnecessary
Before someone writes his obituary


Had a Dream
July, 2003 by SamanthaJ3

Had a dream -
Bad dream -
In the basement of my fears
The queen of the damned
Drew me into a fight
With the invisible monster
Who haunts my nights
Except that for once
I could almost see
The four headed beast
Who wants my used and
Raped self
In the ultimate conquest
Of death over life --
I tried to use reasoning,
Lied using flattery
Anything to escape the beast
I wound up
In a preppy clothes shop
Looking over the shoulders of shoppers
Who wanted shirts with the right crest
Unaware of the struggle, the blood
To be shed
I'm shaking - I'm awake, but
Am I already dead?


When a Gentle Rain Has Fallen
July, 2003 by Writer (WRITER191)

Should there come to you a morning, as you wake to face your day,
And the sun is rising, slowly seeping through the misty gray,
Chance a stroll into your garden, or a meadow, or the wood,
If a gentle rain has fallen, you’ll be sure to find some good.

You see, so many rains are heavy and their thunder’s often loud,
You can see them wash the soil, and watch them soak the crowd,
But a gentle rain’s so quiet you can barely hear it fall,
If you don’t know what to look for, you may know it, not at all.

Take a moment on your journey to reflect on what you see,
Flowers straining toward the sunlight, leaves so green upon the trees,
Life abundant, bursting forward, stretching in the morning light,
When a gentle rain has fallen there is no more perfect sight.

All of life goes on around us, and before you can recall,
From seed to seed with blazing speed is just no time at all,
Still, as the shadows lighten in the morning of your day,
You will know that God is with you, when a gentle rain did fall.


In the Wake of Wonder
June, 2002 Dara

The love bloomed from nowhere
But suddenly there... magical, wondrous... extraordinary
Every moment exciting, her spirit levitating, the words so tantalizing
She listened closely... a voice softly visceral... changing, 
she, now wary

A daring, glaring desire to conquer...a lashing out
In the wake of wonder a tempestuous fury, nucleic in nature
The love once bloomed now enshrouded in doubt.