The Admitted and Submitted Works of Jamison Edwards

Cinquans

Flight Dragon of The Night
To fly Magic Dragon
Is to trip and The magic Symbol of might
Miss the Earth below Of the ages Terror in the Darkness
Distracted attention lets us  Resides within us all. Destroyer of the serene mind
Soar high The power to change the whole world Nightmare
Is ours.

Found Poetry

The Beginning For Lister                                 

The last thing he remembered

The Mice                                          
Pub-crawl around London The mice were furious, oh yes
Old Kent Road with hot toddies So were the dogs and cats,
Euston Road with pints of Guinness But they hadn’t paid for it, you see
P.109 of ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy’ By Douglas Adams
By Oxford Street, four of six remained
Only two had the power of speech

The Barrage On Magrathea                        
Stepping out into the night, with sake Quite suddenly the barrage stopped,
Then a thick, black, gunky fog. And the sudden silence afterward
Was punctuated by a gurgle and thud.
Slumped across a table on Mimas What happened? They stopped. Why?
Wearing a pink crimplene hat Dunno, do you want to go and ask them?
And yellow fishing waders, No. They waited. Hello? No answer.
He’d woken up P.139 of ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy’ by Douglas Adams
793 million miles from Liverpool
In a McDonald’s burger bar

The Shadow out of Time
With no money and a passport If the laws of the universe are kind,
In the name of “Emily Berkenstein”. they will never be found.
But I must let Him use his judgment as reality.
When Lister got drunk, I have said that awful truth,
He really got drrrrr-unk.   tortured years of dreaming Cyclopean buried ruins.
From page 14 of ‘Red Dwarf: Infinity Welcomes  Careful Drivers’ That crucial revelation lay in the book within the metal case
by Grant Naylor Amidst the dust of a million centuries,
  No eye had seen, no hand had touched that book
  not any nameless hieroglyphs of earth's youth,
  instead the letters of our familiar alphabet,
  spelling out the English language in my own handwriting.
  From the last page of H.P. Lovecraft's "The Shadow Out of Time"
   

Other Poetry

  

The Fall
Subtle shadows upon the wall,

               The Magus
What to do after the fall? Out from the mists of time
To get up and try again, Veiled in shadows of the past
To rise up and ignore the pain? This man of magic force sublime
Or only to sit and bewail With eyes aglow, will sorcery cast.
Over a trial that simply failed?
What to do after the fall? His battered hat will tip and sway
Watch the shadows on the wall. As the swirl of mists ebb and flow.

Elemental fires are his tools to play

Or use as weapons to win the day.

Walking Escape                                                                         
The ins and outs of daily life This mage born of fantasy and need
Begin to intrude upon my peaceful mind Helps his friends through ease and trial,
Disasters, lunch, and weekly strife And strives to help in deed.
Time, and people (You know the kind) He is a warrior, with no denial.
Sleep is forgotten and peace is not all that long
I need to escape from this time, escape from here
To a place with sun, and light, and a whispered song.
I need to escape from this town, from the omnipresent beer
The bus of life has run aground on the rocky hill of time
A train takes too long to come, and a truck is much too slow
I’ll start walking now, to escape this place and rhyme
Walking now, by the road of time, listening to the rooster’s crow.
One Night a Year  
 

              Shadows
From Midian's Gate to Camelot's walls, The grays of the muted sky
Through Stygian depths and Asgard's great halls, Silently shedding it’s light,
Past the Sidhe's great stone court, Trigger memories from where they lie,
To gather and pray and quietly report. With shadows passing over my sight.
On Perdition's shores the Sanhedrin now meet,  
With half shattered souls under there feet.  
One night a year they leave off their guise  
And walk the earthly streets before human eyes.  
By sun's rise and the sky's start to lighten,  
Sanhedrin and Sidhe bane can no longer frighten.  
The souls of the young as their innocence fade  
As children remember the costumes they made.  
In dark colors of cloth and makeup they dressed  
Not knowingly make their souls manifest.  
Bestial to mental to winged and horned,  
With gleeful expressions for others unwarned.  
 The last October in all of it's grays,  
Is the day for Ahriman's children to come out and play.