current events; also, stereoscopic vision really freaks me out sometimes

The second half of this entry’s title was a note I emailed to myself more than 3 years ago under subject “blog not tweet.” Actually, the email’s subject line reads, “blog not twwet,” but Ima chalk that up to typo-ing. As it turns out, there are twelve emails nested under that subject, so I’m sharing their content here. YOU’RE WELCOME.

Blog Not Twwet, Because Clearly I Can’t Spell

It is not a happy thing when the baby eats a dead bug. *SIGH*
(2016 Note: This, too, is a message catapulted into this future from about three years ago. The baby has since turned into a preschooler, apparently suffering no ill effects from having consumed dead insect carapace.)

HEY I JUST MET YOU, AND THIS IS CRAZY
BUT LET’S TELL RIDDLES AND I’LL EAT YOU MAYBE.
(2016 Note: I’m assuming this references Gollum.)

Your choices change the direction of other people’s lives. You are not isolated.

(This one’s emphasized because: important.)

Sometimes you just gotta take a few minutes and shave your legs.
(2016 Note: NO.)

Floor messing with head PIC
(2016 Note: I have no idea what this means.)

And now, it seems, quotes:

“@BenHoward87: If you see a centaur, remember it is not your friend. It is a mythical creature and as such does have the capability for rational thought.”

“@BenHoward87: Peanuts cartoons + Morrissey lyrics = the hilarity of existential despair

“@scalzi: Most nerdy t-shirts just don’t seem that clever to me anymore. Clearly, my next t-shirt should read WHY ARE YOU ON MY LAWN”

Remember when Scully wore shoulder pads?

Remember when desktop monitors were the size of anvils?

Remember when we couldn’t Google anything?

Remember when payphones?

“@LeVostreGC: Siri, wher ys the horse and the ridere? Siri, wher ys the horn that was blowinge?”

Wher in the worlde ys Carmen Sandiego?

Just so you know, kinesio-taping your stomach to pull your abs together is not for sissies. #diastasisrecti
(2016 Note: I have a blog post about this. Search for it if you will. I’m too lazy to link to it right now.)

That awkward moment when you look in the mirror and there’s an ant crawling in your hair.

It occurs to me that I haven’t performed a solo in 7 years.
(2016 Note: It’s now been 10 years. I miss singing for audiences.)

Rain. Thunder. Contented. Sigh.
(2016 Note: Weirdness: As I’ve been copying & pasting the last ten lines or so, I’ve been listening to “Love, Reign O’er Me” by The Who. I didn’t know this line was coming up.)

I own a banana slicer and I am not ashamed.

In other news…

As part of my 2016 endeavor to read only women writers, I am currently in the middle of Naomi Novik’s UPROOTED. It is UTTERLY BRILLIANT. It’s one of those books that makes me want to do nothing but read. I resent Thanksgiving Day tomorrow because it will steal me away from this novel. I need to be working on my own WIP (newly retitled THE ELVEN DEAD AND OTHER LEGENDS OF THE LIGHT-WALKERS), but I’d rather read Novik’s book than work on my own.

DASH IT ALL.

P.S. In addition to random “blog not twwet,” I also ran across various Consortium emails from five and more years ago. I let them suck me into reading them, and now I just feel sad. I miss the Consortium-in-its-heyday so much. Being continually involved and multiple-times-daily connected with other artists was a balm to my soul and a life-giver to my spirit. Author-publishing is a lonely business. I desperately miss all-but-living-with other artists, back when everything was running smoothly. We made magic.

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my 10 novels

Since my social media vacay apparently has catapulted me into random-abundant-blogging mode, and since I have books on the brain (HA HA BUSINESS AS USUAL AMIRITE), here are the titles and statuses? stati? of my finished…um…”finished” novels.

Egad, I bet ya’ll thought that sentence would never end.

(BUT I HAVE A MILLION OF THEM OH YES YOU CANNOT HIDE OR FLEE YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED AND YOU WILL LIKE IT)

*ahem*

*eyeroll*

My Ten Novels

1. “‘S’ Is for Survival” — a practice novel

  • completed at age 15
  • YA soft sci-fi/coming-of-age
  • not related to Sue Grafton’s mystery novels
  • inspired by The Girl Who Owned a City by O.T. Nelson
  • two drafts; will never see the light of day

2. Mindsnatcher — a practice novel

  • completed at age 17
  • YA sci-fi
  • two drafts; will never see the light of day

3. Tomato Electric Destroy Force 9: Writer Dearest and the Interlopers

  • a novel about one writer’s adventure through NaNoWriMo
  • 3rd or 4th draft stage
  • will see the light of Publication Day if I can firgure out how to author-pub it; it contains must-have images and would work best in color

4. Colors of Deception (Demons of Saltmarch, #1) — published by Consortium Books

5. Shadows after Midnight (Demons of Saltmarch, #2) — published by Consortium Books

6. Stains of Grace (Demons of Saltmarch, #3) — published by Consortium Books

7. Rethana’s Surrender (Legends of the Light-Walkers, #1) — published by Consortium Books

8. Rethana’s Trial (Legends of the Light-Walkers, #2) — published by Consortium Books

9. The Dying of the Light (Legends of the Light-Walkers, #3) — author-published, Faeddra Books

10. The Elevator — author-published, Faeddra Books

Big ol’ FYI. 🙂

What’s next?

Next is the Legends of the Light-Walkers short story anthology I’m working on. My goal is to pub by December 31st; preferably earlier, so I can do a Christmas special and whatnot. But I’m not pressuring myself. The holidays are stressful enough as it is, and I plan to enjoy myself in any case. So we shall see what we shall see. In the meantime, my coffee cup needs a refill. Laterz, inklings!

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NEW BOOK!!!

By-the-by…

The Elevator is out!

Which is, *ahem*, not to say that the elevator is out-of-order. In my humble opinion, it is rather functional. IT IS ALSO AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE. Feast thou thine eyes upon this:

elevator_cvr_lrg

Buy now!
Kindle
Nook
Inktera (formerly Page Foundry)
24Symbols
iTunes
Kobo

Y’all, I gotta tell ya, I am just tickled all shades of hot pink to make this book available to you. Most of the time (aside for the occasional bouts of wailing despair) I had a blast writing it. Its first draft flowed from my fingertips (read: creative brain) more easily than any draft manuscript I’ve ever keyboarded. The revisions weren’t always fun, but they kept me interested and increased my own love for the story and its characters. Those characters actually took over the story to a greater degree than I’ve ever experienced in any other story (with the possible exception of Tomato Electric Destroy Force 9: Writer Dearest and the Interlopers, but that’s another story and shall be published another time). At any rate, I HAD FUN.

I hope you do, too. When you read it, I mean. Oh, and in your daily lives as well, my dear inklings. Don’t worry. I got yer back.

Below, please find (PLEASE! FIND IT! IT MIGHT BE MISSING!) the cover copy for The Elevator. I owe friend and fellow wordslinger Josh Unruh many heaps of thanks for helping me punch this up. He’s good at cover copy. I ain’t.

So, without further ado or adon’t:

The Elevator

Went Banning just wants to find his father. Not the cold-hearted authoritarian who raised him, but his real father: a being of cosmic myth and legend, Went’s last chance at love and acceptance.

To find this man, all Went has to do is journey across infinity to the heart of the multiverse.

In an elevator.

This contraption of fanciful magic, futuristic science, or both, allows him to travel the vast reaches of stars and moons and planets, following the series of clues his real father left behind.

But Went runs afoul of Carrigan Bell, a brutish slave trader with a core of all-consuming chaos. Two guttersnipes and a cyborg also stumble into Bell’s clutches. Went doesn’t know if his fellow captives are help or hindrance.

But he must decide quickly. Carrigan Bell perverts everything he touches, and he’s more than willing to spread his dark horror to his captives and across the universe.

Across every universe.

Went’s search for his father will lead Bell right to the control room of Reality. From here, Bell’s dark chaos could swallow all existence. The only way Went can stop him is to reach the heart of the multiverse first. But can Went bring himself to give up everything he’s ever wanted in order to save everything that is?
104,000 words

Happy reading!

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these are the truths

Every time I clean, I lose things. Organized chaos tells me exactly where things are.
I try not to get too philosophical about this.

Living my faith is harder for me than giving faith up.

I am more aware now of the reality of my privilegedness than I ever have been in my life.

Chocolate-flavored vodka is my jam, but I don’t put it on my bread.

I have forgotten how to blog.

Freedom means more to me than ever before, and it has not a smidgen to do with patriotism.

I am weary of holding my tongue. I wasn’t built for it. (And neither were you.)

Writing cover copy for a short story anthology is vastly different from writing cover copy for a novel. This sucks.

I have come to the conclusion that no one who cannot bear or has not borne a child should have the right to tell me when or how I should bear one.

Pinkie Pie.

I possess more materials for unbegun art projects than any one human should.

It’s okay if you end a sentence a preposition with.
I think I decided this after learning Koine Greek.

ἀγάπη is the highest, and no single English word expresses it adequately.

If I could tell my late-teens self any three things, it might be: (1) dye your hair and get a tattoo, (2) turn every moment of your life into the most glorious dance, (3) but don’t dance in front of that fireman named Michael, because he’s going to get the wrong idea and it’s gonna be really awkward later in front of your mom and his sister.

This year I have read only women authors, and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done.

Nowadays I laugh at things I used to look down my nose at.
This isn’t a bad thing.

I still love sparklies.
I don’t think that’s ever gonna change.

Yay. 🙂

15045737_10154395327853113_212867872_n

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it’s the end of the world as we know it

let’s chorusline.

In related news, this week the USA elected as president a man who has zero political experience, and I heard the phrase “every V.I.P. has to V.I.Poo,” so I’m pretty sure the apocalypse is nigh.

I have the hiccups.

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that moment when kid quotes

that moment when your husband points out to you that the strangely liquidy laundry soap you’ve been washing clothes in for a week is actually fabric softener

well, that explains a lot

In Other News

4yo: You be Twilight Sparkle, and I’ll be Nightmare Moon.

Me: Well, Twilight Sparkle reads books, so let’s go read some books.

4yo: And Nightmare Moon kills people, so let’s go kill some people.

_______________

Um.

#kidssaythecreepiestthings
_______________

4yo: Mama, you are a normal person.

Me: Thank you, so are you. What does normal mean?

4yo: It means that you’re alive.

_______________

This seems rather deep and #existential for a preschooler.

Finis.

Exeunt.

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social media away message

I posted a version of this on Facebook this morning.

CLARIFICATION

I don’t hate any one person.
I don’t hate any group of people.
I don’t hate any demographic.
I don’t hate.

I feel angry.
I feel hurt.
I feel concerned — not for myself, not for any religious institution, not for so-called “religious freedom,” but for non-white, non-gender-binary, non-straight, non-legally-protected –> READ: non-*privileged* people, a majority of whom went to bed last night and woke up this morning utterly terrified.

In accordance with my daily-challenged faith, I will state my belief that Jesus is Lord of all, even this whole debacle.
But I will not forget that He was also Lord during the Dark Ages, the Spanish Inquisition, the Trail of Tears, the Holocaust, ETC. His being in control does not mean we humans don’t find a host of absolutely horrific things to perpetrate against one another.

His being in control does not excuse any of us — especially those of us who claim to follow Him — from doing everything we possibly can to prevent those horrific things. Including keeping other humans out of power who perpetuate those horrific things.

I feel sad.
I feel love.

I live out Love.

RELATIONSHIPS

Some of you are aware of my heavy heart after a former long-time friend unfriended me a few days ago over this whole debacle.
Some of you will call me a hypocrite because I unfriended someone over this whole debacle.

This difference is that I didn’t attack or question the faith of the one who unfriended me.
The one I unfriended was never more than an acquaintance, and he attacked me and questioned my faith.

I don’t need that kind of unhealthy connection in my life.

I want to retain connections in which I exchange life (Life) with others.

I’m not sure that’s a sustainable thing via Facebook.

There’s more to all this. But I don’t have the words right now. If I find them, I’ll holler.

VACATION

I am taking a social media vacation. It will last at least until the New Year.

I will pop onto FB to manage my author page (facebook.com/courtcanwrite/). But I don’t plan to interact there on my personal account.

I won’t be checking private FB messages. If you want to contact me, please email if you have my email address, text if you have my phone number, comment on my author page, or comment on my blog.

Until further notice, I’ll be interacting on Twitter (@courtcan) only to promote my books and talk about writing.

My main reasons for this vacation (from Facebook) are that I’m tired of being personally attacked, I’m tired of having my faith questioned by people who know little to nothing about my daily life or my beliefs, and I’m tired of providing a space where people I love and respect bicker with, yell at, and aim “friendly fire” at each other (necessitating my intervention).

I’m just weary. And this isn’t helping the depression I’m still in treatment for.

I love you all.

Facebook ya in January. Maybe.

 

In the meantime though, I’ll for sure be blogging here. Stay tuned!

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my hair is turning green and I don’t care; also, book stuff!

Once upon a time, there was a writer who bleached the face-framing portion of her hair and then dyed that portion pastel blue. pastelbluehairIt lasted a couple of weeks, then faded. And it continued fading from bluish into the bleached blonde until the blue and yellow combo looked decidedly greenish.

But it looked kind of mermaid-ish, and, in spite of the increasingly greenish tint, someone said she had a Rogue thing going on, so all was joy and frolicking, at least hair-wise.greenhair092016

YAY.

But before we can have a happily-ever-after, I must regale you with The Part Where I NEED TO PUBLISH SOMETHING.

I logged on here today to find out if my blog had imploded from loneliness, since I haven’t posted anything in 5 months. Wonder of wonders, it’s still here, languishing away all pale and tragic. After talking to the blog, consoling it that it is a pretty blog, and it is a good blog, I checked to see when I last posted about my WIP, and lo and BEEEEHOLT it’s been over a year.

Ach, du meine Güte.

So.

The WIP.

The WIP

The WIP is still The Elevator (formerly known as Elevator People). IT IS SO CLOSE TO DONE I CAN FEEL IT MELTING ON MY TONGUE Y’ALL. Just yesterday evening, I sent it over to editor extraordinaire Jessie Sanders, that she might give my final major edits a final once-over.

Once Jessie sends me back the MS, and once the talented Mr. Novak and I have finalized the cover, I’ll finally publish this novel that:

I started in November 2011
and
is probably the best book I’ve written so far.

It’s a very different story from the one I originally conceived of 5? 6? years ago. I thought the main character, Went Banning, would gain a father through the course of the story. As readers will discover, he gains A LOT more (including darker dimensions to his personality, which I certainly didn’t anticipate). The two children, Jop and Skee, informed me they are children of color and not Caucasian, thanks very much. There wasn’t going to be any time-traveling; some joker decides to build a time machine. I wanted the vampire to show up at the end of the story; he not-so-politely declined. Two characters switched gender: not gender-transitions as part of the story, but pronoun and (limited) description change throughout.

The short title got shorter.

When I penned the first chapters of Draft 1, I still thought the book would be published by Consortium Books. After the Consortium folded more than 4 years ago, I decided to shop the book to Amazon’s 47 North. But as the book progressed, it seemed less and less a fit for 47 North and more and more a fit for my self-pub catalog. So there we are.

So. My WIP The Elevator shall soon see the light of electronic day. BANGERANG. I am excited for y’all the read this one, dear inklings. I am genuinely pleased with it. I think this is the first time I have fallen so hard for characters that I felt actual pain at doing bad things to them.

But I did the bad things anyway.

nicbadman

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today so I can tell you I really love this book. I hope you do too.

And if you don’t, I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT. *grin-grin-nudge-nudge* Ha ha ha I can be an adult about this, no really I can, shut up don’t talk bad about my baby. What?

Meanwhile, in Writer Land…

In between edits and weeping and wailing and gnashing of drafts in my teeth, there has been the writing of a short novel or novella or long short story, what-hast-thou. I don’t know what these long-ish stories are called anymore. I’ll figure it out when marketing day comes. Anyway, over the course of this year I’ve written a piece that will be the longest story in my upcoming anthology of Legends of the Light-Walkers short stories. Faithful Readers will recognize some of the titles included in this collection:

“Out of the Darkness”: in which new journeyman Quylin Flint and her hapless companions get lost in a network of dragon caves. Getting chased by a dragon REALLY puts a damper on their holy quest from Shaddix Falladd, mad ruler of Jiredd Stal.

“Rethana’s Tower”: In this short prequel to Rethana’s Surrender, magic-user Rethana Chosardal finds her belltower home beset by night-time ruffians — none of whom expected a run-in with the real witch of the tower….

“Dead Reconning”: 2333 After the Return. The determined Wolf Dornsson and his beloved, Lendry Bersallir, fight their way past unstoppable enemies to reach the only safe place left in Jiredd Stal. Their adversaries? Zombie elves.

And the new titles:

“Gateway Drug”: 2016 A.D. Abby of Oklahoma City hasn’t seen her lover, Gerry, in 3 years. When he suddenly resurfaces and invites all the old gang over for drinks, she doesn’t know how to react…especially when people start dying.

“The Eater”: 2012 A.D. The woman awakens in a white room, and she can’t remember who she is. She can’t remember where she came from. She can’t remember what happened. But as her memory returns in tiniest flashes, she realizes that she’s in danger — and it’s not a danger anyone in this world is equipped to handle.
This world? Why does she think of it that way?
Is it possible she isn’t from…here? From anywhere here?
And who is that stranger who keeps appearing and muttering about how he “calculated wrong”…before he disappears into thin air?

And, last but certainly not least,

“Oubliette”: 1356 After the Return. In this long short story/short novel, heir apparent Elyria ra’Shaskalai flees her throne in Kaldoril as assassins pursue her. Together with her more-than-friend, stableboy Tam, she seeks refuge in neighboring Halaferth. But with Tam grievously wounded and Elyria’s magical powers out of control, her enemies have every opening they need for ending the young queen-to-be once and for all. To elude them and finally escape, Elyria will have to give herself over to a darkness she never could have imagined.

And voy-oh-lay, folks: That’s the collection of stories to come. And if you’re very, very lucky…or if I’m feeling very, very generous…I might even reveal to you (on this blog? in the book?) just how all these stories are connected.

Have a good week, y’all. Happy reading and happy writing. Make magic happen.

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ancient egyptians get sexy for #nationalpoetrymonth

Hile, lovelies,

I’d been thinking I hadn’t blogged since January, and then I check and find that I last blogged in February.

On Valentine’s Day, to be prezact. And it was my poetical ode to villains, which is extra appropriate to look back upon today.

‘Cause this post is gonna be POETRY Y’ALL. BANGERANG.

So, without further ado or adon’t, let’s get to it.

Ancient Egyptian Love Poetry

Back in nineteen-hundred-and-none-of-your-bidniss, I was a college student. As such, I got to take such splendid classes as Western Thought & Expression Through the Renaissance. And one of the first things we read was Ancient Egyptian LOVE POETRY.

IT WAS CRAMAZING.

We were freshmen, giggly and oh so sophisticated, and we had a blast with this stuff. Here are some of my favorites. Until the writing of this post, I hadn’t read any of these texts in well over a decade. But I remembered them. Those Egyptians really had it goin’ on, y’all. 😉

These translations are by John L. Foster.

Love, how I’d love to slip down to the pond

Love, how I’d love to slip down to the pond,
     bathe with you close by on the bank.
Just for you I’d wear my new Memphis swimsuit,
     made of sheer linen, fit for a queen–
Come see how it looks in the water!

Couldn’t I coax you to wade in with me?
     Let the cool creep slowly around us?
Then I’d dive deep down
     and come up for you dripping.
Let you fill your eyes
     with the little red fish that I’d catch.

And I’d say, standing there tall in the shallows:
Look at my fish, love,
     how it lies in my hand,
How my fingers caress it, slip down its sides…

But then I’d say softer,
     eyes bright with your seeing:
          A gift, love. No words.
     Come closer and
          look, it’s all me.
_______________

MY NEW MEMPHIS SWIMSUIT. SWEET SAINT BRUNHILD.

Also…that “little red fish”?

Suuuuuuure.

‘Cause we totally go around caressing fish.

Um.

Yeah.

*fans self*

*AHEM*
_______________

Why, just now, must you question your heart?

Why, just now, must you question your heart?
     Is it really the time for discussion?
To her, say I,
     take her tight in your arms!
For god’s sake, sweet man,
     it’s me coming at you,
My tunic
     loose at the shoulder!
_______________

Hotep! Seriously, dude. PUT DOWN THAT ADZ AND PAY ATTENTION!!!

By the way, y’all, these poems were written 1100-1300 B.C.

Apparently, human nature ain’t changed a ton since then.

WHO KNEW

😉

_______________

This one’s my absolute favorite:

I was simply off to see Nefrus my friend

I was simply off to see Nefrus my friend,
Just to sit and chat at her place
               (about men),
When there, hot on his horses, comes Mehy
     (oh god, I said to myself, it’s Mehy!)
Right over the crest of the road
     wheeling along with the boys.

Oh Mother Hathor, what shall I do?
     Don’t let him see me!
               Where can I hide?
Make me a small creeping thing
     to slip by his eye
          (sharp as Horus’)
               unseen.

Oh, look at you, feet–
     (this road is a river!)
          you walk me right out of of my depth!
Someone, silly heart, is exceedingly ignorant here–
     aren’t you a little too easy near Mehy?
If he sees that I see him, I know
     he will know how my heart flutters (Oh, Mehy!)
I know I will blurt out,
          “Pleases take me!”
               (I mustn’t!)

No, all he would do is brag out my name,
     just one of the many…(I know)…
Mehy would make me just one of the girls
     for all the boys in the palace.
               (Oh Mehy)
_______________

Heavens to Betsy, it’s Mehy hot on his horses.

HOT ON HIS HORSES, Y’ALL.

OHHHHHHH, MEHY!

*SWOONS*

_______________

I think I’ll go home and lie very still

_______________

Or take a cold shower, after all that “little red fish” and Mehy business. Good gravy.

_______________

I think I’ll go home and lie very still

I think I’ll go home and lie very still,
     feigning terminal illness.
Then the neighbors will all troop over to stare,
     my love, perhaps, among them.
How she’ll smile while the specialists
          snarl in their teeth!–
     she perfectly well knows what ails me.
_______________

Mehy? Is that you?

😉

_______________

And An Original by Yours Most Coffee-dly

To finish up my little celebration of National Poetry Month, here’s a poem of my own creation. I used to write a lot more poetry than I do nowadays (my theory is that noveling takes up what creative juice I might otherwise spend elsewhere), so this one is a few years old. But I still enjoy it a lot.

And it is still the Truth. : ) Enjoy.

The Wild and I

There is wild in the air tonight.
I don’t know where it comes from, and
I don’t know where it’s going.

But I am sure I want it to take me along.

I want it to rip through my hair,
batter my skin with insistence
and its demand.
The wild shall embolden me
to abandon all my tethers
and shed my clothes and shoes as I run.
The wild and I shall skitter down darkened alleyways,
the only light a pale reflection of the moon,
glinting off rain-drenched broken steps
and curves of metal.

We shall laugh and howl songs and
climb leafless, lifeless trees as indistinct
as puffs of smoke.
The wild shall lead me over each hillcrest,
into eerie fog and witchlights,
where tiny red berries glisten, waiting.
I shall pick them with fingers clumsy
with excitement, and taste the juice on my tongue
before the sweetness plunges into me.

The wild and I shall whirl and twirl,
and it shall teach me to fly upon the lightning.
The wild and I shall surrender ourselves
to rustling leaves and earthy scents,
while the deeping darkness beckons, envelops,
and sets free.

There is wild in the air tonight.
And so am I.

Courtney Weger Cantrell
November 10, 2010

Fling this post into the ether of internetted winds, that it might implant itself in a bazillion other consciousnesses and hasten the onset of my world dominion. ...Wait -- did I say that out loud?Buffer this pageDigg thisEmail this to someoneShare on FacebookFlattr the authorTweet about this on TwitterShare on StumbleUponShare on TumblrShare on RedditPin on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on Google+

Ode to Villains: A Valentine’s Day Poem

Second post in one day. This is a new record for the last couple of years.

In case you missed it, I just posted the first installment of my Valentine’s Day poetry tweets. Those were the random ones. Below for your enjoyment, please find the ones that make a full poem (of sorts). Since Valentine’s Day partly originated in death and wickedness, an ode including some favorite villains seemed appropriate.
; )

Not to mention that any story is only as strong as its villain. So if we want to write stories with impact, ‘twould behoove us to pay close attention to these guys!

Courtney’s Ode to Villains

Roses from Red
Ultron brings circuits
Q, galaxies
Loki can work it

Lestat takes a nibble
Dexter, his slides
Sylar’s like clockwork
Hook offers rides

A Sweeney shave’s cozy
New Khan’s the best
Spike charms your…socks…off
Jareth tops all the rest

Lucifer, charming?
Never a doubt
Deadpool brings on the laughs
–Roguish lout

Hell-royal with Crowley?
Hades has flair
Gaston’s got the chin
Lucius, the hair

All of the villains
In our good graces
Might vanish us dead
Without any traces

😉

#HappyValentinesDay

billopus

Fling this post into the ether of internetted winds, that it might implant itself in a bazillion other consciousnesses and hasten the onset of my world dominion. ...Wait -- did I say that out loud?Buffer this pageDigg thisEmail this to someoneShare on FacebookFlattr the authorTweet about this on TwitterShare on StumbleUponShare on TumblrShare on RedditPin on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on Google+