(Reprinted from original publication in the Gorean Voice magazine) Ah, violence, how our modern society claims to abhor it! It is blamed for a multitude of ills in the world, everything from teen mass murders to the quieter, more intense nature of the psychopathic serial killer on the loose. Road…
By Walter De La Mare As I sat musing by the frozen dyke, There was a man marching with a bright steel pike, Marching in the dayshine like a ghost came he, And behind me was the moaning and the murmur Of the sea. As I sat musing, ’twas not one but ten — — Rank on…
By Walter De La Mare His brow is seamed with line and scar; His cheek is red and dark as wine; The fires as of a Northern star Beneath his cap of sable shine. His right hand, bared of leathern glove, Hangs open like an iron gin, You stoop to see his pulses move, To hear the…
