Rainy dusk arrives,
An evening of tremors come
to a brain not bound
by earthly structures.
Visited by dreamless lights,
and uprooted thoughts.
Tanka: Uprooted Mind
Posted in Art, Creative Endeavors, Poetry, Tanka on February 25, 2010 by Hunter C. CochA Quick Note: More words are coming, I promise.
Posted in Blog, Creative Endeavors, News, Writing with tags About, site news on February 1, 2010 by Hunter C. CochHello all you wonderful people. I just want to note that I realize that’s it’s been a while since I posted something on Your Predator and I apologize. The only excuse I have is that life had gotten in the way.
Writing can at many times be quite difficult for me, a time-consuming art-form, not only am I dyslexic (sometimes not being able to read at all), words are an art I care deeply about. The pieces I create, I don’t try to tell a perfect story, it’s more poetry to me. Placement of the words are of paramount importance. The sound and flow when spoken out loud and taken into account. Imagery and a deeper meaning within the words are my goals.
More words a coming, I promise.
Coming soon:
- Lotus and the Rose: The Song of Calling
- Lotus and the Rose: Prologue
- More western Wednesday.
Stream of Consciousness: A Dark Day
Posted in Creative Endeavors, Poetry, Prose on January 11, 2010 by Hunter C. CochAn enlightened night brought dreams of dark days under the desert sun. Times do not come when called, and the thirst builds to an apex of desire. Ride the sand, the reaper instructs. And a dance is summoned; my feat fly to the inviable song. Spots jump in my eyes. A scream is called from parched lungs. Death.
Tanka: Quest #1
Posted in Creative Endeavors on December 10, 2009 by Hunter C. CochTime brings longing and
distress for the missing, gone
into the wild.
To the seeker comes treasure
and the quest brings fulfillment.
Two Tankas of dust
Posted in Creative Endeavors on November 26, 2009 by Hunter C. CochTime lost to the sun,
the world seems warprd by ancent
glass and small quivers.
Memories rush to fill
life’s desertion to the sand.
Life in the dark shines,
but a life in hot light thirsts,
Longing under heat,
and visions of moist vistas,
turned to dust on inspection.
Tanka: Tankas of Discord (or Birth of a Muse)
Posted in Creative Endeavors, Poetry, Tanka with tags Poetry, Slipstream, Tanka on November 9, 2009 by Hunter C. CochLight from the fire
of the golden apple seed
planted in ripe fields
on the flood plains fertilized
and fed from the river Styx.
Dancing with delirium,
Elysian fields soured,
Dreams of vile filth,
Deconstructions waking eye,
Sophia held by thick chains;
Born from the lotus,
and fathered by the logos,
she swam in waters
of the ethereal joy,
beached by creations left hand.
On the silver sands,
her spirit sings to the sky,
her being inspires,
born to give the world beauty,
born to give the world sorrow.
Tankas: Three Tankas of a Deserts Rage . . . #WesternWednesday
Posted in Creative Endeavors, Poetry, Tanka, Western with tags Poetry, Tanka, Western on November 5, 2009 by Hunter C. CochRage filled pale gray eyes
and his hate brought destruction,
To the desert towns,
Each step on the trail grows sage,
’till the sun sets and life starts.
But in the empty
waists and nightmare visages
of the deep visions
lost in the stars of heaven,
falling into reborn souls . . .
The lost are now found;
belonging to forgotten
badlands of lost youth,
You are all remembered beings,
Joined by violence of the minds.
Tanka: Gray Eyes
Posted in Creative Endeavors, Poetry, Tanka with tags Poetry, Tanka on November 3, 2009 by Hunter C. CochBefore pale gray eyes,
Stands the heart of the desert,
dust blown and barren,
but holding the hidden life,
in the shade of a small stone.
Poem: Melting
Posted in Creative Endeavors, Poetry, free form, freeform with tags free form, freeform, Poetry on October 30, 2009 by Hunter C. CochScreams from inside
and the ice melts
with the heat of terror,
and turmoil of the mind
bringing flashes and sparks
to the spinning world,
and lost thoughts.
A hidden wonder,
when the fire springs into vision,
the spirit lifts above,
then falls,
slamming the body in a fit,
and visions consume,
giving birth to the word,
and falling astral peaches.
To the world,
understanding lacks,
only to crush the heart,
but inspire the word,
given from the divine Sophia,
that light
of the divine.


