The Winter Wolves Are Coming

The Winter Wolves are coming
They are drawing ever near
The Winter Wolves are coming
They smell our blood, our fear

The Winter Wolves are coming
In packs of hundreds and more
The Winter Wolves are coming
They are knocking at our door

The Winter Wolves are coming
With teeth as sharp as knives
The Winter Wolves are coming
They mean to take our lives

The Winter wolves are coming
The smell our blood, our fear
The Winter Wolves are coming
The Cold of Death is here.

poem by Tim Vallie
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The Throne of Bone

He sits upon a throne of bone
Sits and waits much like a stone
Waits for the perfect time to strike
To strike the rich and poor alike
To raise the world until it dies
To torture men until they cry
To reduce the world to ash and smoke
To walk upon it would mean to choke
Til’ rivers run with blood alone
Til’ the world is filled with all men’s bones
To raise to world to ash and dust
To destroy mankind is Satan’s lust
To take the world to call his own
He waits upon his throne of bone

poem by Tim Vallie
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Rage of the North

Inside a fire burns unimaginably bright
It illuminates the darkest night
Consumes my mind, ignites my soul
The fire rages out of control
My eyes glow red with vengeance, hatred, rage
My inner demons screaming, no longer caged
I am Berserker, the Norseman's fire
I fight with passion, rage, desire
A bloodlust roar my only sound
It's echo thunders for miles around
I am Berserker, the sword of the North
Let my enemies come forth
I am rage personified
I will leave my foes terrified
Spread my legend, spread the fear
And know the Rage of the North draws near

poem by Tim Vallie
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War, The Plight Of Man

The fires of war are burning, they burn forever bright
The horns of war are blowing, they summon warriors to fight
Two armies come to battle, a clash of sword and shield
And when the fight is over, blood and death shall coat the field
A test of soul and bravery, for glory wariors fight
They come to fight for honor, to test their strength and might
On fields of death and glory, the weels of war stil turn
The horn of war still blowing, the fires of war still burn
Until the world has ended, war shall be man's plight
Until no blood is left to spill, men shall come to fight.

poem by Tim Vallie
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Archangel of Death

Over fields of War soars the Raven, on wings of Death he flies
He sees the clash of bone and sword, hears the dying cries
Flies above the bloodied earth, his wings black out the sun
Come to collect the honored dead, each and every one
Angel of Death, Azrael, the Bloody Reaper Grim
Raven of Death, Herder of Souls, the Black Winged Seraphim
His face shrouded in shadow, in his hands a blackened sword
The Angel in Black, Collector of Souls, darkest servant of the Lord
The Raven soars the skies of earth, to collect men's final breath
Azrael, the Reaper Grim, Archangel of Death.

poem by Tim Vallie
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A Fire Within My Heart (Vengeance)

There is a fire in my soul, it has burnt me to the bone
There is a fire in my heart, it has melted flesh to stone
There is an inferno in my breast, it rages out of control
There is a firestorm in my chest, it has consumed my being whole

There is a fire in my heart, it has melted flesh to stone
There is a rage with in my soul, vengeance will by my own
There is a burning in my mind, for death I am hell-bent
There is a desire in my conscious, filled with devilish intent

There is a fire within my soul, and it rages just for you
This fire burns with anger, may it guide my sword hand true.

poem by Tim Vallie
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Phoenix Reborn

From the Great Fire’s ash, a new Phoenix shall rise
It’s glory is born from another’s demise
It’s mighty wings spread, as the Fire Bird sings
It’s voice heals the world, as it spreads it’s great wings
It rises above, a new King of the Skies
To the ends of the Earth the great Phoenix flies
Reborn from ashes, the Great Flame of the Sky
But in a burst of flame, this Phoenix shall die
Reduced to but ash, 'til the fire is stoked anew
This is the fate of the Phoenix, King of Skies Blue
From the ashes of death, shall a great flame be born
From the Great Fire’s ash, mighty Phoenix reborn

poem by Tim Vallie
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The Horseman of Conquest

He rides the fields triumphant, in armor plated gold
His horse a great white stallion, it's rider ever bold
He is the Horseman Conquest, for power does he lust
He cares not for honor, goodness, or even being just
He cares rides to war for power, to make the world his own
He dreams only of riches, a jewel encrusted throne
His sword is swift and mighty, though corrupt his soul may be
He commands a mighty army, who obey every decree
He dreams only for power, rides to war for gold
He rules from an ivory tower, where he keeps fortunes untold
The mighty King of Conquest, the Horsemen filled with greed
In golden plated armor, he rides his mighty steed
He fights for gold and plunder, he wields a mighty sword
He rides to war for power, backed by his mighty hoard
Every king of every nation, must bow before his throne
He will never stop, until the world is all his own

poem by Tim Vallie
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The Duality Of Darkness And Light

If I search and seek inside my mind
The deeper I look the more I find
Exists a spiritual duality of darkness and light
My soul mirrors the world, the day and the night
In the darkness I seek the light to guide
From the sunlight I seek a shadow to hide
The dark is my shield, the light is my blade
They guide and protect me, the light and the shade
They are the sides of coin, opposed yet part of the same
They the sides of a blade, one cold one aflame
This is the spiritual duality of darkness and light
The immortal struggle of the day and the night
Two sides of one coin, two sides of one blade
The darkness and light, tools used yet obeyed
The shade of the daylight, the light in the night
Our immortal mortality, our hope yet our plight
The darkness a shield, the light a bright sword
To refuse their protection we cannot afford
Their immortal struggle, mirrored in our souls
They both play their parts, they both have their roles

[...] Read more

poem by Tim Vallie
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