
VY
I am Velvel Yaakov. I write pros usually in the genres of sci-fi and fantasy with heavy Irish and Jewish theological and mystical influences. I seek to explore and learn more through every word I write.

VY
I am Velvel Yaakov. I write pros usually in the genres of sci-fi and fantasy with heavy Irish and Jewish theological and mystical influences. I seek to explore and learn more through every word I write.
He’s my jumpy Monk
Constantly sniffing his junk
He trots around
A mere inch from the ground...
Pulga is my little flea
Look at him wrong and he will bite me
He is the little boy I love so dear
I could sit for hours stroking his ears...
I would love a cat named bagel
To eat with me at the table
Paws crossed and all polite
Ready for his little tuna bite...
I deal in Fast and the Furious philosophy
As I tread softly down a quarter mile track
Head on a swivel
Factual avaricious
As I find the intangible delicious
The pistol in my mouth makes me taste gun metal
Hell for leather I mettle in pleasure
In pursuit of freedom I scream
In my dreams
A never ending hell scape
Takes shape before my eyes
Try not to run on the hot coals...
*WOOOSSSHHHHH*
The tall, broad figure on the dust covered stage breathed heavily into the microphone. Sweat glistened off his shirtless torso as he breathed deeply and gripped the mic so hard his knuckles turned white.
*WOOOSSSHHHHH*
He shifted his legs, covered in flowing black pants and tall black boots, planting his feet firmly. Long black hair covered his face, veiling himself from the onl...
I trudged through heaps of snow that covered the unpaved, backcountry road where I had last seen my brother. Head tucked against the wind, I focused on planting one foot through the icy drifts, then the other, glancing up every so often to peer through the flurries. The tracks I was following had long been blown away, the last remaining traces of my brother lost to the elements.
I was out here on...
I set the torches in the trees
Less I freeze amongst the weeds
And if I lay amongst the hay
Throw my ashes to the breeze
I carry a club of hard ash
If I’m set upon I will thrash
I am free to mourn the trees
For in nature there is no trash
Used and reused
For fire and forest refuse
If tall trees in the forest fall
I’ll lay down amidst the mildew...