The Styx Gallery displays the darker side of life, making emotional desktop wallpapers easy to create with gothic tides.
Styx on the Rebound
Shaiya aka Styx and Cora Venix
Styx on Glass
Styx White Wedding 1
Styx White Wedding 2
Black Widow Styx
Styx Promo Shoot
The following poems are randomly selected from part A of the Garden series.
If you are patient, the whole story may appear. There is a doorway on this site, that will open to the poetry collection, both in context and complexity.
First Apostle's Letter
Once again, the Traveller sets out on his endeavours. Tripping back in time, to walk amongst his ancestors; the Ancient Ones.
As he has done thousands of times before, the Traveller leaves Garden under the Tenders control. The Tenders are the Travellers companions, when he is in Garden; Garden's armed force and doctorate when he is not.
Although the Traveller only Trips for a short period of time, he is sometimes away for ages. Thus, the infidels, invaders, and plain old foe of nature are tempted to enter Garden's domain.
Inevitably, these unwanted beings infiltrate Garden's boundaries. Havoc breaks free. War finally erupts. Battles, both great and small, are fought with ferocious fury.
But never fear, all will be restored. The dead will live through their young. The conceived will be born. The invaders will be banished.
Yes, the balance of life will be returned.
How do I, know of all of this, you ask?
Is it not obvious that I am he? The God of gods Apostle. The Wanderer. Yes, I am he. The Traveller
Second Apostle's Letter
I am writing to you once again, hoping that you are taking care of yourself, and my companions. By now, most would have introduced themselves. At the same time, a lot might not have. Take for instance, the Cogil, who resemble the Ancient Fairy. They need to be encouraged by their own kind.
These shy Tenders are hardly ever seen. But I know within myself, that these beautiful Tenders actually exist.
The Great One, very rarely shows himself openly, but, it is very easy to talk to him. By merely talking to Emalf, or one of the Dribydal, or any of the Great One's friends, it will end up, that you were actually talking to him. As Emalf is the closest to the Only One, messages are conveyed quicker.
Each member of the Tender's Company has their own different dialect. Strange as it is, what you think they are saying, is in fact exactly what they are trying to tell you. It's just that you have been too ignorant, to listen to these thoughts before.
That's right!!! I remember now why I was writing to you.
My trip, is going to be longer than planned. I bumped into an old ancestor. Nathaniel Sirrah-Arkey M. Now, that is old. Anyway, all I ask of you, is if you can keep an eye on Garden's well being for me? Thanks.
Until we meet again, the Wanderer.
Nothing's Inhabitants pt 1
Here I stand in a garden,
Looking over a vastness of Nothing.
My friends stand close by,
Searching it's horizons for something.
We enjoy our own company,
As we know each other well.
Our domain is rarely challenged,
Excepting for the occasional cell.
Seasons change in favour for the foes,
Who march on Nothing's void.
Increasingly closer these villains approach,
Taking our sustenance into the void.
My friends shout, a shout of defiance,
Informing me of our Wandering Friend,
He visits on a weekly basis,
Delivering a blow to our foe's evil trend.
A Proud Tender
In ancient times, they had there oddities,
Just as we have them with us now.
Their descendants changed in shapes and sizes,
The farmer forced to put away his plough.
I, am a proud descendant of the Emu,
A proud bird, who roamed the Ancient Lands.
The traits, of no flight remained though,
Imagine a Dragon, stuck fast on Garden's sands.
We did develop larger wings to compensate,
However, our huge bodies are too heavy.
But, this is only a physical restraint;
As the Great One, gave us the gift of Levee.
We are true dragons in all aspects,
Mystics in soul, in body we are Tenders.
We hardly ever, leave the borders of the Levee,
In the same way as the Ancient Pretenders.
We are the "All Ferocious of the Fierce,"
Warmongers, strategists, destroyers of evil.
Known only as the Niknogard,
Seen only in the guise of a humble weevil.
The Dihpa are seen as a succulent dessert,
Believe you me, we all have a sweet tooth.
Our motto, for the Royal Tenders Guard,
Is, "Destroy all evil, uphold honour and truth."
To hear the battle cry of the Niknogard,
Will deliver a blow to the heart;
To the good, 'tis the blow of uplifting;
To evil, 'tis the sound of Death's Cart.
"Destroy all evil, uphold honour and truth,
Sever the roots, burn it's liars,
Uproot all evil, and as for proof,
We will behead, Nothing's Squires."
A Modest Tender
I was born to be gentle, yet powerful;
If only the Ancients knew, what I know.
For I am wiser than the Elder Ancients;
Considering I was conceived a million millenniums ago.
I am the youngest of my relations,
However, I have far more important duties.
They range from assisting the blind with light,
To giving enough warmth to the little cuties.
My closest friends, the Nooms, are also Tenders,
In the sense, that they carry out what I do.
Well Not as much, they can be quite lazy,
But I consider them as my nocturnal shoe.
Only one, is greater than myself, Emalf,
Being the Only One, who created me, you as well.
The Great One has many names and faces.
The God of gods, persuader of the infidel.