My name is Mike Pettit, Author,Writer, Novelist, Scribe, whatever. My alter egos, John Locke, Jack Marsh, Damian Wolf, Kimo Kanoa, and their pals live in my head 24/7, non-stop. They are like tracer rounds ricocheting around my brain. I know there are other like me out in the cyber world going though the same thing.

This is the go-to joint for everything suspense and mystery, a stake-out for writers that want to share their thoughts. Come on in, drop anchor, grab a cup of joe (or latte), and let's talk murder...or writing about it.

Monday, May 2, 2011


Oh Mothers, Oh Daughters…
Hold for now the tears of pain and sorrow.
There will be time enough for those tomorrow.
Don’t heal, don’t weep, don’t pray for those that sleep.

Oh, Hero Sons, Oh Hero Brothers, prepare for battle and greatness.
Fall upon our enemies, seek out his weakness.

Pound the Drums of War, beat thy shields of wrath.
Chant your war songs, scream your battle cries.
Your rage will clear a bloody path.

Vengeance reflects from our eyes. Prepare, oh heroes to fight and die.
Our enemy will tremble before our might,
He will run and hide, and melt away in the night.

No place to hide, No place to die,
No hallowed ground, for his ashes to lie.

Oh, Beloved America, Oh how we stand free.
Our Forefathers see how strong we are,
And know we are still loyal to thee.

We will march in triumph across the land,
 Our enemies will wonder at our strength and endurance,
And plead for a merciful hand.

Only then, Oh Mothers and Daughters should you weep,
And pray for those that sleep.

The War Drum bangs out a triumphant beat,
 Then proudly put away in a shroud of glory,
 To fight again, another day.

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