Welcome to WonderlandFalling down, down, down
Spinning 'round and 'round
All around, the ticking of clocks
Such a discordant sound
Right is left and left is right
Night is day and day is night
Up is down and down is up
Life is death and death is life
Voices whisper from every niche
Screams echo and cause a twitch
Claws and teeth threaten to kill
Eyes wild with bliss of such a thrill
Run, hide, fight, or plead
Nothing shall work, nothing you need
The sun and moon will laugh as you cry
As the Queen shrieks her commands to the sky
Blood forms penumbras as heads roll
A cry of defiance with each bell toll
The jury turns in accord, madness shining bright
Their question full of words to make your skin crawl with fright
"ArE yOu AlIcE?"
T i c k
T o c k
T i c k
T o c k
"OfF wItH hEr HeAd!"
~Welcome to Wonderland, Alice~
FrostbittenWinter is her favorite time of the year.Frostbitten in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's beautiful. Silver and blue dance around with one another in a waltz of freezing passion as snow and ice douse the land in a blanket of boreal glamour. Glass windowpanes become easels for falling snowflakes, frost etching into the smooth surfaces in intricate and unique patterns.
Winter has always been her favorite time of the year, and it always will be.
It is not because of Christmas--no, even though she loves the holiday, it is not what sparks her strong fondness for the star-colored blanketing across the land. Her infatuation with the snow and ice and everything cold has to do with something that most people don't truly believe in.
A boy whom she met long ago.
She still remembers the day like it was yesterday. Running around in the forest, laughing and tasting the snowflakes as they fell down into her parted lips and melting immediately on her tongue. All bundled up as a precaution, even though the winter has always been kind to h
Sweet EmilyEmily is six years old.Sweet Emily in Short Stories More Like This
Emily lives with Mommy and Daddy in a big house.
Emily doesn't have very many friends because she doesn't go to school, but that's okay!
Emily has Tabitha! Tabitha and Emily are best friends. Tabitha looks like Emily, too! They both have blonde hair, though Tabitha always has hers in pig tails. They both have green eyes, too. Mommy and Daddy tell Emily that her green eyes means she has a biiiiig imagination; so that means Tabitha does, too! But sometimes Mommy and Daddy don't believe Emily when she tells them all the fun she and Tabitha have together…
They don't believe Emily when she tells them that it was Tabitha who used up all of Mommy's lipstick to make a picture on the wall. They don't believe Emily when she tells them that Tabitha was the one who broke the special plates in the locked cupboard that Emily can't reach. They don't believe Emily when she tells them anything Tabitha does, and it isn't Emily's fault.
"Oh, Emily, darling…it's pe
Mother EarthShe has suns for eyes,Mother Earth in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and oceans for tears,
a blade of grass for each hair,
and wisdom beyond her years.
Rage like an earthquake,
sorrow as deep as the sea,
madness funneled like a hurricane,
joy blooming so vividly, kings fall to their knee.
Her skin is a motley,
with hues so dark and bright,
she sleeps during the day,
and lays awake at night.
She has the universe for a heart,
and the cosmos burn in her soul,
however, humanity's blindness,
is at last taking its toll.
The MaidenOh, sweet Daughter of NatureThe Maiden in Free Verse More Like This
Thrown down, down, down into the depths of the Underworld
Taken by force, so tempting of pure radiance
Residing on a throne of bleeding bones
Queen of screaming souls, innocence corrupted by shadows
Corralled in the tormenting land of freezing hellfire
Defiled by the Lord of the Dead
Tricked by cruel fate to taste the forbidden fruit
To remain forever a prisoner until wrapped in a mother's loving embrace
Weep not, Fair Maiden, for deliverance is at hand
By the kiss of a saccharine summer breeze
lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;lies, she wrote in Free Verse More Like This
desperate to shine.
ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.
iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.
v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."
''The dead have feelings, too.''"Aria."''The dead have feelings, too.'' in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Though I am still reeling from our previous argument, I force down my pride and turn my head to face where Darien's voice is coming from. I'm sure my cheeks are flushed with rage, yet I constrain the cluster of spiteful and venomous words that are still dripping on the tip of my tongue.
Darien's form comes into view--the rage from just minutes before must have made him lose his corporeal appearance--and instantly his eyes meet mine. They are still somewhat cloudy with anger, but as we stare down one another in silence, I see that anger slowly change into something more or less acceptance. He sighs, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. It is a gesture I have come to known, one he does only when he is truly upset.
Being dead, after all, Darien prefers not to touch anything--not even himself--if he can help it.
"You are a necromancer, Aria. I can't expect you to see my side of the argument. After all, you grew up around death. To you and your kind, death is just a weapon
-My mind- in Free Verse More Like This
s h u t u p.
Too many "fuck you's"
that morph into
drip off this
Try and make it better. Fail. Try again. Break down.
So many faults
that seem to just
turn me into someone
Look into the mirror. See nothing but a clone. Fabrication. No longer me.
I stare and want
to break that glass
so that I can also
b r e a k.
Try and say something. Turns into nothing but rage. Take it out on you.
This shattered heart
only wants to make it
and become one again.
"I want to hate you."
"But I can't."
"So I hate me instead."
"But why won't this stop?"
"Why can't you make it stop?"
"...it's not my fault."
Say what you want to say. Honest brutality.
"H E L P M E"
It's time for me to
s h u t u p.
Poetry is:Poetry is:Poetry is: in Free Verse More Like This
the adhesive to
a fragmented soul;
broken wings that still dream of
F L Y I N G
how snapdragons breathe stardust
and orchids perform ensembles.
when 'imagination' and 'reality' at last discover a
c r o s s r o a d s,
and rush to embrace one another with fervent limbs.
why gravity seems to f
l, taking the world with it.
what flows through the veins of every pair of [shipwrecked; star-crossed] lovers.
who I am; who I was; and who I want to be.
Remedial OppositionCease with making promises that you cannot ever keep—Remedial Opposition in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
can you not see this loathing becoming even more deep?
Halt in your useless words of comfort, telling me everything will be okay—
how can you say such things so simply, when you are never here day by day?
Refrain from acting as if you can turn my world from bleak to bright—
when was the last time you truly changed every wrong thing to right?
It was such a simple pleasure, back in those days;
just one word from you made gold from the grays.
A luxury it was, I now see that more clear than glass;
for those times are done and gone, having long since passed.
Indulgence was my sin whenever thoughts of you jolted through my brain;
it is a laughing matter at how correspondence with you now causes me pain.
You say you want to help me, you say nothing will ever be my fault...
but is that true, when you regret my slow change from child to adult?
You know I tried my damnedest to continue being your best friend...
but what is t
lost.Wandering,lost. in Free Verse More Like This
waiting for your voice to
reach out for mine.
Fingertips of satin,
caressing the confines of my
whispering a thousand constellations to my waning sanity.
Promises upon promises,
mosaic labyrinths etched into mutilated
Trembling lips — July's blasphemous sun
lingering above December's intangible moon,
and these looking-glass limbs scream for your
tongue to shatter me into one million
Rose eyelashes; iron thorns and liquid petals
flutter open to the dull luster of our
and in the end, your nebula fades away
in the disintegrating morning, just like my [heart] broken
AddictionA smile spreads across my face,Addiction in Free Verse More Like This
As the sounds vibrate in my head
Dance in my thoughts,
Flow through my mind.
A whole world is painted in my mind
As the words combine with their notes,
Colours racing behind my eyes,
Spinning, jumping, whirling…
How can I end this world inside me,
How can I stop before the final crescendo,
A wave of bliss racing, growing
Before it fades into the distance.
More, more, again, again!
I cannot stop, not now, not ever!
Don't speak to me now,
Leave me alone!
When I feel depressed,
It lightens my day,
And when it stops
I can't help but yearn for more.
What else is an addiction,
But that inextinguishable hunger,
That fixation on this feeling,
That never-fading desire for more?
My object of addiction may not be
Some strange grass I burn in my hands.
But, to me, it does just fine:
This is my obsession.
My music is my drug
SorrowRun, run, cling to your life!Sorrow in Free Verse More Like This
Race from the past and escape from the future,
Fly towards the setting sun…
And think only of her.
Let the rain wash away your memories,
Let the wind blow away your despair,
Let nature replace your home…
And remember her last moments.
See only her eyes, as they swim in tears,
See only her hands, dyed in blood.
Recall the day that broke your heart
And shattered your dreams.
And then, when your lungs burn,
When your eyes have no more tears to shed,
When you’ve raced destiny and battled sorrow,
Slow your pace, and calm your heart.
Turn back, to embrace your past and welcome the future,
To release your grief and let go of your pain,
To return to your life, to accept your fate,
And to adopt hope for what is to come.
By Christmas...It's a miracle that I survive,By Christmas... in Free Verse More Like This
Stepping out of my hole towards you
Over the corpses of friend and foe alike.
Are you as sick of this as I am?
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright,
Round yon virgin mother and child,
Holy infant so tender and mild…
"By Christmas it will all be over"
Or so we believed as we entered this hell.
But tonight's that holy night of December
And the torture has only just begun.
Leise rieselt der Schnee,
Still und starr ruht der See,
Weihnachtlich glänzet der Wald,
Freue dich, 's Christkind kommt bald…
What mattered just this morning
Is of no importance now.
Whether you're English, German or French,
Come join me, pray for better days.
Ah! Quel grand mystère!
Dieu se fait enfant.
Il descend sur terre,
Lui, le tout-puissant…
See the child on that picture?
It's her first Christmas this year.
But daddy won't be home tonight.
Maybe I'll never return…
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright,
Round yon virgin mother
Never Ending CycleGrey in grey they rush along,Never Ending Cycle in Free Verse More Like This
Hopeless, lifeless, old and worn.
And cowering in the corners sit
The poorest of the poorest.
They had no light, no hope, no future,
When suddenly out of the shadows
A lonely voice, soft but stubborn
Begins and new, inspiring song:
Colour fades and flowers die,
They won't re-bloom much as you try.
Forget the old, embrace the new,
And join me in my cheerful tune!
Ignored, unheard the song begins,
But confident it stays,
Singing softly, singing on,
Until another voice joins in.
See the light I will create,
A world of laughter, free of hate!
Join my song and share my desire,
Spread this song as fast as fire!
The movement spreads, the voices grow,
And soon in every shadow dark
The tune is sung and kept alive
And still more voices join the choir.
Old is old and soon forgotten,
This system to the core is rotten!
We want change and want it fast,
Come join us, or this pain will last!
And finally the change begins,
The fire spreads, brings
MasksWith big smiles she greeted her friends,Masks in Free Verse More Like This
Drowning in the crowd of people.
How many claimed to be her loved ones?
Hundreds? Thousands? She lost count long ago.
They welcomed her with jokes and laughter,
and she replied with hugs and kisses,
Pretending not to see the cracks in their masks
Or the lies in their voices.
She knew they were hiding something,
She heard the whispers behind her back,
Saw the greed behind their smiles,
And sensed their hatred long ago.
And every day she felt another part
Of her soul breaking away.
At night she tried to fix it,
Trying to reattach the broken pieces,
But as the time went by she realized
That the harder she tried, the faster she broke.
And so she continued what she had once started,
Acting cheerful, while breaking apart,
slowly creating her own mask
To hide her true self.
Until one day she met you,
The girl who refused to wear a disguise,
A big grin in your face,
And true kindness in your words.
Your left hand you had outstretched,
In your right you
HeroThey say you need a lion's heart,Hero in Free Verse More Like This
Beating inside your chest,
Or a hero's mind, which knows no fear,
To guide your steps, to push you on.
On towards that fear of yours:
That burning house, those eyes too cold,
That shadow lurking in the darkness
Of the empty factory.
They say you can't gain it,
They tell you: "you don't have it!"
That incredible bravery
that burns inside a hero's soul.
You read of it in books,
You hear of it in tales,
You see it in movies,
That bravery a hero needs.
You heard of those brave knights
Who faced dragons and witches,
Those evil beings created by darkness
And living on fear.
And you wish you were like them.
But, you can't swing a sword
So accurate and precise
That people say it looks like a dance,
A deadly dance of blood and iron.
You can't cast spells
That make a heart stop
In a split second,
And heal just as fast.
You can't fly with just a thought,
You can't lift objects as heavy as a house,
You can't run faster than a car,
Or stretch your body to amazing l
ExcusesAs I rise from my grave,Excuses in Free Verse More Like This
The place you had thought of
As my eternal resting place,
I see you turn pale with shock
Mumbling inextinguishable words.
Excuses flowing out of your mouth
As a river races
To leave behind the mountain
That gifted him with life.
Because you know the question
That rules my mind and heart,
That forces me to return
To the cold, bloody world
That I thought I'd left forever.
Was the fight worth my death?
Mine, and all those others,
Whose corpses still scatter the fields,
Unrecognizable skulls and bones
Soon to be buried without a name.
Of course, you answer,
Not once meeting my eyes.
The fight was important
To reach the aim, that big aim
We all struggled to reach.
Tell me, what aim? I ask
With an ironic, deathly smile
For we both know the truth:
There was no aim but war,
No aim but death and blood
Caused by revenge and hatred,
Feelings of those who never once
Stepped onto the battlefields.
Again your mouth opens,
Moving to your excuses,
Words that I don't want to he
You Have No Right To LiveYou Have No Right To Live:You Have No Right To Live in Free Verse More Like This
Hey, what are you doing?
That's mine, now give it back.
You're stupid, you should just go die!
Okay, I'm sorry...
What, you failed again?
Just how much money do you think we're spending on this,
Do you think it just falls from the sky?
I can't believe you; and don't give me that look!
You better straighten up now you hear me
And if you keep looking like a dead fish,
I'm going to make you wish you were one.
Hey, being around you is driving me nuts,
You never want to do anything, you don't even care,
Why bother even breathing if you're going to act like you're dead!
A lousy person like you should just go die!
okay, fine! I will...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 26th November 2012
BelovedBeloved:Beloved in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
With a bright radiant smile
If only for me...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
Alone but AliveAlone but Alive:Alone but Alive in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Oh here I am standing,
A lost soul is landing.
The coldest December,
Can you still remember?
Do you even hear me?
There's no one around me!
Oh shadow that I see,
The void right behind me.
Yet still I am breathing;
Yet still I am feeling.
The coldest sensation,
Oh worthless creation!
Are you still crying?
Oh why are you lying - abandoned and cold
Cold like what was left of soul,
Made of all the life you stole.
Walk divine but made of sin,
Worm of hatred squrim within.
Sin of lust and sin of pride,
Lash the tongue that last has lied.
Yours was silver with a promise,
Kiss of death and then you vomit.
Burning bile of ugly treason,
No one else can know the reason.
Left a soul behind to burn;
You are the reason I have turned...
On this cold and endless night...
When I'm finally pierced by the light...
And I awaken from this hell...
ALONE - BUT ALIVE!
Alive and again oh do I dare?
To give this heart and to lay it bare.
When heaven cast its fate
It Came From The DarkIt Came From The Dark:It Came From The Dark in Free Verse More Like This
Amongst the ashes, swirling from the darkness of the pit,
Emerged a hand, dragging a battered body across the rocks.
Blood leaked from the wounds so callously self-inflicted,
And teeth ground with a focused determination and seething anger.
It cared not for the warm rubies - staining the jagged rocks,
It cared not for the sensation of pain...
All that it remembered was a dream, An obsession -
One that drove it ever higher; ignoring all else!
Eventually it emerged from this shadowy hole, this dreary depth,
And in that moment, it learned of the truth.
For this creature, denied sunlight and warmth -
-Chen Yuan Wen, 11th December 2012
Memories of WarMemories of War:Memories of War in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With star-burned wings out above the sky.
The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...
A thousand tears you've cried for all,
Now its time for you to fall!
Will you open up the door,
To the future we ignore?
Are you simply lying broken,
From the memory awoken;
Are you simply living lies,
Bitter taste with ropes you tie...
And the world will soon forget.
Fill my heart with this regret?
For the victims written in stone.
Unspoken sin you now atone...
Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,
Wrap my body round with chain.
Now we both know we be broken;
Give this man his smokin' token.
Held up guns with both his hands;
Not a boy he's cause he's a man.
Order comes by a suit and hand.
Will you flee or will you stand?
This is a memory of our war,
Of all the things that we can't ignore.
And staying blind to the cries of pain...
Will lonely ashes be what remai
Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:Practice Poem - Poor Little Timmy in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Down into well, poor Timmy fell,
Down he fell into the pits of hell.
Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,
Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.
Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,
He shook for hours, so long it took,
So long it took for him to feel well,
Well enough to explore this hell...
Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;
Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,
A story of fear and suffering defined,
Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...
Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012
Machine ManMachine Man:Machine Man in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It began with but a simple command, "to do as we are told".
Never to deviate from this path - never to nurture the soul.
We are told that we are given a purpose; "a part of something great!"
Yet why oh why am I so weary of that which is my fate?
Am I an error, a single anomaly, unable to feel intact?
Or am I missing some special attribute - a facet which I lack.
In a society made of fleshed machines; robots wearing skin,
Perhaps I'm simply seeking something, to fill this metal tin.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 16th November 2012
These Words Aren't PrettyThese Words Aren't Pretty:These Words Aren't Pretty in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact
I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap
Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel
I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel
And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside
Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide
I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite
Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight
And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together
These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather
But as the rain pours down, lightning resound;
I try to write pretty words but my lips remain bound
So deeply silenced by fear - the darkness I hear,
Afraid to be unloved by the ones I hold dear
I've hit the limit of time; my lyrical crime
These words that I've lived are just turning to grime.
So I wish I had their talent; just a sliver of that
If their skill was a mountain then I've broken my back
It's like t
Waking NightmaresWaking Nightmares:Waking Nightmares in Free Verse More Like This
It begins in the same way, every single night
Fire spreading from an altar in the darkness
As all living beings are slowly consumed,
The coruscating flames appear wet with blood
The scene then changes to a flooded hallway
Live wires dangling just above the water,
Like venomous serpents slithering in the darkness
A single pounce would end my life
Eventually the hallway ends with a door,
One that reminds me of forgotten yore
And my thoughts shall be in rhyme at this point
As though lips and tongue are eternally joint
What maddened schemes have they in mind?
It is not a question, I may ask at this time.
Quickly I am brought before a bone-wrought throne
Kneeling as my flesh is carved 'Atone'
My thoughts return to me and they are normal now
I somehow retain awareness of where I am.
I see before me, a creature rising;
From the shadows it grins and bares its fangs
'I am the end, which you so desperately seek,
And the mo
My Soul, My Dream, My TeamMy Soul, My Dream, My Team:My Soul, My Dream, My Team in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
We are dreamers, we humans.
We reach out eagerly to that which lies above us
Tempted by its unattainable nature and egotistically;
We simplify the task that lies before us...
We climb without any forethought, without preparation;
Recklessly we charge head on for our goal -
And eventually, we lie broken by our failure.
I myself, Captain as you call me,
Am little better than a foolish dreamer.
One who dreams in a childish manner;
Unaware of his impotence, when left alone.
How many times have I been saved by others?
When I lack time, it is my officers who stand,
They keep the ship running smoothly,
Expending hours of precious effort.
When I fall, it is my co-captain who rallies me,
And reminds me of our responsibility -
One that we owe to our readers and friends.
When I write, it is my team - my uncles,
Who lay the path before me;
They give their time and their heart,
Supporting my work from its birth as but a simple idea.
And when I am dow
ObsoleteObsolete.Obsolete in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Everyone is too wrapped in their own lives to even care about yours.
But what they fail to remember is that this earth is only the first of many floors.
Tears cascade, smiles appear and fade while the universe continues to ignore,
As they impatiently knock and wait outside life's man made divisible door.
So when they become to self involved in the successes of their own cause.
Purpose.Purpose.Purpose. in Free Verse More Like This
What would a story be?
If there was no one there to read it.
What would dreams be?
If there was no one there to conceive it.
What would a picture be?
If there was no one there to see it.
What would a secret be?
If there was no one there to keep it.
What would love be?
If there was no one there to feel it.
What would a song be?
If there was no one there to sing it.
What would the truth be?
If there was no one there to admit it.
What would advice be?
If there was no one there to give it.
What would life be?
If there was no one there to live it.
Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany. in Free Verse More Like This
I thrive and depend on your compliments
And it is only then as a direct consequence,
Am I truly able to write with confidence.
Even though your words are only temporary.
I deem your contribution as utterly necessary,
In order to refresh my wavering, selective memory.
My own validation depends on your approval.
Whether it is congratulatory or discouragingly brutal.
Your input is the one thing that is most crucial.
Can I call myself a writer if I don't believe in myself?
When I constantly seek approval from everyone else?
How can I then expect to make any sort of wealth?
Of a craft and skill I still think anyone is able to produce.
Is there any point in me putting my apparent talent to use?
When I limit and submit myself into a negative recluse.
I was told I must have self belief in order to achieve,
The dream that I am so desperately trying to receive.
The body can only accomplish what the mind believes.
I know I must rid myself from any form of self doubt.
SilenceSilence.Silence in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
A language that everyone speaks.
But one that we are not able to hear.
A place where emotions and abandonment meet.
Of which we are forced to confront our buried fears.
There are no more lessons that the agents of society can teach.
An infinite amount of words expressed through a solitary tear.
People dish out advice but never practise what they preach.
A language with the same traits as a hopeful prayer.
A society where people judge others, as they sit back in their self proclaimed seats.
They can no longer understand you and they aware of the darkness that draws near.
Many lives led but we are all accompanied by the same drumbeat
Maybe you don't want to be heard but people will forcefully lend an ear.
Lips fused together, unint
ArtArt.Art in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
The world is your canvas.
Society is your paint brush.
The people are your choice of colours.
What kind of picture would you paint?
How would it differ from the image that is currently on show?
Would you go mad and rid yourself from all forms of restraint?
Just how far down the rabbit hole are you willing to go?
I ask because every portrait I create,
Is inspired by what is already in front of me.
So is it possible to even recreate,
Anything that the mind is not able to see.
The picture will always be the same
Because this life is all we know.
Where there is compassion there must be pain
Because it us who made it so.
PerfectionPerfection.Perfection in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
She lodges her fingers down her throat.
Clasping onto the wall as she recklessly chokes.
She reinserts her fingers back in forcibly.
Deliriously trying to make her body thinner.
She swoons and slumps to the floor nauseously
As she attempts to regurgitate her dinner.
Her throat aches as she screeches out coarsely,
With her hand covering the image in the mirror.
Her head now rests on the on the rim of the toilet seat.
She wants to eat but she just has not got in her.
She desperately begins to scream out inaudibly.
Her mouth now tastes of something pulpy and bitter.
She examines the red color of the fluid cautiously.
Realizing that she has become too focused on her figure.
Her friend then knocks on the door thoughtfully.
She shouts out, "I'm okay I don't need a baby sitter."
Her friend continues to knock and waits outside awkwardly
Replying, "You promised me, you said that you are not a quitter"
The tap begins to run as she disguises her cough distortedly.
She knows her friend
The BulliedThe Bullied.The Bullied in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
He never enjoyed going to school.
He used to bunk whenever he had the chance.
Although he was not one for breaking the rules.
He refused to submit to their ignorant demands.
He told his teachers about his problems.
How he got bullied every lunch and break time.
They said they would find a rapid way to solve them.
Somehow his confessions filtered through the grape vine.
The bullying became more intense and extreme.
He began wearing long sleeved t-shirts to hide the marks.
He knew his parents would only label him as a troubled teen.
But he yearned for their understanding and supportive remarks.
Eventually he tried talking to his dad about it.
But ironically he wasn't best known for his listening.
Besides his home was always too noisy and overcrowded.
He was sure that they wouldn't notice if he was to even go missing.
His only friends were online and on facebook.
Every night you could hear him typing away in his room.
His mother started to wonder how long this phase took
The Refusing HandThe Refusing HandThe Refusing Hand in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Remember what mouths you are feeding,
Because there are people who will stab you in the back
And then ask why are you bleeding?
A Priceless FutureA Priceless Future.A Priceless Future in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Pretty soon we'll need to make payments
Just to be able to walk the pavement.
This added to the taxes on our bank statements.
Proves that any sort of personal attainment,
Will be shared with the government agents.
It’s blatant, we‘re a part of a money laundering arrangement.
Of which there is an infinite number of replacements.
Who are praying and waiting for your disengagement.
Longing for the day that you will become complacent.
Because a filled position in this day in age will always be vacant.
I call this, the reincarnation of enslavement.
WondermentSome days, I find myselfWonderment in Free Verse More Like This
the s e c o n d s
of my heart
what I could have
and a lot
l e s s
but all I can manage
. . . . . . .
I miss you
I love you
i love you
i love you
scraps and sacramentsyou,scraps and sacraments in Free Verse More Like This
beautiful siren girl with melodies
entangled in her hair: you are
shell-shocked and sea-struck
even though you cannot stand
the sensation of sand beneath
you have fingers for prying, picking,
pulling at your skin and nesting
in that hollow space between
your bones. and if anyone asks,
you will swear there are monsters
sleeping in the concaves of your ribs;
there are ghosts beneath your tongue,
embittered, and you are not the words
they say there is an answer, little girl
(sometimes you begin to believe you are
a scarecrow on the border of reality
begging people to turn the other way;
and the mirror will agree)
how far have you gone? a feather in
the breeze who won’t promise to return
again; there is a wandering warmth in
the hesitation of your harbored fear.
where will you be in six months when
the future has become itself and you
are still astray? little one, no one is like you
in the way you sway to the cadence of a
dissonant night. no one knows your
we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.we are not a fairytale in Free Verse More Like This
I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way
(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not
the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding
we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I’m not sure whether or not the sun will
rise again tomorrow, because it won’t exist
until someone breathes life into it,
but no. we were never so lucky
to be carefully orchestrated,
a composition rendered for
another’s satisfaction. I am not the
climax, nor the resolution, but a lamb
with Stockholm Syndrome and
a tendency towards people
in which I try to forget my dreamswith Sunday-heavy lips, she calls mein which I try to forget my dreams in Free Verse More Like This
selfish and means it. I remember
dreams better than people, strangers
greeting me in the grocery store over
a common past and sorry selection
of red grapes. I remember Katie
being beautiful and happy and
wearing the same abnormal toe shoes
and being a few decades older than time
would allow, I remember Emily
being alive. I remember me
escaping to France to defy logic
and stow away in a pretentious,
overpriced tourist resort where
I’d learn to speak a language
I’d never use and love people
who’d never know me; I remember
she tells me trust is not a virtue.
responsibility is gained and
taken away when you prove
unable to learn to be normal and
defiant at trying to breathe. she says,
I love you, but I don’t understand,
and she cries, saucer-eyed,
and this time I can’t
This is a Love PoemI must admit to less than innocent thoughtsThis is a Love Poem in Free Verse More Like This
about the lithe lengths of your frame
and the mysteries crowding in your eyes,
clouded over with ecstasy (or affection,
that word in the English language
forgotten in place of more life-threatening
controversies, taking value over the
fire-warmed embers of necessity and want).
We cannot be ephemeral, not when life
is the longest prison sentence I’ve been
inflicted with, and I still remember the scent
of your surreptitious skin when we
renamed conspiracies as derivations from
our [single] definitive state of unliving,
an ineffable defiance of
misery’s inevitable subjugation.
Aroseuncompromising; when the tideArose in Free Verse More Like This
comes to take me home,
I won’t say no.
I am the dying rose whose
thorns never helped
(breathe life into me, breathe in
these demons I breed so dearly
and feel the spirit of the bottom
pulse through you)
I was stronger before I slept,
paranoia ate away my bones [I am]
compromised: laying down before
a bleeding night and begging for
the savior to glow before he goes,
(I swear sometimes I get lost in the blur of the moment; falling fast to this dance of ill intentions and
when you look me in the eye I really believe that you see something bigger than us; you promise
the stars and look like the moon, open and porous and selfless. I just want to be more than me,
I want to wake up one day and really believe I have a reason to be all that I am; pining and whining
and mourning devotedly, a self-started religion of cynicism and fragility. I want to believe.)
soft steps through the sorry snow,
you won’t remember me after
Storybook AddictionsI want you to love me as much as you doStorybook Addictions in Free Verse More Like This
the thorns in your side; seeds planted and
forgotten and bleeding cyclically.
when the swallowed night drowns and
drains darkness like a trickled lullaby, I want
to be the last thing in your dreams.
I want to be your mistake East of Eden, your lack
of redemption; when they tear apart your paper
flesh with metal claws, I want to be the one you
come crawling back to with bloodied knees.
[right now I am an empty vessel, unfulfilled
and metaphorically obsolete. I want to clear
my throat for once, without seeing the ashes
of my disease.]
I want to love you like a swansong;
breezes make your bones ache and
I am always cold-- no one wants the
wind: it bites and they identify my
prickled flesh as its invitation.
[I wish I weren’t the pendulum
around your neck, counting the days
until you’d finally leave]
I only ever wanted you to love me.
as numerous as the stars under your skinand here I am, reinterpreting the definable universeas numerous as the stars under your skin in Free Verse More Like This
in relation to you, the poet, and the gravitation
of your hips (the parentheticals of your sighs, the longing
in your star-ward cries, the vespertine scent lingering
on your weary skin).
I would love every piece of you. I would stay up too long
and watch the night crumble away, to whisper together
the scraps of your misdirected sanity. I would call you perfect
when it wasn’t true, and become the answer
you spent an entire existence
You owe me this, sugartongue; the sweet silence
of your teeth. [this story is like a million others
rejected before it, glorifying earthbound angels:
please]rewrite the world for me.
on becoming alivethank god for sleeping pillson becoming alive in Free Verse More Like This
and the man who gave me a bag
to quiet my mind.
thank god for boys with open hands
and curious minds and naïve hearts
who make me young because
god, you birthed me old
you birthed me old,
so I could be the one to
measure the livelihood of stars
while the others made
their childhood wishes
thank god I have a mind
that runs a million miles faster
than I ever could, because
I believe my heart is an hourglass
of honey and grime, and
I’m slowly running out of
time, and I fear
these days are numbered.
thank god for people
who write the words bleeding in my heart
without knowing I exist, thank god
for beauty and my understanding
that I only exist in relation to it
and in appreciation of what
I can’t become.
thank god for my rebirth
because I spent all those
eye-opening years of my life
sleeping behind the wheel, thank god
someone was there to wake
me up. (thank god that I can
weep for happiness and depression
in the same day,
ghostwriterhere, everyone’s pupils are dilatedghostwriter in Free Verse More Like This
and skin is stretched too tight
to expose the wind-swept spider webs
writhing beneath their porcelain composure
here, the shadows are afraid of us.
(and it is our desire
to finally come down to that place
at night, the rigid ghosts rock me to
sleep. their cardboard hearts and
inky eyes just begging to be seen
(it is only in the
darkness that I am
perceived to be more
than I am; holy
star to guide them
the current carries my name,
I have spent too little
too long on rivers that
only flow south
I vomit up saltwater and
try to remember,
Insomniacs and Insecuritesthe ground is a friend, feeble feet meet stabilityInsomniacs and Insecurites in Free Verse More Like This
and never return. it listens, oh, it listens
with tiled ears and absorbs all your secrets.
fault cracks, your fears seep underneath
the pavement, someone knows
that you cry at smoggy nights and
run out of words when you stop to breathe
and you drown in your thoughts, no
one taught you to swim, your
stunted, stilted stature goes stagnant and
this is destiny. it was written in
the storybooks that the princess would find
an answer in the murky depths and her
prince would turn out to be the
desperate attempt at normalcy all along
plunging face-first through
loosely plucking stray
strands of sensitivity
and smothering the catalyst,
softly, as it sleeps--
deafening life like
being buried in a coffin
facing the earth; digging
and digging and only
eating more dirt
skin and stale sorrows
can't be processed by
these bedded beggars,
going home empty handed to
wonder under a heavy
home of hung humanity.)
AloneI sit alone and mark the time -Alone in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
aware of how the hours crawl -
with solitude a friend of mine.
I find my thoughts a careless scrawl,
meandering among the days -
myself the loser in it all.
I view my world through lonely haze,
aware of loss on which I stand
and never think to mend my ways.
There's not a soul to lend a hand;
there's not a man to call me friend.
MageMage in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Blasted blistered roots of trees,
limbs askew in knotted knees,
darkling bark of branches grows-
turning back, my fever flows,
Maudlin madness chills my veins,
wretched reek of death remains -
draws me dreaming to this place,
sallow streams and wallowed waste.
Twisted thoughts begin to creep
into woods where willows weep.
Turning twice I light the flame
no one there to bear my shame.
Burning bright, my sacrifice
beacon blazing in the night
warning all who wander here
that God's truth will cost them dear.
Girl as PoemShe was once a verse by BaudelaireGirl as Poem in Free Verse More Like This
something about flowers
that were loyal to none
and I kissed her
when no one was watching.
She was a stanza by Byron
who stood on
the white cliffs of somewhere
and praised her eyebrows.
She is nothing like summer
or a lost continent;
is too bold for that.
Her shoulders are not
or a battle to be won.
I thought she was a poem -
or maybe an ode
or sonnet -
words teased and woven
that beat and bled
upon my humble pen,
not the flesh and blood
of thighs and hips
ripening beneath my gaze,
waiting to be written.
MoonlessThe moonless eveningMoonless in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
turns its back against the sky
and leaves it empty.
Perhaps the morning
will come back with its hands full,
holding up the sun.
FlamesThere are flames whereFlames in Free Verse More Like This
his head should be -
forty pieces of silver
a dressing gown, a pipe
a poem left in the fireplace.
This man promised you a winter
so warm and bountiful
spring would be ashamed.
He called you by name -
not the one that father knew
shoved under his bible
But the one left behind
in the branches,
in the bucket of brambles,
and the columbines
buried at your feet.
Stone angels on the battlefield
surrender in the grass.
What did his face
even look like behind the curtain,
counting those coins
and loosening the damp earth
from your shoes?
EnigmaI am the saintEnigma in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You are the sinner
I am the loser
You are the winner
I am the storm
You are the calm
I am the chafe
You are the balm
I wear your thoughts
You eat my soul
I'm all in pieces
You are my whole
I long for peace
You adore war
I am your virgin
You are my whore
I steal emotion
You live for reason
I am too loyal
You thrive on treason
I break your heart
You bleed my mind
You say I'm gentle
You're cruel to be kind
Unwanted FutureMy stomach flips,Unwanted Future in Concrete Poetry More Like This
my breathing gets deep,
I'm sorry love but
please just let me sleep?
It's hard to live
taking day by day
when it seems to pass too fast
and you struggle on the way
What future awaits me?
A small dog, swing on the deck,
the picket white fence and
a fake family in depth.
A kiss on the cheek and
lunch in paper bags,
a promise to behave
but love, the days just drag.
Will it be the same routine
that I face right now?
A fake smile and laugh
that struggle to be found.
The passion fades
with the will to explore,
and you grow older along with
the slamming of doors.
Your voice screams,
your heart will echo,
the mirror will shatter,
and the blood will flow.
And one day you'll look
and take a deep breath,
you'll stare into your eyes
and see nothing but death.
Death Takes Two SugarsDeath knocked on the doorDeath Takes Two Sugars in Free Verse More Like This
came inside without invitation
poured herself some tea
and asked for a story.
He laughed at all the right parts,
cried when I cried,
asked for more than she received
It cried with me and laughed with me
sipping their tea and listening
she wondered what I didn’t do
then told me how idiotic I was.
He told me about the children
I could have had but didn’t
and the falls that lifted me up
with the loss of others.
The story of how I almost killed a girl
when she ran into the street
scared her to run into the arms of her father
and never ran into the street again.
The tale of the man who was meant for me
yet still didn’t want me
and that was not my fault but his
for his life went on a different path.
Death pushed in his chair and declared,
‘It’s time for you to go’
despite my tea’s warmth
and my story was not quite finished.
‘I’m not ready to go’
I bellowed and threw my cup
Wake up loveHush now,Wake up love in Free Verse More Like This
I'm sorry the dream must end.
It's time to wake up
and face the world.
Reality is harsh,
the people are cold,
that's how it is
and you must wake up.
For you have been asleep long enough.
Time to wake love,
and be with your people
they wait for you
and have never given up.
You can't let them down.
The alarm's going off,
and reality is waiting.
You are only human
and cannot do much
but everyone is important
and life is waiting just for you.
Can you hear their cries?
And the bellows of pain?
You can stop them
but only if you wake up.
It's time to wake up love,
and face the world.
They cry for your return
and you can't let them down.
The DoctorThe Doctor in Short Stories More Like This
"Doctor?" I questioned uneasily. The figures and faces around me nodded, shifting around unsettlingly as if staying still was too much work for them
"I don't need a Doctor, I'm fine." I had no desire to see the Doctor. Even the title sent shivers down my spine.
"We know dear, but we were thinking that some people mature faster than others, and that maybe you should see the Doctor earlier," one of the figures said. I couldn't even see them, for I was seated in a hard chair that dug into my back while everyone else was crowed around me. Their like faces and similar statures all began to blur into one solid black surrounding of grey and more grey. Even their voices were beginning to blend together.
"I don't want to see the Doctor though."
And I truly didn't. There were so many rumors about that place, the place called the hospital. I heard that when people entered they didn't come back the same again, that they Doctor messed with their minds and changed them into unfeeling robots for the
I'm a PoetI'm a poet.I'm a Poet in Free Verse More Like This
And because I'm a poet,
I have the pride of a poet,
and the background of an artist.
Yes as a poet.
I am overlooked in the group
for the work that is drawn,
and the art that is colored by the painters
I am a writer
and though my words hold power
they are seen as nothing more than words
and never get brought to their original intent
I am a writer
whose every move is watched
whose art is critiqued harsher than others
who's still unknown as an artist
I am an author,
who wears my heart on my sleeve
who leaves everything bare to judgment
who never asks for more than is due
I am an artist,
but I don't always get treated as such
Drawings"Drawings"Drawings in Free Verse More Like This
I drew on the walls
when life wasn’t enough
the drawings were scribbles
that made no simple sense
yet when I drew they came alive
my heart and soul expressed
pretty ponies and dinosaurs
all simple scribbles of mine
when the parent returned
and saw my mess
the blood that stained
drew a prettier picture than
my simple scribbles
HistoryThere are momentsHistory in Free Verse More Like This
that you wish never end
Then there are moments
that couldn't go by fast enough.
Through at the times we have seen
and all the lives we have lived.
Time seems to be
the one thing that never changes.
Time likes to repeat itself
going hour by hour, second by second.
They say, today is history
but tomorrow is a mystery.
History likes to repeat itself,
so maybe tomorrow isn't such a mystery.
RelicRoaring giants standing tallRelic in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Eternal beings they could still fall
Clans of old that took their tolls
DystopiaDirty water,Dystopia in Free Verse More Like This
and broken seams.
Cries in the night
as life becomes a fight
there's just no more light.
Men are trying,
women are running
children are crying
people are dying.
Let's go, he whispered.
I-It's dangerous, she stuttered.
But we can't just stay, they uttered.
Chaos roams the streets
and blood's on the ground like treats.
Dystopia never ends
as society bends.
Life shall be dystopia
and never a utopia.
Monster in the BasementThe being under the basement cries at nightMonster in the Basement in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
calling out for one simple friend that it cannot have
family above ignores what it cannot see
except the little boy who hears the screams in dark hours.
Solitary hours after dusk, before dawn
child of man travels down to see the beast that wept
bringing offerings of peace, words of comfort
friendship built on mutual loneliness was molded.
Talks late at night, stars overhead burning light
exciting tales of adventures to be had
but thoughts were simply just thoughts, never to happen together
and tales in the dark were simply that, tales.
Yet the child didn’t know the importance of secrets
family was anything but kind for the monster friend.
Monsters that were unlike the people of normalcy
are unwelcome to the family of the child of man.
Horror couldn’t get away fast enough
family strung him up and though he screamed
family didn’t care for the pain of a monster
who couldn’t feel any pain either way.
Monster lost his child
Paper ButterfliesA cut, a tear, a fold,Paper Butterflies in Free Verse More Like This
slice of color and a cut or two,
and another paper butterfly is born.
IV drips in the hand
keeping everything in place
while the cuts and tears and folds
keeps going on.
One thousand, six hundred and sixty six.
That's the number
she was told to make.
One thousand, six hundred and sixty six.
Until she can get a wish.
A nice nurse had told her so,
and shown her how to make them
but she had only made thirty out of the
one thousand, six hundred and sixty six
It seemed like such an impossible number
that one thousand six hundred and sixty six
but our patient needed that wish
just like everyone else,
in that hospital that our patient was at.
Her wish though
was not what someone expects
from our patient who will not last much longer.
is for her family to be happy when she's gone
and that they won't miss her to much
and that they will find someone else
after she has gone.
isn't to stay
and to get better
because she knows
that it won'
Star's Vigil Ch. 1 [EXT] This story takes place in the world of Tales of Symphonia, 162 years after the events of the game and anime. However, reading and enjoying Star's Vigil does not require any prior knowledge of Tales. That being said, we highly recommend both the game and the anime. Therefore, if you intend to watch or play Tales of Symphonia, you should do so before reading Star's Vigil. Most of the characters in the story are original, but there are a few appearances from the original cast later on, who are the property of Namco Tales Studios, to whom we owe our thanks for creating such an amazing world for us to build off of.Star's Vigil Ch. 1 [EXT] in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The young man gripped the edge of the roof and pulled himself up onto its rough, gently sloped tiles. He walked up to the roof's peak, feeling the salt
Star's Vigil Ch. 16*I remember it vividly...because it was so dark*Star's Vigil Ch. 16 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Wolf!" came Osrik's voice, booming over the strong wind that swept across the deck of the Achilles. "Hurry up and secure those landing struts. I'd rather not fall into the geyser if I can help it!" Wolf rolled his eyes and quickly obeyed. "Zan! Cinch the aerial sail! Kiara! Signal the ground crew!"
The Achilles slowly descended toward the island of Thoda, home of the legendary Thoda Geyser and the Temple of Water. They angled towards where an attendant was waving them over, in a wide, grassy clearing to one side of the row of wooden docks that ran along the shore. Beyond the docks and the warehouses nearby, a wide cobblestone street led into town, where vendors had set up stalls covered with canvas in a variety of colors. The small town rested near the edge of thick rainforest, shrouded by pa
Star's Vigil Ch. 25*If you can read this, you can read this. -Signed the Tautology Club*Star's Vigil Ch. 25 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
As Zan's foot touched the pattern on the floor, a momentary flash lit the air, accompanied by a feeling of dizziness. Zan shook his head slightly to clear it, and after just a few moments, the odd feeling faded, and he glanced warily around the Light Seal's entrance hall. Looking past Osrik, Zan could see that the door to the left of the stone podium was now wide open.
Beside him, Wolf glanced around the room. "That was weird. You felt it, right?"
Out of the corner of Zan's eye, he thought he saw Wolf's gaze come to rest on the still-closed door on the opposite side of the hall, but when he looked fully, Wolf was now looking at the open door.
Osrik nodded from ahead of Zan. "I did. W
Star's Vigil Ch.3*The entire fan base, gleefully refreshing her web browser*Star's Vigil Ch.3 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Wolf finished belting his scabbards to his back, then picked up the small bag he had hurriedly packed. Crossing to the open window, he tossed the bag down to Kiara, who caught it and placed it next to her own bag and her quiver of arrows. Wolf then deftly climbed out his window, closed the shutters while balancing on a ledge, and then let himself fall, landing lightly next to Kiara.
From several yards away, Zan let out a huff. "Finished yet? Things seem to be getting a little quieter—" Zan began, punctuated by a shout and the sound of breaking glass from a few streets over. "—It's still pretty bad, though."
"No time to waste, then," Osrik said.
Wolf gestured down the street. "Age before
Star's Vigil Ch. 21*Those who don't pay attention shall be left standing with water buckets and struck with an eraser*Star's Vigil Ch. 21 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Osrik glanced back towards the nighttime lights of Seyfier, watching as they were swallowed by the clouds below. Turning back to the helm, he opened a navigation chart and ran his gaze over it in the light of the lantern that hung near the helm.
After a short while, he set the chart down and turned the wheel before him, adjusting the Achilles' course towards the Temple of Earth. With that done, he glanced past the wheel down at the deck where Wolf, Kiara, and Zan sat at a makeshift table they had all put together during the trip to Seyfier. It was simple, made of a large crate lid placed across the top of the capstan that the landing struts' chain was wound around, but it served its purpose, allowing the four of them to eat their meals
Star's Vigil Ch. 2*When life gives you enemies, use them to make lemons*Star's Vigil Ch. 2 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Zan fought to keep from being swept along with the frenzied crowd, while looking furiously about for any sign of the assassins. He managed to maneuver himself towards the edge of the square, not difficult as that was the general, screaming flow of traffic. From all around him, he heard various shouts, many directed towards the rooftops, and his jaw tightened. There were only two that came to his mind, and the thought made his stomach turn. What did you two do now?
As Wolf landed lightly on another rooftop, he took a quick glance backwards. Though the market square was well behind them, obscured by the various rooftops that they had already crossed, he could hear shouts from behind them at the street level, each a painful reminder of the situation that had come upon them. As they reached the
Star's Vigil Ch. 15*Note to self: Hello everyone*Star's Vigil Ch. 15 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
In a moment, they heard the sound of the front door flying open, and Wolf's eyes flicked towards the back door. His hopes of escape were swiftly dashed as that door opened as well, and an Equis guard stepped inside.
"Stand down! You are trespassing on private property and on the probable location of evidence on an ongoing investigation!" the guard barked, looking around at them. "Lay down any weapons, stolen goods, or contraband you might have, and come peacefu wait Zan?" The Equis guard's brown eyes widened as he saw his former coworker.
Zan let out a small grin. "Hi, Nale. And may I say, nice entry, Sergeant Arke. How've you been?"
Nale looked as if he was about
Star's Vigil Ch. 18*Let me explain my thought process. Umm—no, that's not it*Star's Vigil Ch. 18 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Wolf went crashing through the twigs and leaves of the lower part of the trees and landed on his feet on the forest floor. He wasted no time, continuing to run deeper into the forest and away from the city. As the foliage began to obscure some of the city's lights and noises alike, Vulpen stepped out of a stand of bushes and matched strides next to Wolf.
"What's the situation?" Vulpen asked quickly, ducking under a low-hanging branch.
Wolf jumped over a protruding root. "I was seen, but they shouldn't be an immediate threat." He began to slow his pace, though he kept moving. "Still, they know I went in there, so we shouldn't hang about."
Shortly, they came to the clearing where the small airship
Star's Vigil Ch. 19*Every night, Chuck Norris checks his closet for Kratos*Star's Vigil Ch. 19 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The Achilles emerged from a layer of clouds, and began to slowly descend. Below, wide patches of thick forest alternated with stretches of gently sloping grasslands. From the stern of the airship, Wolf could just make out the cliffs surrounding Asgard in the distance.
Osrik's voice tore into Wolf's thoughts from where the doctor stood at the helm. "Zan, trim the sails, we're heading in!" Osrik turned and looked at Wolf, annoyed. "Wolf, get to the landing struts, and lower them when I say. We don't want to go crashing into a building or anything." His gaze hardened, fixed on Wolf. "We might murder some innocent person."
Wolf shook his head and headed for the chain that lowered the struts, as Kiara gave him a sympathetic glance. &
Star's Vigil Ch. 13*The only thing we have to fear is*Star's Vigil Ch. 13 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
From the helm of the Achilles, Osrik, Wolf, Zan, and Kiara frowned, partially shielding their faces from the damp wind as the stormy clouds threatened to engulf their vessel. Every now and then, there was a flash, followed by the overwhelmingly loud rumble of thunder as the ship sailed blindly into its midst.
"There's a storm brewing!" Zan shouted, his voice barely audible over the hissing wind and thunder. "We need to sail under the clouds!"
Osrik looked his way, and then raised a water-lined eyebrow. "Just what do you think I'm doing, you oaf? We should be out of this soon!"
Zan helped the doctor steady the wheel. "What's your idea of soon?"
Before Osrik could answer, the Achilles broke th