When one hundred and thirty satellites came crashing around my head, I saw no sense in taking cover. I looked at the table, I turned my head left and looked at the bus shelter, I turned around and saw a truck all useless. An old Russian telescope landed near me, flaming and battered, it punched a hole in the ground and spat tar and dirt out every direction.
I looked up at the sky. It looked like a meteor shower of debris raining through the atmosphere in an orange haze of extreme heat. All this space junk just purged from orbit and plunging back to the surface of the Earth.
One other person was standing still, just looking up amidst
Today, I hear no obtrusive tones.
My mind is at sea with the horizon as my muse.
Hustle is there, bustle is present,
But I am deaf to its meddling din.
If I were to stand at the edge of a star and watch it die,
The burst would strain my eyes.
But with no air I hear no sound.
I see a beautiful supernova, blossom like a cherry tree.
Clarity killed my woes, and now they pass like ghosts,
Unheard and fading away,
Feebly haunting me, blatantly desperate,
They give-up and move on.
Today I stand, triumphant upon a molehill,
A molehill!
Like a god, who can shrink the fjords and mountains,
And clear them with one step, to contin
The rippled ocean looked only dapper, garnished beautifully in amber gems. A gentle breeze gave life to her silken purple dress, forming wave after wave of perfect creases with no straight lines in sight. She wore the garment habitually and moved with the deftness of a feline as though this gown were bound to her skin.
Close to her side on the horizon was a handsome man with azure-blue eyes. His full-silver hair swayed gently with each puff of wind. Vast was his charisma, and upon his face were speckles of white stubble, lacing his dark skin. In a moment of comfortable silence, a very special gift was furnished forth
Rattling wrought bars makes a racket,
Unpleasant to the ear of the welder.
A prison made from tulips and Gods
would wilt and abandon
If not for the noise.
Know and fear- the noise of a cage.
My time is a note,
A fading note.
But to finish with crescendo before the breath leaves my lungs
Would be in harmony to a rattling cage.
Gulliver was pinned and Goliath was slain,
Now by a similar milieu our dreams are unraveled,
By the smaller man.
The cage is familiar and warming,
My pneuma is frozen outside.
The bars are cold too, forging my hands to their surface.
Perhaps I will stay here forever,
Rat
She Spells Dyslexic With a Six by PhoenixFlameX, literature
Literature
She Spells Dyslexic With a Six
The worst example of a golden heart:
Is sound asleep tonight
This time, only bed-sheets between her legs.
Pummel her spirit into the ground
Give her something to talk about
Shell make a hero out of anyone.
She made a Hero out of me
Yet, here I stand with no virtue
She loves the feel of the same hand thats trying to tear her down.
There is no Karma anymore
There is no weakening images
Its just me, alone at last.
A brief trip into the unknown
And now I want to leave this planet forever
Blow-out the blast off with your lips and Ill crash back.
Isolation
When the dust settles,
You&
Ive lost my Throne,
My legacy, shamed.
Impaled on an arrow,
My Kingdom, it claimed.
A Master Assassin,
A poisonous tongue,
Blows cold as the Arctic,
Glows hot as the Sun.
My Princess is here,
To tend to my wounds,
She cannot be told
The Kingdoms in ruins.
The halls where I dwell,
The bed where I sleep,
Becoming a blur
This arrow struck deep.
The Peasants are troubled,
The Jesters are grim,
My eyes dont deceive me,
The Princess doth grin.
She lowers her bow,
Leans close to my lips.
Lays waste to my throne,
With her poisonous kiss.
When one hundred and thirty satellites came crashing around my head, I saw no sense in taking cover. I looked at the table, I turned my head left and looked at the bus shelter, I turned around and saw a truck all useless. An old Russian telescope landed near me, flaming and battered, it punched a hole in the ground and spat tar and dirt out every direction.
I looked up at the sky. It looked like a meteor shower of debris raining through the atmosphere in an orange haze of extreme heat. All this space junk just purged from orbit and plunging back to the surface of the Earth.
One other person was standing still, just looking up amidst
Today, I hear no obtrusive tones.
My mind is at sea with the horizon as my muse.
Hustle is there, bustle is present,
But I am deaf to its meddling din.
If I were to stand at the edge of a star and watch it die,
The burst would strain my eyes.
But with no air I hear no sound.
I see a beautiful supernova, blossom like a cherry tree.
Clarity killed my woes, and now they pass like ghosts,
Unheard and fading away,
Feebly haunting me, blatantly desperate,
They give-up and move on.
Today I stand, triumphant upon a molehill,
A molehill!
Like a god, who can shrink the fjords and mountains,
And clear them with one step, to contin
Ive lost my Throne,
My legacy, shamed.
Impaled on an arrow,
My Kingdom, it claimed.
A Master Assassin,
A poisonous tongue,
Blows cold as the Arctic,
Glows hot as the Sun.
My Princess is here,
To tend to my wounds,
She cannot be told
The Kingdoms in ruins.
The halls where I dwell,
The bed where I sleep,
Becoming a blur
This arrow struck deep.
The Peasants are troubled,
The Jesters are grim,
My eyes dont deceive me,
The Princess doth grin.
She lowers her bow,
Leans close to my lips.
Lays waste to my throne,
With her poisonous kiss.
Rattling wrought bars makes a racket,
Unpleasant to the ear of the welder.
A prison made from tulips and Gods
would wilt and abandon
If not for the noise.
Know and fear- the noise of a cage.
My time is a note,
A fading note.
But to finish with crescendo before the breath leaves my lungs
Would be in harmony to a rattling cage.
Gulliver was pinned and Goliath was slain,
Now by a similar milieu our dreams are unraveled,
By the smaller man.
The cage is familiar and warming,
My pneuma is frozen outside.
The bars are cold too, forging my hands to their surface.
Perhaps I will stay here forever,
Rat
She Spells Dyslexic With a Six by PhoenixFlameX, literature
Literature
She Spells Dyslexic With a Six
The worst example of a golden heart:
Is sound asleep tonight
This time, only bed-sheets between her legs.
Pummel her spirit into the ground
Give her something to talk about
Shell make a hero out of anyone.
She made a Hero out of me
Yet, here I stand with no virtue
She loves the feel of the same hand thats trying to tear her down.
There is no Karma anymore
There is no weakening images
Its just me, alone at last.
A brief trip into the unknown
And now I want to leave this planet forever
Blow-out the blast off with your lips and Ill crash back.
Isolation
When the dust settles,
You&
The rippled ocean looked only dapper, garnished beautifully in amber gems. A gentle breeze gave life to her silken purple dress, forming wave after wave of perfect creases with no straight lines in sight. She wore the garment habitually and moved with the deftness of a feline as though this gown were bound to her skin.
Close to her side on the horizon was a handsome man with azure-blue eyes. His full-silver hair swayed gently with each puff of wind. Vast was his charisma, and upon his face were speckles of white stubble, lacing his dark skin. In a moment of comfortable silence, a very special gift was furnished forth
She Spells Dyslexic With a Six by PhoenixFlameX, literature
Literature
She Spells Dyslexic With a Six
The worst example of a golden heart:
Is sound asleep tonight
This time, only bed-sheets between her legs.
Pummel her spirit into the ground
Give her something to talk about
Shell make a hero out of anyone.
She made a Hero out of me
Yet, here I stand with no virtue
She loves the feel of the same hand thats trying to tear her down.
There is no Karma anymore
There is no weakening images
Its just me, alone at last.
A brief trip into the unknown
And now I want to leave this planet forever
Blow-out the blast off with your lips and Ill crash back.
Isolation
When the dust settles,
You&
Current Residence: Dublin, Ireland. Favourite genre of music: Rock. Alternative. Operating System: Mac OS X Leopard. MP3 player of choice: iPhone. Favourite cartoon character: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Raphael, specifically.
Favourite Movies
The Matrix (Painfully default, I know). Garden State.
I don't know why I put the title in Italian. I don't even speak Italian. I used Babel Fish.
I love to write, and I have lots of ideas floating around in my head like dead fish which get eaten by the shark called laziness.
My resolution this year is to write more. Much more.
Ciao!
Barry is possibly the best man who ever lived. i think i might write a poem about how much i love him, lol! Ohh did i mention i was going to write a zombie story? wanna help me out with it? we can can collaborate > bhuaha!
i want to get a big chinese style phoenix on my back, with the tail feathers coming around onto my stomach, its just designing it and getting it done, it'll be painful and long but hey!