-Deflowered- A bit of poetry for StarNet. Feel free to post your own, if you have any. If you care. A span as wide as the world, The grave of a leviathan, The Path of Glory, Is the Path of Death; Surging across a sea of green, Lay no hope, nor no peace; For the green bears sharp teeth, Rending claws, and a gnashing rage; Through the muck and brine road the youth, doomed and damned to die, For the monstrous anger of guns, The rattle of sabers and scythes, That siren song of war, Was the last lullaby.
I have a haiku! Stab, stab stab stab, stab! Stab, Stab, Stab, stabstabstabstab! Stab, Stab spring.... Stab, Stab? -Meili
-Deflowered- As the dust of tragedy settle, Sorrow blooms like kelp, Upon those that still walk, But that is but a mercy. What of those lost to the old salt sea, Those who lie buried in that brine, Who lie dark and far, where no more the light, Even that of a dark and abysmal war, Shall touch them?
Oh teddy bear! You never get sweaty even with all that hair. Why do you taunt me? For only I can see... You never talk to anyone even if they stare. Oh teddy bear! You never have wise words to say. Only simple sentence that leave me in dismay! I will not eat all the people here... I can't eat them you silly bear it isn't plain out of fear! Oh teddy bear... You bring me warmth when the sun has set. You tag along with and met all the the people I've ever met. So sour seams of setting sentences. You yearn for your affections. Oh teddy bear! You never leave me. Ever... -Meili
somtime i feel the happy somtime i feel the sad somtime i feel the angry somtimes i dont thansk you -Dschunke-
-Deflowered- One hangs where shelled roads lie, In this war she hath lost life and limb, Hiding amongst the nobles, None shall bear with her. Many a noble strolls, Face onced marked with pride, Lay sunken and shallow, And the scribes shove upon the people, Sorrow of the soul.
-Deflowered- Like the moon, in her final hour; Watched the magnificent recession of farewell, Murky and dim, The stars a-lit, In a new sky.
Vector: In the recesses of space, this was a poem I did while I was bored traveling to my next destination to haul trash. I call it Millennium Man. So we meet, Millennium Man from the future, which by all form defies all logic and surpasses in a prowess no one can ever articulate, leagues past the vast societal norm. Eons become nano-seconds as time speeds up to mean nothing. Processing thoughts with such quick speed that thinking is naught but a blur; photons shoot past and come back just as quick as your mind could proceed to understand concepts beyond mankind's reach, consume, and concur. Calculations taught for weeks are but grains in your desert of time. What are you, Millennium Man? Glass eyes of solid circuitry bring the images of reality, the mind ties all it can, weaving inside your body as a solid synchronicity. Each part of you repairable, re-traceable, replaceable. The industry has built you well, with parts such as the iron grade acid-flux incinerator, the balance stabilizing shell, shipped from other continents, of questionable quality made, yet staying intact long enough to function in society. How is life? Relativity notwithstanding, as time marches by; those who cannot adapt to your pace shunned by reality and trapped outside the bubble constructed. They will watch the masses leave them in the dust as you vanish from sight, a beacon snuffed out. Those that follow you are absorbed into your mind, one big solid singularity. To think like you is to be you; a large horde fused into one shared being of thought, bright as the stars and candid. There is no I, or we; only you and the traces of those joined. When was it that you came on this mortal plane with the knowledge raw from learning it so long ago when the Earth was a black abyss? Did you travel time to hand us the flame, and light things that we saw? Yes, we lit the fire to heights unknown and carved in your existence. Did you make us? Was this your scheme to make sure your fruition was destined in the distant future? Did you need us, to make it seem as if you were truly more human? Couldn't be, only because you are the ideal individual. We want to be you. Who are you, Millennium Man? Does your cybernetic progress and hunger to break your limitations only serve to pan out the boredom of achieving the perfection that you profess? I doubt your mind could even register the fates of those so small. I know you now, we have become one, Millennium Man. I preach the true form of your face, hidden to all but a privileged some. The light which pulses from your form is the one we will always teach. I look and see everyone, and they proceed to look back at me. Enjoy. ((This is a poem I wrote long ago, and it fits the character well. Go figure!))
-Deflowered- This is quite good. I am impressed. Two wrestled in the brine, One sought peace, The other sought food; And so snapped the great snakes of war, Those hero's hands that wrenched the gills of sharks, Surged and swarmed, And soon no scales to tear asunder were left, And the loud sounds of the sea lay quiet once more, Forever dominated by a wave of barbed reeds.
A hum was heard, distant and far away At its source, did IronTide stay He uttered out of his speaker: "Im just here for a little fun" He lets out a synthetic chuckle as he loads his plasma gun The sky was teared apart with the sound of gunfire as the bullet flies "Down with your hypocrisy! Your manipulation, your lies!" The bullet pierces through a Floran's head with a splash of sap, its rendered dead "What a beautiful display this unit has created" But deep inside his tough exterior, there was a thought to be debated "The Florans complains of 'Injustice', yet tears apart our dear empire?" "They hunt, kill, overthrow and conspire" "But what if I do not wish to clean up the mess, to become friends with that of which I hated" He drags out of the cage, a Floran he previously sedated He cuts the rope and sets the Floran free The Floran picks himself up, and with fear, he flees IronTide realizes something he had never considered before "Where is the point? We already lost the war" "This quest of vengeance, to attempt to mend the pain" "Its a futile crusade, one bound to end in vain" He looks to the corpse that lay on the ground "Oh why fate? Why was his death found?" He knows he has a heart, hidden underneath chrome He hides his emotions, by scattering them in a poem - IronTide
-Deflowered- I would teach you if I could. I do not know how to teach something that springs from my soul. It is something that has grown out my own experiences, and I would not be able to teach you effectively.
~Cassius~ A flame that burns twice as bright lives half as long, for this saying goes both in song, and in heart where it does belong. But what if a flame could stop its flicker? Thus cease is constant feast on the wick or... Could just freeze?... I am a flame that burned six times as bright, A special soldier that was trained to fight. The beast of war that strikes fear and fright, and thus be the one to light the night. But now I see that like in picture I froze, fifty years later from sleep I rose, to find myself in a pod, inclose... Alone... Five flames burned at one/sixth that I am, yes I see as equals, not fake shams. I see them as my closest friends, but where are they now, have't they met end? As my search goes, the flame burns once more, but how much of my wick is left, I am unsure. How much longer till I hit the floor, And die alone, no friends, nevermore? Cassius of IDIE Pyro, Zero.
