Act one: Pieces are set SC:1 by demon-fox, literature
Literature
Act one: Pieces are set SC:1
Scene one: Enter the Priest
The warehouses stood neatly in a row in the silence of the night. The blinking of the lights made for an uncertain path for the lone car that dared to travel at this late hour. Though it wasn't strange for cars to be traveling in the Eastside warehouse section of Centeropolis. It was strange because all the shops and warehouses in that section were closed for the business day. In fact all warehouses and shops in all of Centeropolis were closed. Even at this late hour, most late workers had finished and were on their way home. The only stranger thing than this was the car it's self. It was not sleek or aero- dynami
Cruil Hope
I always hoped to meet a girl like you.
A girl that would run through my dreams,
that would dwell in my mind,
that would exist within my heart.
I always hoped you would see me.
I never had much to offer,
however whatever I had was yours.
My shoulders to cry on,
my arms to hold onto when things fell apart.
The rest was left up to you.
I always hoped to be more then friends.
I hoped you could get past my faults.
I hoped we could have a chance together.
In the end, when I ran out of hope,
I realized all I ever had was hope.
I was really just hoping for hope.
When did hope stop
being our security blanket
Overture
The Centeropolis stood, vast in its technology achievements. Yet still held the reminder things hadn't changed sense the turn of the century. The idealistic visions of the future still had not been seen. Cities that were once over flowing with people group now in to colossus metropolis. Nations united, diseases were being cured, and food rained down to the hands of the needy. Yet as time pushed forward, it forgot it's demons in the past. Society forgot the names of their shadows, the faces of fear. As easily as beings of darkness were swept away, it was easier for them to return and prey on the generation that never knew them. A gen
Ghost
Sinking like a rock
through the hole in my stomach,
my slim hold on realty
slips away.
My body is a snow globe
furiously shaken
by an unseen event.
My enter mental being bursts
into pieces and scattering
in every direction.
I feel like my stomach was
put in a blender and liquefied.
Ripping and shredding it apart,
mixing tissue and blood
in a bath of burning acid.
Ghosts are suppose to exist unseen.
Echoes of fading shadows.
A name like a bubble.
The slightest prick and it
POPS into the realm of forgetfulness.
We keep these haunting memories
locked away, tucked away,
neatly packed away
in the corner of oblivio
Holes
When I see her face
I remember my love for her.
I remember my desire for her.
I remember how it was a deluded dream.
I daydreamed about our time together.
I envision what we had.
And how I had nightmares
cause it wasn't real.
It's easier to live in a sheltered lie
then exist in an empty realty.
Better to hurt them
then admit to yourself
it's an illusion you created
to fill your empty void.
Isn't it great to spent time
with the person you freely
open your heart to
while they want tear you
It's wonderful to image a peaceful
future with the one who wants
to jab your head with an ice pick.
Putting holes to go wit
The Bearer
Spine crushing, Soul breaking,
This is the burden I'll carry for you.
Heart reeking, mind twisting terrors
that haunts your dreams and thoughts,
let me take them away.
Quit pushing me away.
I may not have gone through
same things as you,
but let me share them shame you feel
for things you shouldn't blame
on yourself.
Let me help you undo
the things people have
put you through.
Stop shutting me out!
Leaving me in the dark
while you embark on
trips of guilt.
Let me try to heal your
emotional wounds before
you inflict wounds of your own
to end your pain.
Why can't you plainly see
that I at lest care
Marketing Madness
I have the sticker that states,
"I have issues!"
I have the key chain that clearly says
"You say psycho like it's a bad thing!"
And that warns,
"Even my imagery friend
thinks I have problems"
I've spent more money on proving
I have mental problems,
social defects and
emotional baggage
then actually
getting help.
The Closet
Three walls, a door, a roof, a floor
this is my world of darkness and bore.
All balled up on my side,
not knowing of the world outside.
I look and stare at the door,
what do I see, the most wondrous things,
A light, a most wonderful light,
a sound, oh joyous sound.
With shaky hands and sweaty palms,
I reach up to the door and knob.
Standing to and pushing through,
I enter this world that is so new.
At first I'm blind and cannot see this new place before me.
Now I can and all I see are people,
people staring at me.
What are they looking at, what do they se,
They're all just staring at me.
A sound rings out,
Not on
Self – Inflicted
There on the solid oak, on a table top of twisted wire,
Lays pieces of broken glass, a shattered wooden frame.
And scattered white sand.
An hourglass, my life glass,
Has been smashed and the sand kicked about.
The sand, disturbed from their sacred place,
Taken from the flowing stream
That gave my empty body life, but now it's ceased.
I lay on the cold floor staring high, through the wire top,
Watching the sand slowly blown by.
I gaze as it moves through the light.
I see these grains of moments in time and I wonder,
What were they, what would they have been, had I lived.
Like this one, could it by, age 3, the fir
System Down
In the dead of night I'm at my creative peek
Ready to write a poem because this idea is so sweet.
I look down at my empty notebook pad,
I place my pin on the light blue line
and prepare myself for some poetry time.
What's wrong, why can't I think,
I had it a moment ago, where did it go, where can it be?
I flip through my notebook for the lost thought,
It's as if my river of creativity has been
dammed up inside my mind.
I start to claw at it to get
Some drop of inspiration.
I finally break down this wall and
Let my poetic fluids loose.
The words move swiftly inside my brain
mixing, swirling, twisting
into phra
Drifting
There they are,
my life, my hopes, everything dear to me,
neatly folded and packed into four boxes before me.
The time has come again to move to another place.
When people ask where I come from, I simply say,
I'm from nowhere, but I'm from everywhere.
In my life I've seen country sides only found in magazines,
I've seen darkened city streets that are different world at night,
stood in fields that seem to be endless blankets of green crops,
orchards teeming with juicy apples falling at my feet,
and snowy white mountain peaks that speak of sledding into trees.
But, alas, none of this is home to me.
I don't have one for yo
Celestial Love Burn Out
You were the sun to me.
I circled you like a planet,
dancing around, basking in your radiating beauty,
wanting to come closer but being held in place by the gravitating fact
I can never tell you the way I feel when I see
your glowing face in the dark empty space of life.
Finally, in my monotonous circling,
I work up the energy in myself to swirl to you
to light you up,
to raise your temperature a few degrees.
Yet I still approach you in a weak state, ready to turn and flee,
and yet I still purse you for reasons unknown to me.
As I close in, I can feel the tips of your erotic celestial flames,
but I soon
Burn the Box
I just don't know, I can't think!
My brain feel like a bullet train
as it rushes through the country side
everything a blur within my mind,
I just don't know!
there are too man thoughts,
too many ideas, too many beliefs
that seeps out from depths of
other people's personal reality.
I stand here and think,
I have to get away.
Get away from the bombarding barrage of ignorance
trying to penetrate
into my mind
and destroy the walls
my reason from their insanity
my intelligence form their stupidity
my reality from their fantasy
but it's all crumbling inside my head.
I try to push my head above everything,
but I
Ravers
The music blares from the speaker lined wall
quaking and pulsating the crowded dance floor.
The booming howls of the wolfer pack lead the rag doll dancers
in their twisting, twirling, swirling rhythmic dance.
Who are these people?
They are escapees of reality.
Why have they come to this place?
To seek shelter from the cruel asylum of life.
Through the darkness
the strode lights,
the black lights,
the neon lights call them
like the piper's tune
luring their lost souls from their once
whacked out world of insanity.
These chained up spirits have finally come to the
erotic,
psychotic,
psychedelic,
electric,
sanctuary
Guardian
You think in this battle arena of life you are alone.
You feel beaten and crushed by this merciless world.
You lay on the ground welcoming the end to your existence
because you believe you can't win.
But before you breathe out
the last essence of your being
I want to say – I will help you.
I want to say – keep fighting for you.
But if you're to weak to defend
against the callous attacks that
slowly beat you down and tear away at you
I want to say – I will be your guardian swordsman.
I will slice through the ugly brutes that
want to beat at your mind with their clubs of criticism.
I cut down the shadow lurking assas
Ashes
It's flows free,
it can't be seen.
It's like the air I breathe,
I need it to fuel my life.
I need my spirit to be who I am.
I inhaling everything in life
making it apart of me
and exhaling any toxic beliefs.
So why do people of the world
try to slip me an artificial oxide reality.
Why do they try to get me to think the way they do?
Why do they want me to be the way they are?
Why do they try to affect the way I think,
influence my hopes,
and penetrate my dreams.
Why wont they let me by the way I am.
Why do I have to be a mindless drone
marching to the monotonous sound
of some else sadistic drum beat.
I just want to b
Franken-Poem
I breathe heavy as I come to the mic.
my new poem in hand I shake has I look at the crowd.
Only an hour or two ago I sat at my computer
glaring at my poem in its raw state.
I make the cursor dance across the screen,
manipulating the structure,
the form,
the very fibers
of this piece of inspiration.
I reread every line hoping to find
every mistake in my work.
I scan it over and over and over
improving its literary make up
and deleting infesting flaws like crazy.
Crazy?
Have I become a mad scientist?
Digging up words to sew into sentences.
Implanting the sentences into the body of stanzas
and shooting bolts of i
Views:
Total: 42
Today: 1
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Today: 1
for my story. 17 DL's eh? 42 veiws! I wish i could talk to all the peeps that read it and their thoughts *BIG FRIGGEN HINT*
OK! so i haven't written jack shit cause i've been working and school. You know how it goes, but i plan to crack out at lest one more part to my story. Previded i don't confuse my self withteh plot twist.
Oh and if you are wondering, i work at a Health Food store, go figure!