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Dictated by Puabi
Some women desire gems and pearls
Some desire silver and gold
Some desire dominion and power
But they must pause to think
Even for one second
What will they do when they grow old?
A woman ages and will deflower.
I know it well
I had all of those
Now I have only one treasure
A gentle loving man
Who gives me continuous pleasure
Brought by the Storm (page 4)Brought by the Storm
Amanda Delacroix and Donald Wakeley hurried outdoors that night to track the storm walker and send it to the next town. They found it at the spot it rested, at the opposite end of the town, after an hour. Then thy proceeded to guide it ahead on course.
In New York City, Clifford Rogers had finished a relaxing and refreshing dinner. It was one of the first meals that Puabi cooked. She was still rather shy about modern styles, and often she urged Clifford to join her in selecting clothing. The radio networks broadcasted the story of the storm walker that Puabi had seen on television the night before. She stopped eating suddenly and almost gagged on food. He patted her back carefully. When she was safe, she smiled gratefully at Clifford.
"What happened, sweetheart?"
"Clifford, that report was the same one I saw last night."
"Hmmm. That thing seems to be still at large."
"We must help those in charge."
"We will, indeed. Let us go quickly."
Clifford found his par
The World's a StageThe World's a Stage
For Chris Topham
All the world's a stage, we are players
Though who may say what acts we play
Curtain is up and we must perform our parts
Some will do the strangest things
Some perform straight from their hearts
I do what I can as a sincere man
Because I want to care
So, on this note, I just want to say
Today is a special day
Be happy, be healthy, be good
Brought by the Storm (page3)Brought by the Storm
With the calm in the weather, the town rested until dawn. The following day, the residents emerged to resume activities and some discovered the wreckage or fragments of wreckage en route to work or taking kids to school. However, the storm walker was still undiscovered. In fact, he orbit re-emerged at town limits, in the opposite direction of the strangers. The walker was about 8 feet tall, erect like a humanoid but had no physical structure similar to ours. It's form was mostly energy, electrical and psychic energy, that bundled into a visible shape. The eyes were merely apertures through which the energy concentrated and guided the form. I cannot say that it saw anything. It's path of destruction decried lack of sight. As it moved, it both attracted and discharged electrical energy. What it hit was immediately damaged, much like a huge bolt of lightning would do.
During the day, the energy of the walker was lower; so, it found a place to repose and await i
The Ideal ManThe Ideal Man
Dictated by Puabi
What kind of man is the ideal man?
Every woman alive wants to know.
For Puabi, he will stay sound and safe.
He will never go on long hard campaigns
To fight in foreign lands.
He will never try to make her cry.
He will dry her tears carefully when she cries.
He will embrace her warmly in his arms
And vow to love her forever.
What to say, what to do, when she meets him?
"Oh, my beloved, I love you now and forever!"
Brought by the Storm (page2)Brought by the Storm
Failing to find either the storm walker or a valid witness, the councilors returned to the spot where they found the original witness and intended to release him; but he had vanished. They agreed to return home and forget about everything.
The reading room of Clifford Rogers
In his reading room in New York, archaeologist Clifford Rogers was studying a text given to him at his office in Smithsonian Institute, Washington, D.C. He was thoroughly engrossed in it until his young and charming wife and aide Puabi entered. She had been looking for him.
"Clifford! Beloved, there was a strange report on the television tonight."
"What was it about, darling," he asked, looking up into her small, tender face.
"Some town outside had a sudden storm. But moreover something strange emerged from the storm and apparently rampaged. Nobody was hurt but hardly anyone noticed."
"Hmmmm. You're right, darling. That sounds very odd indeed."
"Will we investigate it?"
"Only if they sum
The TomeThe Tome
Once upon a night so stormy
Which the rain fall seemed abnormal
And I had to remain indoors
I headed for my shelves of books
And down from them a tome I took
With many a detail from times of yore
It was garbed in dusky leather
And seemed to have been affected by the weather
So that I could barely read its lore
Upon the frontispiece of that tome I saw
A grimace I shall forget no more
And among its many dusty pages
Whose ink seemed to be erased by ages
I could make out some words there
At the bottom of the page was written
a strange and alien inscription
Which spoke of a forgotten place called R'yleh
What the queer phrase had said
Was that a fabled creature lay asleep or dead
In that strange and mystic place called R'yleh
Cthulhu R'yleh wgalnagh ftagn
Brought by the Storm (page 1)Brought by the Storm
The local meteorology office had recently predicted the storm that finally erupted, but the actual dimensions of the storm took even them aback. Granted nobody can know everything; but the office had predicted something like a simple summer downpour. What eventually erupted over the town limits was beyond their imaginations. But the storm itself was only one part of the strange story.
Someone, somewhere, who witnesses or is caught in this type of storm is bound to report strange sightings. So, one late afternoon, when a team of town councilors headed around in a van to look about the town, they discovered a resident literally bound to a lamp post who seemingly babbled indecipherably about something the storm had brought or awakened. Nobody knew how the townsman had hot tied to the post despite the weather. Nor could anyone understand what he babbled.
He mumbled fearfully about some gigantic thing that stalked out amidst the weather, from "god alone knows whe
No Fury Like WomanNo Fury Like Woman
No man alive can play dumb
Why the weather bureau gives a woman's name
To a tropical storm
When eventually either comes
She is a raging tempest
Bound to wreck his home
The storm bears woman's fury
And the man must leave them in a hurry
But I stay calm
No storm has the name Puabi
"Please come and rest with Puabi, beloved."
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
to the girl i lose my words aroundi have been meaning to tell you for years:
i think you’re beautiful. i have
seen nothing on earth that holds a candle
to the ocean you carry inside your body.
it spills over your edges sometimes, like
a rain shower around you, blurring your penciled-in
lines until there is nothing left of you but your natural
cliffs, valleys, and deserts.
i like that.
i have never met someone who is, somehow,
a sea and a storm at the same time.
maybe i never will again.
maybe you are the only one
who gathers clouds on her forehead
like a promise, or feels the push and pull of the tide
with her every step.
you are beautiful, honestly.
you are honest, beautifully.
it is in the way you talk, the way you hold ice
on your tongue but forget to use it—
you always forget to use it, i don’t think
you know how.
to be truthful, i’m afraid of your smile
and how it breaks over me, how it pulls
me like a whirlpool down, how it pushes me
like a current back to the surface. i’m afraid of
Abuse Is Sometimes NecessaryPush and pull at her long hair, topple her to the solid ground,
elbow her sharply in the raw gut, shove her harshly around.
Scratch him in the pale face, punch him in the broken jaw,
do anything necessary to him that's considered breaking the law.
And when she cries because you've punched her, let her be,
and observe her when she returns to her habitual smoking.
When she passes out next day, because she's drunken too much booze,
slap her in the face once more, though many would consider it abuse.
When he can hardly walk because he thinks he's high in the clouds,
rip the needle out of his arm, and with your nails, slash him across the sweaty brow.
Grab them and shake them till their battered and bruised,
tear at their heart, scream in their ears until you've reached the point of verbal abuse.
And when she falls into your chest, and he collapses to the ground,
pull them closely, and whisper, “We can turn this all around.”
And rehab is a necessity for all of you, because you'v
Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)
I hope the title caught your eye,
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate app
ScienceI am more than my
F L A W S;
a masterpiece of
S C A R S
a delicacy of
D R E A M S
a sculpture of
B O N E S
R E A C T I O N
a well of
i am made of nights like theseativan boy, you cannot empty out this skull -
not with a pen nor with a bullet. you can
be my hallowed head(case) for spitting out
words like teeth; oh, but i will only love you
when you're weary. i will keep crows caged
between your lungs like veins, like palpitations.
i will rot you through bones & car radios,
but i will never get (you) out of your skin.
A broken heartI promised myself I'll never fall in love
Whenever I fall in love I feel renewed and happy
But like a drug
Once everything finishes
I'm crying, depressed and the wreckage of my heart
I always end up feeling worse
I want to find someone that is special
But I'm afraid to suffer again
I'm afraid of losing another person
Do not want to suffer
Do not make me suffer, do not lie to me
Do not hurt me, no more
I will not hold on to people who only sink me
I'll be free and live with have left
A cold and lonely spirit.
Why Do You Still Believe?I used to wonder how one could believe in a God who oppresses?
Who controls you, who uses you, whose unbreakable laws can lead to serious depression.
I wondered this because I know what it's like to be failed,
to be “abandoned” by God, and to be thrown in a personal hell.
But than I grew older and learned how to cope,
I learned that believing in God was like holding a tethered rope.
So I looked to the world and was surprised by what I had seen.
Together the believers were holding onto a broken string.
On the top of the rope God holds on tightly,
and towards the bottom, the believers cling to the Almighty.
Through oppression, through injustice bestowed upon them by God,
they refuse to release their grip, as their faith is stronger than their distrust of God.
Because God does not oppress, nor does He use or impose ridiculous laws,
it is humans who do this, never has it been God.
So they still believe in Him when they're murdered for their faith,
when they're bombed beca
More Than My JewelsMore Than My Jewels
Women want jewelry and fine clothes,
To make them feel proud.
They want others' attention on them,
Whenever they move around.
Beneath these desires, one passion still waits
To be satisfied.
Whether someone will satisfy it or not,
Brings different tears to their eyes.
What is the passion I speak about?
When a man satisfies it, she weeps tears of joy;
When he refuses her, she weeps from sorrow.
But my lover satisfies me every time,
And great ecstasy will always follow.
So I cry to Heaven above
"He is worth more than my jewels."
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