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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."
Dictated by Puabi
Caught in my heart
After so long
Words of warning
To those who went afar
To conquer and to die
Words of prayer
To those high above
To ask for hope
Words of thanks
For hearing my prayer
For giving me more than hope
For sending one to love
To heal this heart
Felt in heart
Released by love
July 24 RainJuly 24 Rain
Tonight the rain cascaded round
Its voice like soft laughter
Then I looked beside me
On the bed
And her soft laughter was like the rain
The heaven may cry or it may laugh
Like the one I love
She was made there for me
She reflects all there is above
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be one of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
Predators of the nightA gust of wind
Blowing through our hair
The dead leaves
Cracking under our feet
The night sky
A blanket over our heads
And the full moon
Blessing us with its silver light
A perfect night for us hunters
To look for our prey
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
Strange New World (edited)Strange New World (edited)
Memoirs of a Mad Poet Vol. III
I am a lone and a lonely alien
In this strange new world
From childhood I felt so much
Out of place
Sitting silent, staring dumbfounded
Family and neighbors all derided
Mother thought I was a
So was Einstein, supposedly
Mother exclaimed [to father]
"He lives in his own world!"
I do.Because it is better
Than this one.
Strange new world
I no longer know which one
That I do not belong in it
The citizens stare at me
I am not a monster
Truth to tell
I play better than them
At being human.
I am alien. Not just foreign.
My home world is not on Earth
I have tried for years to leave
Like a lone airplane in its hangar
In a storm
Waiting for the abatement
When it comes,
Keep in Touch!