Welcome to Gaia! ::

Yay I'll go first! This is titled "Perfect World" If anyone's checked outmy journal it's in there too...


I seek and search.
down red brick avenues,
dusty winding roads.
Like Ponce de Leon
in pursuit
of that nirvanic utopian place.

See, I want to live
in a perfect world.
Is it too much ask?
A perfect world
where the three stooges
would be Chris Farley, John Candy
and of course Curly.
Because Larry was destined for punk rock
not Moe
because he was a mean little twit anyway.
A perfect world,
where farts come out
like butterfly rainbows
and smell like a candle emporium.
Where we'd all speak in French.
No fat grams or health clubs.
Where Keanau Reeves can act.
Like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz,
George W would get a brain.
Mike Tyson would get-help.
But in a perfect world
you wouldn't have to be bright
or cool or on.
You can just BE.
No stereotypes
of being fat or skinny
ugly or old.
No Self magazine,
Vogue, GQ
Only People magazine
and all of us would be in it
you and you and you.
All wonderfully valued and treasured you.
A perfect world
where the angels
are Downs Syndrome children
because aren't they the sweetest
angels already.

Look, one of the seraphim is Jonie Mitchell
singing songs from the BLUE album.
On a cloud veranda, there's Bob Dylan
singing anything he wants to sing,
heck, he's Bob Dylan.
And every song in a perfect world
would be sung with the pain and passion
of how Ben Harper sings, "Oppression"
or how Richie Havens sang "Freedom" at Woodstock.
Where God, would look like Johnny Depp
wiith legs like Tyra Banks,
would play two guitars
one like Hendrix,
the other like BB King,
and He'd belt out truth
like Martin Luther King
in sweet lyrics like Carol King
have hair like Don King
because He is the King of Kings.
But he'd have tyrrets syndrome
just to add a twist to the mix.
His throne would be a metal chair
in a tree shaded yard
surrounded by a perpetual drum circle.
And He'd have time to talk and listen.
We'd all have time to listen and talk
because there'd be no time clocks
or jobs or school,
to occupy our brains.

Yeah, no hate, war or hunger-
those are givens,
but what about loneliness
or failure-Nada!
It would be what all dreamers dream.
What the beat poets wrote about;
what the songwriters of the 60's sang.
Where even Satan
would find his mantra,
or get saved
[whisper]or at least commit to rehab.[/whisper]

But this ain't no perfect world.
And when I think I've found it,
it pixilates and fragments
into its fallen sometimes horrific reality.
And I'm just a little weary.

But we have this,
You and me.
Maybe, if we can be real
and honest,
have a little understanding and love,
we can capture a perfect moment.
And for now,
perhaps that will have to be
enough.

Nice Aki... Hm...

What I want...

You don't even know what you want.
Yeah I do. I know what I want.
No, you don't. I can tell by looking at you
that you don't know what you want.
Yeah, I do. I know I want pizza.
Pepperoni with double cheese,
mozzarella and cheddar.
And a large Dr. Pepper
not a lot of ice.
And I want to wake up in the morning
and not be afraid.
I want the Lost Boys in Neverland
to all find homes.
I want to wear the clothes of shadows
because they're always in fashion.
I want to push the grass back in my yard
and find a world of teeny, weenie tiny people
who still know how to tell stories.
I want to know more than one or two people
in the whole world that really know how to listen.
I want every disease to be cured
by the laughter of children,
and I want to be a child again.
I want Jennifer Lopez, Beyonce Knowles,
and Shakira to get flabby.
I want Usher to get a potbelly.
I want a full blooded Native American woman
to be President of the United States.
I want all the spoiled kids in the world
who take their parents for granted
to take the place of the Lost Boys in Neverland.
I want all the advertisers to leave us alone.
I want to boycott noise.
I want narrow, small minded people
to be made to listen to the stories
of the teeny, weenie tiny people
so they'd realize who's bigger.
I want all us dysfunctional people with issues
to be issued functionality.
I want the evil monkeys in the Wizard of Oz
to get out of my brain.
I want the alien in Alien
to get out of my chest.
I want televisions
to be replaced by all the old people
who went through the Great Depression.
I want all computers to be replaced
with crayons and endless butcher paper.
I want rainbows to quit frowning
I want everything square to be round.
I want reality TV to be reality.
I want all the bigots and racists
to be put in a little room
with those who commit hate crimes
against bigots and racists.
I want fat cat corporations to pay
moms who want to stay home to raise their kids
five hundred dollars a week of fun money.
I want my sermon in a pulpit to be this,
The truth of the matter,
is the truth that matters,
and everything else is bull.
So get off your butts
and help a struggling mom
get on her feet.
I want there to be a federal law that all
places of employment and schools
must have nappy time!
(and provide the blue and red mats)
And I want my pizza now
because I'm almost done
and when I'm finished
I'll be really hungry.
And I know what I don't want, too,
I don't want the feet of Hobbits,
but I'd like their courage.
I don't want to be God,
because I couldn't handle the complaining.
(poet puts fingers in ears and goes)
La la la la la la la laaaaa laaa la la.
I want a class in school called,
"My divorced mother is dating a freak
what do I do?"
I want to be singing my favorite song
in the car and not sound like crap
when I turn the radio off.
I want a law that you don't go to college
until you're 25, have seen America
and have lived in another nation,
preferably third world.
I want a vintage Oldsmobile with fins
that runs on pee,
So I can drive across America
drink all the pop I want
and never have to stop!

Yeah, I know what I want.
I know exactly what I want.
I want to be right here right now with you
telling you what I want.

Now, what do you want?

This is one I wrote about a memory of 1999... it's called "Defining Violence, 1999"

We were living roadside monuments of searching youth,
Standing on one street corner flipping for quarters.
81 highway running north and south,
Main street crossing east and west
And that stooooooplight kept momentary audiences momentarily to punkish antics.
Steppenwolf playing LOUD,
Heavy distortion through cheap speakers in Adrian's black GTO.
We talked of frog gigging and fantasies of older girls from both sides of the mouth.
Marlboro cigarettes on their breath from smoke in the alley,
Occasionally beer from older brothers,
and tonight was no different.
That is... until that... stoplight turned red for the eastbound.
THE MITCHELL BROTHERS!
Jerry, Johnny, Jacky in that order...
They schooled with us town/country boys but they were different!
Their culture was an upbringing of harder knocks...
BIG, tough boys.
Tough as I'd ever known.
But Jerry, the oldest, Those two boys from Tuttle,
They had NO BUSINESS in our town,
They knew they were hated for those colors,
for that letter on their jacket.
Maybe it was over a hometown girl,
I had heard that much...
But that stoplight held them JUST long enough,
Jerry and a friend came roaring from behind like out of a black mystical curtain.
Locking up breaks, skidding and swerving to a stop.
Jerry bolted out of his car like a rodeo calf roper,
Dismounting and charging his catch.
Within seconds Tuttle driver extracted...
BAM! First blow to the face,
Jerry grabbed a fistful of shirt!
BAM! BAM! No resistance!
No fight back from contender, now victim.
BAM! BAM BAM! Blood everywhere!
Stumbling backwards, ragboy legs giving way, sliding down left front fender to sit on pavement, back against white painted steel.
No one moved,
We were FROZEN, paralyzed, for me traumatized...
Captured in a grainy black and white snapshot.
Jerry paused a moment...
Stepped away.
Turned around and kicked sole of foot to face!
THUD THUMP HEAD ON FENDER,
THUD THUMP HEAD ON fender...
THUD THUMP HEAD on fender...
THUD THUMP head on fender...
THUD thump, head on fender...
thud... thump... head on fender...
A warmy gooey liquid flowed from the top of my head to my near-teenage gut.
Brain matter opened up in mind wide enough to store those memories amply for a lifetime.
No one spoke.
We simply stared sickly silent.
thud... thump... head on fender....
Boy fell forward unconscious.
Passengers from both car stepped between predator and prey, picking the boy up like a sack of jelly.
Piling him in the backseat, Tuttle passenger, now driver, Pulled away...
And Jerry kicked the car three times before it passed his view.
Stoplight, was greeeeeeeeeeen.

And from poems to a short story based on a nightmare I had once. "He" is me, or the person who's eyes I was seeing through.

The Angelic eyes he was once accustomed to seeing had become harsh and hate filled. Even the mirror seemed to have a certain hatred when it stared at him. He's not sure why he feels so unloved but does know he probably deserves the hatred.

He seems to blur out of relaity and doesn't really notice. He pictures himself as what he should be, the people would respect him then. He looks around then walks to his room. He writes tirelessly until his shirt is covered in sweat. He walks to the bathroom and looks into the mirror. It seems to mock him. He grinned looking back at his reflection, a sadistic voice coming from deep in his throat. "I am a freak, but that's not a bad thing."

The light flickered andhe chuckled. He had been experiencing new powers lately, superhuman powers. He looked at his hand and a knife materialized. It disappears and comes back several times. "You're dead now! Who's the freak now?!" He grinned at his plan, it would work, he knew it.

He walked into school the next morning. He stood up in class and outstretched his arms, grinning as he heard their screams. They ran toward the door but the sword blades stuck in their skulls. He began to mock them, just as they had mocked him many times before. A person spoke up from the back in a quivering voice. "Let us go!" the man barely got out of his mouth. He simply shook his head and produced a bomb. "Our lesson for today is disarming this" he grinned, placing the bomb on the desk and walking out the door, plopping a chair under the knob to keep anyone from escaping any of the classes. He walked outside casually and smiled while lighting up his cigarette and hears the explosion, not turning around and says in a mocking voice "Lesson failed." His grin grew as he walked away from the influx of people running in astonishment to see his work, they'd find out one day, then they too... would die.

Several days passed, his adreneline dwindling. He paced tirelessly back and forth. No one knew what was going on in his head. They would never know! He smirked and went over to the lady that was standing in the doorway. She was a pretty woman, full breasts and an awesome body. She might as well have been naked with the clothes he had her in. The four loincloths didn't really obscure the view any. "Esra my dear, did you want to run?" He put two powerful fingers under her chin. She looked him in the eyes, pleading for forgiveness. "Regal..." He cringed at the mention of his name and leaned in with his nose touching hers. "Regal is gone now, you can call me Mobius." His breath was rancing enough to make her eyebrow hairs stand up, but she didn't wince a bit.

She sighed and tried to back away. He licked her cheek. "You silver tongued demon." she smiled a bit, obviously in love. He grinned and clowly cut her cheek, sucking on the blood, the taste of it heavenly to him. She held back a scream, simply smiling at what he had just done. He took a step back, his grin growing a bit. Her eyes kept begging him to stop, but he wasn't himself anymore... no, he had evolved. He'd never go back to being who he was before, the mere thought disgusted him.

He smiled as the knife sunk into his stomach, he was ready for it. He knew sooner or later she'd do it. His facial expression didn't even change as the knife pierced his skin, sinking in a bit passed its hilt. "Did you really think something so miniscule could hurt me Esra? I am not the man you love, I am the man who loves you." Her eyes began to become more terror filled as he barely winced pulling out the knife and tracing it down her arm, licking up the blood like a dog would do.

He traced the knife across his tongue, the luscious blood filling his desire. His eyes changed, no longer the eyes of a loving man... now they were blank, much like a killer's. He licked his lips as he bent down and licked her naval, her scream piercing the silence of the old house, but no one could hear. It was already too late for her as her body dropped to the floor, wrestling to get the scorpions, spiders and crabs off.

He smiled and walked out the door, turning for a moment to indulge in her screams. "You bore me" he said cockily, he'd kill again, it was just the matter of finding the right victim. No one could stop him now, he was a God.

Arg damnit. I had one that I wanted to show but I can't find it! Oh well... This is a taste of my true passion... scriptwriting!

AUTHOR'S NOTE!
Me: Yes, my strangely loyal fans, I'm BACK!
Announcer: -in a bored tone- Cooking with Kiry is about to begin. Please take your places.
Me: Whoops, it's about to start. I'll make this quick. I don't own Kiry. Sucks, huh?
Xiach: I'm selling clothespins and barf bags!
Me: Why?
Xiach: Ahem. Cooking with KIRY.
Me: Oh. Yeah. On with the show!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Announcer: -bored- And now, Cooking with Kiry. Brought to you by Sigma' Special Tomato Sauce. Mmm. Tomatoes. And here's our host- Kiry.
Kiry came on stage, wearing an apron with the words 'Wonder Chef' written on it. She walked to the middle of the stage and smiled at the audience, which was clapping as if it was confused by the sign that said 'Applause if you value your own life'.
"Thank you! Thank you! Now, I know we all love tomatoes-"
A mysterious man yelled from the audience, "I HATE TOMATOES!"
Kiry glanced around, looking quite panicked. Kind of like Akki, when she thinks she broke the thingy they were trying to break, and.... stuff... Anyway.
"...Cream... Stew...?"
"YOU STINK! OUT LOUD!" the mysterious audience member said.
Coming to a revelation, Kiry grinned across the audience.
"BEEF STEW!"
There was a stunned silence for a few moments.
"NOW I LOVE YOU AGAIN!!!!"
Kiry made a face only describable like this: o.O;
"Um. Thank... You...? Now, cooking slave, bring me the recipe!"
There was a moment of silence, and then Renti walked out onto the stage, very embarrassed. Looking at the audience, he said simply:
"I need the money..."
"Marvelous," said Kiry, "But you aren't getting paid."
Xeno came out of the audience and did that funny thing, you know the one, where he shakes his head and looks down at his hands? Yeah, that one. Good times. Gooooooooooood times.... Hem. Anyway, he did that and stuff.
"Er. Kiry! I'm going to sit in the audience and make witty comments!" he shouted, as he ran back to his seat.
After a few seconds, the 'Wonder Chef' recovered and stared at the recipe. "Right then," she said. "It seems that we need:
Meat, any kind (that's kind of strange...)
1/4 Tomato (hehe)
1/4 1/2 1/8 Cup Powdered Sugar (mmm!)
And a pinch of Purple Satay."
Kiry began to pull out a pot, talking like any other chef as she did so. "Well, we need a pot. And I have the BEST POT EVER! Hehe. It's the amazing 'CREAM STEW POT'! Yes, 'CREAM STEW POT'. The capitols mean it's good! We melt the bottom out and replace it with delicious 'CREAM STEW'. See, look at i-
''RAARGH!''
Suddenly, a random audience member disappeared into the depths of the pot, never to be seen again. Yay!
Hiding the pot, Kiry stared out at the audience. "That... Didn't... Just... Happen."
Xeno grinned. "HAH! YOU GOT PWN'ED!"
Sigma appeared. "THIS SHOULD BE SLIGHTLY AMUSING!" he said, drinking prune juice and demanding social services money.
"You're just waiting to be witty by saying 'BAM', aren't you, Xeno... As for you, Sigma... Wait, wha?" Kiry shouted.
Sigma grinned. "Help me find muh teefs!"
Smiling sweetly, Xeno replied to both people with one sentence and an exclamation. "No! Why would I do that?!" said Xeno, while smiling sweetly. Smiling sweetly, Xeno smiled sweetly. He smiled sweetly while smiling, which he was doing sweetly. This section is mostly to delay my brother from asking to go to town. No, you didn't just see that. Smiling. Sweetly.
Imitating her friend, Kiry glanced at Xeno, who was radiating so much sweetness with his smile she had to shield her eyes, which were making a face like this. -.- Hence the 'Imitating her Friend' comment. Yeah. I went there.
"Anyway," said the great healer (most of the time she cured poison from her own food), "We're going to do something different with thi- XENO! STOP SMILING SWEETLY! Now then. We're going to add the greatest meat of all time- Beef."
Tracker smiled. "I TOLD HER THAT! I RAWK! WHERE DID I COME FROM?! AHAHA! Rent- I MEAN, Dumba- I MEAN, RENTI!" He quickly disappeared as quickly as he appeared, which is so damn fast that I didn't even comment on it.
The audience gasped. Like this. -GASP!- Heh. Yeah. GASP, PUPPETS, DANCE! YOU HAVE NO CHANCE TO SURVIVE MAKE YOUR TIME! DANCE FOR THE PUPPET MASTER! AHAHA! FEAR MY GODLY AUTHOR POWERS! I CAN DO THIS!
The audience members, with the exception of Xeno and ???, transformed into small, fluffy kittens. Mew!
Xeno looked side to side at the kittens and at the professor who was flaunting her salt shaker made with 'PORK CUTLETS'. "THEY'RE BOTH CRAZY!" shouted he, which is not a very good thing to say when you're under the control of the mighty author (please read). Who, by the way, doesn't use subliminal messages (vote Fuzzy).
Kiry looked at the subliminal messages and began to talk randomly. "...Okay, I'll use this meat I found in the road on the way here... Green means it's fresh, right?" She tossed the corpse of a random monster (a Sakura, in this case) into the pot, throwing another corpse in after it. (A Kiome, in this case.)
The audience purred. o.O
The pot also purred. o.O!
"Close enough," said Kiry. "Now... A quarter of a tomato... Hmm. Let's add 5! Hehe." She threw the tomatoes in a pot. But one of them wasn't a tomato. It was a Pokeball! Whee! Pokeballs are cool! Conveniently, this one was empty. Just as convenient, cooked Pokeballs taste just like tomato. Renti should know. Kiry had him trapped in one. It was pure hell. It was worse than death. It was like being buried in the earth. Tomatoes destroyed his senses. No eyes, no ears, no nose. No tongue as well. The last one was kind of cool, because otherwise, whenever Renti ate himself out every night, it would have tasted bad. Like a tomato. Yup. icon_cool.gif
Xeno looked confused. He also went -.-. "What the hell was that, creepy author guy?!"
(Me: Just having a little fun.
Renti: Pure hell...
Ash Catchem: It's TRUE hell. . -vanishes-)
"...And... a 64th of a cup powdered sugar.... Let's add... 64 cups!" the artwh0re said, throwing the entire bag of sugar in the pot.
"I'm cool!"
"Meow!"
"...Ooooooookay then... Now. A pinch of purple satay... I don't have any purple satay! SIGMA! HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Appearing out of nowhere, Sigma flapped his wings. Not angel wings, mind you. Made of feathers and paper Mache, these wings sucked. "You need me, my sweet, voluptuous hunny who can't cook to save her life?"
"Erm. Go talk to a woman and get some purple satay...."
"Okay! Yay!" said the idiot chosen, walking into the audience.
And now, Sigma and the Woman: In Script Format. I'm going crazy. x.X
Sigma: Hello, my sweet, voluptuous hunny.
Woman: Meow.
Sigma: Now... Hand over the purple satay, gorgeous.
Woman: Mew.
Sigma: ... -kills woman and takes a barrel of purple satay, throwing it back to Kiry-
Kiry twitched, catching the barrel. "Ooooooooookay... Right... Now..." She chucked the barrel into the air, and cast Photon (LIGHT!) on it. It exploded, of course, and MOST of the powder landed in the pot. The rest landed on Renti.
Renti screamed. The primary ingredient of Purple Satay was, of course, tomatoes.
"Er. Yes. That was an interesting explosion. I MUST STUDY IT!"
Xeno smiled sweetly and shouted "BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Kiry glanced at the audience. Most of the audience was playing with balls of yarn. Some were licking ???'s head. Xeno was smiling sweetly.
"Okay... Xeno, you're grounded." said Kiry. Of course. Who else could it have been?!
"Crud." said Xeno. Of course. Who else could it have been?!
The teacher looked at the recipe. "Hehe... Anyway... Now, we bake for... 30 minutes on the thing on top of the cooking box machine thing... 300 minutes would work better, hm?"
"That's okay logic," her friend said. "Why I say that, I don't know. -.-"
The mysterious stranger, henceforth referred to as ???, smirked. "That is just LOGIC. PEOPLE are not MOVED by LOGIC."
"KROW?!"
"MEOW?!"
The audience purred and played with balls of string.
Kiry turned on the stove. "Shut up. All of you. We need to wait 300 minutes... Cut to five hours of commercials."
-Commercials! Damn, These're hot! Hehe.-
Announcer: Are you TIRED of BAD cooking PRODUCTS?!
Announcer: Have you ever heard something like this? I know I have. BAD enunciations. BAD, BAD, BAD! Anyway, if someone annoys you like this, blow them up!
Announcer: Have you ever heard something like this? -commercial goes on and on-
Announcer: Wait! There's more!
Me: I don't care!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Xeno: -.-!
-This message brought to you by the federation for Xeno' Face. Make time for Xeno. Make time for you.-
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
-5 Hours Later...-
Announcer: -still bored! Wow!- And welcome back... I'm NOT Tom Brokaw.
Krow frowned. (The original text said 'grinned', but that makes no sense. o.O) "I'm a superior idiot! Why does everyone treat me different?! INFERIOR WORMS!"
There was a large -POOF- of smoke, and the Wonder Chef appeared. "I'm here to teach you how to make- HOLY SOUP! WHAT IN THE NAME OF PAELLA IS THAT?!"
A large, semi-sentient blob came out of the cooking box thingy. "RAGH."
-THWACK-
Kiry was standing by the stew blob, holding a blobby staff. "IT'S DONE TO PERFECTION! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARVELOUS! HEHE!"
Krow and Xeno made o.O faces. This was hard for Xeno, as he was already smiling sweetly x7, and going -.-. Anyway. Should I go on the Pokeball rant again? No? Shame. I liked that one... ANYWAY.
Kiry seemed to have gone insane from the fumes of the cats in the audience. "LET'S DANCE! x768544! HEHE!"
Xeno smiled sweetly. This was NOT unexpected. "Let's!"
Krow made a WTF face. Like this. ?.? "WTF?!"
Xiach popped up. This does NOT bode well for this story.
The semi-sane Kiry grinned. "SING THE COOKING WITH KIRY SONG!"
Xiach looked up through his purple biker glasses. Did you know? During the Pong Fighter game, one of the guys looks like Xiach. Me and my sister discovered that that is a REALLY good way to- never mind.
"I'D LOVE TO! SEAWATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, oh, oh.........
Cooking with Kiry...
Cooking with Kiry...
Who wants Cream Stew?
Cream Stew! Ew!
That's what YOU say!
But I say YUM!
Buy Kiry's Pots!
Buy Kiry's Pans!
Buy Kiry's Yams!
Kept in Cans!
Cooking! With Kiry!
Cooking! With Kiry!
This is a one-shot!
I'm not from! Here-y!
WTF! Did that have! To do with anything?
I! Don't know! So I'll continue! To sing!
Cooking? With KIRY?
Cooking? With KIRY?!
Who wants Kiry's food?
It sucks!"
Kiry thanked Xiach. In thanking someone, did you know you're 75% more likely to implode in a horrible peanut butter incident?
"SERVE THE DAMN FOOD!" shouted Xeno. "THE CATS ARE EATING MY EAR! OW!"
The artwh0re collected herself.
-Kiry gained the title of 'Teacher Collector'!-
"Er. Xeno, stop whining. You have no ears. You're grounded for a week. No Shady privileges.
(Doesn't that sound wrong? Ew. Ehehe. I was tired. It was 2:00 AM, and, well, these things get to you. XD)
Kiry began serving the food. Xeno and Krow began eating the food. RUN, XENO! RUN, KROW!
"It's like there's a mob party in my mouth," said Xeno, "And they're all shooting the walls!�
Krow, however, had died. "Farewell, my shadow... You who stand at the end of the path I chose not to follow... I will, hopefully, not choose this path again. You didn't eat the stew. Lucky b*****d..."
Tracker appeared. "Goodbye..."
Looking at the havoc (and corpses), Kiry sighed. "Well. There's not gonna be another show for a bit... Tune in next time (there won't be a next time XD)! To 'COOKING WITH KIRY"!
Tracker smirked. "The capitols mean it's special!"
The official friend jumped in front of the camera. "If you value your life, DON'T."
"Has anyone seen my torso?" said Revlys.
The audience purred.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Kiry: I FOUND THAT HIGHLY OFFENSIVE!
Me: Good! You keep Renti in a freaking POKEBALL!
Kiry: How'd you know about that? I DEMAND A DUEL! GO! XIACH! -sends out Xiach-
Xiach: Xiach! Xiach!
Me: Well! I choose you! ARCHE -sends out Arche-
Arche: Ribbon! Ribbon!
Kiry: ...
Me: Please read!
Xiach: Xiach! Xiach! SEAWATER!
Arche: Ribbon! Cless! :3
Tracker: ......Krow....

I wrote these a while ago while I was in a very bad mood. ANGST alert!

Helpless.
The sky is falling.
No one to help keep it up.
Alone, trying, to save the ones around,
but all too busy to help.

Time.
A clock. A lone clock on the wall.
Ticking away endlessly.
Always spinning, never reversing.
You can't make it go back if you try.
If you could, you'd only ******** it up.
The past is unsavable.

You're Nothing.
You're nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
You are nothing at all.
Admit it. Be free from pain.
Try as you may, success is impossible.
Lone wolves cannot change the world.
With the greed and hate of humans plaguing
it's a wonder how anyone can still make friends.
You're still nothing. Not even since you started
reading this grim poem. The Truth.
You cannot change this world.
If you try, a new corruption
will take its hold.
You're nothing.

Temptation.
Is that the Devil? Or just my inner voice.
Is that Jesus talking, or is it just instinct?
Whether you're sinning or repenting,
you can't really change who you are.
Your thoughts derived from others' actions.
No one's mind is their own.
All actions driven by whatever needs you have.
Eat that donut. Steal that wallet. Masterbate.
Stop giving a ******** about living the good life.
Be an a*****e, join the club.
Punch that other dickhead. Get revenge.
In a world where niceness is a minority.

Lawl, I just put these in here because all of Sigma's poems have hope and mine are polar opposites to them. You know, to "balance".

A random poem on a friend of mine's MSN personal

----

Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss

But I only slept with you, because I was pissed.

-----

I thought that I could love no other

Until, that is, I met your brother.

-----

Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you.

But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.

-----

Of loving beauty you float with grace

If only you could hide your face.

-----

Kind, intelligent, loving and hot

This describes everything you are not.

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I want to feel your sweet embrace

But don't take that paper bag off of your face.

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I love your smile, your face, and your eyes

Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

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My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:

Marrying you screwed up my life.

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I see your face when I am dreaming.

That's why I always wake up screaming.

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My love, you take my breath away.

What have you stepped in to smell this way?

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My feelings for you no words can tell

Except for maybe "go to hell."

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What inspired this amorous rhyme?

Two parts vodka, one part lime.