I am the king of the gaming worlds!
I must taste bitter...
Bitter...an unpleasant aftertaste.
Bitter...how I feel right now.
Bitter...and right to feel so.
Everyone interferes, ruining dreams and hopes; yet so smug and full of pride.
I need to drag them down, if am ever to succeed, and so...
I feel ever so bitter at this realisation.
Ambitions
There are many kinds of people, some look to the past, some to the present.
But I look to the future, dreaming of a better tomorrow and forging it with our own hands in the present.
We all seek a better life to elevate us, ascend us above the masses – to stand out, to be remembered magnificently when we are gone and beloved while we live.
But to do so, is to have ambition, if you seek a specific result, it will inevitably deny another’s.
Thus conflict begins. But without ambition, without looking to the future; our world will become stagnant; nothing but a world of memories and what-ifs.
Without ambition we are not humans, we are not free, but so long as we are human, an eternity of conflict will stretch out before us.
Even so, I wish for a brighter tomorrow!
The human race
A diseased virus stretches - worms its way across the surface of the world. Devouring plants, animals, skies; the very eco-system, but they are forever hungry.
Never halting, never changing at their core – the planet and everything on its prey.
Skin turns ashen and cracked, and the eyes gaze; once blue and shining is now black and thunderous.
But the disease does not care, does not think, just satisfying its hunger, regardless of the damage caused.
But this ever breeding virus just feeds, not caring, never minding.
After all, everything above the sky, and everything the light touches belongs to this plague; this infant germ – but then of course the world should belong to the human race.
Depressing realisations
Dreams are not easily gained, but in our heart of hearts we still believe that it can come true.
But I must acknowledge to myself, one small mistake, one streak of laziness and the momentum; my dream will be lost.
No matter what, I will not hesitate, I won’t be afraid – I will obtain the life style and happiness I want.
Still depression strikes at times, creeping up – vine like – at my thoughts.
This dream, this life is harsh; sometimes I wonder if this stress and effort is worth it.
Then I remember - I have no faith, so I must live my life without regret, never ever settling for the norm.
So I can die with a smile curved upon my cheeks.
Split lives
Severed, divided in two, sometimes many smaller pieces.
We live fractured, masked lives, only showing a small facet of ourselves to others.
Even those we call ‘our soul mates’ do not know us in our entirety. No matter how much we love them, no matter the depth of their understanding; there is still the petty, dirty, disgusting sides of our personas that we’ll never show them.
But that is for the best, I don’t believe humans are ready to understand each other completely yet.
It would be boring, too peaceful; we may lose what bring us such joy if we could see through all the nonsense.
No, I think complete understanding should be left for another species.
It’s horrific for humans to wriggle on the ground, we would much rather stare into the sky, pretending we had wings.
Broken, yet strong
We are fragile creatures, easily broken and put back together again.
For those of us that are strong, whether in mind, body, or both, we are strangely more aware of our individual weaknesses.
I could have the strength to crush a car, with only my bare hands, but a simple slip on the pavements edge could break my ankle. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?
A slight twist or awkward landing could leave us torn, broken, shattered, becoming paralysed door stops.
Our eyes, mouths and ears are all rotting, needing constant attention and patching up.
I became strong to leave my weaknesses behind, not to become more aware of it.
We are broken, fragile creatures, easily damaged and then cobbled back together again.
Miners Troubles
Collapse, roll, tumble and scatter, the earthen doors shut with grim finality.
The soft patter of rubble and then silence...
Only for it to be sharply broken by a panicked shout, it’s swiftly contagious, till professionalism takes root.
They leave the unfortunates to die, the survivors search for a pocket of air to tide them over in this tight, dark environment.
They find a safe place, and there they wait, silently...
Uncomfortable, frightened. Again the black, unseen ceiling shakes, their heart’s tight in their chest – But thankfully only a little rubble falls.
Now they must wait in the grim, chilled dark, they must survive until the night owls gaze finds them, to blow away the vast dark.
And then...
And then...
FREEDOM!
Powerless
Deep swirling darkness, it wraps its way around my once clear sky.
My heart pounds sluggishly in my chest – hollow, yet vast. My stomach is tight and ill.
I can’t stand it, this monstrous aura, this vile side of human emotion.
I don’t want to experience these emotions – these devil thoughts.
Do I even have the right to feel happy and content? I can’t even protect what I want to protect.
I want to kill, to obliterate every obstacle in my way.
But I’m trapped by society and law, what can I do? What can I do if I cannot protect the ones I love?
I’m powerless...For now...
Snakes guiding Dragons
Dragons are powerful, great, fearsome, but they are not wise.
They have gem-like scales, ivory fangs, shimmering eyes, and vast, beautiful wings that shadow the earth, but they are not wise.
They are instinct, they are potential incarnate, but they are not wise.
But we shall guide these young dragons, those of us with wisdom; we shall carefully manipulate them – mind, body, and soul.
We will make countless, minute changes in these dragons to bring out their full strength, their full potential.
That is the duty of us snakes, we are sneaky, wise, and even strong in our own way.
But we cannot fly, only slithering on the ground, gazing wistfully at the sky.
But we shall impart our wisdom, be the guiding hand, so that these young dragons will grow well and then truly fly high.
Hiding beneath my blankets
Fear...childish, irrational fear – I know that there’s nothing there. But the prickle on the back of my neck, a queasy feeling in my stomach keeps me alert, keeps me awake.
I squirm about in my bed, irritable; every now and then I sit up in a panic and flick on the light. But there’s nothing there, there never is.
Am I just a scaredy cat, hissing beneath my covers, or is does my fear contain any truth to it?
Who knows? But like a kid, I still think that as long as I’m hidden beneath your covers – Completely! Then I’m safe.
Silly, childish, irrational fear, but even us adults have a touch of that from time to time.
Is there a reason for this, or is it nothing more than unfounded paranoia?
Don’t aim for anorexic
Looking into the glacier surface I smile, I wink, and flex my physique – yes, a definite improvement.
Yes I’m vain, so what?
When one’s body improves, is it wrong that one’s arrogance and confidence increases accordingly?
My mass has decreased; my muscles and cur
ves are more visible, more defined now.
But I must be careful not to get too carried away, swept away by popularities tide and aim for a frail, anorexic form.
Losing excess fat is all well and dandy, but not till you revert to a pasty, ashen bone pile; no different to what dogs break between their fangs.
Don’t aim for anorexic and so long as I don’t get carried away, it’ll be alright.
I gaze adoringly at my reflection on the waters surface and happy at the improvement.
Winking, smiling at my mirrored self, I saunter away to the world of outer assumptions; the world of mindless, mocking laughter.
What to do tomorrow?
The world twists and turns around the incandescent space volcano, but for those of us that wriggle along this dusty surface, we have far more common, lowly goals than pondering the workings of the heavens and their grandeur.
We think on a simple basis.
“Do you remember?”
“Today we will...”
“I wonder what we’re doing tomorrow...”
We don’t have the leisure to plan in depth for our futures. Life is far, far too hectic for that.
But to succeed in life you need one of, if not two things “talent and preparation”.
We desperately, furiously practice and plan between the vast slog that is daily life. But will our efforts matter?
I believe so.
But most of us are content with short term transitions of time. “Just now, right now and in a little while”
I’m not.
Finally hunting down dictators
On distant shores, across vast sandy acres, tyrants roam unopposed; they hunt among these countries, spreading the reaper’s scythe among the populace; drawing forth hell’s agony for there own profit and pleasure.
Despite that our world is supposedly civilised and modern; these monsters cloaked in human skin have been allowed to enact their vile cruelty unopposed for so, so long. We have to change, to change our rough cruel melodies, and re-forge it into a kind and gentle song – we can do it, I know we can.
Slowly but surely the downtrodden are opposing these monsters, brilliant, but this reaction is far too late; we must be swift at hunting down these predators, so we can begin making the world into a kinder place.
They can run, those fanged weasels, they can hide, but we will find them, and replace them with kindness and dedication.
On distant shores, across vast sandy acres, tyrants roam unopposed; they hunt among these countries, spreading pain and anguish, but we can stop them, no we will stop them.
That’s a promise, not that of a man, but of entire species, seeking peace
Yet again, white maiden
Trundling home, warm thoughts are abound.
Chilling Winds batter and swerve around. Tightened Knuckles with gritted teeth, a brown coat cloaked.
A Chill strikes the heart, twin grey orbs widen as virgin death descends from the sky.
The first white crystals slowly descending, soaking brown, and numbing pink flesh and memories of the last chill, memories of the maidens blanked cries are recalled.
Realisation strikes – Hardened and cold. A Country deadened in a single night.
Footsteps quicken, each breath bursts forth; a grey haze.
The pink flesh; face and ears are frozen with crimson fire, trundling home, a bottomless white pit descending.
A thin blanket of purest death already lay before the descending streets and hills.
Gluttonous winds mixed the white and grey, beautiful beyond human concept - carrying near-silent grimness, casting both emptiness and depth on the land.
Beneath the bleached maiden skies, a pair of grey orbs strained to see their destination.
Seeking home; warm and sheltered; but alas not yet.
Quelling a brief panic, followed by fumbling steps, the lone one trundles on; ignoring the whip-like blows of the determined deadly maiden.
The sky once darkened, littered with stars, now obscured under virgins’ woolly blanket. An unnatural luminance is seen, a man made light hanging above a wooden door.
Approaching the oak with hurried relief, fumbling numb fingers, the turn of locks and screeching metal, assaulted by a breath of warm air as the door opens, stepping through lenses fog on contact.
A sigh escapes, relief mounts. Yet fear remains for the oncoming day and those that follow, for the blazing ice and the deadly white maiden wait.
THE END
An extended version of this poetry collection will be available at a later date.
Other books
by Mark Green
Grey Faction
Extract taken from the Reina arc
“Indigo, tell me what you know”.
“Take a look at these” Indigo reached into his coat, pulling out several photos, some depicted the burnt forms of the Natsume couple, who were little more than ash; the other however showed a young girl, perhaps a few years younger than himself.
“Who’s the girl?” Andrew asked.
“This is Natsume Reina, she’s the younger sister of the corpse couple here” tapping the photo of the burned couple with his thumb “she’s also a brand new Contractor”
“Alex said the ritual with the Grimoire failed, is this new information?”
“Yes it is, but it makes sense doesn’t it? Her brother tries to summon a demon and not long later Reina becomes a Contractor”
“Did you see her use her powers?” Andrew questioned, Indigo shook his head.
“No, but I have a friend who’s working as a mole in that Yakuza gang, he filled me in on her war path after she was sold to them by her brother”.
“Wait – What?” gasped Andrew, appalled. It seemed there was much more to this than he’d first thought. A few customers now looked there way, intrigued by Andrew’s outburst, but a quick glare from Andrew returned them to their own business.
“Grimoires are antiques, whether you believe in their magic or not, they hold massive value, In order to buy it, the Natsume family took out a loan from the Yakuza. Since they’d gain a demon slave, I doubt they planned to pay them back, unfortunately for them no demon appeared for them. Or maybe the demon pulled a fast one; in any case they failed, and of soon the Yakuza wanted their money back.” Indigo explained, keeping his voice low.
“And then...?”
“The usual when it comes to debt collection with these kinds of people” Indigo began “they sent their muscle boys to rough them up first, after that they black mailed and threatened them. But still the Natsume family didn’t pay any money back; this went on until their leader - Hiruzen finally realised they couldn’t raise the funds. In this sort of situation, the Yakuza would normally kill the debtors, but you can take it from me the NPA is onto those lowlifes, so I doubt they’d want to leave evidence right now.”