Poem #4; We are humans?

In the modern world
Humans interact with humans

They are many different types of humans

Colours, religion and gender

But do not forget.

That humans are not the only things that are different

Do not forget the animals

We are also animals, but we have evolved from the simple monkey

Into the human we are now.

This evolution may be good but also is bad

Because of our evolution we have become more aggressive and warlike.

We have caused death and destruction to the world and its inhabitants.

But the good in our evolution is that we have brains to stop our bad habits
We could stop poisoning the air we breath

We can stop killing the animals of the world

We can create cures to battle the viruses that are in the world.

They are only few of humans who wish to use the world to their pleasure

They have no guilt of what they do

They will pay when they see their consequences

But when I ask you, when?

 

Poem #3; Surrealism

The exquisite (adjective) corpse (noun) drinks (verb) the new (adjective) wine (noun)

Make no sense and do not dabble in logic is the key of making a good surreal line

The stalking wolf slithers to his new prey

The shimmering white fades into old darkness

Air Gear Fanfic : Chapter 1

The Beginning?

It was a calm and gentle morning. The sun crept over the horizon and warmed up all the animals from their slumber. This day would be wonderful for everyone. Not a cloud in the sky, beautiful sunshine and a cool wind.

High school had just finished two days ago which meant all the teenagers would be going off to the beaches, parks, forests and foreign places.

The only thing most teenagers would not go are quarries. No one goes there and nothing can stay long there. That is why it is a perfect location to hide a large underground base. Hundreds of complex tunnels lay underground, a hundred or more metres downwards. There were 2 large hall sized cuboids over four hundred metres deep underground and only one or two tunnels were connected to them.

Only the people who lived in these tunnels or the person who constructed them would know how to manoeuvre around underground.

In the middle of the quarry where old junk piled up and sand was blown everywhere stood an old grandfather clock. This was larger that the ones you would see in antique shops. An average sized person could step into it and stand upright.

It was ticking. The hour hand was closing near to ten o’clock in the morning. The minute hand moved second by second until the chime came on. It went on ten times and then stopped. It began ticking again. Another sound was heard from the wind. It was a melody, a lullaby or a musical sonnet.

Continue reading

Poem #2: What Am I?

I wrote this at lunch hour, watching from afar at my fellow students.

What Am I? Tell me what Am I?

I lurk in the city suburbs
I drink the blood and eat the flesh of the low class.
Their blood is very sweet and their flesh is chewy
I cannot get enough of it

One day a middle class drops by and I try him
His flesh is meaty and his blood is so sweet
I lurk now in the middle level of the city
They are my feast. I need more.
One day I hear from my lunch about the high class.
Their blood is thicker than water, and tastier
I ponder as I rip my lunch and sip the red ooze.
I ascend to the highest level and gaze at the wonderful food
They dress like kings and eat like gods
I faint from lust and love.
I am in heaven
So tell me, What Am I, my sweet, sweet dear lunch

Poem #1: Who Am I

This was the first poem I wrote, back in 2009. 

I am a ghost in this world

I am everywhere where you are

I am always near you but alas

You do not see, feel, smell or hear me

I am found where darkness and light co exist

I am big where there is darkness

I am small where there is light

I am an outcast in this hate filled world

Who Am I? Better ask What Am I?

I Am A Shadow

Looking back at this piece, I remember the emotions pulsating through my body

Writing, I thank you

I had a hard time at school, I was bullied, verbally attacked and just out right pushed against my limits. I was easy to anger, was not able to fight back or even verbally respond. I only knew about three negative words, one being a swear word, but that did not help. I did not know how to deal with the abuse, the emotions building up and exploding into verbal outbursts that would land me in detention.

I was a foreigner in another land, an outsider. I did not fit in with anyone. I would surround myself with books, once I had a handle on reading. When I discovered the genre of fantasy and science fiction, my mind took that as a solace world, where I could vanish.

In times of bullying, I would regress into my own world to cope. This lasted years before I came to secondary school and a teacher showed me poetry and creative writing. She told me to write a story, write what I thought about, write about the worlds I vanished into.

I wrote my feelings into expressions and then into a free verse. I showed the teacher and she asked if I had found the poem, when I told her of the design she just told me to keep writing.

Since that day, any time I felt crushing against my own anxiety, any time my panic attacks got the better of mine, my stress relief was writing. So I have thought about posting all my work here as I go on.

Dreaming; The Island


As an Insomniac and Parasomniac, it is always a rarity for me to experience dreams and nightmares. In the past few years, whenever I did dream, these series of images would always be vivid, have references to popular culture I have watched, read or listened to. That is what dreams are essentially, as such are my nightmares, which play upon my guilt, weaknesses and fails and plagues my mind with paranoia and anxiety.

This weekend, I had worked long shifts and my body was exhausted, mentally and physically. I shall write the shortened and then the full dream, which after looking back upon it, has made me want to pursue it and write a chapter, or more towards a short story.

An individual awakens on a foreign land, finds themselves in a war between warring factions. Is thrown to each side, until he is brought to the skies and his memory returned. He is the instigator and the cause of his own loss of memories.

Now to write what truly happened.

Birds were chirping and the air was wet and warm. I opened my eyes and I found myself in a jungle. I wandered through the jungle, feeling very light headed. I stumbled through the final clearing and came across a facility. It was at least three floors high and surrounded by stone walls.

As soon as I stepped closer towards the wall, a horn started sounding and I was surrounded by young adults holding guns. They pointed them at me and shouted at me, demanding answers. I could barely answer and they bounded me and dragged me inside the stone walls.

I was thrown in a room and scanned by another person. She was wearing white and seemed to be a doctor. She and another individual, who was wearing red began chatting and I could hear snippets.

“He has no marker, he is neither one of ours, the Techs, Urbaners or Peaces”

“He must be another lost soul, give him the show” and then the red dressed individual left us alone. The doctor pointed at the wall, where a video began showing a video that seemed to explain where I was.

Welcome wandering soul to the Island. We are unsure exactly where it is located, but we are sure its on Earth as the constellations match up. This island is home to many hundreds men, women and children. They are of all different slices of life, nationalities, ages, gender and sexuality. But for as far as we can remember, there has always been battle between us and the other warring factions. We are the Children of Men, then there are the Tech Beasts, Urban Runners and PEACE.

There is battle to capture all the facilities and weapons of this land. A pro of living here is one cannot die from normal means or man made creations. But any individual can be stunned and taken captive, which in turn, turns their allegiance towards their captors.Strange concept you can understand, but we fight for who we are, always trying to stay within our factions and families. So you are now part of the Children of Men and must fight with all heart and soul and go get them.

The video ended and the lights came back on. The Doctor opened a door and two soldiers entered, holding uniform, a rifle of some form and an armour. All were thrust in my hands.

“Get changes and be ready for briefing in five,” the Doctor ordered and the three left me alone.

Only now did I look what I was wearing. Tattered trousers and a black vest. I noticed a tattoo on my wrist, a line of code it seemed. I undressed and placed the tattered clothing on the floor. The uniform as I slid it upon my body seemed to suction to my skin. I placed the armour over my body and slung the rifle across my shoulder. I walked to the door and opened it. The Doctor was waiting for me. She motioned me to follow her. We walked down two corridors before she let me into a briefing room. Maps on the walls, a centre display with a number of uniformed men and women standing around. They all turned to look at me.

“Welcome Recruit, Children of Men, meet Belios,” a commanding officer spoke. She pointed to my tattoo.

“Your name, seems to be tattooed on your hand.”

She returned to her soldiers and pointed to the map on the table before them.

“We have found the location of a Peace laboratory, they were experimenting on the nature of this island. Team A will be in charge of infiltrating the base and Team B will be on point, guarding and looking out for others. We do not know who else has this info,” she said. She called names and hurried five soldiers into a group, she called Team A. She then walked up to me and patted me on the shoulder.

“New recruit, you are on Team B, now go out there” she said and pushed me back through the door.