The trial's begun,
with a jury of one,
and I know what I've done
so now the truth will come out,
but while I've done my due diligence,
I just can't find the evidence
to assert my own innocence
beyond unreasonable doubt.
Constant VigilanceStay under the radar
and always out of sight.
If you don't get noticed,
then you just might be alright.
Leave nothing unexamined,
don't be taken by surprise
and never let the world see
what hides under your disguise.
What Do You Know?Drunk on good intentions
and desperate to act
on comforting presumptions
taken as fact.
Ignoring all the details
that haven't come to light
because it should be obvious,
because you know you're right.
Better Right? Than HappyI could do the "right" thing
and finally cave
or just continue
to dig my own grave.
An easy decision,
or so it should be,
and maybe it will be
but right now there's simply
far too much at stake
and I'm probably making
a fatal mistake,
but better to stick
with the devil you know
than to take any risks
and potentially grow.
Can't Let It GoToo much time spent getting nowhere.
No more patience left to spare.
A wasted effort, best forgotten,
but then why do I still care?
Convenient TruthStand tall, but not too proud.
Speak up, but not too loud.
Don't be afraid to be yourself,
but only when allowed.
Don't be an inconvenience.
Try to stay out of the way,
but when it's deemed appropriate,
say what you have to say.
RecursionBen was awoken by a loud crackling noise. He sat up in bed, disoriented, and tried to figure out what could have caused the strange, but oddly familiar sound. Deciding that it must have been thunder, he stood up and walked toward the window. He peered through the blinds, to look for any other signs of a storm, but it was too dark to see anything.
Turning back toward his bed, Ben began to feel the after-effect of the two glasses of water that he drank before going to bed. He walked out of his bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him to keep his cat, Lucy, from wandering in, and navigated the hallway in the dim light provided by a few night-lights that were plugged in just above the baseboard. Approaching the bathroom door, he noticed that it was slightly ajar and stopped short.
"I thought I closed that." Ben said to himself.
Assuming that the door must not have latched properly, he proceeded into the room and did his business. While washing his hands, Ben looked in the mirror a
You Should Have KnownReality's cold intrusion
upon a benign delusion
leaves you struggling to cope
with the absence of hope
and the onset of untold confusion.
Shall I find thee all in ice ensnared,
the tree boughs stripped, the blossoms bared,
trapped in a wet and wintry grave -
the blight of snow and hoarfrost shared?
They brought you here, their souls enslaved.
The altar where your minions prayed -
a brilliant diadem of ice,
the offering that your cold heart craved.
They linger here whilst you entice
their frozen limbs as sacrifice.
Their wizened hands by you declared
the chosen few who paid your price
Ender's GameI've barely lived
And lived too much
I've done great things
Without a touch
I've destroyed a species
In a game
Then in reality
To their worlds we came
I kill with empathy
My understanding too great
I know how they think
I know their deaths date
I hate who I am
For saving our lives
But that's why I did it
So we could still strive
They've made me a killer
But I'm no beast
I don't want to harm
I just want peace
My mind's become a martyr
Yet the greatest living of all
I understand tactics
But not beauty's blunt call
I was the future
Now I'm the past
I almost lost sanity
I gained friends to last
My name is Ender
And this is my game
I'm only 11 right now
But I have no child's brain
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
An Undertale PoemOnce upon a time there was
A war between two factions.
Two races that were different
In appearance and actions.
Humans were the stronger.
The monsters fate was tragic.
Sealed away underground with
The strongest of magic.
The war was lost
To human history.
But monsters never forgot
The source of their misery.
Atop Mt. Ebott,
A human did stray.
A place where others did
Vanish, so they would say
The child was there,
Perhaps for more than just fun.
But as they stumbled down a hole,
That's where this story's begun.
The rest of this tale,
Is now up to you.
To be cruel or be kind?
A hard choice it's true.
Whatever your choice, from
The beginning to end,
Above all else,
Logic In Wonderland"We're all mad Here!"
Well, if you're mad There
and I'm Here as well
that means I'm mad too!
And if Here is There
and that is Everywhere,
then one would think
that includes you!
we're all mad
And if Everywhere is Anywhere
that makes the whole world
and if Here is There or Anywhere,
that would make the whole world mad too!
It's a mad, mad place
when Everyone is mad.
It's a funny, funny place
in this crazy land
but if the world is mad
and we are too,
Here, There, Anywhere
even to Timbuktu,
and if the whole world is mad
and thinks the same,
then that would mean
no one is mad
everyone is just very,very sane.
His fingertips splashed through the ivory keys
With ripples that scattered in rows
While windows bloomed petals of watery pinks
Each kissing his cheeks with a glow
Releasing his notes like a bird caged in spring
He untangled the keys from their din
Making sense of a sequence not meant to be seen
He etches them deep in his skin.
He performs for the windows and plays for the halls
The curtains will sway in his song
The picture frames quiver and jump from the walls
Beneath the great rush of his palms.
So I open my window, before I lay rest
Just to capture a trace of his spawn
It's been years since I've heard it, but still I await
for the chime of the Pianist's song.
Autumn's CallDeath approaches,
But such a beautiful death indeed.
The squirrel collects the fallen seed.
To save, for the colder months
So to witness the golden change,
When leaves succumb to the fronts
Of, Mother Nature's, rearrange.
A bountiful cascade,
As winter beds are made,
Home fires lace the air.
Time to burn
The corpses of Summer's bounty;
Of seasons in our humble county.
Oh, those beautiful colors,
Reminding us of all of it's death.
Human life like all others,
Is as fleeting as a season's breath.
The time of year when the air is crisp,
Giving us a time to breathe;
Passing by like a total eclipse,
The magic of Winter's Eve.
What is dead may never die,
For they will always come back.
When the leaves fall do not cry;
Life runs a cyclical track.
Enjoy the colors, enjoy the season,
Bask in the beauty that is Fall;
For every rhyme there must be a reason
And golden-brown is Autumn's call.
The Defense of Gawain (Fragment 1)He brushed his wavy hair from his pale face
Just like his horse was shaking off the flies
While following behind. Their limping pace
Was slow, although the city rang with cries
Surprised from friends who thought that he was dead--
But still his head slumped down, and still his eyes
And clammy cheeks were flushed with streaking red,
Though they were running, dashing to his side.
And then his young brother, half-laughing, said,
"Oh god, I thought--you know we thought you died?
That awful task--you left, you rode away--
And then did not come back. Oh, how I cried!
I thought you died. On last year's new-year's day
A year since you had left, they all agreed
You must have failed your quest, but I said nay--
I knew my brother Gawain would succeed
Although it seemed to all impossible.
But you did not come back, and I concede
I thought you died." And then his voice sunk low
From where it had been shouting in delight,
And then he said: "But brother, may I know--
Your hair is snarled, unkempt--yo