HeartbeatThe wet thumping sounds, symbolic
Of human life, love and being-
The sign of strength so vitriolic-
A metronome beat; perfect and unseeing.
A machine's harmonious tick-tocks,
Powered by rhythm and the burnt dead;
Given life by electrick shocks,
A steel necromancy of implacable dread.
Pumping the fuel around our form-
Oxygen, iron, hormones and blood-
Leaking from me now in a ruddy dawn.
My heartbeat beats my death; mingled with the mud.
The doctors seem to almost worried;
They don't think that I can live.
My gashed-open chest makes them hurry;
"There's not a gnat that he'll outlive."
The thumping in my ears has stopped,
Their faces are white with fear-
I sat up, rubbed my head and said,
"I don't know why you're all so pale;
My head, at least, is clear."
Inside =/= OutsideI'm cold inside, yet I'm amidst a blaze-
A blaze of life, of laughter, of smiles,
And the fires burn brighter today.
My heart feels like it froze,
But they all seem like they're aflame-
One searing glance and that's all I get.
My heart is stopped and the world just moves on
As if I was never there.
Pinpricks prick me from the inside;
Coldness spreading from my bleak heart-
My mind just gives up, lies down and cries
In the omnipresent dark.
They look like they're having such fun,
Talking about their lives,
And I try to join with them, but
They won't let me, no matter how hard I try.
Surrounded by these faux-strangers,
My outside is smiling; but inside, crying.
There's so many people here, so why
Should I feel lonely; trapped in a glass cell,
Observing Earth's merciless din;
And me, alone, on the in.
This won't be our last goodbyeThis won't be our last goodbye,
I promise on my soul.
As long as I live, I will remember you;
The girl that stole my heart.
No matter what they say,
No matter what they shout,
I'll love you always- don't ever you doubt,
And as long as you wear that gold ring,
Remember that to me, you're everything.
I don't care that we're only 16,
And that I've been naive,
To me you are the world,
And I'll never let that end.
And i want you to know that we will never have
"Just one last goodbye"
Because that means I'm losing you
And I can't let that be.
So as long as I live
And as long as I breathe,
I will love you.
And as long as I can think,
And as long as I can write,
I will love you.
I won't ever let you go
And I will never make you cry,
Because I will never let us have
One final, last goodbye.
Infinity's MonkeyInfinity's Monkey:
I'm sure you've all heard of the "infinite monkeys".
the idea that, given infinite beasts, equal time and the same typewriters
They could write the works of Shakespeare.
a cute idea, no?
however, an odd thought struck me today,
Like a neutron to a nucleus
in a nuclear furnace.
It is supposed by many a wise man
that there are either infinite other
or that this, our universe, is the sole
but is infinite.
This in turn gives rise to the idea
that all things happen somewhere and sometime,
No matter how bizarre.
in one world, you might say, the sky is neon green,
While in another, no one needs to breathe.
this means that perhaps, there is world
Full of monkeys.
endless legions, sat at wooden desks,
To what end, none of them know,
but their folklore-history says something
About a spear being shook.
But (and this was my grand idea),
what if that world...
you all know that we have common
Ancestors with the simian,
ThiefShe stole from me, you know,
She took something very dear.
She never gave it back,
But I never asked, either.
I never will, you know.
I'll never want it back.
I'll never go and claim back my jewels,
For she took none.
I'll never knock on her door and ask
"Could I have my money, please?"
For she took none.
I'll never ask for any of that,
No earthly goods at all,
For she took none.
This thief was quite accomplished,
A master of her art,
For what she took from me
Was no less than my heart.
imagine one million staring eyes, accusing.
imagine one million shouting voices, abusing.
imagine one million starving faces, crying,
imagine one million laughing people, lying.
imagine that you one day were walking,
and you were with your friends just talking
and you glanced over the wide road, across
and saw a homeless man, wrought by loss.
you meet his eyes and they beg of you, implore,
but you turn away and walk off, to be with friends once more.
that night though, you cannot sleep at all
and though you might through the internet trawl
you cannot forget his wrinkled face, his tearful gaze,
his final parting glare, accusing.
imagine, just imagine, a thousand lidless eyes.
they stare at you forever, drilling through your lies,
pushing past your excuses and your tales and your stories and your mind,
to ask a simple question. "When you were asked, why were you not kind?"
i know not if you can imagine yourself in my mind
and think the ways i see the world.
i wonder if when confron
Scavenge[LOADING OPERATING SYSTEM: ZAAOTHTH]Scavenge by AscendantLiche
[LOADING DRIVE DISKS: GWNSA EH]
[RESUMING LAST SESSION]
Scrawls upon scrawls of words flickered on the screen, the final three lines indicating the last stages of boot-up were beginning. In the pale blue light of the monitor that he had jury-rigged up to the salvaged piece of machinery, the Scavenger whistled tunelessly to himself while he awaited the actual start-up of the machine.
Shining his crude, LED torch on the machine, he could see even now that it needed significant repairs if he was going to sell it on. Several of the outer serial ports were bust and the power supply crackled dangerously with electricity unchecked by neither fuse nor transistor. He ran his hand down the side of the machine's shell and felt a sharp sting as power used him as an earthing conduit. Luckily, his illicit cybernetics helped in this regard by limiting the level of current rushing through him and he was not reduced to char for his error.
He glanced back at the scre
Infernal: An Ode to PassionsInfernal: An Ode to PassionInfernal: An Ode to Passions by AscendantLiche
I: The Prologue:
My beaten heart's cased with ice,
My quaking mind afrozen,
And my sweating palms shake sclerotic,
For fear of holding you.
II: The Passion:
In that horrid Labyrinth,
The cagement of my dreams,
I was enfeared of Erebus' eyes;
Their dank, Stygian gaze so piercing,
And my dreams to such chains were bound.
But one night, a bright night,
Wrapped in Nyx's shawl,
Something fearful shattered the
Daedalic masterpiece of my mind.
T'was a Six-Wing Seraph of Flame;
A formless Hurricane of Fire;
Elemental, furious, unfettered and unchallenged,
A Titan birthed from the womb of Aphrodite which
Shattered my rotten trappings and
Flung me into freedom.
Never had my heart been so broken
And never had I suffered so,
When this Helios of Love
Leapt atop and marshalled
The Flaming Chariot-Wreck of my Heart.
In such a self-destructive act,
The flames of wrack as nothing besides
And, incandescent in victory,
You welded my gaping wounds shut.
And that, o l
No. 1Love's avatar hath seen fit to appear!No. 1 by AscendantLiche
Man such as thee was not made of Dust,
Though nor would brazen Fire, whimsical Air
Or the coyest Water be quite enough.
Thus I plagiarize ancient Spenser;
He and I are found in joyous accord:
I must find a matter beyond censure
And only the Heavens could suit my Lord.
To I, you are the compass by which my
Life-course is set; you are my fixe'd mark
In the skies of passion through which we soar,
To guide me through the sullen, sultry dark.
I grant I've never seen an Angel fly,
But you are my God; without you I'd die.
The Chronicle of Diego d'EmpioImagine a corpse.The Chronicle of Diego d'Empio by AscendantLiche
It lies in its tomb, marble and alabaster all surrounding. Its place of rest is grand, much grander than that of its life. Statues of Athenian greats peer down, their white faces wrinkled and creased, while friezes of the worthies of Rome tumble, spiral, fight and struggle round and round the sarcophagus of our subject. The sarcophagus itself is a simple affair, it seems. Lain on a plinth in the centre of this mausoleum of ages, it is a truncated kite made of dark wood (Mahogany, perhaps?) and bound with silver hinges in the shapes of leaves and flowers. On its top surface is the golden cruciform sign of Christianity, inlaid with the name of the occupant. Unfortunately, time and the stress of years has eroded the cross, and the name upon it is illegible. Step closer, though, and you will see something quite odd about the coffin. Its hinges, though surely just as old as the coffin proper, seem oiled and well preserved. Surely a triumph of Renaissance workmanship! Howev
|The first chapter of my first super-serious story, Expeditions and Intrigues. Chances are, this story will be abandoned one day, but I really hope to have it published.|
Take a look, if you're interested. Any feedback of any sort is most welcome, and who knows? You might just enjoy it.
I am a teenage, British guy currently at Sixth Form. I enjoy writing, though I have next to no talent in it and would love to be able to draw and make music as well. Unfortunately, that ain't gonna happen.|
I also read Homestuck, and totally don't have a crush on Gamzee and Sollux.
I am a beginner fantasy writer in the process of writing what I hope will be a story the length of a small novel, called "Expeditions and Intrigues". I'm quite enjoying it so far.
([Although it's sort of on hold right now])
If any one has Steam or Skype, please do add me. I'd love to talk to MOAR PEOPLEZZ. :3
My Skype Name: monoprismos
My Steam Name: monoprismatika
And then there's my Tumblr, below.