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
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
You Do Not KnowYou do not know what is happening.You Do Not Know by AscendantLiche
Your head rests on your pillow as you say goodbye to your family.
The chair's straps dig into your wrists as you thrash madly, the electrodes on your temples cold and sticky and the needle pushed against your wrist the epitome of dread.
Your comrades' frantic yelling dissolves into meaningless mush as more bullets smash into you, driving you back against the Helmand village's wall.
You don't even have the strength to raise your arm as the merciless sun bakes your body to bones, the expedition that should have made your fortune having resulted in nothing but your death.
You do not know where you are.
The moon's pale gaze winks slyly down at you, the stars sighing into the void as the drugs take hold.
The wall you clutch grows fuzzy and soft as the city's sights fade to black.
The waters filling your lungs simply don't exist; your pounding blood feels like pure joy, immersed in your private sea of ecstasy.
A thousand places blur into vision as your mind
Who is the Grandest Magus?The Invoker strode down the lane, the denizens of the Dire's lands scurrying after him, chittering and chattering in their own strange tongue. When they bumped into his back he glared back at them with murder in his Exort-charged eyes. They backed off slightly when he did, slowing their progress. Eventually they realized that they could walk around him and sprinted past him, swords held aloft. They charged into battle with their Radiant counterparts, all leaves and flowers where the Dire was bone and rock, and the Invoker set about his harvest.Who is the Grandest Magus? by AscendantLiche
He raised his hands and gestured to the air thrice, murmuring “Exort” with each motion. Three orange spheres of flame orbited him, empowering him to destroy. One of the Radiant creeps stumbled back, heavily wounded, and the Invoker threw a small bolt of blue-white-orange fire at him. The thing was thrown back bodily as the projectile smashed into it, and Invoker heard the tinkling of gold, somewhere.
“Insipid,” He spat, a
A CravingAll day and every day,A Craving by AscendantLiche
I crave few things earthly
And all night and every night,
I want for the everything
That is you.
I miss you so, my darling,
Though we have not met.
I long for your closeness; your hands
In my hair entwined.
Every night, Luna wax-wanes but I- I- I,
I toss and turn in fevered want of
Your flesh, your body, against mine.
But such things desired soon away do fade,
And leave me cold and lonesome, your absence;
|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.