SophiaShe is my blessingShe is my curseA dualistic stigmata that sets me apart.Like a big fish in a small pondI am stuntedLimited in growth and movementIn what I can and can not doBut I would never trade it awayDespite the difficulties she hands me, forCutting off the wings of an angelIs a most heinous of crimesThe wolf who runs against the grain of the packMay find himself alone; stranded; isolatedBut, he has the satisfaction that he plodded onOn his own volitionAnd did not blindly follow the consensus of the majority
BrooklynThe ghosts of ages pastClash with silent regressionExisting concurrently on separate wavelengthsA contracting dualistic natureThat both defines and unravels herFùtbol and reggaetónReign now on Sandy's lotThe latter a name with no meaningАптека and borshchIn the shadow of the QConverted by the kabob, a slowly dying breed86th Street and Avenue UCannot stand in the face of human wavesAy! Oh! FugheddabouditThe 50's flight to Lawn GuylandLeft Bed-Sty, Flatbush, Crown Heights, and othersWith any set identity, in and of itself a badge of multiculturalismYet, as the world
The Illusion of LifeLife is a carcinogenEvery moment leading towards oblivionDown the road leading to death we headA cancer of tales and places, people and thingsGrowing on the SelfRemove the tumorRemove the cancerRemove the diseaseRelease the Self.When we lose ourselves, we gain the SelfThrough the Self, we truly becomeFinally begot, we areAnd only then can we be
Thoughts Who Haunt The NightWho are these thoughtsthat haunt me at night, using sickly sweet wordsto preach the nihilistic gospelof steel meeting flesh?Are they constructsmanufactured by the artificial moodsthat claimed many a lifeof the past masters?Or is it really metired of an existence mired in disappointmenta once bright star dimmednow nothing more than a celestial afterthought?
No Title: Chapter OnePhaerûn gazed out the window of his quarters, out at the dark horizon, the sun not even in the sky yet. All he could see was darkness in the distance, save the occasional star in the sky, torch in the town and large conglomeration of light that marked the Black 300 in the distance. The Black 300 were a large mercenary group-a virtual army-that had been called in to aid in the city against the large orc army that had literally fought its way to the gates of the castle itself. Phaerûn himself had come to his city’s aid when the Orc hoards had come to siege Castle Blaze. He was no warrior, but he had other talents. Although he
Storm OverboardPain erupts across my chestFires started in desperationAs brine-ravaged lungsLong for the gentle caress of the Sylph's blessingDredging from the depths of my beingAn arm penetrating Poseidon's blanketFeels like a lifetimeAnd may fall upon deaf earsIn the storm, I am dependent on youTo pull me to safetyWill you take the effort to pull me aboard?Or will you set me free?
Land of the Snow LionsThe Roof of the WorldHails; "Om Mani Padme Hum"Jewel in the Lotus
The DragonSuch a mighty creatureI thought as I sized up my prizeThere was something else, thoughA profound loneliness in its eyesI am the last of my kindLong have I lived a solitary lifePierce my heart with your bladeFree me from my emptiness rifeThe beast loomed aboveIts hand on its breastMy mind raced as I struggledWhich choice was best?To kill this poor soulWould result in Dragons no moreTo stay my handWould prolong a life abhorWith grim dedicationI knew what must be doneA wince as I thrustIts time had runI thank you, noble HumanThrough pained lips it hissedIts eyes closed foreverA majestic creature woul
The LureCasual oblivionLife fades to grayRiding the smooth tides of blueSins of the fatherPassed on in bloodAnother prisoner secureAll is wellIn the paradoxical not worldHours pass, life returns, no longer trueWhat started a gameCannot be ignoredOnce one succumbs to the lure
Sta.sh
