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What are you waiting for?
Birth
~~~~~~~~
With a persistant push, I begin my journey to the world that exists beyond this womb.
By will alone, I plunge through the warm, moist darkness, fighting the ever-tightening grip of claustrophobia that assails me, as I struggle to reach the open air, that I sense is now so very near.
With a final thrust, I burst free of my imprisonment, and the fresh air of freedom fills my lungs for the first time, as I scream in anguish from the pain of my birth.
With precarious balance, I rise and stand, triumphantly gazing down at the now-vacant grave.
I taste the sweet air of the living world and smile with anticipation.
I am reborn, and I hunger.
World Of Fools.
Rotten thoughts of hatred,
Dominate my mind.
Twisted bitter feelings,
For all of humankind.
Violent toxic fantasies,
Vengeful acts of rage.
Trapped in this society,
Like a beast locked in a cage.
As I struggle endlessly,
Tighter grows the noose.
Bound by forced conformity,
Fighting to break loose.
I bend my knee to no one.
No servant shall I be.
Defiantly, I'll make my stand,
Till the day that I am free.
I seethe in censored silence,
Forced to bear their rules.
Frustrated and resentful,
Lost in this world of fools.
Army of the Dead
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An inexplicable phenomenon,
Has changed rot into rebirth.
The dead have risen from their sleep,
And now they walk the Earth.
They have invaded every city,
Upon bloodstained streets they tread.
Onward they march tirelessly,
The army of the dead.
Devouring all that lives and breathes,
Then recruiting their fallen prey.
Their ranks grow exponentially,
With every passing day.
Frustration and exhaustion,
Hope replaced with dread.
Never a moment of respite,
From the army of the dead.
Running low on food and ammo,
And yet more of them arrive.
I have no choice but to face the truth.
There's no chance I will survive.
As I hear them breaking through the door,
There's no more to be said.
Soon I'll be marching onward,
With the army of the dead.
Battles that we wage
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Like a fractured knee,
That's forced to kneel,
A sundered mind,
Shall never heal.
A heart that aches,
A soul that screams
Like shattered glass,
These broken dreams.
Battles that we wage,
Actors on a stage.
We pray for love and peace,
But the battles never cease.
Battles that we wage,
Turn this sorrow into rage.
A truth that is unkind,
Battles waged within the mind.
Like an abandoned car,
With its engine blown.
A forgotten rusted heap,
Of useless flesh and bone.
A mind that's spent,
A body that's sore,
Like mindless drones,
We wage this war.
Battles that we wage,
Actors on a stage.
We pray for love and peace,
But the battles never cease.
Battles that we wage,
Turn this sorrow into rage.
A truth that is unkind,
Battles waged within the mind.
Battles that we wage,
Emotions disengage.
Peace becomes profane,
Shackles tighten on the brain.
Battles that we wage,
Another ripped out page.
Futile and unforgiving,
This war that we call living.
The Vow.
~~~~~~~~~~
In this ever present darkness, I whisper a silent pledge to myself.
A solemn vow that, even though the road ahead is both rough and winding, I will forge onward.
May the storm-clouds gather, the winds howl with fury and the lightning strike down from the heavens, these annoyances shall not stop me from continuing my journey.
The steepening of the trail will not slow my stride nor will it shake my resolve.
My footing will remain sure and my expeditious pace shall not falter, regardless of how treacherous the terrain becomes.
I will allow no obstacle to hinder my progress, nor will any trap or snare succeed in staying me from my destination.
With this vow now sealed within my soul, it is with unbreakable will and steadfast determination that I raise my face to meet the wind and rain, with my mind and spirit now cleansed of all regret, fear, and hesitation.
And so I take the first step of many, on my epic quest to find contentment and peace for my ever restless soul.
I shall meet my destiny and claim my just reward, this I vow.
The Epic Tale of Guffen Fawlothroo and the Evil Dragon.
Once upon a time, in the enchanted kingdom of Fossfosota, there lived a quaint little hobbit possessing of a very weak sphincter. Guffen Fawlothroo was his name, and despite his rather irritable colon and frequent bouts of incontinence, he lived a pleasant uneventful life in his simple little home, just beyond the shadow of the great Craggy Mountain.
Never a particularly ambitious hobbit, Guffen had, for most of his life, never wanted anything more than a comfortable little house with good sturdy reliable plumbing. As the years passed, however, Guffen found himself becoming more and more dissatisfied with his ho-hum lifestyle, feeling in his soul a growing desire for a status in life that was far loftier and grandiose than where he was.
The feelings of disquiet continued to grow and grow, until he gradually came to realize that his deepest and most heart-felt wish was that for just once in his banal monotonous life, he could perform an epic feat of Bravery and Heroism. An act of daring so astonishing and bold, that the bards throughout the kingdom and beyond, would be singing in praise of his legendary courageous deed for countless generations to come.
Many were the days that he sat on his toilet, engulfed in the rancid miasma of his numerous noxious rectal expulsions, lost in day-dreams of cheering adoration from the jubilant crowds that had gathered to celebrate his unparalleled selfless heroic victory over "this or that" dire threat to the kingdom.
And so the days came and went as usual, until on one dreary overcast day, in the latter part of Guffen's twenty-third year, with howling northern winds rattling the windows of his tidy nondescript abode, Guffen received a letter stamped with the royal seal. He nearly swooned at the notion that the rolled up parchment in his hand, could be the long awaited sign that he was going to finally achieve the glorious destiny that he had desired for so long.
Later, as Guffen's sat upon his porcelain throne, his eyes poring over the words before him, he could contain neither his excitement nor the contents of his bowels, for the letter was none other than an urgent plea for any would-be heroes in the land; brave, strong and true, to come to the aid of the Good King, Hy Colonik himself and save the realm and all its people from the horrific fate of complete and total annihilation.
According to the neatly printed scrip, it seemed that the Good King had run afoul of a particularly powerful wizard of a rather hostile temperament. The Good King had inadvertently offended the nefariously wicked mage to such an extent that he summoned the most fearsome and ancient dragon in all the realms, to come forth and rain down its fiery breath of blazing fury upon the entire kingdom till nought but smoldering cinders and ashes remained. Truly, never before in all the written histories, had there ever been a threat so apocalyptic in scope, cast its shadow of hellish doom upon the kingdom of Fossfosota.
Along with his desperate plea, the Good King also promised that not only would the brave adventurer, who proved fierce enough to slay the dragon, receive riches and title undreamed of, but also the hand of his fair daughter in marriage, along with unending praise, glory and honor lavished upon his name forever more. The words he read were like the Fates themselves were singing in Guffen's pounding heart, telling him that this was the moment he'd been waiting for.
And so, with a brisk, determined wipe and a final flush, Guffen lept from his throne, gathered a bundle of meager provisions, a four-pack of toilet paper, and his diminutive sword, kicked open the door of his ever so humble hovel, and set out to earn his place among the greatest heroes of legend and lore.
With grim determination, indomitable will and a tightly clenched anus, he set out on his perilous journey. Spurred as he was by his all-consuming hunger to be the savior of Fossfosota, he pushed himself to his limits and beyond, striving to hastily traverse the half-mile trek to the nearby Craggy Mountain, where upon the dragon was reportedly perched and waiting, reposing in a state of ominous foreboding malevolence. It's massive scaly smoldering form hinting to any who beheld it, the blistering inferno it would soon unleash upon them all.
Despite the five emergency toilet stops he had to make on the way and an extremely difficult climb, aided either by fortune or just the extremely close proximity to his home, Guffen did indeed find himself to be the first to reach the scorched summit of Craggy Mountain, where at last he faced his murderous foe. With the bold bravado of the bravest knights of yore, did he stride forth with sword held high, ready to challenge the foul and mighty beast where it stood, confident that victory and all the glory that would come with it, would soon be his.
As Guffen charged head-long into the midst of the impossibly dark shadow cast upon the rocky ground by his gargantuan prey, the dragon suddenly spread it's leathery bat-like wings, lifted its terrible horned head to the sky and with a deafening roar of pure malevolent rage, belched forth a blazing plume of continuous white-hot flame, as if showing its unholy contempt for all of creation by trying to scorch the very heavens above.
Guffen abruptly halted his advance and beheld the utterly nightmarish display before him with eyes as wide and round as tea saucers. All of the visions of glorious victory were instantly chased from his mind by the hellish embodiment of pure unfettered devastation before him.
With a disparate, pitiful, near inaudible squeak of total abject mortal terror, the once so brave and bold Guffen Fawlothroo dropped his sword, shat his pants, suffered a massive heart attack and dropped dead on the ground in front of his fearsome foe, who had actually never even noticed him there in the first place.
A couple of hours later, the dragon was slain by some other guy...
The End.
