Types: Verse, Original
It wasn't your fault...
It never is

You'd think that, at long last,
a body could sleep
That the strings would be cut

Alack, alas.

Some know how to tie knots.

And so--
you were pulled

Out of a bed of warm soft loam


Into an army of puppet strings.

I know much to these things...
these bondings to a Master.

To dance to the deep bass beat of the Undermusic, even as
its vibrations
destroy you
break you
'til proud gait is shambled dance

All for a Puppet Master

I do not know thy pain...

I am a roleplayer
And thus I imagine.

I am an explorer.
I find profundity in the banal.

And so I scribbletype this down

As I look at this frozen moment, this 'screenshot'
Your dying scream
An bolt of crossbow through eye.

Find solace, brother.
Your body was enslaved...better that than mind.

<notpoetry>Don't ask. I've just been feeling that the 'board has been lacking in the 'good stuff' lately: poetry and really good debate. No offense taken, please. So...just consider this a free invitation to post any particular piece of creative work that came finished just a bit too late to post somewhere. </notpoetry>
The rhythmic chanting of the priest is like a fever
Like the songs at your funeral and the desperate, salty taste as
I gasped for breath there and hated
That I needed it so greedily that had abandoned you

He touches in blessing each of your compatriots, who,
Falling limply, seem to mockingly prostrate themselves before
His might
To accept with scornful, reckless hunger his offer of peace


For a moment our eyes lock though yours aren't even there anymore and I
Reach out as in a dream to touch you and
Watch quietly as your arm falls off
And you almost seem to smile

And you are gone
Again, the sweat-browed clergy looking wildly to me and
Tossing back your fell animation like so much
Exhaled life

But I saw you whisper
...And in the spirit of the thread, a lament in the form of a series of haiku, for one of those faceless little ravers we CoM members like to spend like fallen leaves in autumn...


I stand beside the
Banner of the Darkly Cute
One among many

Can you imagine
Being faceless and unknown
A drop in a flood

I followed all the
Initiates flying our
Miho's flag bravely

We crashed into the,
L33t3rs, and friend what a storm
of fateful hot lead...

We fell like May flies
Upon the dark avenue as
They poured it on hard

Ravers never had
The heavy firepower
That the others have

After a while of
Bleeding on the cold asphalt
An epiphany...

We were nothing but
"meat shields" for Miho's forces
We took fire and died...

None will sing the songs
Of us poor zombie ravers
Us poor little fools

We die upon the flak
But who will mourn us Ravers?
Us drops in the flood...

There's no pain, just cold
So just why did I come here?
To die cold, unknown?

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