Can’t Wait To Live It!

Afternoon, everybody! Got another fun little poem for you here. Please enjoy, friends.


Can’t Wait To Live It

It just doesn’t make any sense!

That’s all I’ve got to say.

So many times I’ll say it

in exasperation!

Wearing a dunce cap,

i ask again,

“Why doesn’t it make any sense!”

I find no answer in the empty space around me.

So why do I continue to float around in empty space,

asking questions of the stars,

stars who might never answer?

Well what else would you have me do?

I’ll float and float until I’m found

and then I’ll tell my story.

They’ll write books and songs about me!

They’ll never know the best parts of the story!

I can’t wait to live them.

Inspired By The Stars

Afternoon, friends! The stars as my muse, I have written for you a monologue, one you may find interesting. It is less of a poem but in the same format. I’d like to think it’s a part of the lore I have built up in secret, awaiting some slow release that may finally culminate in an understanding of one final work. We shall see. Please enjoy.


A Monologue

Futility at its best.

You’ve come to restore the Empire.

Your putrid little thing.

It withers and dies as we speak.

How could you ever hope to keep it alive?

It being so rife with decay and abuse.

I watched as my world was destroyed.

Burned to a crisp.

The surface turned into a most luminant molten glass

along with my family.

I will tear you apart,

piece by piece,

and show you a most vehement, vociferous suffering.

In reflection of my own.

I have hunted you for many years.

I am glad to have found you now,

on the precipice of higher achievement.

His Majesty’s last admiral.

So shall there be none more.

I come for the emperor now.

Storied Stormy Nights

Hello again, all! Back from my vacation, I have a little poem for you all that I enjoyed writing very much. Imagine yourself on the deck of a ship, you and your shipmates, hardened sailors one and all. The sails start to flap and wood starts to creak as dark clouds draw overhead. Rain pours over you, washing away the the salt and sweat so forcefully from your brow as lightning can be spotted in the distance. The captain screams his orders over the roar of the wind and the seas, attempting to regain control of the rigging. Amidst the cacophony you start to hear a beautiful song. Drawn to it, you and your brethren sail towards the rocks. A song that beautiful… Surely there aren’t any rocks?


Ballad of Sirens

O’ that cape of forlorn hope,

I sail around the bend.

I hope to find on other shores

a beach on which to mend

that poison heart and all its open sores.

Sailors find their sirens

there upon the rocks,

a place where ships will come to break and crash.

Beautiful their voices,

and so too are their faces,

so beautiful in fact

that sailors won’t notice

how their heartbeat quickly hastens.

Is it fear, perhaps?

Rightful to so fear the siren, yes,

but perhaps that song they sing,

that pretty one that lingers in your ears,

perhaps there is some truth to it

and closer to the siren’s heart the sailor nears.

There I lie,

crushed and broken on the rocks,

comforted by those deep blue eyes,

color of the sea I’ve grown to love,

belonging to the face

of one graceful little dove.

I know I’ll not survive the night,

I’ve not had enough adventures,

or been enough places,

but to die with you will mean eternity,

to find again Elysium one final time.

To hold you in that orchard,

my forever love.