mustufa-raja
American
Just a 16 year old, tryna get by life. I go to Klein Collins High, in Spring, TX. I spend 14 hours a day listening (not just hearing) music, I play guitar, Bass, Drums, keyboard, mandolin, and many other instruments, music is more than just my life. I enjoy speaking religion and politics. Too lazy to type anymore, so just look for me on fb if anything.
As he arose from the whirlwind of ash, he wondered what it was that
had actually happened. The last thing he remembered was that he had
fallen off the edge of the frail olive branch, everything covered in
flames. As he came plumeting down, he was corraled out of the air by a
dove. This dove, with her lush, white feathers glistening above the fire
that had engulfed the land, had brought him to her olive branch, but
much like his own olive branch, hers too began to split, and combust. It
was as though everything that he touched died. He despised it. The
dove comforted him, telling him, that they merely havn't found their
olive branch. "It's not necessary to be born into the olive branch to
which you belong." said she. so they searched on and on. To this day,
they search. He had found half of himself, the day the dove came from
above, but alas, he has yet to find the other half. For she is Immortal
Dove, and he only a mere idea, however every idea may perhaps have
the potential to become immortal, depending entirely upon what it is
nurtured with, and the perspective behind it.
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 7:07 PM UTC
There were many bots in the world
Only two models, one boy and one girl
All one in the same
So why have such a mass
Treading upon this broken glass
a path, a broken path
leading no where
breathing paid for air
bought out society
Are we too not one in the same
Why give a separate name
When the functionality remains conformed
Ah but there was one, one malformed
T'was one mistake
For heaven's sake
Such a mistake
This bot could feel
Why make such a big deal
He doesn't belong
He is not one of us
They all made a fuss
little did they know
his ways being followed
the narrow path
of broken glass
only this one with a destination
D3 was the name this infamous bot was given
this was the very bot by which V11 was driven
V11 too had a malfunction
feeling unsynthetically attracted to D3
she felt as though he was all her receptors could receive
They soon came for the two
D3 knew not what to do
his brown light reflection recievers
widened in fear
his auburn wires upon the bottom of his chin
spiked down, reciprocated grin
his black dome covering, waving in the misty wind
She took all blame
to society, 'twas a mere game
he failed to understand why
someone would throw their lives away; die
for someone else
there is no logical gain
yet he felt what he described as the undefined word; pain
As the society rejoiced, D3 depressingly watched
his eyes steadily locked
waiting for their portrayal of relief
but to his grief
they were dissatisfied
"He is still out there, anti-conforming others"
D3 than shuttered
For, the poor mistake of a bot caught wind
He was up against fate, there was no way he could win
Feeling the pain that he was causing
He slowly began to shake
He shed a tear, began to shed and break
for there was nothing for him to shed to
his human soul now free from his metal extrerior
the society began to feel inferior
his metal remains... let us speak not
the society... they remembered that they feel not
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:52 PM UTC
Once upon a twilight tingle, under the moonlit stars' twinkle
Such a foul fowl, 'tis only a foul owl
"What brings you here on this most auspacious night of nights?" I asked
The task it brought, I knew not, I merely cowered, as it did growl
I, with my guitar in hand, hastely jumped upon the warm sand, tipping, and tripping upon my towel,
As the Owl, with it's luminous eyes, began to tread the now seemingly still and chilled soil,
The ocean's roar slowly died down
t'was not the only sound that began to silence itself
even the pestilent winds around us fell idle to the ground
My reverberating heartbeat now the only audible sound
Fear finally finding sanctum in thoughts of logic
Think my man, think strategic, for this is what you now can do
Afright, now simple curiousity
No necessity was it, t'was a simple question i began to skew,
"what is your name, you obnoxious creature you?"
The now appearing invisible predator corraled the picture on the back of my guitar and flew, cawwing merely once calmly "Who are you?"
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:51 PM UTC
Empty ice cream cartons and salty eyes
All noise, and pestilence slowly dies
She feels the pain
Battles not fought for gain
Battles still fought nonetheless
The cause slowly begining to digress
For the purpose is not strong enough to make past
The battle, alas
Must it always be the female
Towards which leans the scale
of destout
eyes following their momentary drought
If only the stains on his cheek
Were prominent enough for her to see
Every time she came near
He'd wish she'd see his single tear
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:48 PM UTC
Is there anyway I could merely fall asleep and just dream... dream..
Dream away from the scars and fights
Fights and scars of all that which oppresses me and depresses me, Reality is no necessity of mine
I shall stick to the depths of my mind
And whatever I may find
I'll hold it, I'll mold it, till I can call it mine.
For what hath reality ever hold for me
Nothing, nothing but pain, misery, and atrocity
Free, I shall be
With the birds of my dreams
For it seems
That the birds that fly in reality
Are trapped and caged hopelessly
By this omnipresent hatred
leave this Earth as it is, old and decrepit
I dare not die
'T'is not death
For I have lived and merely decide
'Tis those that live, that hath given up their breath
I lie awake ready for the ride
The ride that may take me to a new height
Oh sweet cyanide... I sleep again, tonight
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:47 PM UTC
Time is escaping
As it is but shaping
The more we chase after it the further I suspect
We soon realize, in chasing what we despise, we merely double the effect
Of its running away,
Rather than seizing the day,
By losing the precious amount of time
That we oh so carefully left behind
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:47 PM UTC