There once was a young man named Feste, and he was not a very good young man.
He was a thief, and a sneaky one at that. He would go to all of the stores in the market and steal anything that he pleased.
He loved to steal from the baker and the butcher especially.
He would go to his hiding place in the forest after his deviousness and eat away his stolen treasures, brooding on what a “clever little boy” he was.
The baker and the butcher knew though. They noticed him coming in most days and leaving in quite a hurry. They could not actually catch him in the act, but they knew beyond a doubt what he was doing. They were having drinks together one night though when they devised a clever scheme to stop him from stealing ever again. The butcher carved up a juicy ham, and the baker baked up a delicious pie, but they added a little something extra to it…

The butcher made sure to quite a bit of alcohol into the ham, and the baker did the same with his pie. They both set their two traps in the store, right when the spoiled thief Feste came strolling into the market with his eyes gleaming.
The baker watched him walk into his shop,the pie disappeared.
The butcher watched him walk into his shop, the ham disappeared.
They both smiled and went about their work.
Feste rushed to his hiding place and devoured his stolen goodies so fast that he didn’t even realize how peculiar it seemed to taste...
Not long after, he started to feel strange. Numb and stupid. He ran towards the village, acting a buffoon. The villagers stared and laughed at Feste acting so odd. His mother found him though and brought down the fury.

“Feste! Why are you acting like a **** fool?" She demanded.
He threw out a few words in a drunken stupor and swayed in place.
"Wait.. have you been drinking!?” She screamed.

“Noe maum! Allll Ie had todae is pie and haam!” He stammered in a drunken sway.

“And where exactly did you get those!?” She inquired.

Feste had a look of terror on his face and grew silent.
He was found out to be the no good thief and was punished severely, because his mother thought he stole the alcohol as well as the pie and ham, and he couldn’t prove otherwise.
Feste never stole again and he even apologized to the butcher and baker, though they still do have a laugh now and then…

The End

Is that what we wake up to every day?

Fast food and gas stations are forever stamped in the corners of my eyes as they are looking through the glass of minimum wage to the red flashing lights of a man hoping to get back to his children safely.

Is life is a pointed dagger then my blade is rusted and dull when I wonder why I even try some days.

Do I dare defend my pride and still demand something more than this? Is this a call for engines in the air or wings made of wax? Death would be more alive than waking up to another day of shampoo commercials and microwave dinners.

You are always whispering in my ear though dear and telling me that you're more than just a particle flown into my imagination from a world so oh very different than ours.

Are your eyes as bright as I imagine? Will the glare from them blind me from the tax collectors whip and will your laughter drown out the screams of onlookers who are throwing peanuts through the bars at my feet?

Will your kiss melt me and cause me to fall into wind like leaves in a storm, a tornado of color and beauty..?

I lay in bed and my eyes close tightly, my breathing slows and thoughts drip into pits men drown themselves in, the murky waters of nihilistic cynicism...

Though my hand will still not be closed around yours when the sun rises, the whisper lets me know you are still awake and searching for me too...

The form in which we live our lives

Breeds in the midst of demon hives.

For dogs do bark in senseless fright

At shadows lurking in the night,

And souls shiver at that unseen;

Cathartic reasons not to dream.

Voices whisper ideas, faux truths,

That knowledge has no valid use.

And when we hear, we do obey

The voice that blocks the light of day.

Lamplight dances against cave walls

And childlike wonder slowly falls.

Pavlov shakes his head in sadness,

For we, indeed, are his madness.

And Plato weeps within his cage

For all his truths leave him in rage.

Is all that we can ever see

Vague words that tell us not to be?

Can you please save me?
I am drowning.
I am drowning in the land of the free and home of the...
(wait, what was that last part again?)
We had so much potential...
We saved the world.
We cared for it gently.
Now that has been shoved to the side.
I am drowning in this dystopian plutocracy.
I can't breathe over the advertisements.
My lungs are filled with empty words.



I sink into the static...

So I was sitting at home watching a movie when nature called me and told me that it was time to drain my bladder. She is such a sweet lady. So I do my business and I flush the toilet. but oh no! It wouldn’t stop running! If it keeps running like that, it will make the water bill go up which would cause our family grief beyond anything!

I was taken aback and scared at this atrocity, making me realize that the toilet demon has come again to make us pay for using his burial site for plumbing. I gathered all of the courage that I could muster and I screamed, “I will save this house from the toilet demon!”

I took the lid off of back and could hear the demon laughing at me as he kept the water running, I notice that the water would stop if I kept a piece held up. But alas! It wouldn’t stay up! I thought deeply on what to do. There were no rubber bands and tape wouldn’t hold. But string would! So I rushed to the armory, otherwise known as the pantry, and I found some string, and some electric tape as well! I gathered my tools and with a battle cry, I rushed back to the bathroom. I could have swore that I heard the yells of other men, and the sounds of horses plowing through the ground, while the music from the film 300 played out loud.

I rushed into the bathroom and lifted my tools! Then the water stopped and the toilet had finished its cycle and all was silent and still. I cursed, dropped everything, and went back to sit down and watch my movie, thinking that I let the plumbing get a little out of hand.

The End

Oh how I wish I was a Jedi Pirate.
Can you imagine how bad *** that would be?
Dressed in awesome sea faring garb
and carrying a lightsaber and blaster on my side.

I know that jedis stand for justice and peace and siths stand for emotion and power.
I can't pick a side.
So I guess I'll stay in the middle.
I'll sail the cosmic seas
and feel the force within the breeze.
With a bottle of *** in my hand
and force lightning at my command.

God that would be ******* awesome.

"Look at the way your feet drag the ground. What an idiot."
The voice is more like a knife but knives are just fragile pieces of metal.

Luckily I am in the mood to break stuff.

If I opened the door to my room and found an empty hole, I'd have to smile because I see something new.
Sadness is walking the same streets and never visiting the bookstore on the corner.
That explains why my eyes are sunken and my cynicism is more than just a bad habit.
The escape hatch is already turning though and light is pouring onto the pavement.

The odd thing is...
that is where I ran into her.
Standing in the middle of the street, holding a paintbrush and humming something soft between those lips.
Sometimes the most beautiful things can't see what they are because demons and unkind words have wrapped them in a fun house mirror.

Hmm...
Luckily I am in the mood to break stuff.
If the sun spoke in poems and sang us all to sleep, it still could not compare to the radiance emitting around your soul.

Come on dear, let's smash some glass and paint something new in this world.
The future is an empty canvas.

Is there a difference between whispers and screams?
This bombastic expulsion of soul...

To ears who might listen, or eternal silence.
hearts and minds are far from control.

I drink red bull and orange juice with a splash ***.
Then I play screamo speeding down the highway
getting ready to topple kings.
I am the kind of guy that smokes cigars in the shower then dances his way to the kitchen to make a peanut butter and jelly.
If there was in an absolute zero in the amount of ***** a human being can give, I wouldn't even try to calculate it because that will prove my point.
I watched a woman get punched in the face by another woman over a ******* blender and I watched a poor man give a dollar out of a broken wallet to a charity.
These things seem to not make sense to some
To me it does.
You think the world is mostly bad?
You think the world is mostly good?
You're wrong.
You are all wrong.
Speaking in absolutes will put you in the same place as the tyrant that you are constantly ******* about.
If you want to save the world, there will always be people trying to stop you.
If you want to destroy the world, there will always be people trying to stop you.
I am the man in the background eating popcorn and getting miffed because my soda is almost empty and I might have to get a refill.
These are the kings I topple.


YOU
ARE
THE
KINGS
I
TOPPLE

For the love of god shut the hell up and smoke a cigar in the shower.

There is more to words than pouting words from a boy or girl that broke your poor little heart.

Look in the history of man and find what you need. Instead of what you want.

Seriously.
Stop.

The hull is full of skeletons but I cannot prove a thing,
so instead I'll heave around the lines and softly start to sing.
Perhaps they'll send me to the brig
or have me dance a gallows jig.
but either way, I'm here to stay
until my body fades away.

So fellow sailors start to chant, I want t hear your voices.
They mean more to me than you will ever know.



*I'll be gone for a while but I'll be back...

Out in the West Texas town of El Paso I fell in love with a Mexican girl. Night-time would find me in Rosa's cantina Music would play and Felina would whirl.

Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina Wicked and evil while casting a spell. My love was deep for this Mexican maiden I was in love but in vain, I could tell.

One night a wild young cowboy came in Wild as the West Texas wind. Dashing and daring A drink he was sharing with wicked Felina The girl that I loved.

So in anger I Challenged his right for the love of this maiden down went his hand for the gun that he wore. My challenge was answered in less than a heart-beat, the handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor.

Just for a moment I stood there in silence, shocked by the foul evil deed I had done. Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there I had but one chance and that was to run.

Out through the back door of Rosa's I ran Out where the horses were tied. I caught a good one It looked like it could run Up on its back And away I did ride just as fast as I Could from the West Texas town of El Paso Out to the bad-lands of New Mexico.

Back in El Paso my life would be worthless Everything's gone in life, nothing is left. It's been so long since I've seen the young maiden My love is stronger than my fear of death.

I saddled up and away I did go Riding alone in the dark. Maybe tomorrow A bullet may find me Tonight nothing's worse than this Pain in my heart. And at last here I Am on the hill overlooking El Paso I can see Rosa's cantina below My love is strong and it pushes me onward Down off the hill to Felina I go.

Off to my right I see five mounted cowboys, off to my left ride a dozen or more. Shouting and shooting I can't let them catch me, I have to make it to Rosa's back door.

Something is dreadfully wrong for I feel A deep burning pain in my side. Though I am trying To stay in the saddle I'm getting weary Unable to ride

But my love for Felina is strong and I rise where I've fallen Though I am weary I can't stop to rest I see the white puff of smoke from the rifle I feel the bullet go deep in my chest

From out of nowhere Felina has found me Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side Cradled by two loving arms that I'll die for One little kiss and Felina, good-bye

I am ****** at the world for being so selfish.
I am ****** at all pretty girls who pass me by.
I am ****** at the rich folk who have more than I.
I am ****** at the arrogance,
****** AT THE IGNORANCE.
I am ****** at my teacher for making me fail.
I'm so very angry. I'm ****** as hell.
I am ****** at my band 'cause their new album *****.
I'm ****** at the manager because he didn't give me a chance.
But most of all I'm ****** 'cause I done ****** my pants.

Anni fa, ti ** scritto una poesia d'amore.
Occhi nebbiosa e luminoso, mi hai sorriso.
Ma negli abissi del profondo
la mia coscienza mi ha urlato.
Sa che abbiate mai svanire proprio come il resto
perché sono un casino maledetto dio.

Im sorry dad but this bottle makes more sense than those cryptic psalms ever would.
Im sorry mom but the world isnt what you wish it was and you did the best you could.

These crazy people screaming at each other like a train whistle blaring heading straight into a lake.
The devil on my shoulder laughing, singing, dancing, watching chaos become all its born to be.
The angel on my shoulder crying, preaching, misbehavin holding signs against a ******* company.

****** preacher man and ****** uncle sam cant you see that you see that all you do is spill the pork and beans?
Ill sit and cigar haze and my *** and beer soak daze and wish youd all just shut your ******* mouths.

I'm sorry dad but this bottle makes more sense than those cryptic psalms ever would.
Im sorry mom but the world isnt what you wish it was and you did the best you could.

Wounded fragments of shattered dreams stain the pavement and sidewalks while we all move in a pattern unknown and unseen.
Poised perfectly in the sky are the ends of strings that pull us along, and we follow, apathetic to the vile disgrace of not being in control.
The sun neither rises nor falls, we circle around to have him stare at us with curious and diminished eyes.
The stars wink and shine like diamonds in a fog, long after their reign has ended and their souls have departed.

Half forgotten synapses and faded photographs are the pinpoint of realization in the half written tragedy and comedy of man.

Can we feel the shattered slice into our feet? Do we drink of the cup of color or our we drowning ourselves in a cesspool of grey?
Frayed and patched we are.
The wolf is ignorant while the sparrow is enlightened. They chase each other. Dream by dream, thought by thought, reaction by action, into the depths of our souls. Neither can triumph over the other and perhaps that is the design. Blueprints hidden carefully by an architect far beyond comprehension of morality and sustenance are the makings of an encore, a time for roses after the curtain falls.
For none can know the beauty and mystery behind the short circuit of synapse and the ceasing of beats.
Perception of dimensions beyond us our limited and jaded, causing lies disguised as truth. Fear of the mystery causes fear of us all. We are all that is here. We are the tourniquet and we are the axe.

Oh child of wonder… Oh traveler of distance. See us all.

We are two sides of a spinning coin. We are everything and we are nothing. Perhaps the strings will be cut. We will overcome the misfortune of breathing in that which is farthest from the truth. Be the crack in the pattern. Be the narrow path.

Be better than us.

Dear poets,

I am leaving for bootcamp in three days.
I will come back as a sailor and I will still come back as a writer.

I wanted to say that I have adored every minute I have ever spent on this website.
So many words.
So many souls...

I want whoever reads this to remember something while I am gone.
You're beautiful.
You're loved.
And you're ******* awesome.

I will have someone post the address where I am and if anyone hear would like to send me something, it would be appreciated.

Stay you.

I walk on embers made of ice and the skin still melts away.
                 I look through glass to sunshine beasts and still my vision fights decay.



I scream,
I charge,
I draw my sword to fight
the ever,
that endless horde.
                

                                                  But words of steel and wounds unhealed
                                                      will be there tomorrow for me to feel.

For now I lay in silence unbroken and this stands alone on thought filled balloons...

In the morning I'll fight these perilous wars,
one breaching my senses,
one behind closed doors.

But right now I'm grinning
and quite justly sinning
in dwelling on those things my heart branches
towards.

I woke with a sleepy start to find the devil standing over my bed.
I screamed in alarm and punched that ******* in the head.

He frowned then said he was feeing lonely
with a sad little shrug
So I laughed and gave him a big bear hug.

Then God sent me to hell for being nice

0_0

If an apparition is all the gods have called me to be,
then I will grit my teeth and scream my way into eternity.

Unleashing words that few care to hear and tingles up your spine that some might think to be a strange and mysterious fear.
Being used to falling in the dirt can cause a dangerous smile to cross your lips
and most don't expect what they find if they take a peak inside.
Don't blink because I might be gone and the ones who light a lantern to search for me in the dark are the only ones worth singing to.

If I hide, who will search for me?
If I sink, who will swim with me?
If I fall, will you try to catch me?

Light a lantern if you care because I am always partly fading away...

A letter from unknown.
British Expeditionary Force, Friday December 25th 1914.      

   
"My Dear Mater, This will be the most memorable Christmas I've ever spent or likely to spend: since about tea time yesterday I don't think theres been a shot fired on either side up to now."

"Last night turned a very clear frost moonlight night, so soon after dusk we had some decent fires going and had a few carols and songs. The Germans commenced by placing lights all along the edge of their trenches and coming over to us - wishing us a Happy Christmas.
Some of our chaps went over to their lines."

"There must be something in the spirit of Christmas as to day we are all on top of our trenches running about ..."

"After breakfast we had a game of football at the back of our trenches! We've had a few Germans over to see us this morning. They also sent a party over to bury a ****** we shot in the week ... About 10.30 we had a short church parade the morning service etc. held in the trench ..." 

"Just before dinner I had the pleasure of shaking hands with several Germans ... I exchanged one of my balaclavas for a hat. I've also got a button off one of their tunics. We also exchanged smokes etc. and had a decent chat."
"They say they won't fire tomorrow if we don't so I suppose we shall get a bit of a holiday - perhaps ... We can hardly believe that we've been firing at them ... it all seems so strange.
With much love from Boy."

I am you.
I am your shadow.
You are mine.
A stone unearthed in this frozen ground
Covered in snow.
Gazing at the flower growing up, surrounded
By life
And sunlight abundantly.
The stone whimpers in the cold.
Dancing figures in the twilight of mere existence.
Twirling in a haze of endless color and ceaseless charisma.
Stillness in the night.
The biting flogging of time and circumstance
Detached
From all inside and without.
Being comatose inside a tomb made of ice and desire.
Waiting,
Watching,
Weeping.
The rock, he twitches in the uncomfortable onslaught.
The flower loses a petal. In the fullness of life
She
Lowers her head in
Invisible agony. Torn by the choices
Made without reason.
Loneliness.
Time stands still.
The eyes of many are unaccustomed
To
The eyes of the few and the broken.
The grins of the ignorant shine like
Stars.
Glistening in the proverbial
Conundrum.
The rock and the flower split open
After, eternity follows.
The figures, mere candlelight,
Embrace and kiss.
Together.
Forever.
Nevermore hesitant to the desires which
Overwhelm and
Breathe purpose.
Two flames become one.
Meaning uncovered.
Intertwined lovers.
Breathing in shudders.
Blind to all others.
I am you.

When time began after the first second fell into nothingness and the world became more than a whisper, two beings met in the darkness and could not remember where they came from.
One green,
and one yellow.

Green preferred the fresh smell of the earth beneath his feet and the flow of water along his hands. Yellow preferred to give light to green, allowing him to work in peace and sending wind to wipe away any pain of toil.

Green and yellow began to grow fond of one another though and wanted more than just mutual work.
As time passed and the work of green and yellow grew beautiful in strength, their love grew more powerful and tender.

But in all their strength, they could not touch one another...
Their hands grew close but never enough to grasp one another. The light grew dim and green began to fade to brown...


...but...

When the will is strong and love gives birth in weary veins, miraculous things can happen.

In a moment of strength and the need to hold one another, green and yellow exploded in an attempt to reach each other...
and in that instant, blue was created across an endless path between them.

They both smiled and held each other softly, whispering things that mortal ears will never hear... but with the right ears you can hear their messages in the wind and the water..



So it will be until the last second stops.
When darkness is falling you can look to the west and see green meet yellow and embrace into the vast eternity.

The End.


-Joshua

I wake up and my head is spinning.
It feels as if I was just falling and had just landed on my bed.
Did I?
I am not sure.

I stand up and look around my room.

This does look like my room. It smells like my room and sounds like my room. But it does not feel like my room. I look over at the mirror and there is a lovely ocean in the distance. That doesn’t seem normal but I could be mistaken. I will come back to that later.

I walk around my room and the floor feels like I am standing in freshly tilled earth. I smell my room though and smell no earth. I walk over to my computer and I touch it. It melts. That is not good. I have a project due soon and all of my notes are on it. I am not pleased. The melted remnants fall to the floor and reassemble. I smile. Perhaps I should not touch anything for a while.

I call out to see if anyone is around and my voice echoes for what seems like hours. I can see the sound waves bouncing around the room. They are golden and lovely. I hear voices and look over at the poster hanging on the wall. It is having a conversation with the painting next to it. I sit down and listen for a while. I giggle at them and they notice I am listening. They give me a rude look and I apologize.

I stand up and walk over to the window. The trees outside are on fire. It is beautiful. They do not seem to be dying though. In fact, they seem to be blooming in the flame. It starts to rain though and the trees begin to fade. This makes me sad. I sit on the bed and I pick up a book lying on the floor. I am glad that it does not melt. I flip through the book and I hear words whispering to me. I don’t want them to stop. They fascinate me. I can tell they have something important to say and it seems as if no one has listened for a long time. I close my eyes for a moment and I hum a tune that it is stuck in the back of my mind. I hear piano keys.

I open my eyes and the room is completely empty and it seems as if it has aged sixty years. The walls look sad. The mirror is still hanging there though and the ocean looks even lovelier in the decaying structure around me. I walk over to the mirror and I touch it.

The room is no more and I am standing on a platform with the sea all around me. The sky is a deep violet and it seems as if the sun has just fallen out of view. Lightening is flashing but it is not frightening. It is calming. I look down and notice that I am standing on a compass. It is spinning rapidly and it makes my head hurt. It finally comes to a halt at what must be north and I feel as if I had not moved at all. I hear a faint sound and I turn around.

There is a beautiful horse standing there. I walk up to it and it brushes my face with its own. I climb on its back and it turns west. I hear a voice whisper to go west. I urge the horse forward. It takes off running and we jump on the edge. We fall. The water gets closer and closer and then disappears.

We are falling into a void of color and silence. We fall for a long time. I close my eyes and hear a splash. I sit up and I am on a beach. Explosions are happening all around me. It is dark but I hear the sound of gunfire and shouting all around me. There is a war going on and I am soaking wet and hazy.

I look up and the horse is staring at me from the edge of the beach. It turns into a dog and runs into the forest. I regain composure quickly and give chase. It is fast but so am I. Bullets are flying around me and fire is claiming lives in the darkness. I keep chasing the dog. We run for a long time.

It eventually stops in a clearing and I stop as well. A sacred feeling comes over me. The dog looks at me and its eyes are piercing. I feel ashamed.

It is quiet here. I hear no explosions and the shouts have died out long ago. It feels very peaceful and yet the shame remains. I hang my head and the sound of my heartbeat rings in my ears. I look up and the dog is gone. The sound of my heartbeat fades and I am alone.

It begins to snow and I notice that I am naked. I must have been the whole time. The clearing fills with snow and yet I do not feel cold. The trees begin to fall away in the snow and I am left with nothing but dazzling white. It is very beautiful.







I close my eyes and whisper three words.







I wake up and my head is spinning. It feels as if I was just falling and had just landed on my bed.

I do feel in another time.
The cultures of a life long past mine,
the voices long dead and the thoughts of those who once questioned the reason of living and the mystery of dying linger here where we think we rule.
I can breathe the same air, think the same thoughts...
Ghosts become ghosts and we carry the past in all our movements.

Every step we take may not be in the exact footprint as those who came before us, but they are in the same dirt.

I shot an arrow in the air
but then I was filled with despair
because it fell without a care
back to my feet; so unfair.

But I did not whine, I did not cry
I grabbed it again and let it fly.
and now its soul will never die
flying past the clouds and into the sky.

I have a flask in my back pocket and a little bit of nothing in my wallet.
My thoughts are stumbling more than my feet and there is jazz somewhere out in the darkness.

My heart is full of rage and ***,
but parts of it are slightly numb,
when faces passing in the street
can always seem so grey and glum.

The sun hid out of sight today and echoes asked for light to see.
They faded in the raindrops and the clouds ignored the sound.

I watched the sunset through the white
and prayed for moonlight to give me sight
but the warmth that ran throughout my veins
decided to end a losing fight.



**to be continued...

Purple clouds are hanging over my head and fingers are beckoning me to the bed.
I am running with ropes tied around my legs attempting to escape from useless dread.
I struck a match with violet flame but wasn't ready to play this game.
Too late to turn back now.  
Better douse my body in gasoline and become a velvet lantern.

I am a child of the north and south.
I am a son of the east and west.
I am a ghost of the sky and sea
A mirrored reflection of sun and moon.
I am dirt and I am water.
I am nothing and I am everything.