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A Haseley Aug 2011
To all that have known the horrors of Earth;
it is to you I write.

Be calm, be brave, be strong-
Do not leave without a fight!
Face your fears in times of trouble-
don’t be docile,  don’t take flight!
I know your struggles, I know your fears.
I’ve faced them also throughout my years.
I have seen the horrors too, my friend.
Yet don’t loose heart- don’t lose your guile!
For though it often seems it is- it isn’t yet the end!
And it won’t be yet for quite a while!
    I’m alive- and you are too-
we’ve faced them all, we’ve become the better.
We’ve fought our fights right through
and have marked our enemies with scarlet letters.
And in the end,
when we are done,
perhaps our journeys
will have just begun.
A Haseley Jul 2010
You praised me for my words when
They supported your own.
You held me in the highest esteem,
And set me upon a gilded throne.

And when you asked for more,
I obliged and wrote another.
I worked for days and hoped again
To be treated as your brother.

But when I finally finished,
And presented to you my theory,
There was no brotherhood to be had,
And I became quite weary.

You screamed at me and threw me out.
Tore down my gilded thrown.
I had gone against your own ideas,
And you left me quite alone.

I only meant to give you what you had
Once requested and praised.
I had only meant to help the people
Become enamored and amazed.

But now I see my folly,
And plan to make no more.
My work will be only for myself,
For I’d rather be right than adored.
Yet another school assignment, this time meant to be written by Einstein for one of my English projects.
A Haseley Jul 2010
I am but a bridge,
forgotten by those that cross.
I play no big part in their lives,
yet without me they would be lost.
Occasionally they'll stop,
whisper "Hello, good-bye."
But I mean nothing to them,
I'm as regular as the sky.
I safely guide them over,
watching silently as they meet.
But to them I am not anything,
just ground beneath their feet.
A very angst-ridden poem.
A Haseley Jul 2010
Come closer my child,
do mind the fire.
and I’ll tell you the tale of
Wayne, the Good Squire.
It was once, long ago,
in the kingdom of Kam,
that a cruel, recreant knight
controlled the whole land.
He had taken the kingdom
through fiery force,
And though many had died,
he showed no remorse.
He captured the castle with
hatred and slaughter.
No one remained, except the
king’s daughter.
For she was the picture of
beauty and grace.
The cruel knight fell in love
when he looked at her face.
And so there they remained,
the princess and her captor.
The kingdom was silent,
devoid of all laughter.
In a neighboring kingdom there
lived a knight.
With his armor all shined he
was a formidable sight.
He had heard of the story with a
mixture of glee,
for he needed to prove himself
to the community.
But he was young and stupid,
as most of them are.
He had not the brains,
he was only good for a spar.
So his kind, caring father
sent him off with a squire.
His name was Wayne,
and his wits were much higher.
The knight went for glory and
the love of a girl,
while the squire went for money
from the hand of an earl.
And so off they set, our
squire and knight.
They were well prepared for all
but a difficult fight.
They travelled for days without
sign of the castle,
Din the knight began to
complain, cursing such hassle.
He wanted the glory
but none of the trouble.
And while he was toiling
his anger did double.
He wanted to turn back, to
give it all up.
To go home and sleep with
ale in his cup.
But Wayne the Good Squire
convinced him to stay,
promising his fame in just one
more day.
This promise was good for on
the next night,
a castle loomed just ahead:
the cause of their plight.
The knight rode ahead,
ready for battle.
But Wayne followed slowly,
wary even of cattle.
Our Din was too loud,
too sure of himself.
He would soon be a trophy  
above the castle shelf.
The Lord of the castle,
the cruel knight named Lor,
knew he was there before
he came to the door.
His armor was on,
his sword by his side
he planned to be done with it
before he even stepped outside.
But Wayne had been watching
him prepare for the fight.
He rushed down the hill to warn
his burdensome knight.
He had concocted a plan above
either knights’ thinking.
He would switch places with
Din, faster than blinking.
He would go to the door
in place of the knight,
and when the door opened,
Din would give Lor a fight!
So Din went to hide in a bush
near the door,
while Wayne rode up proudly,
looking ready for war.
But when the doors opened,
there stood a man.
He was so large and monstrous,
Din forgot the whole plan.
He sat frozen in fear,
hidden in the bush,
not even brave enough to give
Wayne’s horse a push.
And so Wayne was left alone to
face the giant knight.
Lor looked upon him with a
laugh of delight.
But the brazen, young squire
refused to run back.
He charged without thinking,
his sword ready to attack.
Lor was astonished,
the squire caught him off guard.
The sword hit its target,
whacking Lor hard.
Dazed from the blow, the cruel
knight fell to the ground.
Wayne struck him once more,
and Lor died with no sound.
Gasping for breath after his
arduous fight,
Wayne fell out of the saddle
still dressed as a knight.
He stumbled into the castle to
make himself known,
but all he could manage was a
soft, feeble moan.
He fell to his knees and
curled into a heap.
Unable to stay awake,
he gave into sleep.
He awoke to find himself in
a soft bed,
he was so warm and content
he thought himself dead.
But then he saw a figure
slouched in a chair,
he saw it was Din, but he
could do nothing but stare.
Din saw him looking and
quickly sat straight,
his eyes were angry, his face
contorted with hate.
He accused Wayne of stealing
his glory and good name;
out from the beginning to
capture his fame.
Din got up from the chair and
moved with a knife,
and so Wayne was in yet
another struggle for life.
The fight was short-lived
for when Din stood he swayed.
And when he went to attack,
he fell onto his blade.
Wayne was astonished, it just
couldn’t be;
the knight that lay dead was the
one that started this spree.
He had planned to **** him
for fake lies and deceit.
So Wayne felt no remorse for
the man at his feet.
He left his room, in search of
the princess,
in hopes that he would return
with reward for his success.
He needn’t go far for outside of
his door,
there stood a woman whom
he couldn’t love more.
She too was taken by Wayne’s
good looks and charm.
She apologized for being
the cause of his harm.
He couldn’t hear more so he
got on his knee,
asking her to let him help
rule the country.
She accepted this offer with
happy tears.
For he was the knight that had
destroyed all her fears.
They embraced and as she
looked past his shoulder,
she received a scare from a man
that lay still as a boulder.
“My sweet who is that man that
hast scared me so?
He looks to be stabbed,
was he your foe?”
“My dear, don’t take fright of
such gruesome a sight.
That is only the once grand,
Cowardly Knight.”
Wayne and his love were
soon wed for life,
and never were their lives again
full of such strife.
And so it was that many
came to admire
and listen to the tale of Wayne,
the Good Squire.
In all honesty, this isn't well-written. I did it for a school assignment. But I'm putting it up here as a result of boredom and the fact that I am currently upset. Who says teenagers need sleep?
A Haseley Jul 2010
Unknown to me,
the Robin sang,
is the right of Man,
to capture all my cousins,
to steal all of the land.
They come and go
and fight and steal
and **** and fear
and waste a meal.
Why do they take more than they need?
I'd be all right with
a single seed.
Its odd to me,
I just don't know.
They **** my kin with a single blow.
They sometimes yell.
I get excited;
they're ending hell!
But no,
I'm wrong.
I see no peace.
Its just a war....
Some are gone, at least.
They cage my friends
and treat them 'nice'.
While wasting water,
and melting ice.
"Stupid!" I'm called.
Only just a bird!
Am I truly?
Perhaps they cannot hear my words....
I speak for us!
The animals,
the trees.
The swaying blades,
the falling leaves.
We're the ones that know
(I think)
the best way to live,
the best WAY to think!
And poor, poor them.
They'll never see,
why they die in floods,
and storms,
and seas.
Yet WE know!
(Else, I'm quite sure...)
Sweet Earth is weeping.
She has seen the knowledge in them,
A Haseley Mar 2010
I believe in God, I know,
though I don't believe in 'holy books'.
But does this make me heathen?
Does this warrant all the ***** looks?

I believe in God, I know,
though Science rules my life.
Is it not possible to look to him
to provide me peace throughout the strife?

I believe in God, I know,
though I never go to mass.
Will I go to Hell for helping others
instead of sitting -bored- in Sunday Class?

I believed in God, I thought,
until the priest said I'd fallen into Hell's rut.
I guess I was wrong for I always thought
that God would love me no matter what.
A Haseley Jan 2010
Wishes never have come true.
Dreams were simply shows.
Lucky pennies don't do squat,
stars are just gases that glow.
Magic has nothing to do at all
with the happiness around today.
Whoever decided to make  that up,
must have lost their way.
Because despite the times that I have tried,
(quite a few if I recall)
magic failed to show anything to me,
to make me believe at all.
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