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Tommy N Jul 2011
Mario hits it with the sounds
of bodies hitting plexiglass.

My horses hit it without a sound. They want to escape it.
And I am trying to drive this dune buggy
off this cliff, but the clipping is strong here.

In Pac-Man, the tunnels were circular. I don’t know
if people realized that they were trapped in a sphere.

In Asteroids when you get to the edge of the universe,
you begin again.

And that Snake. His body could stretch all over his world
looping, but he could never eat his tail.


If all your electrons were in the right place, and all the wall’s
electrons were in the right place. You could feasibly walk through
the wall.

What would you do while in the wall? Think. Fear.
The superposition could rip your body into ragdoll parts.


When I turned clipping off, I expected the freedom to walk through
the wall and suddenly the floor
fell out from under me.

Every time I respawn I feel like my inventory is heavier,
and my flamethrower burns colder.
The yellow aura
spiraled my night elf hunter avatar
as the DUN-DUMM
of false accommplishment
incited my addiction to
instant gratification.

I had just Leveled up.

The quest giver
gave me a choice

****** boots
Or
a less ****** Dagger

I took the ****** boots
because
**** the system
they looked cooler.

I was going to stomp cave spiders anyway,
what's the point of relinquishing
looking **** fine.
for an extra Attack Point?

****** Boots.

****** boots ALL Day long.

A naked human avatar
dances
facing a naked gnome
Named: "Buzz Lightyear"
He is Also dancing,
at crotch height.

This is Typical starting zone
foolery

I stayed up
watching Toonami all night
Naruto, Bleech, Inuyasha.
I could tell the sun came up
not because there was a window in my Kitchen,
there wasn't.

Tom and Jerry came on.
everyone knows
when Tom and Jerry came on
you were no longer pulling an
"all nighter."
You're pulling a
"Drink enough Soda
to get through the rest
of the day-er"

My entire diet
these past two days
has consisted of Gushers & Vault
because
Clearly Coca-Cola is superior
to Pepsi.

Therefore, Vault
was superior to Mountain Dew.
Which is the typical choice drink
of my internet brethren.

I don't know why I dyed my hair black nobody online could see it
But it made me feel
more
like my Night Elf Avatar

I wanted long white hair
I realized that's impossible
in 6th grade
So I Bought & Settled for Black
At least I could be like
"L" from death note,
Long sleeve white shirt, jeans
with no shoes.

I could also be
any other black-haired charecter
From any other angsty Anime
Because of course I loved angsty Anime
Because I held my cell phone like "L"
From Death Note.

I always dreamed
of this singing venus fly trap.

A Fuzzy Memory with a lost Origin
I realized seven years later
the Singing venus flytrap in my head
was AUDREY 2
from Little Shop Of Horrors.

Netflix reunited us in College
Audrey 2 finally Serenaded Me.
I listened with Voyeuristic Intentions
As memory saprilings grew
into the full songs
relieving the void in my soul
Lingering for a Man to be attacked
by a singing venus fly trap
in his own kitchen.

But only once,
Because I firmly beleived
movies should only be seen once
until I stopped
dyeing my hair black.
Despite watching Space jam
more times than any kid born in 1995 Should have
but still
all the kids born in 1995
watched space jam
more than any of them should have
because they were born in 1995.

Apparently
when I first saw little shop of horrors
it aired just before osmosis jones.

I love osmosis jones
almost as much as I love
Buzz lightyear, of Star Command

Buzz lightyears robot companion XR
reminded me of Cyberchase
and to this day Cyberchase
is the best show to watch
when you have no idea
who Gilbert Godfrey is.

Zoombinis is better
than oregon trail.
and also better
than Tom and Jerry.
but not better
than leveling my night elf Hunter.
Named:
"FEED ME A PIZZA!"

I think I spent more time
getting my Zoombinis
to look just right
then I Spent deciding
what outfit to wear

Routine
Black striped Hoodie
Unwashed and worn every day
Grey skulls all over it, because
of course it had grey skulls all over it.
Black pants.
Black socks
No actually, THESE black socks.
Okay, got gushers
and my Coca-Cola.

I now take as much time
to choose my outfit as
designing the perfect Zoombini.
however I have yet to replace
my legs
With
a skateboard.

I think that every grade before sixth grade is fourth grade
and 6th grade is basically 7th grade
which is to say my memory skips them both
to remember ending eighth grade

I miss being cool on the Internet
Whilst lame and forgotten in real life.

like black sock
wasn't quite as good
as that other Black sock.

I wanna go back.
To the seperation
Of who we pretend to be
Vs. who we actually are.
To be dramatic again.
incomparable.

An ideal self on the internet
Who is obviouslly not the real you
is decades more comforting
than Some Characatureized
Facebook Profile.

Today I was offered a choice

Work A minimum wage job
or
continue my useless college degree.

I decided to write a poem, because
**** the system.
If I am to Decide where to respawn from
Let it be poetry.

There is no spiraling Yellow aura
or DUN-DUMM

Sometimes there is snapping though.
Or a lost memory
of A singing venus Fly Trap.

I am a pretend person.
An avatar
just now, I have skin.
You can touch me
I breath without a Macro
or even pressing any keys.

I cannot bring myself to
Watch Space Jam again.
I can Identify Gilbert Godfrey's voice.
I will buy my children zoombinis
And it will collect dust
When all they want
Is to watch the fifth Toy Story movie
Way more than any kid born in 2020 should.
And all the kids born in 2020
Will Watch the fifth Toy Story Movie
Way more than they should
because they
will have been born
in 2020.

And I will rant
about the Missing LGM
and Warp Darkmatter
betraying Buzz Lightyear
By joining Evil Emperor Zurg
So Buzz was forced
to get three new Partners
Princess Mira Nova
Audrey 2
and Osmosis Jones.
because I will have Forgotten
Booster & XR.
Because Booster and XR
Never made a ******* Facebook Profile.

Nobody exists anymore.
We are all represented by our avatars
holding ourselfs up to the standards
of our photoshopped reflections

Being disappointed and overwhelmed

I Take pills to forget that I am
Acting Like myself
but can't find any evidence of Existing.
Besides these memories
of who i used to be.

I want my internet persona
to be nothing like me
So that I may focus on myself
in the real world coherently.

I want thick black lines
dividing mental Venn diagrams

I want Tom and Jerry
To signal me
That it is morning, again.
Leal Knowone  Jan 2015
Respawn
Leal Knowone Jan 2015
LOST NO LIGHT, LIFE IN VAIN
CARRY LIARS INTO THE FLAMES
DREADED MEMORIES OF HORRIBLE PAIN
BURY MEMORIES ALL THE SAME

HOPEFUL HEARTS OPEN TO THE SUN
AS A NEW DAY DAWNS
AFTER ALL IS SAID AND DONE
I'M A BULLET WITH NO GUN
I'M ALIVE AGAIN
AT THE END BACK WERE WE BEGAN

WHATEVER GODS MAY BE
I'M THE MASTER I CREATE
MASTER OF MY DESTINY
THE MASTER OF MY FATE
I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SOUL
YOU CAN NOT VIOLATE
YOU WONT MAKE ME COLD
I WONT FEEL YOUR HATE

wrong & right its all the same
you still have somewhere to place the blame
lost in forbidden realms of the brain
it all seems different but still the same

LOST NO LIGHT, LIFE IN VAIN
CARRY LIARS INTO THE FLAMES
DREADED MEMORIES OF HORRIBLE PAIN
BURY MEMORIES ALL THE SAME

HOPEFUL HEARTS OPEN TO THE SUN
AS A NEW DAY DAWNS
AFTER ALL IS SAID AND DONE
I'M A BULLET WITH NO GUN
I'M ALIVE AGAIN
AT THE END BACK WERE WE BEGAN
Co wrote by Brad Huston A.K.A. Arcontas Blank
Cam Arsenault Dec 2012
Oh, how I always wanted to live in an 8-bit world
Side-scrolling action
Duck hunts galore
As much currency as a first-world country
It’s hard not to love it
From Pokémon to Kid Icarus
The nostalgia nearly takes my breath away
I won’t let problems stack up like Tetris
I’m not being chased by ghosts crying,
“Wacka, wacka, wacka, wacka, wacka”
This isn’t a video game, it’s real life
When you die you don’t respawn like nothing ever happened
No, this is it. One life.
I’m placing blocks in Minecraft
Pwning n00bz in Call of Duty
Gaining headshots on Grunts like Master Chief
Gathering rings in Sonic the Hedgehog
Sneaking around like Ezio Auditore da Firenze
And delivering newspapers like Paperboy
While escaping the mysterious Slenderman
I’m living in this virtual world without danger
I don’t want to make it on these streets like Frogger
I don’t have big shoes to fill like the plumber or the blue blur
This ain’t no sandbox or first-person shooter, it’s reality
So, live it to the fullest, don’t rage quit
First full poem.
kiryuen Jun 2015
I don’t care you know, just make me up
but I suppose if I don’t do basic character designing first, you’d have nothing substantial to play with
opened the character settings page then gave up
oh well you can just fantasize about this hollow husk
just physical, for starters
I’d still be honoured
you ask me how I’m doing
I laugh so loud the ceiling shakes and neighbours come out of their houses
I started losing my footing since I stepped into this hellhole
you know, my vision is blurred
just take advantage of me
I won’t even retaliate I might even play along
hey, the me from pre-quicksand
I miss you please come home
this house is something like a hollow husk
I can’t see clearly anymore
I should probably get some glasses
even then I’d still let them play with me
I always levelled up my combat but neglected other skills for self-preservation
cooking, crafting, farming, hunting, etc.
is the person in the mirror the same as the person in the photos
****** doppelgängers
I’m quite the expert at investing in things I shouldn’t
and subtly letting people down
hey, the me from pre-quicksand
I think you should come home so I feel more myself
so maybe I can once again be kind(er)
and a little more wise
to see with unclouded eyes
and stop wandering off unarmed into the great unknown
when you’re back, pass me the ****** glasses
hey, idiot in the quicksand
can you at least try to ask for help
instead of struggling there like a *****
you’re sinking deeper
so I’m hollering and screaming at the top of my lungs
frightened faces peer out from windows opposite
forget it I’ll make a home of the quicksand
when I was still in control of the game
I should’ve trained some skill to get me out of this *******
or at least deal with it better
because now someone else is playing me
to some stranger I passed the reins, saying
“I don’t care you know, just make me up”
I’m in chin-deep
just launch me into battle without ammunition
I’ll simply die, then respawn, then die, then respawn, then die, then respawn
again
and again
oh well I guess this isn’t so bad
by the time the me from pre-quicksand comes back
there might not be a need for her anymore
nor for ******* glasses
Jeremy Betts Feb 2018
(political)

Just look around you and you'll notice that every day there's another sucker born
Another mother fuucker trying to pick around the thorn
But there'll never be breath blown through the victory horn and there won't be one to worn
Cause the new norm is news meant to deform not to inform
Leaving only torn fragments of real mixed with lies, a new truth is born
And it's one that defies the meaning of truth so it's armor for our thoughts and soul that must be worn

Cause it's forced upon every sense, attached to ignorance, illegal for an opinion to be drawn
It's a new dawn where rational thinking is gone, new laws signed in crayon
And it doesn't matter what paawn gets passed the baton when an election comes along
Cause it was years ago that this corruption spawn with a freedom slogan button on
And it's the divide that's grown from a line to a deep chasm of a wide canyon
That'll be our legacy, the legend we pass on till we feel defeat and meet the same demise that fell upon Krypton

It's crazy how we as a society love to single out one to staple blame on, makes it simple
But every man that's held an oval as his office might as well have been a floating carcass, dead in the water from the get go
Don't just agree cause I said so, that's half the problem yo, go do your own research bro
And know that they fear intelligence so go gather up a couple library's full
And don't jump in half cockeed like you only got one teesticle
Give it your all, fuuck being humble, we keep this shiit up we're all in fuuckin trouble
So burst this bubble, let it trasnform to rubble, forget being subtle
It's time to break huddle and be a factor in this much needed rebuttal
Screamed in the face paced on this ancient government scandal

But fuuck it. I'm only one person and not the one to change it cause I'm not perfect
But my imperfectly perfect plan sits perched in dust, never to be touched like it's deadly sick
Like a dripping diick, you pretend you don't have it 'til the graphic turns horrific
Then they say it's fake news but you're looking at the problem, starring derectly at it
But it's me that's ignorant and insignificant? I see it different you one percenter priick

I have a thought, just a notion, top of my head, tell me what you think
How long can we survive on the brink? On a doomed vessel destined to sink?
Holding the knowledge of where the boat is weak
Have known about the leak but putting off repairs till a metaphorical next week
We can see the old, rusty chain of command, it's obvious who's the weakest link
But if we the people aren't in sync (bye bye bye) we're all gonna drown in the drink
The spiked flavor-aid is laid out just waiting for evil to speak then give a sly wink
The nod to give the go-ahead once we're in to deep, swerling round the bottom of the sink

But there's more of us then them so I say we push back
Take the power that we hold off the rack, grow a pair of metaphorical baalls in a metaphorical nuut sack and attack
Put on Hatebreed as the soundtrack and dish out some payback
This is a call to all who can't just lay back like seats in a Maybach and watch the train skip off track
You don't need an almanac to predict this fact, the shiit storm is here, lead by a maniac
And if we don't take our country back then it's our fault, not theirs, that the future seems bleak and black
Let that neat little fact sink in and fill the crack like plaque stacked from years of no contact
Then get back to me when you see clearly that the peace tready that was eagerly signed so freely is actually a death contact

You can't dispute that once you've read the small print on the back of this sinister, sell your soul type contract
Gotta realize we've given to much slack but we do hold the rains, we must pull back
But mustn't hold back, can't afford to hoard the ball and record a sac
It's already fourth down and forever, standing in our own in zone taking the snap
A hail Mary is our only hope, but it might be crazy enough to be the key to the exact play we need to get the lead back
We lose this game and that's it, no respawn, no next season to fall back on, blap, extinction just like that
But fuuck that shiit Jack, I'll fight till my last breath escapes me, I ain't going out like that
Can't give up with my back turned to a population under attack
Cowering in a ransacked bomb shelter resembling the shrieking shack
Can't do it, no matter our differences no one deserves that
But I'm going to need all the help I can get to keep this flaming wreckage off the tarmac

So please, as soon as the Kodak filters been lifted and you see the mess that we've been gifted
You'll come join the million other kindred spirits that have enlisted
No longer tainted by politicians political poison, no longer frightened
Instead, an ability to sift through the ******* has been heightened
No blinders, just enlightened, a vision readjusted, a true path brightened
Natural senses sharpened like a tack then augmented, now you look frightened
All ready to attack and take our lives back, combat tested
And mother approved, well connected, you've been vetted
And we've all come to the conclusion that it's time this reign of terror ended
Way past time for this regime to be upended
Quickly removed and  permanently suspended
Only then can we drop the act, no longer a need to pretend we're not wounded
Only then can we be on the mend and begin the healin'

©2018
Ghxstcxt Apr 2022
We got those 1800s vibes
Men with moustaches
Women with moustaches
You ready to Hunt for your lives?

Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock 'n' load up your guns
Snub nose for up close, it's a must
Duck low take it slow, keep mouths shut
Wear you out
'Til your absorbed by the mud
Extract with a bounty, that's how it's won
Countin' up our rewards, no need to respawn
We've still air in our lungs.

It's that time again, we close to sittin' pretty
Lord I pray for courage, so light that soul fire in me
Stacks of crucifixes, so we don't run out quickly
Hang it loosely round my neck should it get dark and dingy
Ward off the devils spirits, or beasts made from three sixes
Martini firepower, and no I don't mean drinkin'
Sometimes be something sicker, cos these demons I be killing...
I'm off to hell and back, to stop em from existing

Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock 'n' load up your guns
Snub nose for up close, it's a must
Duck low take it slow, keep mouths shut
Wear you out
'Til your absorbed by the mud
Extract with a bounty, that's how it's won
Countin' up our rewards, no need to respawn
We've still air in our lungs.

Guess its our turn now, y'all ready for a feud
Ain't no stopping us growl, we're simply too imbued
That cross around your neck, its just a waste of fuel
The venom flowing in us means conditions won't improve
We'll just keep on marching, until you're twice removed
This is our land you're farming, the boss is not amused
The biggest baddest of us here, do this **** just for fun
You'll never take us all, something wicked this way comes

Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock 'n' load up your guns
Snub nose for up close, it's a must
Duck low take it slow, keep mouths shut
Wear you out
'Til your absorbed by the mud
Extract with a bounty, that's how it's won
Countin' up our rewards, no need to respawn
We've still air in our lungs.

Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock and load what you want

Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock and load what you want

Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock and load what you want
Andrew T  May 2016
Vapors
Andrew T May 2016
Vicky opened the freezer compartment of her refrigerator, and got out a box of vanilla ice cream. She looked down at the ceramic bowl and scooped a piece of vanilla ice cream with a spoon. She ate it and it tasted creamy and cold.

            Glenn forced a smile, as if he were trying to placate her, and knew he had no chance in hell of accomplishing that feat. He reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it.

            “You’re really going today?” Vicky asked.

            “Yeah, I really am. Hey, don’t do that. Can't you be strong for us?” Glenn asked.

            Vicky nodded and watched Glenn take in a deep breath and look down at his scuffed tennis shoes. They went out of the house and walked to the veranda. The sunlight was bright and hot and the ice cubes in the lemonade melted from the heat that blazed and scorched when Vicky pulled from her vape.  

             Glenn pushed his chair back and sat down, the veranda was filled with shade, and he dribbled his fingers on the table in a steady rhythm. She tried not to look at him, tried not to think about him leaving for the war, but all she could think about was him flying a fighter jet and seeing it fly into a golden mountain range, smashing into a thousand pieces of aluminum and scrap metal.

            “I don’t understand why you have to go back to the Middle East…you were so against the fighting in the beginning when the war started. And now you’re changing your mind. I mean, what are you trying to prove?” Vicky asked, taking a sip from her lemonade.

            Glenn folded his hands on the table and said in a quiet voice, “I’m not trying to prove anything. But I got to go over there. So many of my friends have died in Afghanistan and Iraq. Now people are dying in Syria. All of those refugees are getting murdered. Not killed. Murdered. They don’t have anyone helping them. I just want to make a small contribution and **** these terrorists up.”

            “What about me Glenn? Who’s going to be there for me? Who’s going to take care of me?” Vicky said, feeling her tears brim her eyes.

            “Look Vicky. I have to do this and I don’t expect you to understand what I’m doing, but I need your support. All these people are dying. You can see it all over the news, the net, social media. The terrorists don’t discriminate in their slaughter. Women, men, boys, girls, young and old. Every person is getting hurt out there. I can’t sit back and do nothing. I won’t be gone for long. I’ll be back before you know it. Promise, I’ll come back,” Glenn said, rubbing her Vicky’s hand. He touched the skin right above her wrist and offered her a smile.

            Vicky withdrew her hand immediately, got up from her seat, and went inside to the family room. He was drinking his lemonade when he set the glass down on the countertop and walked into the kitchen. Vicky slammed the freezer door so hard that some of the alphabet magnets fell off. Glenn flinched and cleared his throat as he washed his glass in the sink. The water dripped down his hands and washed his wrists.  

              She set the ice cream down on the countertop and looked directly into Glenn’s eyes. They were droopy and red with his pupils fixated on the large flat screen mounted on the wall in front of him. A computer keyboard sat on the couch cushion and a mouse-pad sat on the couch-arm. The TV screen showed a picture of men and women cramped in black inflatable boats coasting up and down waves that undulated in murky waters. A commercial break popped up: Anderson Cooper doing the news from Turkey.

               Glenn rubbed his chin and his new buzz cut, a huge difference from his old stoner’s shaggy hair. His face was narrow, but he had a broad chin with dimples in his cheeks. He was clean shaven, so much, that it looked like the razor had cut off the frightened expression from his face that had appeared when he found out he was going to be training to be a pilot. Glenn had a huge fear when it came to heights, and had never even been on a plane, let alone flying into an unknown territory like Syria. The military operated with drones at this point in the war, something Glenn hoped he could use instead of actually flying. He tucked in his raggedy camo green tee with the sleeves cut off. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his tan khakis, folded the ends up like edges on a cocktail napkin. Glenn looked comfortable in his old attire, but seemed unsettled, as if unsure about going back into the military.

              Vicky stared across the room at the decaying bonsai trees on the cracked windowsill. She had bought the trees for Glenn and now the leaves were browning and turning dead. Outside, it thundered with lightning. She said softly, “You remember Maggie Drayner, right? Well, her husband died over there. I can’t imagine what she must go through every day. I think she’s gone insane. Just absolutely insane. She cremated him and put some of the ashes in a mason jar, and stashed that in her purse. But she always looks so happy, she tells me: he’s always with her now. I worry about her.”

              Glenn wiped his hands on a bath towel. “So, they’re like us now? Is that what you’re saying? Why are you telling me this?” he asked, turning around to face her.

              Vicky put her hands on her hip and sighed. “If you go over there, they’re going to hurt you,” she said, pulling on her vape. A plume of smoke rose and fell.

               Focused on the screen now, Glenn watched as three American soldiers were standing in front of an American flag. “That’s nice of you to say. Do you understand my perspective though? I really got to help out these guys right now Vicky, I’d feel like I’m letting them down if I don’t go over there. They need me. Maybe you don’t see this, but I’m making a difference.”

              “Life isn’t some stupid game. You don’t get a restart, lives, or a respawn. Why can’t you stay home, stay with me?” she asked. Vicky frowned and pointed at the TV screen. “Do you think that’s smart? Killing people?”

              Glenn reached over to hug Vicky and she moved right out of his grasp. He looked up at her and sighed and said, “It’s a one-way street and both sides are crashing into each other, without any regard for any soul. Baby, baby look at me. Do you think I enjoy doing this to you? That this is a vacation for me? Trust me. I’d rather be doing spending time with you than fighting the enemy. But that’s not how life turned out.”

               Vicky bit her lip. “So this is how life turned out? You’re going to war, and I’m stuck here at home, we’re both going to die aren’t we Glenn?” she said. Her mouth felt sore and parched and her face burned with irritation. She knew she couldn’t stop him from going, not even if she poured quicksand over the front entrance.

                 Glenn ran his fingers through his black hair and rested his chin on his palm. “You know that’s not what I meant, don’t twist my words. You think it’s easy for me to go?”

            She turned away from him and rapped her nails against the TV screen. “What do you see that I don’t? It’s a stupid war. Everyone dies over there. Glenn, you don’t have to save the world. You have me,” she said, feeling some tension in her stomach rise up.

              Glenn picked up the remote control and turned off the TV. The picture went fuzzy and then went black. He said, “Vicky, I’m going to say this once and then I don’t want to have to repeat myself, so please be calm down, and listen to me. Please.”

                 Vicky curled her bottom lip, but didn’t say anything.

                “Do you even know why I’m doing a second tour again? A bomb hit my best friend Theo’s squad on the way to a mission. The car flipped and rolled twice. Theo was the driver and he had severe head trauma. Now, he can’t even remember his first name. He almost lost and arm and a leg due to the explosion. I think his mind is deteriorating. I don’t know how he survived, why some higher power let him breathe another breath. I haven’t been to church in months. But that’s not the point. What I’m trying to say is Vicky—the reason why I’m going back into this war, is because, I want to save guys like Theo. I could have protected him. I could have saved him. He’s family to me. We’re brothers. And in my home, I can pretend to fight and protect my family and my country. But it’s not the same. It’s just not. And honestly, I don’t care if this is pathetic to you or if you’re embarrassed of me. You’re going to have to accept that I’m leaving, but that I’m doing it for the right reasons.” Glenn said.

                  Vicky frowned. She went back to the kitchen and opened her ice cream. But she hesitated before scooping any ice cream out. She was looking for substance and instead she was left with melted vanilla cream and vapors.
Kurtis Emken Oct 2012
(Preta प्रेत (Sanskrit) or Peta (Pāli) is the name for a type of (arguably supernatural) being described in Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh, and Jain texts that undergoes more than human suffering, particularly an extreme degree of hunger and thirst. They are often translated into English as “hungry ghosts”, from the Chinese, which in turn is derived from later Indian sources generally followed in Mahayana Buddhism.)

The series of blurs that was summer 2006 makes me wonder what kind of evils we committed in past lives.  What otherworldly desires plagued us with this need to feed upon the surging tidal wave of young blood?  The days from May 16th to August 23rd were black mirror images, indiscernible. I kept the 1997 Honda Accord running, tapping my fingers to the beats of Built to Spill on the dashboard, waiting for you outside your father’s newly constructed home on ice. You would bleed forth, blue sun light reflecting off windows to face like an eight point filter. What we did with the day mattered not.  It was as important to us as the script of action flicks.  We were the only people that we wanted to know and we were the places that we wanted to go.  The day lived and died, as the nighttime was when our karma sprung curse would take us.  Turn off blurred screens, ignore details of the war, pull the hatch shaded curtains tight. We shared a bed in which we did not sleep, bodies silent, blaring alarms.  The same hungry ghosts feeding and choking on ash all night.  We burned out, successful slow turns into frail husks. It was then that we couldn’t get full anymore, we realized that we fit like clothes made out of wasps.  It hasn’t gotten better for either, a ghoul roaming in the night, hunting for the next lay like a record skipping.  We will asphyxiate on stones or have our throats burned by water.  Hopefully we’ve suffered enough to respawn into more advanced forms.  I hope I see you in the next life as anything else.
daniel f  Mar 2014
nature poems
daniel f Mar 2014
a river fish filled
between snow capped
summits.  Brown bear
stares.

solitary salmon
travelled to respawn,
across an  open ocean
nearly there now.

and once the task
completed?
time to lie down
dead.

----------------------------------------------

a history of people passed.

face shapes long gone,
drawn by memory's gravity apparently once close
now so far away.

-----------------------------------------
the sunlight slumped
on square shoulders.
Ever the Adonis
testament to a love
unlike any other

-------———-----——-----——
a collection of things I've scribbled in work while watching people,
Megan Mae Apr 2013
We weren't the best of friends,  we didn't talk for hours, we didn't share secrets... No we didn't text all the time, no we didn't laugh at each others jokes. But our Characters did. You were her friend, if you could even call them that. You were the one piece of kindness she saw in that barbaric world. You made sense to her. You also had a bad side, you scared her, she was always afraid of making you mad...but she regretted ever hurting you, she never wanted to see you hurt, she never wanted to make you sad, she would have done everything in her power to not fight you.

She liked you once, until she realized you liked another. She wanted to help you get with the one you liked, even if it meant ruining the relationship of another. She would have given anything to be closer to you, to have been able to tell you how you made her feel. But then the game was over, and the imagining ended.

Months have passed since I last saw you, years in the alternate reality since our characters last spoke. She was heart broken and betrayed, and she screamed for you to help. But help never came. I was too afraid to look strange, I was too afraid to look like I was trying to hard to be your friend...so I never added you on social networks. I never asked for your number, because we rarely talked. You never seemed to want to. You were close to my best friend, and through her I lived out the life of being best friends with you, and that we would talk all day and text... I thought maybe our characters could see each other again, that some thing could start up.

It was only a week ago that my Imagination thought they would meet again, it was only a week ago we all decided to restart the game. Only three days ago you called my friend and said you would join. I thought we could start over, that maybe this time I'd be able to be friends with you, real friends, texting friends, friends who talked, friends who hung out, friends who drank together, friends who laughed together. The thoughts kept rolling through my imagination, the thoughts of being a family again were so exciting...

I couldn't have Imagined this.

The call came, another in the family of friends, another who's character connected with mine, another whose friendship was closer with me in real life. He called, the look on my friends face went blank. She handed the phone to my other friend, his face fell to disbelief. You were gone. We were panicking. We were trying to find a way to figure out what happened. We only just spoke to you! I tried to find out when, who knew, how to prove it wrong. You couldn't be gone, never...and the fact that we had no idea how, why, the fact that no one would talk to us...

I couldn't have Imagined this.

In seconds she came, she overwhelmed me, took me over, I was in shock, but she was fully aware. She cried, she shook, she hugged the others there. Suddenly she wasn't a character any more, and she was all powerful, all consuming, all devastated. And in that moment I wasn't just mourning you...I was mourning him as well. I was hit by the loss of two, and i was flung into a brick wall. She wanted to scream, she wanted to go out and **** things, she wanted to **** herself and respawn and do it again, she wanted to fight, she wanted to find the body you both shared and bring you back to life. She wanted to trade herself for you, if not him at least you. And then she was gone, lost in my thoughts, lost in my imagination.

And now here I sit, in shock once again, I want to be alone, but I want someone with me in my loneliness...I want to cry, to scream, and yet here I am silently writing with only the sound of my fingers typing echoing from my room. I'm cold, my head hurts from all the chaos in my head.

Then it struck me. You weren't really dead. I could bring you back to life, I could honor you, your memory, your imagination.

I could keep you alive some how, by writing about him, for he was you and you were him. And in that thought my mind was calmed, my heart was lifted. And thats where you find me now, writing...

keeping you alive.
Today I found out one of my good friends died. We used to LARP together, are characters bonded in a way we couldn't. After I got the news, this is how I dealt with the loss.
John Carpentier Jun 2015
"Gamer."
"Nerd."
"Shut-in."
"Loner."
"Loser."

Synonyms to some people,
jokes for others,
but painful for most.

The kind of pain that sticks with you
not like a scalding or a stab-wound,
but like a little shadow
some small, slimy version of yourself
that blocks the way
whenever you turn to the mirror.

I’ve been followed around
by that monstrous little thing
wearing my face
who manages to whisper away
the few hours I would find in a day to be free
“You’re lazy.”
“Fat.”
“Useless.”
“Ridiculous.”
“Childish.”

I would be lying if I said I never believed what he told me.

But I realized something
about the word “Gamer,”
and “Nerd.”
“Shut-in.”
“Loner.”
even “Loser.”

I like them.

Because when someone else uses them
to turn me into a joke
they don’t understand why those insults
are really compliments.

When I reach for my controller
and turn on my TV,
it’s no different then opening a great book,
starting up that perfect song,
or staring at any marvelous canvas of acrylics or oils.

For a few hours
every few days,
I get to escape.
To fly away.
I’m no longer any version of myself
that I don’t want to be.

This world is mine.
I have no shadow here.

Video games don’t melt your brain,
they save it
if you need them too.

I’ve ticked away more late nights
and countless lazy Sundays
on dungeons and puzzles,
boss fights and battlegrounds
than I care to think.
But I needed to.

I got to be a hunter
an assassin
a superhero
and roam the open plains of alien worlds
when I was glued to my bed
for six weeks after surgery.

I got to laugh and shout
and curse and stop caring
after endless high school days
when I came home without a smile
feeling like nothing at all

I got to slay dragons,
wage wars,
and explore galaxies
on the worst days of my life.

I got to learn
that when you fail and fall
sometimes all you need to do
is “Press X to Respawn,”
and start over again.

I got to be a super soldier:
I was strong, charming, and indestructible
on the day my father died.

I have lived a million lives
with nothing more than a big TV
and a handheld piece of plastic.

And if the price of all those lives
all those adventures,
those galaxies,
those heroes,
and those conquests on those horrible days when I was starved of a smile
is to be a “Nerd,”
or a “Shut-in,
a “Loner,”
or a “Loser,”

that seems like one hell of a deal.
Special consideration to my brother and fellow gamer, David Campos.
Zead Jun 2014
"The ocean, the shore, and the grass

The difference between them three"

Can one see where I am?

Here laying in the grass,

Following up to what appears

To be whatever it appears to be

I can’t tell what I need

So content without

But so colorful when you look out

The shore

Like therapy that leaves its mark

I need to be washed

The remains of the abyss

Sink me in

The agony of the hot sun

Wearing me out till I become none

I need to go

Where the tides say no

The ease of the lake

My past feels fake

Will I ever respawn

‘*** now I’m forever gone
was lost in the first place but thanks to subjectivity that i know that.
Original interpretations
Lake-my “fantasy”
Shore-the revealed desire within me
The grass-before ignorance was known as bliss

take this how you want

— The End —