Whenever my family and I,
Prepare to embark on a fair drive,
I grab my phone with my playlist along with my headphones.
Filled with excitement that nobody knows.
We set out on our excursion,
I put my headphones in,
I turn on my music,
And let the symphonies enter my head.
If I close my eyes,
I can visualize,
An ancient city filled with song and dance,
Amidst a sacred feast with the finest band.
I see the dresses swirl, and I smell the wheat in the fields,
Along with the fresh bread that they created with their yields.
The song changes to a more melancholic melody,
I envision a final stand, one with honor and dignity.
The knight fights its hardest, but is overrun,
The piano’s keys, haunting me, as it dies under the setting sun.
Another change, more upbeat, a comforting, catchy symphony.
I wish to dance, but I am confined to the car seat.
I open my eyes and look to the right,
At the sprawling landscape we’ve been passing by,
But instead of farmland and trees, guess what I see,
The same mind-boggling envisioning!
More songs play, various tones,
From joyous to somber, sacred to monotone,
Threatening to empowering, all on their own.
The drums beat to the piano’s keys,
As a rare mandolin strums in harmony.
A glorious symphony,
An undertone for creativity.
Oh, the power of envisioning!

She climbs Rae Hill alone.
Dusty rose parka, fur-trimmed, stitched with bears.
Mother’s coat, draped around jutting bones.
It creaks with memory.
It holds her upright.

The world below fractured—
friends turned to factions,
civil discourse to war,
until the orange sky burst,
radiant, radioactive, and bleak.

She carries them still.
In breath. In bone.
In the hiss of her Walkman.
Tiger Lily // Doom & Bloom // Vol. 1
A mixtape made by stragglers,
who danced in arcades,
who kissed under fluorescents,
who screamed poetry into payphones.

The tape crackles.
The bees rise.
Green sweat shimmer, orbiting her head.
Not chaos—choreography.
They hum in flickerhymn frequencies.
They crown her in silence.

No elders. No banners.
No one but bees to witness
the prayer upon her scabbed knees.
Even the gods ignored her plight,
ignored the blight of the whole world.

She maps the city below.
Not with satellites, but with swarm.
The water tower—let it flow.
Top Hat Arcade. Stardust Lounge.
Thomson Press. Schumacher School.
All gone. All glowing in bee-geometry.

They put her on a throne—
a blood child made to own.
But when war came, she was left alone.
To fight for her right to exist.
She was no drone.
To each his own—
but hers was forged in frost and flame.

She has plasma eyes,
not for seeing, but for searing.
Kerosene smiles,
not for comfort, but combustion.
The bees orbit her like electrons.
She is not warmth.
She is ignition.

Ash Vale climbs poplar trees, hoping to see.
A bounty hunter by trade,
he renege’d—against pay, against boss—
to witness her.

Blue eyes like icebergs,
freezing all emotion in place.
He watches from the treeline.
He does not speak.
He becomes part of the myth.

She sees him.
She does not flinch.
The bees shift formation:
Witness Accepted.

She rises.
She descends Rae Hill,
not as a child,
not as a fugitive,
but as the Emerald Queen.

Her decree is not shouted.
It is carried in voltage.
In mixtape hiss.
In bee-wing rhythm.
In every place she reclaims,
every name she remembers,
every sigil the swarm draws in dusk.

"Steady as She goes..."

The turmoil turned terror & life lured a luscious ledge to a sureevil.Predictions, slumped a significant idea of solace within an eraending in tragedy;She conquered nothing but merely a little piece of Heaven &Hell..."Beware of the Storm, it'll wreck us....we're doomed!"

A last sigh of hope, a lingering light - thoughts of despair &dreadful ideals idolised an idle idiocy of obstinacy.The abyss' no longer an enigma : inspite of losing espoir,Calypso's hatred pitied their misfortune...alas, the tempest turnedinequities into ****** silences."The wind...the wind's on our side boys!"

Death was worth living for while life - seemed so solitary...scarceto survive for."It's a pirate's life for me, savvy!"

The tale's to an end.

~ A. Rose

There was a soft thud, the sound vibrating through the air but loud enough to warn me.  

Its furry shadow flickered across the window.

The sheets where already above my head.

I was curled, terrified on what was to come. And yet...

A thud, another. A bang, a shriek.

Its teeth were scraping along the wood of the door.  

It was soon to come in, the collar given sitting beside me.

It wasn’t for it anymore.

She told me it was the perfect name.

I thought my name was perfect too.

Until I had to wear it.

its shadow emits over the window, creating darkness like the night.

It was quiet. It wasn’t scraping the door or thumping its feet.  

It was staring.  

I thought of it at least being peaceful.

But there is no peace in the silence it gives us.