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Traveler Apr 7
I no longer use fantasy as a stimulus. Because pretend drama is but extra drama to experience and I’m unwilling.
Who do you think these rock stars are, whose lives are so glamorously appealing?

My heroes are few and far between, those who help the blind to see. Those who’ve survived life’s fatal wounds, still recognised beyond tomb.
You choose yours, I’ll choose mine. I won’t commemorate the sellouts or the killing kind.
Traveler 🧳 Tim
Edward Carnegie was once a normal man,
Steel monopolist extraordinaire.
Till a fateful dip in rail stock,
Lead to his discovery of time travel.
Confused, he landed just a few years from the modern day,
Where he was arrested by the Time Police.
"Edward, we'll set you free,
If you defeat public time enemy,
The Alien."
So off went Carnegie to the modern day,
To face off against fellow PTE.
But what was revealed,
Shocked even the Time Police.
His business partner, Henry Frick,
Was the real villain all along.
"Buckle up, we're going back in time!"
Back to the time of steel money,
Frick had almost bested Carnegie.
"The company is mine Edward, stand down!"
Though undenounced to Henry,
His advisory had pumped his veins full,
Of the Blood Of Steel.
Inspired by a home movie a friend made
The Black Knight of the Franks,
He feared no thing,
Except for the hand of God.

With his sword and cross,
He rode triumphant,
Through out the Holy Land.

But once he crossed a monk of opposing faith,
But spared his life,
So his story was erased from history.
The greatest heroes are felled by silly means.
Today there was rain,
It brought thunder,
Strokes of electric death.
Lightning ripped through the canopy,
Aiming for a defenseless flower field.
But alas, the elder oak reached its branches out,
To take the lightning's killer blow.
So when the rain passed,
We took our saws,
To finish the job.
A sudden storm tore through my town today
Reading the Odyssey,
By Greek poet Homer.
I finally realized,
Not all heroes are heroic.
And some aren't heroes at all,
Often the monsters in the story,
Aren't monstrous at all.
Most times they're simple farmers or townspeople,
Upon whom the hero welcomed themselves to.
And when they retaliated,
The author makes it look like the hero did nothing wrong.
Heroes aren't humble,
Not at all.
They waste the lives of their crewmates,
Trying to do the impossible.
And, Odious,
Really *****.
I was bored in English while the teacher was reading us Homer's Odyssey, so I wrote this.
Jesus Garcia,
Drive your train.
Be brave and drive the flames away,
Jesus saved his town, but couldn't save himself.
This poem is in honor of the late Jesus Garcia. His first name has an accent above the u but I couldn't figure out how to type it. Rest in peace, hero.
Zywa Jul 2024
The past heroes rest

in the dilapidated --


inn that the world is.
Collection "Rubáiyat" ("Quatrains", 1100, Omar Khayyam), quatrain "This worn caravanserai", in the 1898 version by Edward  Heron-Allen

Collection "Stream"
David Hilburn Jul 2024
Was not, want not
Maybe waste, is a hero...
Specific notion, of a quaint lot
Given to significant others, to owe

Promises and races
Taken advantage of...
Lucre, in tight places
To tear fright from an alien love

Powers that did...
Hark amidst times rest
A halt of hardship, habit, and hid
Youths of a secret, we blessed

Time in now's moral
Such, a reason for each
Their solitude, is sour rational
The question, of life to reach...

For loves first kiss...
Peace, worth more than poise
With each decency, we made is
A world's choice...
Speed seems to be a quiet clamor for more than a calling of wishes, even mention the patience...
David Hilburn Jun 2024
Ably, a convenient door
Caution, I would esteem's vain
Let with poorer light, a certain valor
Has taken me, for a fate that prayed...

Sweet order
To a life, so lived
So sent to wishes, foreign?
In the name of love, given

But persuasion remains
Sour reasons, with a tongue
Let in certain light anew, the stains
Of lucre's rhetoric, has a voice that won

Hatred, for a kiss
Somehow profound
Somehow blood, is our only wish?
Breaking a promise, sympathy allowed

A welcome turn of chaste
Into a fate of simple regrets
Made well, and in need, haste
That stole life's reasons, where we never met...?
Heathen? show your imposition to a ghost, and pillows will talk in a language that lived longer than, you...
David Hilburn Feb 2024
Wishes, I never said...?
Rolling tongues, admit appearances
Are deceiving, but purpose to lead...
Has an ear for a rainbow's chances

Rainbows lead to pouting voices...
Facing the stare, I make a quiet
Collective memory served; has choices...
The reagent of a house of colors, so bright

Star's that starve?
As the moment indicates...
Your rhyme for the silent, is another's liar...
Privilege behind a scare, finishes the irate

Races of fate, found in a valued youth...
Respite is to be, an awkward challenge
Of a time, that accuses you for couth...
Curses of final fear, are often to nearer mention

The fright in the rain
Told to sit, by a silver voice...
Sigh's and minding, the candor of pain
Will such a song, begin here with loyalty?

Does and doesn't...
Shame wear a passion's decision?
Deciding upon, a notorious lesson won't
Is a handful of salt, the only shared intuition?

Liberty, at all costs...
And a hill named only rage
That worth's the world, with hosts
Sent to a wish, I made...

Time be a liar's friend...
One step more
Like love and hates marvel, to lend...
The story of reach, is who's war?
Waiting on the wane of wax, weight has its water...
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