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Grey eyes
You captivated me from the moment I first saw you
Keyboard Kafe. Cheesecake and Bourbon
Too young to drink without your fake ID
I loved your youth
Skinny jeans for summer
Singlets and jandals for winter
Uniform otherwise
You looked smart in blue
**** in black
Washed out in red
Like death in white
You escaped to Oklahoma of all places
Discovered the music in your heart
Came home with a farmers tan
Work was an issue
At least you tried
***** was the only cure you could find for your lonely soul
If only you had found me
Friends came and went along with your
Umpteen love affairs
Self respect
Confidence
Inspiration
You had cared all your life until nobody cared for you
Your tan faded
It was time to get off the couch and out of bed every morning
Janice kicked you out
You refused to pay rent
Branna and Harrison discarded you too
You were a man of many friends
Yet the loneliness in your soul reduced you to tears every night
In the bed you wish you hadn't made
You traveled
To Perth
Alaska
The dairy down the road
Prices were reasonable
Divorce rate low
Fake tans ever popular
You could get away with anything
I loved your perspective
Burgers, fries and coke
All you could afford but kept the weight off
You were always handsome
And always in need of a shower
You never married, I know
You never met the right one
You never met me
Your blonde hair faded and your eyes grew redder
A nip of gin and three bottles of whisky kept you sane
You gave up on drugs
And cigarettes
Just drank until you fell
                                              down
Janice
A three year old daughter in her arms with eyes like yours
Grey eyes
Came by your house
Full of spite
She stormed in
You hung by your belt from the trellis in the back garden
It was a sad day
Like today
You've always looked **** in black
I hate the fake tan the mortician plastered on you
I hate the fact that Janice spat on you in front of the wee girl
I hate that you don't remember me
I hate that High School was a *****

And that I was shy

But life got the better of you
So I don't blame you
I love you
Gilderoy Lockhart - The Chamber of Secrets
Leela - Futurama
Laney Penn - Grojband
Flonne - Disgaea
Raquna - Etrian Odyssey
Lilligant - Pokemon
Gwen - Total Drama Island
Dawn - Total Drama Revenge of the Island
Wednesday Addams - Addams Family
Thalia - Magic the Gathering
Isperia - Magic the Gathering
Cloistered Youth - Magic the Gathering
Ellie Nash - Degrassi
Gretchen - Camp Lake Bottom
Nina - Crash Bandicoot
Sunako Nakahara - The Wallflower
Nami - Harvest Moon
Georgia - Harvest Moon
Falkenrath Noble - Magic the Gathering
Marcelline - Adventure Time
Flame Princess - Adventure Time
Dorian Gray - The Portrait of Dorian Gray
Finnick Odair - The Hunger Games Series
Emma - Stoked
Mosaic May 2015
I'm thinking about that boy
                       Lost at Sea
His eyes glazed over like a dead fish
                      Death is a form of knowledge

She was a storm
        He never knew he was in her eye(s)
But Tempest is, as Tempest does

He was lured by Siren song

Coral reefs,
                  Hands, with nails too long
I swear bees lived in them
              Jellyfish like flowers
              Pollen from their electrical Zaps!
And they burrowed deep

Messages in a bottle were collected
        by the Hermit crab, not some mermaid
His library ancient like the ones in the desert
                                                          ­  Or the CIA

ii.
I'm thinking about that boy
                       Lost at Sea

He was swallowed by a Plastic Whale
(He did try to escape Media & Capitalism &...)
A(t)las he was in the wrong Hemisphere
    More like Pinocchio
Just really good at telling lies

Nets from old volleyball games
                   from the Future
dance like river sprites
            far from home

Volcanoes are failing
                             At making new land
Wolves become whales
Pyramids sink and are like cheap motels of Atlantis
We're all just gambling on one Apocalypse or another

iii.
I'm thinking...bubble..bubble
            He's drowning
Or maybe he forgot how to breathe

Suddenly hooks catch his ankles
        Harpoons & Atomic bombs melt
     the plastic right of the bones                            of the whale
Like a WWII fighter jet and target practice

Blood limps in currents
Jaws plays in his peripheral of his hippocampus
The Great White passes him by
Because he's not seen as important, we're not talking about ego here

He takes off the anchors from his shoe laces,
He was just trying to stay grounded
But now he was just a Bad Pun
with his Lungs the punchline

His airhead carries him to the surface
He's just a boy

He can breathe
This lost boy at Sea
He makes a raft from his memories
      And ties them together with ropes of trauma
The kind of things you don't forget

Like your name,
         your parents
that time you were a piece of wood split in two and later when the splinters finally settle       you're thrown into the fire
The kinds of things you don't forget

He floats towards mirages
Typical, it's not paradise
Ships and planes
           A Sunkyard
As if we built a factory in the sea
            And it got sick  
Coughing up decades of gears and
pieces of a time machine
             Oil and blood being same thing
             Of course
And Seagulls melting into toxins
         Like the new, like mini dinosaurs
A cycle of Fossil Food

iv.
Amelia,
          The reason this boy was lost
                                      at sea
Looking for a woman real mythology
But it should've been Lockhart
Because unrequited is easy to come by

The compass was made from his blind love
It was obvious, this misdirection
A Bermuda Triangle kind of affection

So...he explores the ruins
   Of Japan
Tsunami and temples
Cute girls and dimples
Fish food only made the news for so long

Sometimes when you put a seashell to your ear
you can hear Shōnagon
             or the screams of little girls in Sailor uniforms
Their own uniforms like an arranged marriage

               Tectonic plates roll the Earth
                                into Sushi  
Last week California
                   took a swim
She was feeling a little Hot

v.
I'm thinking about that boy
                       Lost at Sea
And he's trying to walk on the waves
                       Like a Savior
He can't even save himself from his own ego
      It's like the Mariana trench
If she didn't have all that depth

She was just Another girl. His lust was vast, that compass might as well                                        
                    ­                                                                 ­ have been in his pants

Soon he can't tell

The sky from Sea
Or himself and Humanity
He looks down and can't see his toes
                then his knees

He's been lost at sea too long...
Fog like *******
Sea ****
He's been lost at sea too long..

So he becomes a Seahorse
Tries to be a Father
              without any Sand dollars or a Safe Harbor

My mother was beautiful,
              She was an Iceberg
You hurt her with all your global warming

She moves on Slowly
     Settles for a Lighthouse
Who only looks at her so often

The Moon reincarnates me
Because I am the tide.
           Rising, falling
   Constant
Just the Historian.
Poorword Sep 2015
Even we tend to see
we untouched everything
Even we use to care
we always lost something

Even we choose to fight
we’ll only receive defeat
Even it’s all our might
Hopes are entomb with beat

Even we love someone
we prefer to hide affection
coz for them you’re no one
and this leads to sole rejection
Jonathan Foreman, Daily Mail (London), August 18, 2013
The 16-year-old girl’s once-beautiful face was grotesque.
She had been disfigured beyond all recognition in the 18 months she had been held captive by the Comanche Indians.
Now, she was being offered back to the Texan authorities by Indian chiefs as part of a peace negotiation.
To gasps of horror from the watching crowds, the Indians presented her at the Council House in the ranching town of San Antonio in 1840, the year Queen Victoria married Prince Albert.
‘Her head, arms and face were full of bruises and sores,’ wrote one witness, Mary Maverick. ‘And her nose was actually burnt off to the bone. Both nostrils were wide open and denuded of flesh.’
Once handed over, Matilda Lockhart broke down as she described the horrors she had endured—the ****, the relentless ****** humiliation and the way Comanche squaws had tortured her with fire. It wasn’t just her nose, her thin body was hideously scarred all over with burns.
When she mentioned she thought there were 15 other white captives at the Indians’ camp, all of them being subjected to a similar fate, the Texan lawmakers and officials said they were detaining the Comanche chiefs while they rescued the others.
It was a decision that prompted one of the most brutal slaughters in the history of the Wild West—and showed just how bloodthirsty the Comanche could be in revenge.
S C Gwynne, author of Empire Of The Summer Moon about the rise and fall of the Comanche, says simply: ‘No tribe in the history of the Spanish, French, Mexican, Texan, and American occupations of this land had ever caused so much havoc and death. None was even a close second.’
He refers to the ‘demonic immorality’ of Comanche attacks on white settlers, the way in which torture, killings and gang-rapes were routine. ‘The logic of Comanche raids was straightforward,’ he explains.
‘All the men were killed, and any men who were captured alive were tortured; the captive women were gang *****. Babies were invariably killed.’
Not that you would know this from the new Lone Ranger movie, starring Johnny Depp as the Indian Tonto.
For reasons best know to themselves, the film-makers have changed Tonto’s tribe to Comanche—in the original TV version, he was a member of the comparatively peace-loving Potowatomi tribe.
And yet he and his fellow native Americans are presented in the film as saintly victims of a Old West where it is the white settlers—the men who built America—who represent nothing but exploitation, brutality, environmental destruction and genocide.
Depp has said he wanted to play Tonto in order to portray Native Americans in a more sympathetic light. But the Comanche never showed sympathy themselves.
When that Indian delegation to San Antonio realised they were to be detained, they tried to fight their way out with bows and arrows and knives—killing any Texan they could get at. In turn, Texan soldiers opened fire, slaughtering 35 Comanche, injuring many more and taking 29 prisoner.
But the Comanche tribe’s furious response knew no bounds. When the Texans suggested they swap the Comanche prisoners for their captives, the Indians tortured every one of those captives to death instead.
‘One by one, the children and young women were pegged out naked beside the camp fire,’ according to a contemporary account. ‘They were skinned, sliced, and horribly mutilated, and finally burned alive by vengeful women determined to wring the last shriek and convulsion from their agonised bodies. Matilda Lockhart’s six-year-old sister was among these unfortunates who died screaming under the high plains moon.’
Not only were the Comanche specialists in torture, they were also the most ferocious and successful warriors—indeed, they become known as ‘Lords of the Plains’.
They were as imperialist and genocidal as the white settlers who eventually vanquished them.
When they first migrated to the great plains of the American South in the late 18th century from the Rocky Mountains, not only did they achieve dominance over the tribes there, they almost exterminated the Apaches, among the greatest horse warriors in the world.
The key to the Comanche’s brutal success was that they adapted to the horse even more skilfully than the Apaches.
There were no horses at all in the Americas until the Spanish conquerors brought them. And the Comanche were a small, relatively primitive tribe roaming the area that is now Wyoming and Montana, until around 1700, when a migration southwards introduced them to escaped Spanish mustangs from Mexico.
The first Indians to take up the horse, they had an aptitude for horsemanship akin to that of Genghis Khan’s Mongols. Combined with their remarkable ferocity, this enabled them to dominate more territory than any other Indian tribe: what the Spanish called Comancheria spread over at least 250,000 miles.
They terrorised Mexico and brought the expansion of Spanish colonisation of America to a halt. They stole horses to ride and cattle to sell, often in return for firearms.
Other livestock they slaughtered along with babies and the elderly (older women were usually ***** before being killed), leaving what one Mexican called ‘a thousand deserts’. When their warriors were killed they felt honour-bound to exact a revenge that involved torture and death.
Settlers in Texas were utterly terrified of the Comanche, who would travel almost a thousand miles to slaughter a single white family.
The historian T R Fehrenbach, author of Comanche: The History Of A People, tells of a raid on an early settler family called the Parkers, who with other families had set up a stockade known as Fort Parker. In 1836, 100 mounted Comanche warriors appeared outside the fort’s walls, one of them waving a white flag to trick the Parkers.
‘Benjamin Parker went outside the gate to parley with the Comanche,’ he says. ‘The people inside the fort saw the riders suddenly surround him and drive their lances into him. Then with loud whoops, mounted warriors dashed for the gate. Silas Parker was cut down before he could bar their entry; horsemen poured inside the walls.’
Survivors described the slaughter: ‘The two Frosts, father and son, died in front of the women; Elder John Parker, his wife ‘Granny’ and others tried to flee. The warriors scattered and rode them down.
‘John Parker was pinned to the ground, he was scalped and his genitals ripped off. Then he was killed. Granny Parker was stripped and fixed to the earth with a lance driven through her flesh. Several warriors ***** her while she screamed.
‘Silas Parker’s wife Lucy fled through the gate with her four small children. But the Comanche overtook them near the river. They threw her and the four children over their horses to take them as captives.’
So intimidating was Comanche cruelty, almost all raids by Indians were blamed on them. Texans, Mexicans and other Indians living in the region all developed a particular dread of the full moon—still known as a ‘Comanche Moon’ in Texas—because that was when the Comanche came for cattle, horses and captives.
They were infamous for their inventive tortures, and women were usually in charge of the torture process.
The Comanche roasted captive American and Mexican soldiers to death over open fires. Others were castrated and scalped while alive. The most agonising Comanche tortures included burying captives up to the chin and cutting off their eyelids so their eyes were seared by the burning sun before they starved to death.
Contemporary accounts also describe them staking out male captives spread-eagled and naked over a red-ant bed. Sometimes this was done after excising the victim’s private parts, putting them in his mouth and then sewing his lips together.
One band sewed up captives in untanned leather and left them out in the sun. The green rawhide would slowly shrink and squeeze the prisoner to death.
T R Fehrenbach quotes a Spanish account that has Comanche torturing Tonkawa Indian captives by burning their hands and feet until the nerves in them were destroyed, then amputating these extremities and starting the fire treatment again on the fresh wounds. Scalped alive, the Tonkawas had their tongues torn out to stop the screaming.
The Comanche always fought to the death, because they expected to be treated like their captives. Babies were almost invariably killed in raids, though it should be said that soldiers and settlers were likely to ****** Comanche women and children if they came upon them.
Comanche boys—including captives—were raised to be warriors and had to endure ****** rites of passage. Women often fought alongside the men.
It’s possible the viciousness of the Comanche was in part a by-product of their violent encounters with notoriously cruel Spanish colonists and then with Mexican bandits and soldiers.
But a more persuasive theory is that the Comanche’s lack of central leadership prompted much of their cruelty. The Comanche bands were loose associations of warrior-raiders, like a confederation of small street gangs.
In every society, teenage and twenty-something youths are the most violent, and even if they had wanted to, Comanche tribal chiefs had no way of stopping their young men from raiding.
But the Comanche found their match with the Texas Rangers. Brilliantly portrayed in the Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove books, the Rangers began to be recruited in 1823, specifically to fight the Comanche and their allies. They were a tough guerilla force, as merciless as their Comanche opponents.
They also respected them. As one of McMurtry’s Ranger characters wryly tells a man who claims to have seen a thousand-strong band of Comanche: ‘If there’d ever been a thousand Comanche in a band they’d have taken Washington DC.”
The Texas Rangers often fared badly against their enemy until they learned how to fight like them, and until they were given the new Colt revolver.
During the Civil War, when the Rangers left to fight for the Confederacy, the Comanche rolled back the American frontier and white settlements by 100 miles.
Even after the Rangers came back and the U.S. Army joined the campaigns against Comanche raiders, Texas lost an average of 200 settlers a year until the Red River War of 1874, where the full might of the Army—and the destruction of great buffalo herds on which they depended—ended Commanche depredations.
Interestingly the Comanche, though hostile to all competing tribes and people they came across, had no sense of race. They supplemented their numbers with young American or Mexican captives, who could become full-fledged members of the tribe if they had warrior potential and could survive initiation rites.
Weaker captives might be sold to Mexican traders as slaves, but more often were slaughtered. But despite the cruelty, some of the young captives who were subsequently ransomed found themselves unable to adapt to settled ‘civilised life and ran away to rejoin their brothers.
One of the great chiefs, Quanah, was the son of the white captive Cynthia Ann Parker. His father was killed in a raid by Texas Rangers that resulted in her being rescued from the tribe. She never adjusted to life back in civilisation and starved herself to death.
Quanah surrendered to the Army in 1874. He adapted well to life in a reservation, and indeed the Comanche, rather amazingly, become one of the most economically successful and best assimilated tribes.
As a result, the main Comanche reservation was closed in 1901, and Comanche soldiers served in the U.S. Army with distinction in the World Wars. Even today they are among the most prosperous native Americans, with a reputation for education.
By casting the cruelest, most aggressive tribe of Indians as mere saps and victims of oppression, Johnny Depp’s Lone Ranger perpetuates the patronising and ignorant cartoon of the ‘noble savage’.
Not only is it a travesty of the truth, it does no favours to the Indians Depp is so keen to support.
As the famous man Gilderoy Lockhart once said
"Who am I"?
(Yes I know he's just a fictional character)
If her lips are the universe,
He wouldn't mind leaving Earth
And wander what's out there.

If her lips are the music and lyrics
He wouldn't mind playing every love song that he loves
And understand, cherish every word that's been sung.

-Evangeline Lockhart
Dany The Girl Feb 2023
Four years ago I didn’t think I’d be anywhere.
I didn’t think I’d be alive.
But now,
I’m breathing in the ****** air quality of
El Centro, CA.
Stationed at an Airbase near by.
A few things have changed since I last checked in, guys.
I joined the navy, I work aviation.
F-18 fight attack jets.
It’s been a hell of a journey so far.
I went from Great Lakes, to Pensacola, to Virginia Beach, and now I’m here in El Centro.
I’ve made friends.
Bonds that are stronger than titanium, or steel, or concrete.
I’ve lost friends too.
From distance, from death.
But the strangest thing is, we’re always connected.
My friends that are deployed to the South China Sea, when they’re in port
They always message me about how deployment is going.
They don’t forget me.
My friends that are touring around Europe,
Saez is in Greece.
Lockhart is in Norway.
Root is in Italy.
They always message me to tell me about it.
I’m not lonely anymore.
I’m not sad.
I’m so happy.
Every morning I wake up to the sound of Blue Angels flying
And it’s music to my ears.
I have a family again. It’s amazing.
Dude, it’s been a hell of a ride. I don’t have words for it. I’ve loved and lost but I’m happier than ever. Also, I have had friends die due to their service in the marine corps, a few of my friends unfortunately got into an accident over the summer. They were just training, but something went wrong with their aircraft and unfortunately it lost all function and fell out of the sky. It was very sad and VERY real when my OIC told my command that we were to go stand on the flight line and give them our respect. The accident happened nearby my base, so their bodies were transported here about a week later. Anyways, we stood in ranks as their caskets were loaded into a C-17. I’ve never seen a group of people more sad than the marine squadron looked that day. It was a very surreal moment, it was heartbreaking because I’d known some of the guys that were in it. Regardless, I’m grateful i got to know the few of them. Anywho, I hope you’ve all been well.

— The End —