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The Art of The Damned One

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Author Topic: The Art of The Damned One  (Read 5530 times)
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« Reply #195 on: June 19, 2010, 06:24:25 pm »

Tired Sith

----Peace is a lie; there is only passion.
----Through passion, I gain strength.
----Through strength, I gain power.
----Through power, I gain victory.
----Through victory, my chains are broken.
----The Force shall free me.
-------The Sith Code


But what good is passion, if you have nothing to fuel it?
What good is strength, if it helps you not?
What good is power, if it then turns itself upon you?
What good is victory, if said victory is pyrrhic?
What good are broken chains, if those chains did not confine you?
What good is freedom, if you no longer have reason to seek it?
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« Reply #196 on: June 19, 2010, 06:55:17 pm »

Lover's Whisper

Glancing through the window, a shadow gently opens it,
Stepping inside, the shadow then approaches the foot of the bed in the room.
Looking down at her tenderly, he brushes her hair and tucks her in,
Stops her nightmares as best that he can from the position he is in.
After about a half-hour, he gets up, opens that window again,
Clambers out, turns back, and whispers "I love you..." into the breeze, before vanishing,
Her eyes open, fires alight as she looks around the room.
No-one is in sight, but she clearly heard "I love you..."...
As if whispered to her in the guise of a lover.
If only she knew...
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« Reply #197 on: June 19, 2010, 07:43:12 pm »

Heh, was gonna ask what happened to your poems. I like this one for the star wars reference but the other part seems cool, one of the only romantic poems I actually like, good job Cheesy

Oh and congrats Grin

Edit: Missed the 2nd one but it kinda sounded...... erotic O.o
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« Reply #198 on: July 18, 2010, 05:55:03 am »

Detachment (Song lyrics)

Is there something wrong with me?
Is it all in my head? Or is this real?
Is there something wrong with me?
Seems that I am alone, with no-one waiting at home.

I look but cannot see,
I hear but cannot listen,
I touch but cannot feel,
I know but cannot love.

I find my memories so confusing,
So convoluted and constricting,
So annoying and upsetting,
Yet I am detached from them.

I look but cannot see,
I hear but cannot listen,
I touch but cannot feel,
I know but cannot love.

Your lips press against mine,
And it's supposed to make me joyful –
But, yet I seem to be uncaring,
That everything I wanted… is mine…

I look but cannot see,
I hear but cannot listen,
I touch but cannot feel,
I know but cannot love.

I look but cannot see,
I hear but cannot listen,
I touch but cannot feel,
I know but cannot love.

Is it strange to see, that someone is like me? I find myself alone today…
What I want to know is this: how on earth did this happen?
And why is it that I no longer care that –

I look but cannot see,
I hear but cannot listen,
I touch but cannot feel,
I know but cannot love.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Dying Sith

----Peace is a lie; there is only passion.
----Through passion, I gain strength.
----Through strength, I gain power.
----Through power, I gain victory.
----Through victory, my chains are broken.
----The Force shall free me.
-------The Sith Code


My passion was mighty, and it outweighed my peaceful nature;
The strength I gained helped, if for a while;
The power that the strength fuelled took me to never-before seen heights;
The victory I found was brutal and truthful;
The chains that held me broke as I emerged victor and master of all;
The Force freed me, but by doing so, I died.
My freedom was the best, greatest, worst and deadliest thing to happen to me,
And I regret nothing, for given the choice, I'd repeat it all over again.
--------------------------------------------------------------
There you go, two poems for you. Detachment is focusing mainly on the effects emotional detachment can have on someone, from my own experience with it.
Dying Sith is finishing off my trilogy using the Sith Code as guidelines.
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« Reply #199 on: July 29, 2010, 06:35:11 pm »

Angel? Or Worthless?

She sees me as an angel -
Gentle, calm and loving
And at times like that...
I feel that I hide myself from her.
That I am vile and disgusting and worthless.

All I feel is rage, anger, sorrow and chilling self-hate.
No love, certainly no person gentle or calm.
Someone spontaneous and vengeful.
I don't feel good...
Just sick, and wrong...

I have feelings for her...
But am I allowed to love anymore?
It hurts... real deep, it hurts.
And past betrayals have simply made me...
Well, jaded and chillingly brutal.

Is it love, or simply a need for affection?
In the end, it shouldn't matter -
She deserves far better than me,
And so I'll attempt to give her that in the form of someone else.
Maybe then I can rest easy at long last...
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« Reply #200 on: July 29, 2010, 07:11:47 pm »

Lonely Angel

He soars upon the winds,
Lonely, broken, empty.
His black wings caress his cold body,
Hoping to warm him... to make him feel wanted.
The feathers fall and collide mid-air with slow-falling tears.
His obsidian eyes glaze over
As he pulls out the torn picture from his pocket.
In it, he sees himself, happy for a change, with his arm around...
Them.
He forgets their face, with it half-torn,
And neither can he recall their gender, or even their name.
All he knows is that he loved them dearly,
And now he can longer find them.
With a shudder, the misty-eyed angel takes off,
A lone feather being left in his place.
The feather glides down, and lands in a dove's nest, outside the window of someone.
They open the window, pick up the feather, and rub it softly.
"Eido..." they whisper, but he never hears them.
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« Reply #201 on: July 30, 2010, 10:13:23 pm »

cool!
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« Reply #202 on: August 21, 2010, 04:25:52 pm »

One Last Goodbye

To your grave, I spoke,
Holding a red, red rose
Gust of freezing cold air
Whispers to me, that you are gone...

They accused me of murdering you, angel -
Despite proof to the obvious,
It seems once more something is my fault.
Sometimes... when I try...
To get over the fact that you're gone...
No-one... wants me.
And no-one understands.

To your grave, I spoke,
Holding a red, red rose
Gust of freezing cold air
Whispers to me, that you are gone...

People are always telling me to cheer up,
Find someone else.
But angel, sometimes I feel that...
Well, they don't even know me anymore.
They seem to find that life is a game,
And that we as players, are all the same,
And the only difference is in the names...

To your grave, I spoke,
Holding a blackening rose
Gust of freezing cold air
Whispers to me, that you are gone...

And all I want is to lie there...
Rubbing the grass where you now lay,
Before settling into that slumber so deep,
And never awakening from endless sleep...

To your grave, I spoke,
Grasping that last red rose
Gust of freezing cold air
Whispers to me, that you are gone...
And then beckoning me...
To go with you...
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« Reply #203 on: October 12, 2010, 04:00:00 pm »

Raindrops

Raindrops pitter-patter on the pavement,
Before the water pools at my feet.
I raise my head and look to the skies,
Eyes closed, and the rain intermingles with tears.
I spread my arms out, look up to the sky,
Cry out in anguish, in fury, and in pain.
I hear the thunderclaps and see the lightning striking in the distance,
Weather corresponding with my emotions.
Fall to my knees and weep in sorrow...
Feel arms around me, but don't register the bearer:
Life goes on, they say, but then again...
It also finds new ways to hurt you.
Eventually, I'm brought out of the storm,
Shivering but feeling only pain, no cold.
Given warm clothing, helped changed.
Hugged and embraced until it hurt,
But alas, I am still empty.
Still heartbroken.
Still feeling... unloved.
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« Reply #204 on: October 18, 2010, 05:17:19 pm »

Oh wow, those last couple ones were pretty awesome and I understood them  Grin *feels accomplished*

........I think  Roll Eyes
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« Reply #205 on: July 12, 2011, 04:10:26 pm »

Sorry for being gone so long, guys. And sorry to you, my precious posting ground. This one is about 6 months old, but I like the whole song-like feel to it.

Fallen Angel

Walk alone upon a cold street, no-one here but me.
Snow falls here, hail falls there,
And I just cannot care.
I thought what we had was special, but you threw me away.
While once I knew you so well, are you my friend today?
Then you wonder why I feel so down...
But that doesn't matter; no that doesn't matter.

My sanity is failing, it's a shame but it is true,
And now it doesn't help that I truly miss you,
Seems it t'is the season, for making me feel blue,
And I'm sorry that I love you.

See the birds fly by, and the clouds so slowly soar,
Wish that I was one of them,
More and more and more.
But I'm no bird, I'm just a man,
And one who has had no certain plan,
But that's okay I understand -
Coz that doesn't matter; no that doesn't matter.

My sanity is failing, it's a shame but it is true,
And now it doesn't help that I truly miss you,
Seems it t'is the season, for making me feel blue,
And I'm sorry that I love you.

Oooooh...
Oooooh...
Ooh-oooooh...
Ooooooooh...

My sanity is failing, it's a shame but it is true,
And now it doesn't help that I truly miss you,
Seems it t'is the season, for making me feel blue,
And I'm sorry that I love you.
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« Reply #206 on: July 12, 2011, 04:13:31 pm »

The Shire Brave

This is a hobbit tale,
One of many, don't you know,
And the hero of said ballad,
Was far from stout and slow.

His name was Bounder Isenbras,
The first Shiriff, you should know.
He patrolled the entire Shire, he did,
Defending it from foe.

One day across the Brandywine,
Some brigands so did cross,
And they laughed and cheered, drank and jeered,
In name of their cruel boss.

But our good hero Isenbras,
Did journey to their haunt,
And endured their nasty heckling,
And then gave them a taunt:

"If you be men, then face me here,
Aye, face me in the field,
For cowards shall shout but hide away,
And in face of force, they yield."

The brigands ran out in force,
And ran straight into the blade
Of our Shiriff hero's strong main-hand
Who drove back the vicious raid.

The bandit chief was furious
When he heard his men were dead.
He leapt up from his chiefly chair:
"I'll take that Hobbit's head!"

The villainous cur saddled up,
And rode into the Shire,
So obsessed with his only goal,
The sights he did not admire.

Our shiriff was awaiting,
Outside good Michel Delving Town,
And declared that the battle would
Be for the mayoral crown.

The bitter foes swept and slashed,
And their blades caught and held,
But hark! the bandit fell and tripped
And from the floor was felled.

Slish-slash! Snicker-snack!
The blade in hand went so,
It's keen edge caught it's target
And eventually brought down it's foe.

The wielder of the blade said thus:
"Twas a hard battle indeed -
But roll out the food, bring on the ale,
And by God, where is my mead!?"
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-
It's effectively what happens when my mind meets Alice in Wonderland and LotR in a crossroads. Or rather, Lewis Carroll's poetry meets my LotR Shire. It also makes a nice piece to go well with my LOTRO kin, but that's another matter entirely. It's very tongue-in-cheek, if you hadn't noticed, but I think that makes all the more enjoyable.

Hope you all enjoy it, and give me some hints on what needs improving. ^_^
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« Reply #207 on: July 13, 2011, 12:05:00 pm »

Lemme get this straight. You come back from a lengthy hiatus and hours later you already have new stuff in your art thread AND a new story?

Stop making me look bad in the art/story updating department. Tongue
j/k


Wonderful job. Keep up the awesome work. =D
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« Reply #208 on: July 13, 2011, 05:36:39 pm »

Lover's Whisper

Glancing through the window, a shadow gently opens it,
Stepping inside, the shadow then approaches the foot of the bed in the room.
Looking down at her tenderly, he brushes her hair and tucks her in,
Stops her nightmares as best that he can from the position he is in.
After about a half-hour, he gets up, opens that window again,
Clambers out, turns back, and whispers "I love you..." into the breeze, before vanishing,
Her eyes open, fires alight as she looks around the room.
No-one is in sight, but she clearly heard "I love you..."...
As if whispered to her in the guise of a lover.
If only she knew...
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« Reply #209 on: July 13, 2011, 05:53:19 pm »

PkMn: Epilogue

Standing there, all alone
No place of his own
To call a home...
He just continues to roam,
His friends watching him go
Through tear-stained eyes.

Turning into crime-ridden avenues,
Stops the crime in order to stop his emotions,
From catching up to him,
For he feels betrayed by the ones he saved,
To be honest... he is no longer surprised by their actions,
Just upset by the utter lack of faith in him...

His partners follow at his heels,
Attempting to coax that caring person to come back,
Generally failing, for now he only opens up for them.
Enough yet not enough...

He never visits his old friends - the pain keeps him away,
Believing them to not care, to think him as bad as the rest...
So he left, cloak swirling in the dust and entering into the sandstorm...
Leaving them in the mist of the unknown -
Wes is afraid of their feelings for him, and therefore
He vows to be free...

((It's an epilogue to PkMn Coliseum - which I think is the best one of the atypical Pokemon games, due to it's fairly unique plot. Or at least, for the time.))
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