Had a story concept involving a band but I didn’t end up liking it much. I did however save one of the songs that they would have sung. So mentally read this with a Paramore-style rock sound and female singer.
War stories
War stories,
Your old glories,
They look so perfect in your mind
It’s so much brighter,
You’re a better fighter,
When it’s viewed through the mists of time.
Short poem about the area around a bunch of fraternities at my university, where broken glass from countless bottles has been ground into the sidewalk. Alternate title “Shards of Glass”.
Fraternity Park
Scattered like a galaxy of shining stars,
Strewn on the sidewalk and streets by the bars,
Tiny specks of glass that sparkle and glitter.
A most enchanting sight and dangerous form of litter.
Trees of blue and seas of green,
Skies of violet and the color of dreams,
Grass with a certain silvery sheen,
And gardens of flowers in colors yet unseen.
In the land of diamond and ruby shores,
Of ancient libraries of forgotten lore,
Bustling markets with multitudes of stores,
On the winds ride the sounds of mountains’ roars.
Anything can happen here, anything at all.
Stories and legends, myths great and small,
Whispers and rumors and tales stretching tall.
Here there be dragons, and the sound of sirens’ calls.
Dwarves stand under eaves to hide from the heat,
While salamanders sun themselves in the hard-packed street.
Gargoyles take the shade by the colossus’s feet,
While in back alleys, wizards of forgotten gods meet.
Mermaids look wistfully at the golden sands.
On shore, pixies wander in roving bands.
Circling overhead fly creatures with taloned hands.
Things of imagination made real prowl this land.
You can take the river there, though the port’s rather far.
If you want the scenic route, go on foot or by car.
Or by carriage, though the view from airship’s more on par.
If in a hurry, just wish yourself there on the next star.
I’m going to preface this by saying this is probably the angst-iest poem I have ever written. On the one hand, I like the writing. On the other hand, it seems a little pretentious when I myself have never been in a war or lost someone to it.
I am, however, trying to keep a record of my writing, good and bad, and maybe this will resonate with someone more authentically. At the very least, we’re hearing a lot of war talk in the latest election cycle here in the U.S., and I very much hope whoever wins keeps in mind the civilian populace that is bound to exist in the same places that terrorists do.
Acceptable Loss
Am I just one of millions?
Am I part of your analyzed cost?
I’m not a soldier, just cannonfodder.
I’m not a tragedy, just an acceptable loss.
I’m not a martyr, or even a name.
I’m just a pawn in your sick game.
I’m just a number, I’m not a person.
I’m just a death toll as everything worsens.
A simple factor of calculated cost.
And if I die, you say nothing’s lost
It’s all part of your proportional response.
Because I’m a part of your acceptable loss.
You say the good of the many outweighs the good of the few.
But what if that “many” didn’t include you?
What if everyone you cared for, all that you knew,
Were the cost, a sacrifice; what if you were the “few”?
Is this sacrifice no longer easy?
Does the size of those numbers finally make you queasy?
As you imagine them, every single face,
Give them your language, your religion, your race.
Don’t make them strangers, but your family and friends.
Would your acceptable loss be so acceptable then?
So right now, if you click the “portfolio” link under “artwork”, you are taken to a serviceable but rather sub-par portfolio built on wordpress. I’m hoping to change that in the coming days – see my in-progress new portfolio here. Eventually I’ll map it to my custom Skylark Flight domain, but that’s going to require some time with WordPress’s customer support. In the meantime, check out the weebly page and let me know what you think.
An idea for a story – still working on the overall plot, but this is how it starts out, more or less.
Errol Crow (working title) – Chapter 1 first draft
“Master Blachette, are you – OH GODS AND GODDESSES!” The shriek made him jump. He spun around just in time to see Melinda’s face go white before she bolted from the doorway and down the hall.
“Wait!” he called. “This isn’t what it looks like! Well I mean it is, but it isn’t…” he stopped, not sure what to say, and it was too late anyway – the maid had already gone screaming down the hall.
He sighed and turned to survey the room. It was opulently furnished in dark wood and rich wall hangings, soft furniture and gold detailing. The rug was intricately woven with geometric designs, its bright colors spoiled at the edge by the darkening pool of blood beneath the body.
The following is a book review for World of Myth I: Beyond the Plains by Travis Bughi.
Draft of my character’s backstory for our group’s upcoming Pathfinder game. Needs a bit of tweeking still, but overall it’s good I think.
(The game is in the Pathfinder – Dungeons and Dragons “3.75” – rules, using the Forgotten Realms campaign setting. All regions, world setting, etc. (c) Wizards of the Coast).
I made a couple of pillows for my apartment next year (they’ll live in my dorm room for now).
Basically these came about after I screwed up printing t-shirts in screen printing class. One side came out fine, the other side didn’t, so I cut up the good side and used leftover fabric from another project to make the back, and viola! Pillow!
The back is fleece, and has overlapping panels with an opening so the pillow form can be removed and the case washed. I french seamed the edges so they’re extra sturdy.
All in all, not too bad.
Skylark Landing 