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| An Absolutely Novel Idea. XD Get it? GET IT?! Oh Just Read. |
| 09.26.04 (2:38 pm) [edit] |
A new book idea. My Gesoose, what am I gonna do with my ideas??? Write them, I dare think.
[Untitled]
The country of Androme is at war. Ten years ago, the good king Bladros died of an unknown reason at only the age of twenty-four. His only child was two years old, both the Church and Counsel agreeing that the child was unfit to rule, but then who would rule? Generally the Queen would rule, but she had killed herself the night the king had died, and in the case of the Queen's death, the one listed in the King's will would rule. According to the King's will, his brother, Prince Nestor would rule. Nestor was only 16, but an already flourishing strategem, with a knack for turning the odds of any party against itself. The thought of Prince Nestor ruling infuriated the Counsel Chairman, Nobleman Rostelm, and the Head Priest Tralm. Each believing they should be the ruler, the Church and the Counsel of Nobles split from that of the State and Knights, who remained loyal to Prince Nestor. For ten years, neither side has gained an advantage over another, and the country and it's people were thrown into utter turmoil. The war seems to have no end in the near future...
'Geez...you think he would have gotten better by the fourth round...looks like I'm gonna win again...a square hit right on the back should do it...I already know his legs can't take it...he's wobbling...' A young man, about 17, jumped into the air, holding a broomstick tightly in his left hand and swipping downward as he passes over another young man, hitting him in the back and causing the other to fall. The young man, broomstick in hand, lands softly on the ground and rests the wooden broomstick on his left shoulder, a grin across his face, his right hand out in a helping gesture. The young man, broomstick in hand, helps the other up. The young man, broomstick in hand, stands about six feet off of the ground, his long brown hair barely covering his green eyes. His wide smile lifts the spirits, and his hands are rough. He works out on the field, a peasant. His name, this young man's, broomstick in hand, is Ralph Linsden.
Short right now, I know. But I'll write more hopefully later.
Some input would be nice.
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| Nix that last post, cept the poem. Which was good. |
| 09.25.04 (11:24 am) [edit] |
I liked that poem I wrote in my last post lol...but everything else was rather stupidly written.
"Forget" by Mike Mclaren
"Forget"
Death has found it's course
On the cold, grey bodies scattered on the ground.
Blood stains my hands and the blade of my soul,
Forgiving and forgetting the scars of my past.
Forget the past which holds sin,
Forget the present which holds regret,
Forget the future which holds only sick serenity.
Thrown into the ashes of my past,
My sin and my logic have been destroyed with the times.
The truth tarnishes my mind and the heart of my life,
Destroying and disentigrating all I thought before.
Forget the past which holds sin,
Forget the present which holds regret,
Forget the future which holds only sick serenity.
Torn apart from the mistakes I've made,
I fly to you this serenade of virtue.
The truth my curse and the word my outlet,
Renewing and healing the wounds of the past.
Forget the past which holds sin,
Forget the present which holds regret,
Forget the future which holds only sick serenity.
Hold me close my love and my words,
And never let go.
If there was an elixir to cure my hurts,
Than I've been healed by love's voice.
. . .Forget the past. . .
. . .Forget the present. . .
. . .Forget the future. . .
. . .Forget love. . .
. . .Forget this voice in my head. . .
Forget the past which only held sin,
Put away the present which holds regret,
And open up the pages of the future where the unknown happiness lie. . .
Forget and leave forgotten.
Tell me what you think and help me get my blog back to its normal self! No more skulking for Rast!!! Comment on me, and I'll shoot you a comment back!
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| My Newest Poem: "Pointless" |
| 09.24.04 (3:57 pm) [edit] |
Here we go, I wrote this in my boring geography class (yes, I am moronically taking it again).
"Pointless" by Mike Mclaren
Deadly Sins
Washing upon the shore.
Where shall they go
In the early morning
When no one is home?
Insecurities burning a hole
Of Desire in a broken
Heart. Fragmentation
Has its ups and downs.
Sentences once whole
Now broken as love's
Tears are falling to the ground.
Poetry only captures pure
Essence. If one does not
Understand then we must
Go on. Don't let the shepherd
Lead. The followers will be
Sorted out and only then can we
Die. The reaper is at your doorstep.
Knock knock. The phrases get longer.
Realizations. The days are getting shorter.
Slowly ticking. Your eyes are turning white, your mind is turning black.
Remember. The poetic virtues have plagued your mind, and emptied your heart.
Pointless.
Whatcha think? Sorry I haven't been on too often, badn and homework are plenty to keep me offline. I'm thinking about starting another contest of some sort shortly, as my blog has been losing it's thrill.
Viewer choice, tell me what you'd like to see me post more of, and I'll see what I can do.
Later,
The Rast Man
P.S. Nothing to do this weekend, so I can make some changes.
Now Playing: "Mars: Bringer of War" by Holst
Mood: Kinda sorta feely feel-feel. Ness.
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| "The Angel of Justice" A Story Long Overdue |
| 09.12.04 (11:50 am) [edit] |
"Legend states in the Talmonic scripture that once, over two millenia ago, there was a great war, the War of the Magi. This war had been believed to have been the start of the chaos that now fed the sickened planet, and that Demons themselves had been the cause; an almost invisible catalyst, if you will. In the Talmonic Scripture, there was a man who stepped from the Deltic Tower alive, wielding a blade capable of reversing the power of Demons at the cost of the wielder's own life energy. The cursed blade was known as the Reliver, for it cast from Demons the evil souls which caused them to remain immortal and invincible and gave them an almost human life. With this sword, the warrior pushed back Demonic forces almost single handedly, and stopped the Grand Extinction. However, the man was deeply delved into the curse of the Reliver, obsessed with its care and losing his very soul every second he held it in his hand. Upon the Second Year of the Chaos Era, the man battled a Grand Demon, supposedly the greatest Demon to ever exist. The battle was intense, and in the end the man stabbed the Demon in the heart with the sword, holding onto the hilt to make sure the creature was dead. The man died, his hand grasping the sword till ever bit of his spirit vanished...An archaeologist some years back discovered the sword of legends, or what he claimed to be the sword, and now the Grand Talmonic church holds it in their museum. Now class, explain to me why-" A tall, brown-haired man holding a large book in his hand cleared his throat, "Mr. Lorano, see me after class please."
Sixteen and horribly bored, Mike Lorano groaned and glared at the teacher. Another twenty minutes of the myths and legends of the Talmon, and the class bell rang. Mike watched everyone leave and walked over to Mr. Grene's desk, Mr. Grene writing something down on paper.
"Oh yes...Mr. Lorano...you haven't paid attention in my class for three months...I can tell, you haven't passed a single test."
"Well...this stuff doesn't interest me, ya know..."
"I don't know why. If it wasn't for this stuff, this small community you feel so safe in would be just like the rest of the world, being played with by the Demonic Syndicate and political dismay..."
"......"
"Well...I'm willing to replace all of your test grades...if you can explain to me the signifigance of the Talmon and the Talmonic Scriptures by the end of the year. I want an essay on it. Good luck. Make it good. It will count as all of your grade...now go..." Mike mumbled and left. He was trying to decide whether that was kindness or utter hate that had caused Mr. Grene to decide such a thing. But now he was stuck with it. Mike was counting the tiles on the floor as he walked until he bumped into a familiar face, Flora. The reaction was a bit late, as both of their belongings scattered along the ground on impact, both of them falling back and blushing heavily from embaressment.
"I'm soooo sorry..." Flora began picking up her things, Mike aiding.
"Don't worry about it. Partly my fault for not watching..." Mike handed Flora her Chaos Theory book and got up, wiping off his pants and helping Flora get up, "And uh...nice panties..."
FWAP.
Mike opened the door to his dormitory (he was an orphan, and thus lived with a group of others) and was immeadietly greeted by his best friend, Akito.
"Hey there...wow...that's a pretty nasty looking eye you got there...you get into a fight?" Akito said, sitting down at the table with Mike and drinking some concoction out of a coffee mug.
"Dun ask...and are you drinking again?! You know that stuff is no good for you..." Mike pulled out his school books, and opened one up, leaning over and turning on a light.
"Oh and here I thought I was an orphan," spoke Akito sarcastically, drinking more from the mug.
"Oh go screw a fish..."
"I think I just might now that you mentioned it."
"You're a real nut."
"Gotta love me."
"Just because you are one does not mean you have any."
"Funny."
"Naturally."
After eating a quick dinner, Mike quickly decided he needed to sleep. He jumped on the top bunk, was quickly thrown off by Will, another roommate, and quickly settled for the bottom one, slipping into the night's mysterious dream blanket.
The alarm. That pestering sound telling you that the night is over and reality wants you somewhere in an hour. Mike quickly turned off the alarm and got up, yawning and walking into the kitchen, where the others were all sitting around the radio, listening intently to some news report.
"What is it this time-" Mike said annoying, quickly getting cut off by "hush" and "shush" and "shh"s.
[i]"No, we're not entirely sure as to who is the culprit. We suspect it's a group of rebels who want to start their own cult against Talmon, but that's not certain. However, the sword turning up missing on the anniversary of it's finding is pretty damned interesting. Ironic."
"Yes, ladies and gentlemen. The Reliver Sword has been stolen, and the Crimson Lifeholders have declared the community to be unsafe for public anything, really, and thus all affairs for the day has been cancelled and everything has been closed. Anyone who weilds the sword is not only a theif, but will be branded as a heretic by the Church. This is a dangerous item, and if you have any clues on the location of the sword and it's theif, you are obligated to contact the Church immeadietly. Thank you. That is all."[/i] Akito turned off the radio and the room was quiet for one of the first times since Mike had been with them.
"Who the hell would take that thing? And how? I mean...the Church has some TIGHT security." Akito drank from his mug and looked at the other roommates.
"Well...not like we can do anything about it..." Mike grabbed a jacket and slipped it on.
"And where are you going?! There's a psycho on the loose!" Will exclaimed, standing up and slamming the table.
"Out. I've got a date with Flora I plan on keeping. Unlike you losers, I don't expect to die a virgin..." Mike closed the door and began walking down the steps of the dormitory, thinking. He walked past a man in a trenchcoat, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, Mike exiting through the doors. He soon heard the doors open and saw the man in a trench coat again. Mike quickly ignored it and began walking down the street, hearing the click clack of the man close behind him. Mike picked up his pace, as did the man, and soon, Mike was almost at a run, the man closely behind him. Soon the man's black leatherbound hands grabbed Mike's shoulder and pulled him into a nearby alleyway, pushing him against a wall.
"Talmon's Grace be upon you. You've been chosen, repeat after me..."
"Uuuh..." This guy must be a nutcase, but better do as he says, lest he disembowels me or something, "Sure."
"How do you plead to the charges set down upon you by Talmon and the Masters?"
"How do you plead to the charges set down upon you by Talmon and the Masters..." Mike was a little freaked out.
"Take this...go...you must leave this city...do not open the package till you get to your house, and once you do, quickly leave...the Demons know it's energy readings...leave this city...justify...may Talmon's grace be upon you!!!" The trenchcoat man set down an elongated package and took off running.
"Uuuuh..." Mike picked up the package and ran home. He sat the package on the bed and looked at it, debating whether to open it after explaining the story to his friends.
"Well...maybe it's a bomb..."
"Or roses..."
"Roses, Steve?" Mike said, grabbing a pair of scissors and slicing the tape off of the package.
"Well ya never know!" Mike soon lifted the top off of the box and looked longingly at a shimmering broadsword. It was perhaps too clean...no no...it could get cleaner, thought Mike, lifting the blade by it's hilt and examining it, quickly polishing the sword. He felt a twinge in his heart every few seconds, but thought nothing of it.
"Oh my Talmon...Mike!!!" Akito soon came running in, a book in his hands, pointing at a picture of the very sword Mike held, "THAT'S THE RELIVER!!!" Mike almost dropped the sword right then and there. There was almost immeadietly a knock on the door, and Akito looked through the eyeglass to see who was at the door.
"It's...a man from the Church! God damn they're fast...Mike...just give the sword back...tell them your story and give it back..." Akito was panicky and Mike soon nodded his head in agreement. The door was opened, and the man from the Church almost immeadietly spotted the sword in Mike's hand.
"Mike Lorano...you are charged with robbery, theft of an artifact, and are hereby branded as a heretic."
"What?! I didn't do anything!"
"I've got you red-handed..." The man pulled out a gun and pointed it at Mike. The man's finger pulled the trigger, and the sword was seen blocking the bullet masterfully in Mike's hands.
"Well...I did place second in the kenjutsu contest last semester!" Mike heard a voice in his head.
[i]The window. Then make for the forest outside the Wall...I'll meet you there.[/i] Mike knew that the window was indeed his only way out. Only two stories, so it couldn't be that bad...
Wrong. The fall was nothing, as was the landing, but there was more problems. Like the large Church Guard group waiting outside, who spotted him and began chasing him. Mike ran almost a day till he reached the Wall. No one in over a hundred years had ever left the Wall, it was like dying, some said. Mike looked back for a second and thought of his friends. But now there was no hope, the people wanted him dead now. Mike climbed the Wall and jumped off of it.
[i]That wasn't too bad...[/i] Mike ran towards the forest in the distance, hoping to find some answers concernign the voice in his head, and the events that had happened so suddenly.
Well, I'll post more later!
Tell me what ya think, alright?
Later,
Rast
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| So Let's Get Some Ideas! |
| 09.10.04 (6:08 pm) [edit] |
Well, I'm bored, and feel the need to post. However, I have no idea what kind of story to post. Yes, my musical interests have drained my English creativity. Any ideas will be much appreciated! I will start it as soon as I get a suggestion I feel powered by.
What a waste of a post.
Later,
Rast
Snap your fingers.
Get your rhythm moving.
Musical notes flourishing,
Let's jazz it up a bit.
Let's jazz it,
Jazz it up,
Get a saxophone playing mighty mean.
Let's jazz it,
Jazz it up,
Clarinets, play vibratto.
*Now Playing: "I Got Rhythm" by George Gershwin*
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