A few of my more recent poems:
When I Gaze Upon the Starry Sky
When I gaze upon the starry sky
And they doth twinkle, bright with glee,
I dream of a distant place, to fly
To a land surrounded by tranquil seas.
In this place my heart doth reside,
The heart in my chest a separate entity;
Yet to bounds of reality I must abide,
Feeling toward it an eternal enmity.
This pen hath become my weapon, drawn
In defiance of all the miles between;
My words bridging distance until I'm gone
From the world I have experienced and seen.
In solitude I yearn for the day I can be
In this distant place, my heart is with thee.
On Love
What can the wretched know of love?
He who lives in misery and despair
Can only share that which he knows:
The hopelessness of tragedy.
To love means to live as life should be,
To experience deep joys in the everyday;
He who looks around and sees beauty, happiness,
Shall qualify as the superior lover.
This man knows no limits to his love,
His emotions not bound by condition;
The feeling as pure as the simple joys
Found in the world as seen by a child.
Like Francisco D'Anconia he knows no bounds of time,
His emotion is as eternal as time itself;
For that, like distance, are mere delays
That pass like a flash to all things eternal.
He takes pride in all that he does
And strives to live and achieve;
He gives to another all that he is, was, will be;
There could be no greater tribute paid.
Should he find another lover
Who expresses quite the same,
He could possess no greater joy
Throughout the rest of his days.
For one such as he, if he experiences love,
Will undertand all for which it stands
And in each act upon this earth
Will do honor to his only lover.
When Love Dies
Where does love go when it begins to die?
Does it fade and then turn into black?
Does it hide in the labyrinth of our heart and soul
Waiting to someday come back?
Could it be that it never was there,
That what we took for love was a lie?
Blind to the truth, overwhelmed by emotion,
We fought just to keep it alive.
How can we feel it so pure and so strong
Only to one day have it stripped away?
Does the place in your heart become a dark void,
Growing colder with each passing day?
In time we learn to accept the idea
That the love is no longer there;
We go back to hoping and searching for
A new love that might someday repair
That rift in our heart and our soul
Where the dead love once did dwell;
And hope that this time it will be real
To avoid the agony of love's dying hell.
OLD SKOOL - A positive appellation referring to when things weren't flashy but empty of substance, were done by hard work, didn't pander to the lowest common denominator, and required real skill. Labour-saving devices, shortcuts that reduce quality and quitting before the task is done are not characteristics of "old skool."
In reference to computer games, refers to a game that had substantial playability without flashy graphics or eye candy. Old skool gamers appreciate difficult maneuvers, careful planning, and scorched earth policies.
In reference to role-playing games, old skool refers to games that tested players' wits, could kill off careless characters, and required dedication and inner strength to play. Old skool games didn't pander to the ideas that everyone is created equal, that all options are open to all races, that the markets were somehow free, and that a quasi-medieval society could have near 100% literacy.
See also classic.
Representing the Old Skool ways since 1984.
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