Salad roll

The crunch, the sweet blissful crunch
the cold water drops cascading from the bite
salt and heaven, all mixed together
another crunch, a sweet sensation lining the crust
sparkling, dazzling, the joy of bread, butter and salad

Words in shadow

Slipstreams of words
spiralling down on paper
like whirlwinds free, trapped in ink
they crash, they flow
they lift, they dive
slipstreams of meaning
shadow havoc on white

E vs I

extroverts vs introverts = like waves rushing in, vs still water moving peacefully
how big a difference? huge
make a difference? none what so ever
in Society? unfortunately so
how to reconcile? let all feel free to be themselves
is it possible? one would think so, 21st Century
why care? pointing out the obvious is always good ;)
introverts vs extroverts? all equal

Contemplation upon Utopia

Are we there yet?
the utopia of dreams
are we there yet?
the peak of humane humanity
are we there yet?
the place we can never reach

Alas, the mires of contemplation
they bubble, they linger
Steal your footing they may
if wander in too deep

God, agnos

God, why do you allow so much suffering?

How can the gift of life be blessed,
when it is cursed with so much pain

How can light be your beacon,
when life for so many is so very dark

How can I not question if you exist
or I'm talking to myself
when your voice is so very silent

God, agnos, I do not know

A short story coming

Darkness slipped over his face as his helm was fitted and locked into position. Eye slits opened as the ancient Grey Wolf terminator visor whirred into life once again. Targeting monitors as ghostly displayed runes and whispers audited the scene in front of him, sensing danger ahead. Ansgar Fjordbring prepared himself for another battle against the unclean. Chaos. Flanking helm inlets pistoned oxygen slowly, keeping the inner temperature at a constant 20.2 °C. The storm was fury incarnate, jabbing clear white lightning strikes through the night sky. Wind that would have felled a normal man smacked softly against his rune armour as he moved forward on the ledge, power claw raised, his troops below and behind raising their chain swords, purring. ‘They want Death and we shall bring it!’ Ansgar roared, the hundred Grey Wolves in combat armour, remained silent and furious, ready to perform their charge in honour of the Norse gods.

A chorus of sickening chants and shrieks, only the warp could spawn erupted from across the plains, a myriad of moving shadows, bulky and thin began their assault.

A thing on War

Peace, a horrific cost
the earth painted red for freedom
Soldiers, lived, died, remembered, forgotten
People, support, condemn, remember, forget
State, policy, alliance, enemy, ally, enemy

The ramblings of a machine god
Too few, too many
Whirrs, cogwheels and clicks
Time ascertaining in complete calibration
Seconds, minutes, wait for the hours
Metal, glass, polished
Whirrs, clicks, rumblings of Machina

Hell on Earth
One man, one machine, born into a shell case strewn reality
Battling against each other in a set stream of fluid hostility
They shoot, they die, they resurrect in a never ending apocalypse
No giving up, no cease fire, just a burning desire
To rid the world of the one they cannot retire
Cool hate, climactic fury, two poles of metal vs tissue
When does it end, this vengeful reign of consumed apostles

5, 5.30 in the morning
Is it late, is it early?
It's dark outside, but it's light in my mind
Asleep or awake
Oh what a complicated thing
I wish to sleep, but stay awake to fall a-
Oh early morning
Wishing you were late