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Maverick4
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Maverick4
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Well, if you know me, then you know that this would be my third thread for my writings. If you don't know me, as in your a new(er) user, than this is my third thread for my writings. This is a fairly akward situation, so I feel the need to explain:

I am making this final thread (and yes, final), because I realised something during my Hiatus. When I 'quit' AG, I was fairly discusted with my works. I absolutely loathed them. And after a while, I realized something: that it didn't matter. Who cares what I thought about them. What matters is what OTHERs think about them. I wouldn't be able to grow as a writer if my angst over my own works led people to assume that they WERE bad.

While some of them genuinely reeked, there were others that were genuinely good. And as I looked back over my first writings, I realized another thing too: that I had gotten better. That my works had gone from a slipshod, unbalanced affair to a generarrly more organized shipshod affair.

So I am not making this thread to be unique in having *3* threads about my work, or for vanity, or anything like that. I am making it so that you, the reader, will look at my works, and will hopefully tell me how to get better.

Sincerely, Mav

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Maverick4
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Maverick4
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First thing I wrote when I came back to AG. Entered into the Poetry Contest - Theme: Benches.
__________

Untitled

Crackiling cold; burning iron,
Wooden slats frosted white.
Cigar embers, burning hot
Ashes floating to the ground

Overcoats pulled tight
Seat leeching cold
from his body, atache
at his side.

Shuffling over, stamping
heavy boots, the weight
of the world carried.
On his back.

A short exchange; a brief
murmering.
Atache in hand.
Gone.

Maverick4
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Maverick4
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8. Falling Into the Abyss

Refuse, broken; cast
Away; forgotten. Roaring
Past my ears. A cry.

Wrote this for the 50 Themes challenge, and the topic is the title. I became inspired for this haiku after looking down the garbage disposal, and imagined the perspective of falling down it.

Maverick4
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Maverick4
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17. Self Hatred

Sucked into myself; enlightened
Evils within, corrupting me
Martyred for the cause
I set myself free

Born again on the rising tide
Of my soul, erupting into
a thousand suns
destroying it all

Out of the ashes
Black and white
Floating on the breeze
Sinking in the water

Painted blue; berserk
Non Compos Mentis
Loving some, crushing all
Two-faced lies

Into the abyssal
Nether reagions of my mind
There is no peace
There is no war

A single flame
In the brightest black
A moth to fire
Igniting me

All for love; 4 is 5
Doubting myself
Wreathed, a wraith
Entombed in chains

Trapped inside; forever free
Never tiring; seeking sleep
Finally submitting
Ending it all
__________
I also wrote this for the 50 Themes Challenge, and again, the topic is the title. Its about a person who continually searches their soul. They hate themself because they always end up seeing/finding dichotomic selves, hence the obvious placing of opposites throughout the poem:

There is no peace
There is no war


It also says that said person feels betrayed by themself in that they can't figure their very person out, causing further hate. I linked this in through a reference to Big Brother (George Orwell) and the Ministry of Love (irony on purpose):

All for love; 4 is 5
Doubting myself


All in all, its a somewhat depressing tale that ends in a uplifting/further depressing ending. Did the person find peace? Did they end it all with suicide? I leave that for you to ponder.
Maverick4
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46. Someone Who Lives to Watch the World Burn

A Bavarian Waltz
Plays in her head, though
People never hear the tune.

Calmly she walks
Amung burned-out hulks
And facades leaning over the street.

Chic heels click loudly
On the cracked and charred
Cobbled stones of the avenue.

Ash rains down, swirling
Amid the breeze, buzzing
With her anticipation.

It begins to rain,
The overcast sky reflecting
How the world feels right now.

Sizzling, it falls
With Plinks! and Plops!
Cooling the wreckage, once ablaze.

Endorphines filled with
Pleasure flutter through
Her warped and twisted mind.

A match flares up, in
The greyness like a
Beacon for non-existent hope.

Through her fingers
It slips; twisting through
the air, it flares up.

Flames hungrily devour,
Setting the Whole World
Ablaze.
__________
I wrote this also for the 50 Theme Challenge. Just a typical descriptive poem, but I wrote the last line of each stanze with more sylabuls. This is to add to the effect of only having one word in the last line.

DeadlyVelociraptor
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nice poetry man, try making a rhyming poem, not that it is better, im just the sort of person who likes rhyming...

Maverick4
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14. Nightmare

When I am asleep:
Shadows flit in-between,
Causing havoc and despair.

When I am awake:
Crossing over into
My life; recking everything.

When I am asleep:
Scenes warped out of control
Tantalizingly surreal.

When I am awake:
Showing on the outside
Turmoil burns my belly.

When I am asleep:
My insides filled with dread
Pain forcing my eyes open.

When I am awake:
Fear is my compainion
Can't take it anymore.
__________
Just cossing over a nightmare into how I feel asleep and awake. Inspired from real life, and also a Japanese Poem called 'Choka', where you start out with two similar sounds/words.

Maverick4
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nice poetry man, try making a rhyming poem, not that it is better, im just the sort of person who likes rhyming...


I tend to touch rhyming with a 10-foot pole, if you know what I mean. I gues I'm more of a modernist when it comes to the poetry. I'll give it a shot though.
Maverick4
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26. Daydreams

I'm just one wing away.
Still, I can't outfly the day.
Won't you come with me, and stay,
We might reach there, to-day.

Woah-oooh-oooh-oh
Woah-oooh-oooh-oh
Ahhh-ahhh-ahhh-ah
Ahhh-ahhh-ahhh-ah

Won't you come with me, and fly,
And we can soar, up high.
Just wave the ground, good-bye.
So come and kiss, the sky.

Woah-oooh-oooh-oh
Woah-oooh-oooh-oh
Ahhh-ahhh-ahhh-ah
Ahhh-ahhh-ahhh-ah
__________
Wrote this for the 50 Themes Challenge. Its about flying, and I stuck it under 'daydream', 'cause well... thats what I daydream about. The first line kept popping up in my head, and I ran with it. Sorta turned into a song, I guess...

Nurvana
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Good work man but why Skunkworks?

jezz
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I love them Mav, you underestimate yourself! My favourite so far is ''46. Someone Who Lives to Watch the World Burn'' because the first two stanzas set very chilling imagery. I imagine a woman walking among some kind of wreckage, everywhere is grey, and she's humming a lively tune in her head with a smirk on her face and a glint in her eye. *shudder*

Maverick4
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Maverick4
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Good work man but why Skunkworks?


Couldn't think of a title, so I stole the buidling name where Boeing made all their secret stuff... I'll probaly change it in the near future.

I love them Mav, you underestimate yourself! My favourite so far is ''46. Someone Who Lives to Watch the World Burn'' because the first two stanzas set very chilling imagery. I imagine a woman walking among some kind of wreckage, everywhere is grey, and she's humming a lively tune in her head with a smirk on her face and a glint in her eye. *shudder*


Thanks Jezz! Yeah, its a reference to Nero, of sorts. And he literally watched his world burn. And I'd have to agree: 46 is one of my favorites, and also 26. And 26 deserves special recognition: its the only poem that could be seen as 'happy'.

Thanks everybody for comments and CC!
Nurvana
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Ah I see... I think.

Parsat
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Interesting premise. Make sure you pull a spellcheck, though, you've got plenty of little typos here and there. I'm very intrigued by Ama and Tsu...I noted the allusion to the Japanese deity of evil and the stars. The imagination/reality paradox is always an interesting one to read. In any case, I hope you update!

Maverick4
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Prelude

Once upon a time, there resided in this landscape a kingdom, the Kingdom of Armor. And in this Kingdom, there was a town, a town called ArmorCity. Nestled between several hills, ArmorCity was filled with many wonders, including a Bank, Hospital, Court System, Post Office, and Cathedral. But all agreed that the greatest of all these wonders was Armor Castle. Made of white stone, and surrounded by a large Forest and a Moat, it absolutely dominated the surrounding city. And it was in this town, not to long ago, that-

I slammed the book shut, causing a cloud of dust to erupt around me, eventually settling on my desk. I was in my study, looking through old(er) tomes and writings, written mostly by the literati of Armor. It brought many memories; some good, and some bad. A lot had changed since I came back... what happened to the good 'ole days?

I looked back into the events that had happened since I had come to Armor: My extremely personal encounter with my very own troll(!)... When TSL stormed out the city gates, vowing never to return again... When I first began posting my meager writings for the town to see... And of course, the ongoing antics of the Way of Moderation...

I sighed outloud, and let my arm drop onto my travelers cloak, which was slung hap-hazardly on my desk.

"Hey, watch it!" A serpentine head poked out from the folds of my cloack, where it had previously been sleeping. Its... or her, to be exact, name was Tsu (pronounciation similar to 'Sue') my... companion of sorts. Her compatriot soon joined her:

"Aw... I was at the good part!" (Obviously referring to her dream). This other head, I called Ama. They were a curious affair; always hanging about. No one, not even I, knew just what they were. Some think there figments of my imagination and don't exist, though I haven't mentioned this to Ama or Tsu (I don't think they would like it too much). Others think that there physical representations of my conscious. I like this theory better, seeing that-

"Coming up..." Both of the heads spoke, and slithered out from underneath the cloak, allowing me to see the rest of them. Soon after their heads, their necks joined as one, forming the rest of their body. Ama and Tsu were about 3 feet long, and were of a dark black coloring. Their heads, however, were a more vibrant shade of yellow, the same color that ran down their underside and finished at the tail.

I stuck my arm out, allowing them to climb up it. They coiled around my arm a few times; tight enough to hang on, yet loose enough to allow feeling in my arm. They poked their heads out my collar, and began to whisper in my ear:

"So, we going up to your room?" asked Ama.

"Hah! Those contraptions will never, never work" Tsu grumbled. Obviously, another reason why I supported the concious-theory: they were my little angel and demon on my shoulder. Ama, the angel, always whispering words of encouragement, and generally being optimistic about me, life, and well... everything. Tsu, on the otherhand, was just about the darkest, foulest, most pessimistic creature I knew. She was always whispering the bad (and sometimes truthful) things about my actions, thoughts, or other people. Tsu was the bigger head by a slight margin, and so when in came to the rare fights that Ama and Tsu had, she ussualy won.

"Yeah... in just a moment" I cast my eyes around my study, looking for the book I wanted. It was a quaint little room, or so I thought. Others would have called it small, not that they would ever see it. It was a rectangular: The short ends housed my desk, and the other my door. The longer sides were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Almost all of the shelves were filled, and I began to scroll through trying to find the tome I wanted.

I passed over titles such as 'KOA Chronicles' and 'Port-fol-lee-oh', only pausing to wipe dust away from their spines. Other times stopping at newer titles: 'The Words and Workings of Wolf' or 'The Hyper Hive', flipping through a few pages, but not finding what I sought. I finnally found the title, though, and quickly snatched it off the shelf.

I ran out the door and up the short flight of stairs (ignoring cries of 'Woah! Slow down!' and 'Weeeee!'). I slid rather nicely into my chair, and scootched it towards my second desk.

I was know in my bedroom, where all the 'good stuff' happened. Every freespace of wall was once again lined with shelves, and a few brackets for torches were stuck in little niches. My second desk was situated just next to the doorway, and my bed was finally tucked away in a little corner; it wasn't that big. And all of my room was flooded with countless sheets of parchment with complex equations, algorithyms, and diagrams scribbled all over them.

After I left Armor, I had become entranced with flight. As I wandered to other lands, I came across a smallish manual in the land called 'Kongregate'. This was the book I had seeked only moments ago, and had carried to my room (where books rarely entered; they tended to get... lost).

It was a leather-bound book, typical by anysorts, except that it had no author. The title was also curious: 'On Flight: A Short Guide'. It was very, very old; that much was obvious from its yellow'd, cracking pages. And the must odor that was euphoria to my senses, yet gave me slight headaches.

I had already heard rumors of flights: so called gliders and the like. And the tales of moderators soaring through the skies: Strop supposedly had an biplane. But I was determined of two things:

First, they were all doing it wrong.

Second, if moderators can do it, than I must be able to do it.

The mounds of parchment were evidence enough as to what my goal was: Bring flight to the common people of the Kingdom of Armor.

"Yea, lets do it!" whispered Ama, Tsu quickly replied:

"Here we go again..."
__________
Fixed a few character incongruencies, some gramatical things, and I also gave it a title (that always helps). Got a lot of ideas as to where this can go, so I'll look forward to writing the next few, and from getting feedback from all of my readers.

Maverick4
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Chapter 1: Vagrancy No Longer

"Psst... Hey, wake up!"

"Mhpf... say... what?" I opened my eyes groggily, blinking out the sleep had gathered.

"Wake up!" Something nipped my ear, and I awoke fully with a start. It was Tsu (figures), trying to wake me up. I had fallen asleep at my desk, and it was the next morning.

I wiped my face, and soon realized that ink was smeared all over it. Glancing down at the paper I had been working on confirmed this.

"Great... just great..." I sighed aloud. The sheet had been immensily important, and now half of it was illegible. I had been trying to solve the main problem of all my flight designs: weight vs. power. In all the cases, I was always to heavy to get off the ground in the small scale text. I increased the engine size, but my weight increased. So I made the wings larger to provide more lift, but than there wasn't enough power to get off the ground. And so it went, I was stuck in a viscious cycle.

All of my designs were pretty much the same. They were built around a simple sled, the seat in the front and the engine at the rear. A large pair of wings, similar to a bats, was built on top of this. The engine was my pride though.

Consisting of a complex series of gears, pulleys, and levers, it was immensily powerful, but large. This brings me back to my previous problem: too much weight, but not enough power.

"Hey, we need to get going!" I was snapped back to reality by Ama, who was reminding my of my plans to head to ArmorCity. I had several things I needed to take care of, some of which pertained to flight, other did not.

I looked out the window, and I realized just how late it was. It was late morning, almost noon, and It would take me several hours to arrive at my destination. I hurried over to my chest, which I had shoved underneath my small bed.

My chest was a relatively small thing. It was of simple design, with a single metal clasp to open and close it. I opened it, and revealed most of my personal belongings:

Strapped into the lid of my chest was one of my most valued possessions: a recurve bow. I had acquired it in my travels, as almost all of the bows in the Kingdom were of a simple, curved type, such as longbows. My bow was unique for two reasons: First, its construction consisted of several types of wood, glued together across the grain. This allowed for more power to come from a smaller bow, propelling the arrow accross vast distances. The second was its size: It was about a third of the size of the typical longbow. This benefited me in several ways; People ussualy didn't know I had it until it was too late, and I could shoot it in cramped conditions that a normal longbow would be too unwieldy to use.

I unstrapped it from its restraints, and set it on my bed, along with its string and quiver. I then moved on to the contents in the belly of my trunk: my clothes. I pulled out a new shirt and pair of trousers, ignoring the giggles of Ama and Tsu, who I had removed so I could change. I then picked up my travelers cloak, which had slipped off the desk while I had slept. I strapped on my quiver and re-strung my bow, and allowed Ama and Tsu to slither back to their place before heading downstairs.

My main room was similar to the other two rooms of my house in that it was lined with several shelves. It also contained the hearth, where I cooked most of my meals, and a small table. The table happened to be cover with scraps of parchment, and I made a mental note to clean it as I sat down.

I searched the table top for a clean sheet of parchment before finally giving up and settling for the back of a relatively clean sheet. Ama and Tsu began to whisper the reminders I had told them, and I wrote them on the sheet.

Milk... Bread... Eggs... I thought as I wrote them down, before scratching them out. Tsu was giggling again, and I realized she had only been joking. Ama soon jumped in with what I had really told them to remember.

Check back up with friends; let them know I'm still alive... This was probaly the most important; I had been gone some time, and hade been out of correspondence with, well... everybody. I figured that I would find most of them somewhere in the Community Hall, were most of the artisans hung out. This brought me to my second point, which I wrote down: Post my new works in the Community Hall. A lot of the frequenters of the Community Hall had smalls books in which they regularly wrote or drew their new pieces in. I had several, and I was sure that my book had been lost or forgotten.

After writing in a few more reminders, I gathered up my stuff and put them in my satchel, which hung by my side. I checked on everything, made sure the hearth was out, and proceded to head outside.

I locked my door, chuckling as I did. I found it moderately ironic that I locked my door to protect against intruders, yet no one ever stayed this far from ArmorCity.

I looked back on my house, saw that all was fine, and began my journey back to ArmorCity, and whatever awaited me there.

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