Poems an' Shit. - Printable Version

Poems an' Shit. - Printable Version

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Poems an' Shit. - bear - 05-13-2015

I'mma put some poetry here. Maybe a few character intros. Stuff like that. Mostly poetry, if I can help it.

Poems an' Shit. - bear - 05-13-2015

<div style="text-align:left;]Ouzu

[/align]Bellowing from their posts.
Furiously hysterical
As hounds in a rut.
Their bloated mount tears through the dunes.
Shreds its way toward its goal.
And still, I approach.

The waters explode
and bodies fall from on deck.
More kerosene
to feed my gluttonous thirst.
They wilt like reeds
between my jaws.
Expunge their life for me.
Sustain me with their husks.
I gorge myself.

Full to bursting,
I make my leave.
Retreat to the depths,
to dwell on the meal.
Widows expect it to happen.
But never like this.
Like me.

Poems an' Shit. - bear - 07-16-2015

 Once, people got my name right. They understood me. And my goals. At least a little bit. I gave them stuff in exchange of course, though those were different times. Easier to be grandiose without breaking any rules. Nowadays, things are harder. I have to be subtle. Work in smaller ways. An idea here. A cheat there. Sometimes it's slow, and I hate that most of all. But it i still so…easy to overcome every opposition. However, all my machinations ceased when I was dazzled by how elegantly Yhwh solved the puzzle. His solution was so simple. So clean. So utterly devastating. Never have I been so thoroughly convinced of a plan's effectiveness. He simply told everyone he was the good guy. Told them all he was the creator. That he was the way, the truth, the light, blah blah-blah blah-blah. Worked so flawlessly he dominated the world over the next two millenia or so through a process of bloodthirstiness unmatched even by the most valiant attempts.

 It was glorious to watch. His influence spread so quickly he didn't even need to do miracles after a few dozen years. People just carried on in his name anyway. They brought him to new people by the sword. Killed millions. All in his name. Always thinking they were 'just.' Such idiots. Only the most empty-hearted ones could speak this stuff, but the man is a fickle creature of apathy and fear. Inseparable from its sins, and all Yhwh had to do was provide a gentle breeze, and there was nothing else that could have been done by anyone to stop his onslaught. I suppose I could have made some kind of attempt, but I was so in awe of his strategy, that I was wanted to see just how far it would roll. I recall the conversation we had, right around, I think it was 2001. Somewhere near the end. He joined me in my parlor and sat down across from me, dressed in his usual glorious raiment, though he could never quite get all the blood off.

 "Peor, you shit. What have you been doing all this time?" His usual demeanor was maintained. Wrathful and jealous as he was, I doubted the furious little bastard could have resisted the urge to insult me. It was endearing by this time, and I hardly found it offensive.

 "Admiring your handiwork of course," I replied. "Your recent efforts especially have been particularly delicious to observe. I especially enjoyed that last war. Here's hoping the next one is even more destructive."

 I raised my glass, and Yhwh gave me a stern look. He never had quite approved of my additions to his craft, few though they were. He thought they detracted, but I simply couldn't help myself. It had always been about the infighting for me, and getting a chance to twist the arms of two massive forces with the simple promise of wealth had been…delectable. The 'Holy' See, with all their power, would be granted access to a level of monetary freedom that they could have only dreamed of. It came in the form of a tyrant and despot, but they could hardly concern themselves with that when they had regained their stranglehold on the common man. But there was an instant that brought me all the satisfaction I could have asked for, and it was the instant they revitalized their greed, kept from them by man's laws, which were now brought low by an Italian who couldn't even get public transport working efficiently, despite his claims. But national sovereignty! Ah! Such a sweet deal for the big-hatted man with the 'direct line' to the almighty.

 "The plane? It was a nice touch, but I had wanted more death." My attention was returned to my guest, and I had to concede the point. While an excellent declaration of hatred, the act hadn't caused quite enough pain, but I was not so quick to dismiss its effectiveness.

 "Ahh, Yhwh, you're being too impatient. Such an act can only escalate things. Whether the war begins or not, the people will be furiously angry. If it isn't soldiers dying in the field, it will certainly be rioting in the streets doing the killing for you. Have no fear, your message of pain and death is still loud and clear, and the fools are still reading it as love."

 This seemed to cheer him up some, and while he still insulted my intellect and dedication to his cause, he was still grateful, and returned to begin his next project: Turning the most powerful secular state into a religiously bloodthirsty monster. He wanted to use their weapons to destroy the heathens across the pond. To declare war upon the rest of the world and reduce the billions of lives to ash and ambrosia for his savoring. And of course, it would work. I had faith in him, for his work was well-known to be consistently destructive. One didn't need to look further back than his involvement with the Spanish government in 1478 to instigate one of the most deliciously depraved acts of immeasurable violence ever committed by man upon itself. And even then, he'd managed to outdo himself at every turn. Creating plagues in the countries that most adored him. Convincing his followers to put themselves in harm's way in his name. Even infusing some men and women with a feeling of power so intense they believed, in some cases, that they were fully capable of miracles of the same magnitude as those which we had instigated long, long ago. I had thrown in my own efforts there as well, creating a contrasting group who simply lied for profit. An elegant solution, I'd thought, but one he quickly had outdone by instating an Austrian boy in politics who would go on to get the whole world fighting, setting up a framework of racial hatred and xenophobia so potent it hung over history like a great black shadow. It still lingers, and I only hope it one day fades so such a feat will be viable once more. In the meantime, however, I will take his bursting martyrs and shouting bigots. I will accept this brick-laying, for the house I believe he will make with it will be decorated in the blood and bone of so many that it may well destroy the rest of them with grief.

Yet I hope it does not.

So we can do it again.