Falcon2001

*raises an eyebrow* Welcome back, m'dear. I recognized your signature saying from the title...and why on god's green earth would you spend that much on a CAT? *shrugs* By the way, are you going to be at the Marine Corps Ball? I'm going with Rachel Garner, so I might see ya there and if Matt's not feeling all Matt-y, then I might chat with you for a while, a lot's happened. If I don't see ya there,then message me, I accidentally deleted your name off of my list. Welcome back, by the way, and nice little ryme. Cioden Darkeye<BR> <img src="http://home.earthlink.net/~gyrfalcon/images/SilverSig.jpg">Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the SwordOwner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

*raises an eyebrow* Welcome back, m'dear. I recognized your signature saying from the title...and why on god's green earth would you spend that much on a CAT? *shrugs* By the way, are you going to be at the Marine Corps Ball? I'm going with Rachel Garner, so I might see ya there and if Matt's not feeling all Matt-y, then I might chat with you for a while, a lot's happened. If I don't see ya there,then message me, I accidentally deleted your name off of my list. Welcome back, by the way, and nice little ryme. Cioden Darkeye <img src="http://home.earthlink.net/~gyrfalcon/images/SilverSig.jpg"> Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

Imagine the depth, the height and width Now flip the world endwise and add color Add a fourth and a fifth to the pattern And fill in the gaps with little horrors Now sit in the center and unravel yourself Glance around with a thousand eyes That all glimmer uselessly in the night Pull on your tangled webs and feel life Fill yourself with the beat and the Rhythm -END- Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

*Cioden melts in from the shadows and grins, showing sharp canines* But life is so boring without the sweet nectar...We should get in touch, I'll show you around my favorite haunts...heh heh heh... *Cioden melts out again*

YES! I'M A POET! Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!

I really do pity you, Psimon. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

Here's a little something to get your brains back into gear after so much mind-numbing school: What is the proof of your own existence? My take on it is as such: Quote: Well, I personally believe that nobody can fully comprehend all of my sheer power, so they view me as a tall pale kid with too much hair. But in reality I'm a (message deleted due to forum breakdown at sheer power of description) and it's really kinda cool. Anyway, how can one prove ANYTHING? How can you prove something to others if the only one who can completely prove you is YOURSELF? Maybe I'm an illusion, merely a dream of a small tiger-striped tabbycat sleeping in a shaft of crystalline sunlight on a windowsill. Maybe we're merely the crazed results of a maniacal scientists experiments in AI. Maybe we're merely pawns on a giant playing board, with mysterious players. Maybe we're merely electronic impusles hurtling at the speed of light across wires that crisscross a gigantic world. Have you seen the Lain? I believe I exist because I am a creator. I wield the absolute power of creation. Quite truly do I speak, too. I am an author, a poet, a musician and a programmer. Everything I do is centered around creativity. Creativity is a wonderful word. Most people think books, music. But what does it really mean? cre·a·tive Pronunciation Key (kr-tv) adj. Having the ability or power to create: Human beings are creative animals. Productive; creating. Characterized by originality and expressiveness; imaginative: creative writing. Having the ability and power to create. That's a wonderful, awe-inspiring line, when you really think about it. I mean, behind the entire facade of evil and destruction I find so engaging to maintain, I desire REAL power. REAL power is not ruling a country or a universe or a multiverse. REAL power, TRUE power, is writing a poem, or a book, or watching a melody blossom before you as a rose in the misty morn. True power is spinning a directory-based menu system in Visual Basic out of nothing but 1's and 0's. True power is putting something into the world that wasn't there before. You can keep your dictatorships and politcal intrigue and backstabbings and all the bloody rest of it. You can have it. I'll take a nice quiet place for me to sit and write, like a weaver at a loom, pulling the strings of reality together like a shimmering web into length and form and verse and rhyme. Do I exist? Maybe. Maybe not. But I create, and in doing so, validate my own existence. This compliation of music is neither unique, nor is it special. But it is music, and in being such, it validates it's own existence. Remember, music is not an art form, it's a way of life. - Quote from inside cover of Silvertrip:Experiments in Silver, which I happened to make. In ending, I'd like to sum up my entire post here into five words: I create. Therefore I am. I Am. Are You? Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"Edited by: Falcon2001 at: 10/13/02 12:01:30 am

It's really amazing. You definately are the most amazing poet I know of. Heh, I just remembered that's what I normally say when people say I'm the most talented poet they've known, and I just tell them to read your work. Note that I've only had to tell like two people, but anyway...(grins). Amazing poem, P, simply awe-inspiring. I can completely sympathize with this. Red, red, groovy Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

Very strange poem, this one, very strange. *Shrugs* Oh well. =============================== Carve into the steel with the sureness of death Rearrange the organic systems to suit your needs Realize that you'll never be a full machine man But stuck in humanity like a bag of flesh Take the knife to the sorcerous skin Feel the pulse of the cold steel Lust for the contained images Engrave yourself into cold metal Linger in the room of death and cold machinery Know your limitations as heaven sighs above Surgical steel on a boiling plate of science You'll never see the dark of day tonight Caress the sharpened knife closely Feel your blood as a curse inside Illuminate the hidden treasury And realize reality hates imagination Your body holds you back to the ground You'll never crawl inside the smooth skin of electrons Feel stainless steel flowing through you like wine Or witness imagination turned to death in an instant Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

You know, it's kind of like a prerequisite almost that everyone, sometime in their poetic career, makes a poem called Mirror, looking glass, etc. Just noticed that. Good poem, btw. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

Falcon floated along on a cloud of disbelief, quite happy with his spot in life and making it back in time for the roll call. Unfortunately at that particular moment, gravity cast a dark look in his direction and demanded to know why he was floating. Once Falcon thought about it, he fell. Straight toward the lizardy thing and the snout. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

All my friends that used to be It's too late now, you can't touch me I'm the one and only William Jones And nothing you can do'll chill my bones Despair's a girl with wicked eyes A tempting body and lucious lies She was my lover for so, so long But her smile was empty and totally wrong Hate's a man with little hair And to replace what he lost there He grew the horns of a mighty bull But now he's been stuck in a lull Depression's a girl with a saddened grin Designed to keep out and not let in She held me close, so close it's true But eventually my time was due Fear's a man of miniscule size Darting like a cornered rat, his eyes Reveal his weakness - Everything! And yet he still thinks he's the king Procastination's ragged and torn His clothes are ripped and his shoes are worn He told me he'd do it tomorrow today And tomorrow he'll say it again, I'm 'fraid These are the friends that I held dear Thoughout my long and troubled years They were my air, my bread, my wine And nothing better to pass the time Than to listen to their whispered words Which quickly pecked away like birds Upon my self-esteem and soul Leaving 'nought but an empty hole So goodbye friends, I fare thee well And hope to never 'gain see hell The hell created by none but me In an attempt to better be. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

William awoke. His head hurt like an orchestra was playing inside, and all over he had cuts and scratches. His clothes were caked in mud, but that all fell off the magically imbued fabric as he drew himself painfully to his feet. A strange glowing lichen grew on all of the walls, giving off a sickly green glow. He cracked his neck and looked around at the surrounding area. Stick lay a few feet away, prone on the muddy ground. William walked over carefully and nudged him with his foot. "Go'way...I'm sleepy..." "Wake up, Stick." Stick blinked a little. "Why's it so dark?" William sighed. "We're underground, Stick. We just fell an unknown distance." Stick groaned. "Great. I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when it gets worse." He closed his eyes. William shrugged and looked around for something more solid than the wet clay all around them. He nudged Stick again. "What?" Stick asked. "You know how you said that I should wake you when it gets worse?" "Yeah." William shrugged. "Well, it just did." Stick opened his eyes to a crossbow inches from his face. William stood stock still between three people with strange carved masks and crossbows. Stick sighed again.

lol, I thought you said 'Fear of those who change their STATS without telling you' That would be scary. Anyway, I believe God can be both handed. That's my view, I've gotta run. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

Yep, still alive Something darker, find your way in Greet me lightly and hold me close The sky is sere in my moral plain And lightning and thunder fall again Something darker Something true Something sinking Inside you Something that Can never die A voice in the dark From way up on high That's it, I can't think right now. Oh well, have a nice day. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

A wind whispers through the eaves in the room, and suddenly a tall woman appears with a strange smile playing on her face. Her eyes are deep violet, and her hair is long and shining silver like moonlight. Her skin is pale like bone, and her hands are slender and refined. "Hello, boy," she said, walking right up to Seth and grinning. She leaned forward, and her robes parted to reveal a very clinging dress with a very deep cut to them. Her lips parted a little, revealing two long pointed fangs. Seth kind of cringed back into his chair, and groped desperately for his cross. The tall woman laughed, a sound like tinking bells, and stood upright again. "My goodness, looks like someone's spent too much time in the chapel." She laughed again and flowed backwards. "Nothing time won't change." She winked at the devout man and suddenly melted into a shadow and was gone. Her voice, however remained, a sibiant whisper. "You'll all see from me again, soon. You'll be seeing Lilia soon enough..." Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"

This is one of the few poems that I'm making up by singing it, so it makes sense and rhymes, but ONLY in my head. And the chorus is the first two stanzas, which both start with This is a Story. This is a story Of what I could be And all the things That I'll never ever ever be This is a story Of what I should be And all of the things That make what I am A man walks alone in the twilight Suffering there, shining in the light Alone again, he walks in shadow His reality always seems so much like a lie. So he stumbles down the hill Scrapes himself and tastes the blood again Now he's dying again all alone Not his first time for the loveless life he lost This is a story Of what I could be And all the things I'll never ever be This is a story Of what I should be And all of the things That make me what I am A warrior stands alone below the stars Wondering why he is at war His mind is a cloudy mystery To everyone, everyone but me For I have been there, and seen what lies there Past the curtain, into the fallen lands There is a promise, and a forgiving And all of the lies that you could ever carry on (chorus) All of the lies All of the promise You told to me All of the lies And all of the bullshit That carried me It's all gone... It's all gone, gone, gone... It's all gone... It's all gone... So lift me up, and save my ruined life Once more, my dear I'm always dead, except for the promise That I hold dear So see past the lies, see past the courage To the truth that lies beyond To see all the things that have shaped my wholeness You've got to look beyond To the skies... (chorus) Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword President of the Peredhil Fan Club Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses Ashaman - WoT - Blitz II Council - The Hunters - Blitz II Leisure Officer - SFV Ultima - Beta

Misha? As in, THE misha? Overkill? That same one...oh crap, I forgot I'm playing AM again, curse me to heck. But anyway, yeah, I remember him. Just my ranted two cents Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword President of the Peredhil Fan Club Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses Ashaman - WoT - Blitz II Council - The Hunters - Blitz II Leisure Officer - SFV Ultima - Beta

Dressed in red, with eyes of frost His weapons steel and sharp His disposition cold and lost He wanders alone throughout time He fought along with good King Arthur And settled ties with Genghis Kahn He's blasted men with deadly light And seen the passing of eons to come He stood upon the battlefield And gazed at the carnage all 'round And then he smiled with sleepy eyes And walked on toward the town He's killed more men than any man alive And saved more lives too Colder than an ice floe Smooth as any rhyme The hated man of heaven The Bastard of Time His sword's a bastion of unending life And his clothes are red with blood His friends are none but war and strife And his only home, the mud He'll keep fighting until he can no more For that's the way he lives His life it yields to no deadly threat And only god does he revere He protects the needy and helps the poor Saving the worthless and downtrodden His fear is naught for he is sere A fearful man with eyes of frost An edged glacier is all that's left Of what used to be his heart He's the one that time forgot The deathless man that God brought A husk, a shell, a sunken rime The worthless wasted Bastard of Time His tale is fierce and full of shame He has a grasp of nothing real He lives in eternity of darkened fear Nothing less, a broken seal So fear the man with eyes of frost A sword of light, and clothes of blood For he'll bring your soul to eternal loss And show you to the other side The fallen angel, the angel of death A man who's job is certainly bereft Of love and virtue, kindness and pain The Bastard of Time, the hell's own gain. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword President of the Peredhil Fan Club Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses Ashaman - WoT - Blitz II Council - The Hunters - Blitz II Leisure Officer - SFV Ultima - Beta

William plummeted downward, the sword of roses held tightly in his fist. Funny how he still worried about losing it, even though he was sure he was about to die. For an eternity he fell, and all around him suddenly was filled with the scent of rose petals. Eternity fell into nothingness and it stopped.

Sometimes it just feels like I should curl up and fall down, into the small dark space where I know I can be safe. It feels so strange when it calls to me, like a lover from the bed, calling sweetly and softly with a hint of passion. If I come to her, she can show me worlds of gentle safety and guarded life. But that's not truth. Truth is a blinding white light that burns like acid through your veins. Truth doesn't build, or create life, Truth destroys and breaks down, rendering us pale and wet and naked, fresh from the womb that is reality. Truth hurts like no other pain can, and when it hits, you're left staggering for air and gasping like a fish out of water. Truth smashes through our lives like a giant golem of destruction, ruining all we hold dear. People claim to like truth, but nobody does. Truth is not your friend, it is not a thing that can tamed or bought. Truth will hurt you and leave you feeling worse than ever before. Some people claim to use truth, but nobody does. They use a version of Truth that is one-sided, and is corrupted and vile. It does not fix anything, for all they do with it is knock others down to make themselves feel important. But one day they will feel the white-hot burn of Truth, and they will shrivel under it's glare. The only people that can even begin to use a tiny bit of all the enormity that truth is, are the people that have been exposed to Truth's flaring pain. Those who realize exactly how futile their pitiful lives really are, those of us who realize how much slime they really are, how worthless they are. Those few pitiful mortals who realize that they're worth even less than their own defecation. Very few people ever shine Truth's harsh light on themselves and live to tell, but I can say that I have done so. I realize all this, and use Truth as a weapon against those who need it's cleansing light. It scours us all clean and new, but in the process rips off all of the lies. I am worthless, and in being so, become something that can be reckoned with. I am not afraid of truth, for I have seen it's shine. But I still crawl away to that small dark space sometimes. The space between the lines, where the written word no longer calls like the hunting horn, and the truth is far away and I can decieve myself into thinking that I'm happy. I pretend that I'm not worrying about why Courtney seems so glum, and that the fact that I've got two websites to upkeep isn't bugging me in the slightest. I can forget that I'm out of shape and unattractive, and that I'm probably going to be flipping burgers until I die, which will be fairly soon if I can get my @#%$ together enough to kill myself. I can crawl deep inside my own little world and forget about all my problems, and lie in despair's arms for eternity, in the Small Dark Space I call home. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword President of the Peredhil Fan Club Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses Ashaman - WoT - Blitz II Council - The Hunters - Blitz II Leisure Officer - SFV Ultima - Beta

A very sick, twisted nursery rhyme, but one that you might want to share with children to prepare them for a little thing I like to call real life. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword President of the Peredhil Fan Club Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses Ashaman - WoT - Blitz II Council - The Hunters - Blitz II Leisure Officer - SFV Ultima - Beta

Leading a new time in the line A different experience to me Poetry flows from my lips Giving birth to life expanding I whirl in black nothingness A part of me I treasure not But even more I hold so dear An imperfect angel in black I dye my soul in shades of light Purely fictional feelings of blight An imperfect angel, that's what I am An angel bereft or wings or a tan Neophyte, a martyr of sound Twirling and whirling, death comes Soundless drums carry my head And echos of shadows hate indeed I spin without wings, trust in fate Die lonely, but confident My ability far exceeds myself And I know so very little Music is life, without it I'd burn Alone in a soul-less, hopeless world A word is a magic, no matter the cost But the price was my sanity, have I lost? A bad moon rising, covered Hatred filling up the space between An imperfect angel rides on a star Flinging deadly dust to lively sites Hair of raven with eyes of thunder Bereft of wings or angelic raiments I stand alone with my golden lies Spread the word of the Fallen One! An Imperfect Angel, that's all I am Nothing more, nothing less to most I sleep within the worked mind of God And die deep within satan's fist

Really nice poem here, I love the creative imagery. I am glad to see such talent from you, keep up the great work!

I realize that my latest two haven't been very good, so hopefully this one'll be better. Even though it doesn't rhyme. It's about a spiraling descent into depression I just went through as I was writing this, and my subsequent rise to sanity again. Soaring gently on a cloud Looking down at earth below Seeing all the people march Off to daily life Smiling and happy in the sky Nothing to worry me about I'm filled with happiness and joy Like never before An inverted sunbeam caught A broken dream in subtle form which got me by the sleeve and Drug me deep down Plummet back to places known My old haunts, depression alley Where my inner demons feed On my precious joy They held me down and splashed The sorry wine of sorry of me The fermented lies of all my days Flowing down my back I tried to fight but couldn't start Depression was so comforting A place to stay, warm sheets To slowly die in Despair came then and held me close Whispering comforting lies to me I looked deep into her wicked eyes And saw my fate Then I stood on sagging limbs And threw myself out of the window A mockery of suicide, but neccesary Escape from Hell As I fell I heard my fate keen It whispered in my inner self It spilled the spoiled innards of My sins within I fell up towards the heavens And there I saw my cloud waiting I landed on it gently enough And was happy Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword President of the Peredhil Fan Club Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses Ashaman - WoT - Blitz II Council - The Hunters - Blitz II Leisure Officer - SFV Ultima - Beta