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The Child's OdysseyIll tell you of my adventure
Across the seven seas.
Ill tell you of my deadly battles
And enemies I killed with ease.
I crossed the deserts of Arghan
And scaled the mountains of Jhune.
I rode across the plains of Mata
And sailed the waters of Loon.
My horse resembles Pegasus
And my companions, like Marco Polo
They fight right along my side
And never leave me solo.
Our ship takes us to foreign lands,
Weather in the sky or on the ground
And when inside my home-towns walls,
I know Im safe and sound.
But thats a rare occurrence,
For I only return every decade
With many stories to tell the kids
Until goodnight they bade.
I continue on to Parasole
At the very end of the earth,
But first I cross the fires
Of the flaming plateau of Zerth.
I steal many kings plunder,
Containing jewels and gold
But I hear the dragons like that stuff,
Or so what Ive been told.
I now utter many languages;
Burgan, Xan, or Fransheek,
But nothing compares to the things I say
What's BeyondBeyond these mountain ridges I see
The forest's edge and the tallest tree,
Running moose and herded cows,
Little sparrows on tree boughs.
Beyond these prairie meadows I see
Wild horses running free,
Prairie dogs surfacing here and there,
Little fawns prancing everywhere.
Beyond these arctic dunes I see
Whales splashing around with glee,
Penguins waddling to the ice berg's peak,
Polar bears hunting what they seek.
Beyond this glass mirror I see
Someone staring back at me,
She's lively, fun, sympathetic, and kind,
So why is she so hard to find?
Too Innocent For ComfortShe smiles as a seven-year old
Doing everything she's told.
She gets good grades, like her brother.
Impressing her friends, her father, her mother.
She shares her toys and makes her bed.
And eats everything she is fed.
But now she smiles as a twenty-year old
Doing everything she's told.
Giving the boys what they desire,
Saying she's fine and becoming a liar.
So here she is, crying on her cot
Being everything she's not.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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