Libertas

Crawling through the dirt, grime.
Minutes that seem to never end.
Sweat turns to filth, to slim
As nerves twist and bend.
His objective becomes unclear
Through smoke fire and metal.
Kisses of death fly past their ears.
Scrambling for safety, a place to settle.

Rods of metal pop and stutter,
Clouds of fire flash and plume.
The wings of angels seem to flutter
Lives, cut short, in bloom.
Breathing in short, painful spurts.
Thunder shakes their bones.
The ground leaps in fountains of dirt.
Fire hurled in the shape of stones.

Suddenly hell’s banshees cry
And fall like Zeus’s thunder.
Fire falls from the sky
Spilling their ruinous plunder.
Bodies torn and thrown about
A horrible sight indeed
They all have copper in their mouths
And death kiss packages at their feet.

Gagging on the morbid air
Only the dead lie still.
Godless men pray their final prayer
Cries of agony shrill.
Rising up on bruised feet they run
Into darkness, into night.
Putrid air fills their lungs
But through it all they fight.

Brothers run side by side
Serving with every breath
They join him for one final ride
With pride the ride towards death
Suddenly, above the ground,
With wings of iron, steel
Glorious birds swing down
Punishment, they deal.

Tattooed on their wings,
a white star.
“FOR FREEDOM” it sings,
“FOR FREE WE ARE!”
The enemy flees
Crying out in pain
Like a vagrant breeze
Never to be felt again.

So “FOR FREEDOM” we cry
With tears and laughs.
To respect those who’ve died
On our behalf.

Stone Faces

They stalk the cities
Stone faced
Iron hearted
Hot, crusted earth crunches
Like snow
Natives watch
Dustcovered doorways
Streets strewn with metal carcasses
Daisies chained under rubble
Wait for these boys
For mahogany cots
A sorrowful homecoming
Women hide behind curtains
Skittering along sidewalks
Brown brows visible
They carry steel at their sides
Fear in their chest
Flags on their backs
Thunderous boots and godlike cries
Bursting into homes
Imaginary signs read
“Innies inside”

Repone

Replace my mind,
Fill it with the calming waters of the Ganges.
Filth filled holy waters
Ironically demeaning purity.
Let it flow through my limbs
Licking the walls of the sepulcher
that holds my heart,
washing the crimson from my veins.

Replace my heart, that heart
With the Taiko drum.
Stretch the Kawa across my ribcage,
Thumping, vibrating, causing my chest to shiver.
The cracks of missed strikes
Thunder within this cage.
My steps to fall in rhythm.
Driving my body forward.

Replace my hands
Those with which I write
With the sad boughs of the willow.
Those silently weeping chutes.
Feel them gently caress your face.
Leaved feathers, feathered leaves.
Their sleepy life slipping,
Whipping to tame the beast.

Replace my eyes, above all.
The instrument of man’s demise
Remove the stones that fill my skull.
Stones, solid to the silky seas of the world.
Place sponges in their stead.
Let the waters of my Ganges fill them
And sit, visible to others.
Let the seas of human understanding,
Amorphous and living,
Fill my now porous vision,
For I want to believe,
Believe that humanity isn’t doomed.
Replace my flaws.
The shortcomings that make me.
Replace those things that rule my life
And threaten now to break me.

Nothing Works

Nothing works

I try with lacerated hands.

I think with a concussed mind.

Deaf ear turn blind eyes.

Cold shoulders

Nothing works

All efforts a resounding failure

I bleed through blackened eyes

As I cry my soul through my face

Salt and copper

Nothing…

I give up with all that I am.

Succumbing to sorrow, silently.

No one can help me.

My life has lost its worth.

Nothing…

I find comfort in ashes.

Breathing in death, dumbing the dirge.

My mind, a bowl of mangled spaghetti.

Tangled in a heap

Nothing…Works

Why do I try?

Perhaps things would sort themselves out

If I simply said goodbye.

[REC.] SKIP >>

Time

Restriction

We wake, we work, we sleep

And the cycle repeats.

………….. [error 404]

We wake, we work, we sleep

And the cycle repeats.

………… [error 404]

We wake, we work, we sleep

And the cycle repeats.

We wake wake wake wake

Repeat…repeat…

……………. [system restart]

Like a broken record

So odd that when we catch a CD

 or even a record skipping

we flip out, react

and leap to fix it.

But when our lives do the same

We embrace it

Repetitive familiarity is what we strive for

Oddity and anomaly are rejected

Straying from the pattern,

Swiftly detected

We settle in cycles

Our walls erected

When we listen to music,

Each song must be different

Distinct, unique

Why not live our lives the same way?

Each new day unmapped

Nights and weekends unplanned

It is in these environments that we develop

I Am...

I am Adam Jensen

My humanity is no longer my own

My world sits, blanketed in darkness.

A fusion of flesh and metal

I am Ratohnhake:ton

My people oppressed                                       

By the power hungry, the greedy.

I fight despite futility

I am 117

I am the reason humanity survives

Inside I am human too

I am not a machine

I am 47

I am a number

I am your death

Your grim reaper

I am Commander Shepard

The only hope for a galaxy broken

No one will thank me

No one believes me

I am Corvo Attano

Framed for failing those I love

I will have my revenge

Pray that you don’t step in my way

I am Caleb Sawyer

I live the lives of others

Because I am displeased with my own

I care not what you think. 

The last time I wrote about my college I hated it. Every single aspect of it made me cringe, from the uninformed teachers (apparently they are called professors), to the absurd amount of useless information they tried to force into my head. I recently spoke with one of the smartest humans I have ever heard and they told me something that changed my outlook on things completely. Funny that they are a professor as well, the incongruence between quality and crappy is so comical. But don’t get it twisted, I'm not about to make amends for what I said before. I still believe that implicitly and I will until I die. What this academic mind told me was that no college truly exists. It is just a construct in our minds. If everyone on campus was to just stop believing that Illinois College was a college then it would do just that: it would cease to exist. Why does this matter? Because I now know that this institution is what I make of it, and to be honest I know that my vision is going to anger a lot of people.

I don’t care.

I will learn what I want from this school. Even if that means I do nothing but take independent studies until I graduate. I will not let some system define my experience. I found out what I wanted to do with my life last semester and that’s all that matters now. Someday I will write stories for groundbreaking video games. If you think that that is a dumb dream tell somebody else because I won’t hear it.

This summer I am going to St. Louis to pursue this dream. I will start in video game journalism, writing reviews and features for anyone and everyone who will hear it. I will build a formidable portfolio that will get me a job in the industry. My purpose is not to get paid, don’t put words in my mouth. My goal is to get as far as I can as fast as I can. If that means writing until my hands cramp and my fingers bleed, so be it. If that means networking until I become a walking, breathing, social media hub, so be it. Most importantly, if that means I have to jockey for position on the front page of a website to get recognition, I sure as hell hope whoever decides to wrestle with me brings some help. I want this more than anybody. And I don’t say that ambiguously. If you don’t believe me, just watch.

So what do I plan to accomplish this summer? Here’s the short list: I will make the front page of an online publication; I will be paid to write an article and then they will ask me to write another; I will be sent at least one game by a publication for the purpose of review; and finally I will earn credentials to make my way to E3. Whether or not that is this summer’s E3 or next? Guess what? It doesn’t matter. One way or another I will know by the end of this year which one I will attend.

Think what you want about my goals. If you think they are impractical or unrealistic I want you to think about one of your dreams. If it’s not impractical or unrealistic then you need to reevaluate your dreams. If you admire them then support me. Just please don’t try to stop me or get in my way. This is my dream. 

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
~W.B. Yeats