Welcome to Gaia! ::

IN BELLUM VERITAS EST

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Robert Heinlein
Fighting continued on a token basis, and the dead did not complain.


Welcome to the Colosseum II Dueling Grounds!

LIST OF CURRENT DUELS (Posted Below, Linked for you Lazy-Ites.)



For rules, announcements, updates, CURRENT DUELS and DUELING HISTORY, please go to The Colosseum II Main Thread.


LongTimeListener
Like the windswept main street of a Wild West town at high noon, like the sandy pits of a Roman circus...or, if you're feeling really vicious, like a two-person poetry slam, this is the place where poetic duelists come to duke it out.


ninja ---------- pirate ---------- ninja


If you have a question about, or problem with, your duel, PM Mahayr, the judge you have hired, or any other judge if you see one online and are in a rush. If you have a suggestion for the game or a useful link, please bring it to Mahayr's attention!

Thank you, and good hunting!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


For rules, announcements, updates, CURRENT DUELS and DUELING HISTORY, prize list and more, please go to The Colosseum II Main Thread.


NAVIGATION
Table of Contents
1st post: Welcome / Rules / Forms / Links
2nd post: Prizes / Inventory / Bonus Winnings
3rd post: Judge Central
4th Post: Flash Judges
5th Post: Current Duels
6th Post: Dedications/ Foundation Information
7th Post: Worthy of Posterity
8th Post: Dueling History - Days of Old and New
9th Post: Dema`s Corner
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The Lieder Board

Shakespeare
If you have any music that may not be heard,
Pray, to't again!


Top Winners
7/30/06
Prevailing Poet:
Name: BlueBus
# of Wins: 3



Top Fighters
7/30/06
Most Frequent Duelist:
Name: Mahayr
# of Duels: 4


Top Critic
7/30/06
Critique of the Week:
Name: demagoguery
Her painstaking, determined efforts, her care and
devotion, her enthusiasm, wit, and charm...
who else would it be this time?

Quote:
1. Postcards, stamps, real handwrtten notes!
You may also just post in the where! Messages, pictures, greetings.

THE POSTCARD CLUB!!!

2. Need a Grant for a contest
you do not have enough gold or prizes to sponsor alone?
Apply for one from the
WW&CCF Foundation stickied in the WC forum.

3. Get to know your fellows. Chat, discuss, joke, and stay informed in the
FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS WHERE

Kindest regards always...

Mahayr
WW&CCF


[ Foundation Staff ]

S`qarr - Owner - Admiral
Mahayr - Partner / Hostess - First Mate
HelterSkelterX (Vince) - Partner - Captain
GrantOrg - The Original - Torch Bearer
Major Domo - Foundation / Treasury Agent - Boatswain
Torches Of Nero - Colosseum Agent - Midshipman



And of course, do join our Guild, The Pillar of Worlds.
JUDGE CENTRAL


demagoguery
demagoguery
User Image------
------
------Demagoguery is the most awesomest awesome person who ever lived.
------You can never hope to live up to her level of awesomnitude, but by hiring her as a judge you'll get closer.
------Dema accepts bribes, but only light sabers. Or magical feathers that will enable
------her to fly (sorry LongTimeListener, being a flying jedi is much more important than the integrity of your contest).
------She promises that your critique will be... interesting,
------and might have some actual advice slipped in there by accident.
Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


ArmorFelix
Quote:
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------
------
------
------
------
------All are weighed before the metal cat.
------Some are traded for pizza, others are welcome at my table to partake of pizza.
------Delivery in 15 minutes or a good portion of your friend
will be returned. Mostly intact.

------I'll have you know that the alliance between catland
------and the pizza trolls is a rather shaky one.
------Poetry? Well, we do that too, you can expect to traverse the torture chamber
------of tangents and to be edited beyond all edification,
------that is if you are not first naughtily neutered by my neutrality.
Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


Ni Che
Ni Che
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------
------
------
I am Ni, Minister of Rhythm Industry.
I am Che, Guerilla Poet.
When both my personalities combine
I am Captain Planet,
I finally just am.

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


Zero the Last Decepticon
Zero the Last Decepticon

The name says it all. I'm the last of my kind, and I'm all about it.
I won't argue, and I won't nitpick. I'll be brutally honest, open, and crass.
I'm fair, but I'm not the one to run to for worthless praise. I like to write, and I enjoy reading good writing.
Anything less deserves the short end of a plasma cannon.
I don't take bribes, but I enjoy tips. wink In short: Don't pick me for a judge,
unless you want to stand in front of a large crowd naked.
But if you have what it takes, then I'm all for helping out.

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit
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Hoodimann
Hoodimann

It's Hoodi. That means I can't think of anything pithy to say.
Tough luck.
I will strive to be fair.

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit

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Gambol
Gambol
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Born as a secret weapon for the government, Gambol has
been reconditioned, and now she slaughters words instead of those
b*****d Communists.
Damn Commies.
She will critique your poetry, by golly.
And she will cut through your pretentious language.
If you can't take that, soldier, I'll send
MAJOR DOMO to get you! domokun
In all actuality, I am rather nice. Nice, but very harsh.
And I am busy often.

BEWARE!

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit



BlueBus - RETIRED
BlueBus
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BlueBus is an accomplished poet, short story author,
hip-hop superstar, and hovercraft racer.
One of the first judges of the original Collosseum,
he went on a long hiatus to fight crime, racism, and gingivitis.
But now he's BACK, and ready to judge any poem you send him
with wit, fairness, good humor, and innteligance intellugense intelligence.

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


Mahayr - LAST RESORT! The others are MUCH better, honestly.
No Fees
Mahayr
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Hand - Lost but not Forgotten

MORE JUDGE CENTAL


Flash Judges may judge regular duels at their discretion. ASK THEM FIRST!

Quote:
Conor Olaf Barret - Waiting for Bio.

Critically Honest - Flash and Regular Duels.
Critically Honest
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Critically Honest that right there says a lot.
I'm not your friend and I have no reason to lie to you.
I don't care what your Mother says, your auntie,
your best friend, or your dog says, if it's not good
I'm going to let you know. I'll do my very best to
gentle but please know that if I say I dislike the
piece produced that does not mean that I hate you
and I hate your ideas. -Critically Honest

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


`Kira - Flash and Regular Duels.
`Kira
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Kira is a knowledgable creature
of the cat family.
Highly agreeable, friendly in many ways,
not prone to start fighting yet quick to anger.
Dangerously potent in literacy,
known to make snappish comments
at spellings and grammars.
Expected to quicken at the thought of
hatred and vengeance.
Loves autumn and winter, bowling,
and tea served precisely at midday.
Not that bad of a critiquer,
but unreliable when it comes to direct decisions.

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


Aehlae - Flash and Regular Duels.
Aehlae



Aehlae ([]Xae[]) is a gender-confused
and snazzy little morsel.
She's often more random than
someone solving a rubik's cube
in your presence.
She'll do good by your duels, and can
offer some decent crits in the end.

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


triplenegative - Flash and Regular Duels.
Quote:
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Once upon a time, there was a nice
young lady (Tennessee), who was in university,
and who greatly loved writing. She writed and writed
until she became well at it, and was promoted to being a judge.
She rocked the world with her no-holds-barred critiques
(which were fair and just).
She was greatly loved by the people forever for being so
wonderful and happy and full of good, and she
loved the people back.

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


Conor Olaf Barret - Discretionary - Flash.
Quote:
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Zeroth dimension. Loveless. Proton decay at a rapid
sucession causes radiation damage. Abstract hentai artist.
Letter fetish. Dali once talked to an audience in a serious
statement with his foot in milk. Sounds comfortable. I
mpressionist with words. Demagogue of a new third
world country. Homogenous. A photon shooting out of a
television screen, causing awkward pleasure.

Fees - 50g Without Crit; 100g With Crit


This has been posted on page one of the main where. Feedback appreciated. BUT READ IT CLOSELY first. I am really tired of rushed readings and then remarks and questions that were already answered.

Please DO talk about this, though. Intellegent conversation in here would be a welcome breeze if you ask me.

Colour me starving.
Quote:
One Woman's Opinion

(Written as a prelude for a past critique. Please read carefully, JUDGES, and please DO offer feedback.)

Before I give you both my critique and judgment, I would like to say a few things about the way I judge in general and with sestinas in particular (which I will address in my actual critique/judgment post).

I look at poetry as a personal medium, open to a wide range and variety of acceptance, approval, liking, and opinion. Many critics find themselves locked into a narrow view, based solely on their own preferences and criteria regarding what they see as good poetry. I find this to be a mistake for many reasons.

Poetry, unlike other forms of writing, has a wider diversity of style, form, and expression--often leaving the reader in one of several states. You may show one poem to ten people and receive ten different interpretations or affect resulting in reactions including approval, disapproval, disgust, understanding, perplexity, anger, joy, melancholy, revulsion, etc.

There are two ways to approach an opinion about anything: head (intellectual) or heart (emotional). While we are all affected on an emotional level by anything we read, when it comes to evaluations, I prefer to take a more clinical approach.

While it does matter to me what a poet is trying to say to some degree (especially if I have been given some helpfully insightful explanation), I let the poem speak to me as an individual reader. Who can really know or understand what any given poet is saying? No two people are alike in background, life experience, ideals, spirituality, and other life-molding matters. Matters that will naturally have an impact on what they write and how they write it.

One example I will give of a personal preference in poetic style: capitalization.

I went to the store | I went to the store | I went to the store.
To get apples | to get apples | To get apples.
Because I was | because I was | Because I was.
Hungry. | hungry. | Hungry.

Of course there are many poems that have a universal audience and are clearly understood (we think). There are famous, and accepted as experts, poets whose work is rarely questioned. It may be dissected and explored in various situations but it is rarely accused of being rubbish.

All of that being said, I just wanted to let you know that I base my critiques on technical criteria (and even so am loathe to be harsh regarding any writer's choice of punctuation, grammar, or form unless it is a formal one, unless such things are glaringly unappealing, or unless it is an obvious mistake) more than emotional ones, even though a bit of that may be thrown in based on my own likes and dislikes. Remarks made about a poem may be valid to the writer or not; may validate the intended message, or frustrate the writer by making him feel misunderstood or maligned.

Poetry is more than words on paper. Poetry is a powerful, dynamic, and potentially life-changing experience. If everyone was satisfied by the same styles, content, phraseology, and the like, there would not be so many writers, in any category of writing. Prosody is one thing, enjoyment another.

There is nothing more painful than to be told a poem was "disappointing", "tripe", "unmoving" or any other negative, narrow-sighted opinion. One person's disappointment may be another's applauded surprise. One person's tripe may be another's grateful acknowledgment that there is someone else in the world who relates to a personal circumstance. What may not move me may move you.

Skill and talent are so very much matters of perception, perspective, and are so dependent on a reader's individuality that they defy any concrete evaluation. The most we can hope to achieve is to assist a writer to re-examine his work, think more carefully about such things as word choice, correctness (when dealing with any particular form), structure, and other technicalities, while at the same time encouraging whatever emotional or intellectual message is being conveyed.

Nothing disturbs me more than accusing a poet of omitting details, explanation, or imagery! Fill in the blanks for yourselves! Ohsure, sometimes something has to be said if it's called for, but not in each and every poem read! Some poetry, like prose, may be minimalist. See it for what it is, interpret it as you will, and leave the poor writer free of rude remarks based on that -alone-.

Yes, of course there is the blatantly poor poetry that we all recognize, but even so, the poet may be gently guided to improve, practice, and hone any possible aforementioned skill and talent, whatever his age or experience. Encourage. Do not belittle.

There may be a time and place for brutal opinion, but it must be seen for just that, understood and accepted by both writer and reader, and not used irresponsibly. "I did not like it" is not a valid critique, even when long and tedious reasons are given. If you like it, great. If you do not, critique from your head. Be honest. Be specific. Be clear. Do not expect your little hand will be held as you read. Dead poets do not do that for you, and neither should any living ones.

Ohsure, discussion and exchange of ideas are nice. Welcomed. Learned from. But look at the big picture and remember one thing: In the end, only kindness matters. (Jewel)

HP
Hawkeye: I will not carry a gun, Frank. When I got into this war I had a very clear understanding with the Pentagon. No guns. I'll carry your books, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry, carry me back to old Virginie, I'll even hari-kari if you show me how, but I will not carry a gun!


Thank you Ni Che, for finding this for me again!
kiss
CURRENT DUELS / REQUESTS (Non-Affair, Howl, Stomp)


CURRENT DUELS


DUEL
Defender name: Laurie Ray
Challenger Name: Mahayr
Bet: 500g
Judge: Ni Che
Style/Form I prefer: Must have rhyme and meter

Status Pending

DUEL
Defender name: kingmorgant
Challenger Name: Mahayr
Bet: 250g
Judge: Critically Honest
Style/Subject I prefer: Rhyme/Fire

Status Pending



NEXT UP in the DEMA AFFAIR - MAHAYR!


Quote:
Dema Calls Out: Mahayr
Bet: 500g
Judge: Alphabravo w/crit
Style/Form: Rhyme and Meter (Poems must contain both.)
ENGUARDE! Posted.

Quote:
Defender name: Laurie Ray
Challenger Name: Mahayr
Bet: 500g
Judge: Ni Che
Style/Form I prefer: Must have rhyme and meter


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The Dema Affair
THE DEMA AFFAIR!!! Still to be Dueled

demagoguery Calls Out: E V E R Y O N E ! ! !
Form/Style: To Each Defender's Own and Best!
Judge: [Alphabravo] w/crit

Quote:
Dema Calls Out: zero the last decepticon
Bet: 500g
Judge: Alphabravo w/crit
Style/Form: Freeverse, worldly ails.
ENGUARDE! Posted.

Quote:
Dema Calls Out: 'Che Poems pages 70, 89
Bet: 500g
Judge: Alphabravo w/crit - PENDING
Style/Form: Urban (Details a few posts down.)
ENGUARDE! Posted.

Quote:
Dema Calls Out: Mahayr
Bet: 500g
Judge: Alphabravo w/crit
Style/Form: Rhyme and Meter (Poems must contain both.)
ENGUARDE! Posted.

Quote:
Dema Calls Out: Wolven Poet Poems page 143, 143
Bet: 500g
Judge: Alphabravo w/crit - PENDING
Style/Form: "The Devil's Advocate is God's Best Friend" with rhyme.
ENGUARDE! Posted.

Quote:
Dema Calls Out: LongTimeListener
Bet: Grunny slippers or equivalent in gold.
Judge: Alphabravo w/crit
Style/Form: - (Buildings)
ENGUARDE! Posted.


Information
WAR DECLARED!!!
Read These RULES or Die!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


WOLF'S HOWL


THE WOLF's HOWL!!!

Wolven Poet Calls Out: E V E R Y O N E ! ! !
Form/Style: To be discussed per individual Duel
Judge: Gambol w/crit


Wolven Poet CALLS-OUT Kiria Delusional Kitty
Bet: 1000
Judge: Gambol
Style/Form WINTER - 3 words must be included.
Clarice - wolf, smoke, thistle
Kiria - earth, plague, jade

Status Update Needed

Wolven Poet CALLS-OUT Creator of Destruction
Bet: 750
Judge: Gambol
Style/Form - Dark Poetry
Status Update Needed

Wolven Poet CALLS-OUT Aehlea
Bet: 666
Judge: Gambol
Style/Form - Nature
Status Update Needed

Wolven Poet CALLS-OUT demagoguery
Bet: UNDECIDED
Judge: Gambol
Style/Form - UNDECIDED
DECIDE, SEND BETS, MESSAGE JUDGE

Yes. Answer T H I S I dare you!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The Tennessee Stomp
THE TENNESSEE STOMP!!!

triplenegative Calls Out: E V E R Y O N E ! ! !
Form/Style: FREE STYLE - Individual Duel Subjects to be discussed.
Judge: demagoguery w/crit


Quote:
TN Calls Out: Aylen Poems pages 226, 213
Bet: 500g
Judge: GAMBOL - PENDING
Subject: Indecision, not knowing your goals etc.
ENGUARDE! Posted.


Quote:
TN Calls Out: Hoodimann
Bet: 2000g
Judge: demagoguery
Subject: What tastes like being alive, and what tastes like dying? I want savagery. I want what makes you clench your teeth. Someone reading your poem should have to sit down if they begin it standing up. Even better if they have to lie down if they begin it sitting!
Status Update Needed


Quote:
TN Calls Out: Wolven Poet
Bet: To Be Determined
Judge: demagoguery
Criteria: To Be Determined.
Status Update Needed


It all began when...

I admit I stuck Aylen in with the rest! That one will be Judged by GAMBOL.


May God have mercy on your souls.

It is the DUELERS repsonsibilty to verify accuracy, criteria, judge, and bet. CHALLENGER will then notify the judge, each duelist will send bets and fees, and then wait for a new ENGUARDE! to be posted both in the Main Where and the Dueling Grounds.

Coming soon... Mahayr's Melee? Stay tuned.

PLEASE NOTE: Duels may be done in any order ONCE your ENGUARDE! is posted.

As usual, please let me know if there should be any changes, or if I have left anything out, or if you have done anything listed.
Reserved - editing.
Feel free to debate!

demagoguery
Mahayr
demagoguery
Mahayr
demagoguery

Ohdeargussy! You realize of course that now we, the Others, may make up our own rules as well, don't you? Yes we may!

If you deny this, you will either have to:
1. Tell us another rule, which you said you would not do.
2. Accuse us of breaking an unknown rule.
3. Try to change a rule. Then either inform us or not.
4. Lose.
5. Blame yourself.
6. Accuse us of ignorance of a rule.
7. After changing a rule, accuse us of violating it.
8. Squirm from the knowledge that we may already kow the secret rule that you do not know, and are not going to tell you.


You do not know all of the rules. One of these rules is that no one else is allowed to make any rules without my approval.


You seem to have broken one of your own rules... or three... or changed your mind.

demagoguery

2. Never ask about the list of rules. Those who do never get to see the entire list.

There are many other rules, but unfortunately rule #2 keeps me from telling you anymore. It's your own fault.


But rule #4, and maybe #8, allow me to break this rule should I please. Anyways, I haven't told you all the rules. Only a few. So there.

You are not even familiar with your own rules, and I READ THEM CAREFULLY. This is not over...
demagoguery
Right. Here we go again.

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Zero, the Last Deception new to the Colloseum

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has challenged Bluebus to a duel.

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Dema shall sit on her bum and watch happily and collect monetary gain!!! YAY DEMA!!!!!!

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As you can see, I am not happy. I am not happy because Bluebus hasn't sent me money.

GIVE ME MY MONEY BLUEBUS!!!!!!

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Gosh dang it...

SUBJECT MATTER!!!!!!!: Crime and criminals (interesting choice Lord Vader. Very interesting)

Bet: 1200g from each

GET IT ON!!!!!!!!!
demagoguery
Mahayr
I have two words for you dema... center, and crop. For the pictures only, that is, which as per your usual are to die for.

I will send you my money and your fees! I have two as I count them...


....

Teach me these things...

AhHAHAHAHAHA!

"Please teach me these things, Mahayr-Sama."
zero the last ******** it. I'm going.



[color=goldenrod]Tell it to the Man.

They are a cowardly lot.
Pasted with broken windows,
stolen stereos, and
backed by rainbows
of sick foes.
Reds and Blues sing a tune
of falling at noon,
getting pregnant too soon,
or shooting up in the bathroom.....

This is the melting pot.
Welcome to the Big City.
Never a dull moment in Hell,
or so they say.
Pardon the reasons, and
make bed wherever you can.
There's no sympathy left in me,
so tell it to The Man.


This a parody
mixed with three parts philosophy,
outlined in white chalk,
for never reaching Epiphany.
The Eaters of the Dead,
the book never read,
the silence in the Said,
for a hole in the ******** head.
This is how they greet children,
how they make millions.
Divide that by one half,
and it's a ********' killin'.
Maybe the Martyrs had it right
the first time:
Find the meaning in the moment,
and the death toll will climb.

I'm the man in the bushes,
can you see me through your window?
Watching you watch the way
that life floats by.
I'm only in it for the moment of release.
Tell it to The Man,
and let the cries cease.


Fading into nothing.
Asking for everything.
I make the world go around.
I make the money flow.

Who am I?
Who can I be next?
-end-




There i
uwm7anru:0="zero the last ******** it. I'm going.



[color=goldenrod][b]Tell it to the Man.[/b]

They are a cowardly lot.
Pasted with broken windows,
stolen stereos, and
backed by rainbows
of sick foes.
Reds and Blues sing a tune
of falling at noon,
getting pregnant too soon,
or shooting up in the bathroom.....

[i]This is the melting pot.
Welcome to the Big City.
Never a dull moment in Hell,
or so they say.
Pardon the reasons, and
make bed wherever you can.
There's no sympathy left in me,
so tell it to The Man.[/i]

This a parody
mixed with three parts philosophy,
outlined in white chalk,
for never reaching Epiphany.
The Eaters of the Dead,
the book never read,
the silence in the Said,
for a hole in the ******** head.
This is how they greet children,
how they make millions.
Divide that by one half,
and it's a ********' killin'.
Maybe the Martyrs had it right
the first time:
Find the meaning in the moment,
and the death toll will climb.

[i]I'm the man in the bushes,
can you see me through your window?
Watching you watch the way
that life floats by.
I'm only in it for the moment of release.
Tell it to The Man,
and let the cries cease.[/i]

Fading into nothing.
Asking for everything.
I make the world go around.
I make the money flow.

Who am I?
Who can I be next?
-end-




There it is.
BlueBus
THE INSECTS SING DAMNATION
By BlueBus

The insects sing damnation
In the reeds beyond the door
Of the empty transit station
Off of Highway 84.
His hands tight on a cigarette,
A boy stands there alone.
He wipes away a bead of sweat
And shivers way down deep inside his bones.

He’d been sure he could get away
It all had seemed so clear.
But now his hope begins to fade.
He starts to feel The Fear.
Somewhere they seek out his name.
They’re asking all around.
They won’t quit till they get their claim
And that poor stupid boy is in the ground.

Headlights stain the wooden walls,
His hand falls on the gun.
He hears their footsteps and their calls:
“We know you’re in there, son.”
The night’s as hot as sickness
And a coal mine kind of black
They marvel at his quickness
As he runs through the room and out the back.

Among the willows and the oaks
He stumbles through the night
He hears their curses and their jokes
Their gunshots loud and bright.
Something tiny calls his name
And whips just past his ear
But on he goes, his mind aflame
With the smells of nightwind and of fear.

He tumbles through the bracken
And looks up to the sky.
The chase has hardly slackened
But he can’t avert his eyes.
The summer moon’s an orange-white eye
Hung low above a plain.
The stars wink from the purple sky
And wind sighs through the rustled fields of cane.

Then blood soaks through the leather
Of his worn old bomber’s vest
The ground is soft as feather
As he tumbles to his rest.
And suddenly the world’s so small
And neatly-wrapped and clean
As he finishes his fall
He shouts a mangled prayer for where he’s been.

Now the moon goes back to bed.
The birds begin to cry
Sunlight rears its tired head
As morning climbs the sky.
The boy’s asleep down in the slime
Among the shells and weeds
Broken chains of wasted time
Swallowed up by moonlight, mud, and greed.
zero the last decepticon
BlueBus
THE INSECTS SING DAMNATION
By BlueBus

The insects sing damnation
In the reeds beyond the door
Of the empty transit station
Off of Highway 84.
His hands tight on a cigarette,
A boy stands there alone.
He wipes away a bead of sweat
And shivers way down deep inside his bones.

He’d been sure he could get away
It all had seemed so clear.
But now his hope begins to fade.
He starts to feel The Fear.
Somewhere they seek out his name.
They’re asking all around.
They won’t quit till they get their claim
And that poor stupid boy is in the ground.

Headlights stain the wooden walls,
His hand falls on the gun.
He hears their footsteps and their calls:
“We know you’re in there, son.”
The night’s as hot as sickness
And a coal mine kind of black
They marvel at his quickness
As he runs through the room and out the back.

Among the willows and the oaks
He stumbles through the night
He hears their curses and their jokes
Their gunshots loud and bright.
Something tiny calls his name
And whips just past his ear
But on he goes, his mind aflame
With the smells of nightwind and of fear.

He tumbles through the bracken
And looks up to the sky.
The chase has hardly slackened
But he can’t avert his eyes.
The summer moon’s an orange-white eye
Hung low above a plain.
The stars wink from the purple sky
And wind sighs through the rustled fields of cane.

Then blood soaks through the leather
Of his worn old bomber’s vest
The ground is soft as feather
As he tumbles to his rest.
And suddenly the world’s so small
And neatly-wrapped and clean
As he finishes his fall
He shouts a mangled prayer for where he’s been.

Now the moon goes back to bed.
The birds begin to cry
Sunlight rears its tired head
As morning climbs the sky.
The boy’s asleep down in the slime
Among the shells and weeds
Broken chains of wasted time
Swallowed up by moonlight, mud, and greed.


Very nice.
I thought that it was well written, and wonderful.
I chose a wise contender. Thanks for your time. xd

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