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movienotesbyzawmer · 3 years

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April 18: Rocky IV

(previous notes: Rocky III)

The Cold War one! I was in high school when this came out, and it seems like the Rocky movie that has most endured in pop culture for people my age, and even younger maybe? I haven't seen it in a very, very long time so I'm wondering if the Rocky-versus-All-Of-Communism logline is going to seem like a pathetically irrelevant conflict. Or, frankly, if that sentiment is going to sound like the dipshits that attacked the US Capitol just a few short months ago. It's definitely going to feel like just a slight twist on a formula that's been working, right? Let's see…

Totally different intro from the rest of the series, and surprisingly the recap of the end of the last movie also includes the hit single from the last movie. But also there is a thing about an American-flag glove and a Soviet-flag glove punching each other into an explosion.

They were so happy with the chummy chit-chat at the end of Rocky III that they just gratuitously include that whole scene here. It is a cheap way to eat up a couple of minutes.

Oh My God. The first actual new scene in this movie serves the important purpose of documenting for all time how dazzlingly technically advanced things were in 1985. For Paulie's birthday party, he gets a ROBOT! It talks… ROBOT-style! Paulie is whelmed by how robot-y it is.

"Open your prize," Rocky tells her when asking Adrian to open her PRESENT. Why did he say "prize".

MEANWHILE IN SOVIET UNION… They do a quick montage that only vaguely suggests something about a boxer and the USSR.

Apollo Creed spots an innocuous news story about Russian boxer Ivan Drago coming to America to participate in sportsmanlike fighting. AC is PISSED! A Russian being competitive, oh hell no.

At least Drago has a female companion so there will be an actual female character who isn't played by Talia Shire.

"Commies Are Evil" isn't the only theme of this movie; there's also "The Marvels of Technology". Drago's unmatched strength is demonstrated for the press in a very electricity-filled gym. And the robot has been in three scenes already in the first fifteen minutes! Oh I hope they aren't going to get me to fall in love with Robot Character only to have it lose in a boxing match to The Commies.

Big press conference to announce that AC will be fighting Drago in an exhibition match. AC is all cocky and Drago literally says nothing the whole scene. He is characterized as perhaps yet another robot character. But his wife and some other Russian guy do all the talking, and if they're supposed to seem like the Bad Guy, I don't see it. They are perfectly diplomatic and AC is just acting like a tool.

0:23:23 - I remember this scene, we all do, oh yes we do. The Fight That Does Not Go So Well. It starts with a super flashy intro; they're at the venue in Vegas and there are showgirls and pretend fighter planes and Actual James Brown singing this movie's legit hit single, "Living in America", singing it all At The Russians as AC descends in front of a monster thing in spangly Uncle Sam garb. AC actually dances alongside James Brown and around Drago. What they're doing, these diabolical filmmakers, is going to make what happens next sting the audience pretty bad.

Right before the fight, Drago's first line is "you vill lose". Monotone. Robotic. Technology! #1985

Drago beats him to actual death, he twitches on the floor as Drago robotically says things like "I will not be defeated". It is a bummer, this turn of events.

New press conference. Rocky is going to fight Drago. "No money. It's not about the money." That's weird, addressing money in this press conference. They're not really addressing the monumental fact that Rocky is sitting next to the guy that killed Apollo Creed.

This time, the Soviets are less diplomatic. Rocky barely says anything, but the old Russian dude calls him little and weak. They have a good point, though, about how Drago gets death threats in the US on account of he is a killer of an American hero, even though the wife also says he is not a killer. But that's why the fight will be in Russia.

New montage with a very 80s pop song. Worth noting that we have not heard any of the famous music from the first movie. This montage also looks very 80s, with it's flashbacks using a lot of different, highly techologically sophisticated frame rates.

0:42:41 - Adrian eye-close sighting! Thank you so much for that, it is what we all want and only you, Rocky-movie, can provide it.

Flashbacks to all the other movies. He is thinking about it all as he anticipates The Hell Of Going To Russia. Remember when he pointed to the jacket in the window that one time? Rocky does. Remember when he looked at his statue? Rocky does. He even somehow remembers Adrian closing her eyes. This is a music video with mostly recycled footage from the whole series.

0:48:35 - Another "modern" pop song, I think it's the band called Survivor again. Were we supposed to love all the catchy tunes and go out and buy the soundtrack? We only remember the James Brown one in 2021.

It is snowy in Russia ha ha! Paulie has joined him on the trip because he is part of Rocky's staff, but he doesn't like how cold it is ha ha.

Rocky's quarters consist of a log cabin dripping with icicles at the foot of some really pretty mountains. I play Geoguessr a lot and I don't ever see pretty mountains like that in Russia, but they must have them, right?

Rocky has been assigned minders. He is told they will go wherever he goes. I'm pretty sure that's not an unfair characterization.

He's got Apollo's trainer guy there with him, but Rocky makes it clear that he just has to do this training stuff on his own or whatever blah blah.

Now a montage going back and forth between Drago training and Rocky just running through the snow-covered countryside. ON HIS OWN. Plus also sawing wood and displacing boulders on his own. Oh and being the dog in a dogsled pulling Paulie! Locals look at Rocky because, look, a man doing something, that's new and confusing. Drago has electric machines. Rocky fells trees! Drago is inside comfortable facilities. Rocky is growing his beard out! The minders observe it all. The minders observe it all.

There is a subplot about how Adrian is dealing with this whole thing. She had been unconfident earlier, and did not join Rocky in USSR. But surprise, she is now there in Russia suddenly because love! Rocky continues to train, not so alone-y now and with a new rock song with more major chords. That is Drago's weakness! Communism hates major triads.

Gotta have inspired running, right? This time Rocky runs up a snowy mountain, running so hard that the minders can't keep up! At the peak he does his trademark cheer howl in that pretty place… but he is saying "DRAGO!!!!!!!!!"

Just like that, we're at the big fight. This time it's in Russia and it's mostly uniformed soldiers in the crowd.

Ugh. Quick cut to Rocky's kid watching at home on TV with friends. He says "that's my dad" and one of them replies "what do you think we are, nerds?" Ladies and gentlemen, the wit of Mr. Stallone: Screenwriter.

Do we need to talk about Drago's hair? He has very styled hair. I think it looks like Vanilla Ice hair. Is that a strange choice? I don't know how to think about hair, I guess.

"I must break you". That's what Drago says to Rocky right before they fight. I remember it. It is an above average dialogue choice compared with other Rocky-movie-right-before-the-fight dialogue choices.

Drago punches Rocky a lot, and the commentators make sure we know that Rocky might lose and they may even have to stop the fight. But also, yes, it does just look like Rocky is taking a lot of rough beating.

"He's not human. He's a piece of iron." So speaks Drago in unbecoming monotone. I don't know what that means.

It's a montage now, an appealingly edited summary of a whole bunch of rounds. The two boxers are both doing well and maybe not doing well, both. Montage.

I guess I'm experiencing what I remember noticing back when I first saw this in the 80s, which is that they really did convince us that Drago was indestructible, and now we're seeing him be damaged and it's kind of satisfying.

1:21:15 - Whoa, I forgot about this. The Soviet Diplomat Man is giving Drago a hard time about not winning yet, and Drago lifts him up violently by the neck and says something about I Will Win For Me, For Me. It's a little like we're supposed to think Drago is increasingly inspired by American Freedom, maybe? But it won't help him if he's still the bad guy in a Rocky movie.

This fight is taking a long time. A lot of this movie's running time is being consumed by this fight.

Eventually Rocky wins, because it turns out that he is just better because Freedom, and it's that same tiresome "Rocky-won" music, maybe arranged a little differently.

What does he say in the mic at the end? What is his message? "During this fight, I seen a lot of changing…" he says that during this fight, like during the actual boxing match, they all grew to appreciate each other. And it's better to do boxing than do nuclear annihilations. The whole crowd cheers for Rocky! Even the important Soviet Boss Men, startling even themselves with their abrupt adoration of The Wise American. Then when he says Merry Christmas Kid to his kid at home, well this whole entire crowd clearly thinks Rocky is better than their whole entire country. We don't see Drago any more. We don't know if he, too, is moved by Rocky's profound monologue. And we never find out what Drago and Robot Character think of each other.

So that's it, that's the end of Rocky IV. I get why it fires people up in a simple way, but I don’t think it's good. It totally assumes you'll understand that Rocky wins because the USSR just kind of sucks. Or you won't care that it's improbable that Rocky wins because it's just so gratifying to see Drago falter. Which they achieve by making him look very perfect, and having no charming characteristics.

It's true, though, how cocky we were about technology in the mid-80s.

(next: Rocky V)

#rocky iv

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grimmseye · 7 years

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I don’t have a clever title, but Bakugou just wants to kiss his boyfriend

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Brief appearances of other students

Other Tags: Kissing/Making Out, This Gets a T-Rating For More Than Just Bakugou’s Language, Kirishima Gets Unfortunate Bodily Fluids In His Mouth And No One Has A Good Time, Unspecified Timeframe

Anonymous said: I don't have any prompts but I can tell you silly stuff I think about. Like how their is going to be a point where Bakugou cuts his lips on Kirishima's teeth. Or Kiri licking Baku's hand bc that's hot right but didn't think about how his sweat is basically nitroglycerin. Ingesting that is a very smart.

A note: the class doesn’t know they’re dating in this. The narration is not accurate to the reality.

— — — —

Bakugou lives for summertime. He embodies it, heat in his veins, his skin, his eyes. God, his eyes put the sun to shame. They’re huge and wild and blazing and Kirishima falls right into them, he licks his lips and the salt-sweat and wishes he could taste it from Bakugou’s lips instead.

The thoughts are fleeting, more feelings than words. They pulse through his brain with each beat of his racing heart. No time to dwell, because Bakugou is suddenly so close, too close, and it’s all he can do to get his head down in time. The air ignites. Bakugou deals his blows and then leaps away to prepare for another barrage, a sneering grin on his face, a challenge.

Kirishima sucks in a breath and wills. And when Bakugou flies at him he doesn’t try to drop or dodge but meets him head-on. The blows land against him, ringing in his ears, smoke clogging his vision. He swipes his way through the screen and barrels on, catches a flash of shock in those molten eyes before impacting him.

Bakugou thuds on the ground, and Kirishima drops with him. It’s a struggle to pin him now because he thrashes like a wild thing, teeth snapping and body squirming and layering bomb after bomb on Kirishima’s hardened skin. His flesh aches down to its pores, his lungs burn, he’s running out of time.

He grasps Bakugou’s hands, palm-to-palm, and twists one up above his head, the next shoved into the grass by his face. Like this the force of his explosions echo back against his own hands, and he has to curb them to keep from fracturing his own bones. Bakugou’s chest heaves. His eyes are riveted on Kirishima’s, mouth parted around his breaths.

Kirishima leans down further, pushes more of his weight into Bakugou. It’s a struggle to breathe, let alone speak in this form, so his voice comes out as a grinding rasp: “I win.”

And Bakugou gives. He goes limp, a surrender, and Kirishima’s armor falls away. He sucks in a breath, but doesn’t let up. There’s no such thing as relaxing until the villains are packed away for containment.

Bakugou’s mouth is stretched in a grin, the kind of ecstatic satisfaction that comes from a good fight. He’s gorgeous. Raw power embodied, unstoppable and uncontainable, but Kirishima has him for this moment.

When Kirishima leans forward, Bakugou’s eyes roll towards him. He lowers himself inch by inch, gaze never breaking from Bakugou, and Bakugou doesn’t make a single move to stop him. Their noses brush.

“Kirishima!”

They wrench away. Kirishima rolls off of Bakugou and lands in a half-crouch. Tetsutetsu is charging from across the field -- must have seen them sparring. Or heard them, with all the noise they make between the explosions and their roars. “You kick his ass?” He hollers, pumping a fist in the air. “Come on, lemme give you a real fight!”

Bakugou snorts. Kirishima peers over his shoulder, heat flushing over his cheeks, but Bakugou is staring up at the sky.

“Yeah, let’s do it!” He shouts back, pushing himself up to his feet and going to meet his friend.

The taste of salt is sweet on his tongue.

ii.

Movie nights are apparently a tradition now that they all live in the dorms. They draw straws to determine the pecking order, only because Bakugou nearly got in a fistfight with Deku over which All Might movie they should watch the first time -- for once, the curly-haired boy had risen to his challenge, which only pissed him off more.

Tonight was Sparky’s night. Naturally, he had absolute trash taste. It was a foreign movie, subtitled. He hadn’t expected him to put on a romance of all things, but Mina had elbowed him firmly in the gut when he opened his mouth to say something. That wasn’t what deterred him. It was just that after she pulled that stunt, Kirishima took notice and told him in soft tones to let it go.

“He’s nervous as hell, man,” Kirishima murmured, gesturing with his eyes to Kaminari. Who, now that Bakugou was looking, did look jumpy. “And he’s trusting us not to give him a hard time. Besides, nothing is wrong with a romance.” The last words peter off into a mumble.

Is he blushing, or is that the reflection of his hair?

Bakugou squints and leans forward. The color deepens; he’s definitely blushing.

“Oh my god,” he scoffs. “You’re one of those fucking saps, aren’t you?”

“Wh -- no!”

“You’re as shitty a liar as your hair.” He snorts and tromps over to a couch, dropping heavily down onto it and swinging his feet up to take up all the cushions.

Kirishima follows with a huff of, “That doesn’t make sense.” He shoves at Bakugou until he rolls over and Kirishima can tuck himself against him, Bakugou draping a willing arm over his side. His hair is down, so it doesn’t jab him in the fucking chin.

They had to establish a rule for Kirishima: all cuddling must be done below the chin while his hair is up.

Sero and Mina are making kissy faces at them. Bakugou bares his teeth but they both just cackle and prance off to join Kaminari — they’re perfect for one another, a trio of fucking morons.

Somewhere along the way they became his, those three and Kirishima — though the his for Sero and Kaminari and Mina and the his for Kirishima are so, so different — and he can’t just let them go now.

The movie is, stunningly, not terrible. It has an underlying mystery that is just engaging enough for keep Bakugou’s eyes open. Kirishima is into it, though. He can tell because there’s a scene where the main character is crying after the death of — her brother? Her best friend? Bakugou wasn’t paying enough attention, apparently. But whatever happened, Kirishima begins to shake just a little.

Bakugou wraps his arm tighter around him and holds him like that until it eases. Kirishima turns, and they shift around a little so they can mostly face each other. His eyes are glossy in the television’s flickering light.

He wants to kiss him. There’s no reason he couldn’t. Except that it feels as though the entire class is watching them, even when he knows their eyes are on the movie. So he skims his lips over Kirishima’s forehead, a promise, later.

iii.

Later finds them in Kirishima’s dorm. It’s the furthest from the rest, gives the most privacy. They acknowledge it with flushed faces, the lingering implication of what they need privacy for hanging in their brains like a fog.

It’s dissipated now, or maybe it’s only gotten thicker, because they simply don’t care about implications. Kirishima has him pressed back into the pillows, straddling his waist. He cups Bakugou’s face because he’s sentimental like that, insists on holding him like he’s something cherished.

He kisses him slow and chaste, but not out of any shyness. It’s all languid heat, dripping down his spine and pooling in his belly. Bakugou gets impatient fast. He gets a hand fisted in Kirishima’s hair and tugs at the roots, relishes the whine that catches in his throat. It gets the message across. Kirishima puffs a breath against his lips and then slots their mouths together, open and wet.

Bakugou paws at his back, down to the hem of his shirt. Kirishima licks into his mouth, up against the roof of his mouth. His breath catches, his fingers curl tight in the cotton. When Kirishima backs off, Bakugou pursues, the hand in his hair keeping him still as he kisses him hard.

A groan vibrates against his tongue and he shudders, eyes wound shut. Teeth close on his lower lip. The nip is careful, but it sends a jolt to his belly that makes Bakugou jerk.

Then he’s hissing and clutching his mouth. Kirishima blinks widely at him, looking like a confused puppy, or more like a shark with blood smeared on his fucking chainsaw teeth.

“Did you —?” Kirishima licks his teeth and his face twists. “Oh my god.”

“Shut the fuck up.” God his lip must be fucking lacerated. It’s dripping into his palms.

“Dude your blood is in my mouth.” He seems caught on that fact, mouth hanging open as though he’s afraid to let it touch his tongue.

“Congratulations you fucking vampire! Can you get off your ass and get me a tissue or some shit?” Bakugou snaps. At last, Kirishima springs into action, grabbing the tissue box so Bakugou can start mopping up the mess.

His lip is swollen the next day. Kaminari looks at him, and then at Kirishima who is inconspicuously avoiding all eye-contact with his boyfriend. The moment realization flashes in his eyes, Bakugou snarls and draws a finger across his throat. It keeps his silence.

iv.

He knows that Mitsuki and Masaru like him. They’re always delighted to have him over.

“I’m so glad that Katsuki has a friend like you,” Masaru tells him, smiling kindly down at Kirishima. And Kirishima of course grins back and thanks him. But.

He can’t help how his brain stuttered on the word friend. Bakugou doesn’t correct him. Kirishima doesn’t expect him to, but it still stings.

“Do you ever plan to tell them?” Kirishima asks. He tries not to sound petulant. He gets it, as much as he can. The fear of parents knowing has never been his. His mothers knew everything there was to know about their son, his fears and his dreams and all his favorite things. They were the first to learn of his crush on Bakugou. He told them the same day he had his first kiss.

Bakugou shrugs. It’s listless.

Deep down, Kirishima is sure it will all work out. But Bakugou is scared, even if he’d sooner cut out his own tongue than admit it, so he doesn’t press. “I’ll be there whenever you’re ready,” he promises. He traces patterns on Bakugou’s leg, but does not take his hand, or kiss his lips, and it is a good thing because Mitsuki does not knock before opening the door. To an outsider, they look like two boys, two friends, anything but in love.

They wait until nighttime. A futon is setup for Kirishima to stay on, but he crawls up into Bakugou’s bed as soon as the hallway light goes out. They lay together and they press silent lips to each other’s skin.

Kirishima turns kind of fuzzy when he’s drunk on affection.

Bakugou admires his work, easing away from his thoroughly-kissed boyfriend and biting his own lip with a barely-concealed grin at the sight of him. Swollen lips and a flushed face, eyes hazy and dark. Delayed, he seems to realize Bakugou had pulled away, as he reaches for him in unsteady grabs. A mumble of, “K’tsuki,” leaves him.

Bakugou lets him figure it out, Kirishima’s hand finding his shoulder and winding around him to pull himself closer. “Katsuki,” he sighs again, and presses kisses over the line of his jaw. Each one trails a little bit closer, until their breath mingles, low eyes meeting in the dark.

For once, Bakugou’s touch is tentative, skimming Kirishima’s cheek. He watches red eyes fall shut, Kirishima nudging into the touch. It makes his chest feel full, his blood feel hot. Kirishima lifts his hands to hold Bakugou’s in place, nuzzling and kissing his fingers.

Breath comes unsteadily to Bakugou’s lungs. He’s enraptured, watching Kirishima, watching his eyes peek open again. His lips part, rows of sharp teeth opening for a pink tongue that drags slow over his palm.

Then Kirishima’s nose wrinkles. He jerks back, entire face scrunched up as he begins to gag. “Oh fuck,” he coughs, “jesus christ that burns!”

Bakugou doesn’t even have the capacity for frustration at this point. He slumps down onto the mattress and tries to come to terms with the fact that he will never be able to just kiss his god damn boyfriend.

vi.

Kirishima is staring at Kaminari. So is Bakugou.

“I, uh.” Kirishima blinks rapidly. “What?”

“I said, how the hell are you still single?” Kaminari raises his eyebrows at him. “Like dude, I’d date you. There are a ton of gay guys — or bi, whatever — here. Like, way more than I thought. How the hell are you still single?”

Bakugou says, “He’s not,” at the same time Kirishima gasps, “I’m not though?”

Kaminari gapes. “Dude! You — when the hell? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Kirishima and Bakugou just stare. Then they look at each other. “You’re telling me,” Bakugou says, slow, “that you don’t know who the fuck he’s dating?”

“You do?”

“Holy shit.” There’s an incredulous laugh in Kirishima’s voice. The class is beginning to pay attention now.

“You’re dating someone, Kirishima?” Uraraka asks, sounding surprised. “Ahh, he must be lucky.”

Kirishima drops his head into his hands. He’s shaking with silent laughter. Bakugou is shaking too, but it’s because his heart is palpitating and he’s not sure if he should scream or just shove his hand in Sparky’s face and go boom.

He does neither of these things. Instead he take’s Kirishima by the chin and presses their lips together, maintaining glaring eye contact with Kaminari. When he pulls back, Kirishima giggles. “Dude,” he snorts, leaning his head against Bakugou’s shoulder. “How do they not know?”

“We’re surrounded by fucking idiots, that’s how.”

There’s silence. And then Kaminari screams, and the class joins in, and nobody shuts the fuck up until Aizawa comes in and threatens them all with detention.

#kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bakushima #kiribaku #this pairing might be the one that pushes me out of the sfw category someday #bnha #my writing

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culinarystrategist · 6 years

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▲

Symbol Meme (Closed)

@loqis

▲ five times my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did.

Without fail, each and every time Ignis starts to think that Loqi is becoming less of an insufferable little shit, he’s almost immediately proven wrong. There’s simply no end to the other man’s conceit and Ignis would dearly love to wipe that smug little smirk off Loqi’s face for once and for all. Whenever he finds himself upon on the receiving end of one of Loqi’s diatribes on how the Empire is vastly superior to Lucis, or how it’s little wonder that one of Insomnia’s own has turned against them, Ignis allows his mind to wander to all the myriad ways he could put a stop to the grandstanding. A fist to the face would be most effective. Cracking Loqi in the jaw would not only shut him up, but would prove enormously satisfying. Or Ignis could simply walk away, mid-rant. Another thought comes to him; he could put Loqi’s mouth to better use, say with a kiss…

If Loqi notices the sudden tint of redness of Ignis’ cheeks, it doesn’t deter him from his discourse, but it does allow for Ignis to press the back of his hand to his forehead and offer up the weak excuse that he thinks he may be coming down with a fever. Without questioning it, Loqi waves him off, not willing to potentially catch whatever Lucian germs Ignis might be carrying.

ii.

This is running the risk of becoming a habit…

For the fourth week in a row, Loqi has invited himself over to Ignis’ apartment for dinner, with apparently very little care whether Ignis wishes to have a guest of not. Indeed, Loqi seems to view it as some sort of right of his position, that he can impose himself upon the Lucian traitor whenever he wishes. In all honesty, Ignis lacks the will to argue; Loqi can be surprisingly pleasant company when he’s not being an insufferable little shit.

At least this time, Loqi hasn’t come empty handed, thrusting a bottle of Merlot at Ignis as he walks into the apartment. He doesn’t have to be asked to remove his footwear any more, obediently taking off his boots and slipping on the pair of guest slippers Ignis may have especially bought for such an occasion. Despite his regular remark that Ignis had better not be trying to poison him, Loqi hangs around the kitchen while the meal is being cooked, peering around Ignis’ body to see what’s in the pots and pans. Since the initial dinner of meatballs had gone down so well, Ignis has elected to repeat the meal and Loqi grabs a spoon from the drawer to ‘taste test’ the sauce - last time, he claims, it lacked salt. This time, he says, it’s better.

“You have a little-” Motioning with his finger, Ignis points to the corner of Loqi’s mouth, where a minute dribble of cream is left behind. For a fraction of a second, he contemplates cleaning it off with his tongue, before thinking better of it and reaching out to swipe away the smear with his thumb instead.

iii.

Ardyn might be the one testing Ignis’ combat skills, but Loqi is the one testing his patience. There have been rumours of a rebellious faction in the heart of Gralea, the Empire’s capital city, and Ignis and Loqi have been sent to investigate and quell any potential uprising. Although this is a joint mission, with responsibility for its success or failure resting squarely on both sets of shoulders, Loqi believes himself in charge and Ignis is growing rather sick of this imposed hierarchy. He is the brains of this operation, not the flunky, and most certainly not the sidekick.

Ignis has no doubt that Loqi is highly proficient, but unfortunately, the sentiment isn’t reciprocated and that is causing a problem because instead of trusting Ignis to play his part, Loqi tries to take it all on himself. Following a couple of suspected insurgents, Loqi states his intention to take them both down and instructs Ignis to hang back. Ignis cannot help himself.

“Why must you always be such an insufferable little shit?” The rhetorical question is murmured a little louder than intended, resulting in Loqi swiftly spinning around to look at Ignis with unbridled fury.

“Maybe if you learned how to follow the orders of your superiors,” Loqi started, jabbing a finger towards Ignis’ chest. “I wouldn’t need to-”

A shout halted Loqi in his tracks; he’d managed to attract the attention of the two men, who were quickly tracing their steps back to where Loqi and Ignis stood, bickering. Ignis had to do something - he had to make it look as though they were two random strangers, on the street, to throw off suspicion. In the movies, a situation like this was usually resolved by a kiss, and while that might have been something Ignis would like to do, he thought it wiser to throw a punch instead.

iv.

This is definitely becoming a habit. Ignis has spent the past few months in Lucis, carrying out Ardyn’s work, and now that he’s back, Loqi has - unsurprisingly - invited himself over for dinner. There’s a distinct lack of food in the apartment, because Ignis hasn’t had the opportunity to go shopping yet, but he does what he can with what he has. An improvised meal of dried pasta, cooked with a sauce made from canned tomatoes, dried herbs and some potted meat will just have to suffice. It’s not to his usual standard, but it smells appetising and is relatively tasty.

Amazingly, Loqi asks for seconds. It seems that even storecupboard cooking is preferable to Loqi’s usual supply of meals and Ignis offers what remains of the dish so Loqi can take it home and heat it up later. As they sit back after eating to catch up on the news, the atmosphere is amicable. For the time being, Loqi keeps his usual barbs and digs to himself and chats with Ignis about his journey, about what he’s missed while he was gone, and about the world in general. Either Loqi has mellowed while Ignis was away, or their relationship has transcended to something resembling friendship.

Towards the end of the night, both are lethargic from the food and the wine, and they sit close together on the couch so Ignis can show Loqi the photos he took from the train. The sight of snowy landscapes brings a smile to Loqi’s face and Ignis is reminded of why he finds the man so attractive. There’s a moment when Loqi leans in close enough for Ignis to smell the residual aroma of his shampoo and there’s a brief moment when he wants to throw caution to the wind and pull Loqi in for a kiss.

“I’m sorry to cut our evening short,” he says, instead. “But my journey has left me exhausted and I must turn in for the night.”

It’s most unlike Loqi to miss an engagement. The reason, Ignis discovers, is a high fever and cold sweats. Lying in his bed, hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks a deep, ruddy red, Loqi looks almost childlike in the grip of sickness. He doesn’t argue when Ignis wipes his face with a cool, damp cloth, nor does he protest when Ignis offers to spoon-feed him some soup.

Full of worry and concern, Ignis remains at Loqi’s side while he sleeps. It’s a fitful sleep, broken by bouts of hacking coughs and wheezing. It’s just a cold, Ignis knows, but it’s a bad one, and for all his faults, Loqi is someone Ignis has come to view as a friend. Certainly, he’s as close to a friend as Ignis can have in a place like Gralea, and for that reason, Ignis will not leave him to suffer alone.

After one particularly bad coughing fit, Ignis fills a bowl with hot water and drops in a couple of menthol crystals, then holds the bowl for Loqi to inhale the vapours. It seems to do the trick of clearing his passages long enough to allow him to drop off again. Before he takes away the bowl to clean it and put it back where he found it, Ignis bows over Loqi to brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes. It’s almost instinctive, the urge to press a kiss to that damp, sweaty brow. But with Loqi asleep, it would be unforgivably invasive, so Ignis suppresses the urge.

vi.

Winter is bitter in Gralea. A cruel wind blows through the streets, carrying with it rain and sleet which stings Ignis’ face. Wrapped up in a thick overcoat, woollen scarf and thermal gloves, he makes his way to his apartment. It’s not often that he feels homesick for Insomnia, but this is one of those occasions. The winters aren’t nearly so bad in Lucis and he almost wishes he was there right now. Almost, but not quite, because this is Friday and on Fridays, Loqi comes over for dinner and video games. It’s a long-standing tradition, and one Ignis wouldn’t break for anything.

When he gets home, he finds the door is already unlocked and he can hear the music from their favourite fighting game coming from the living room. He’d regret having given Loqi a key if not for the fact that he can feel the heat as soon as he walks in - Loqi has never been shy about turning up the thermostat. Hanging up his coat and removing the rest of his outdoors wear, he calls a cheerful greeting to his guest, then heads straight for the kitchen to make a start on cooking.

After dinner, and without any prompting, Loqi washes the dishes while Ignis puts the leftovers into containers for Loqi to take away with him. It’s an oddly domestic scene, especially with Loqi wearing Ignis’ apron to keep his clothes clean of dirty dishwater. The pleasant harmony of the scene is disrupted by a loud - and colourful - curse from Loqi, and Ignis hurries to his side to find him cupping his finger, which drips blood into the sink.

“I’ve warned you before that those knives are very sharp,” he says, fetching the first aid kit out of the drawer to see to the wound. Once it’s cleaned and covered with a dressing, Ignis lifts Loki’s hand and gently kisses the injured finger.

“You’ll live.”

#loqis

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tenaciouscupcaketaco · 4 years

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Mario William Vitale’s Poetry

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tenaciouscupcaketaco · 6 years

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60 Newest Poems By Mario W. Vitale

Bio Of Mario William Vitale The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with uprootedness. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural annd social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension: Mario William Vitale Biography I was born in 1970 Bristol hospital. A young nurse took me in her arms and said that I would one day become a success, As the years would pass I was heavy in the arts used to sing and act. Was an altar boy at St. Pius Church. In time I would act in my senior class play, "The Mystery Of Edwin Drood" Where I had the lead role as the Narrator, I touched many hearts with that performance in 1989, Was hospitalized with mono that same year for two weeks long, Also that same year I became prom king of my class Wolcott High School, After the break up with my first grilfriend in 1989 I wrote the poem entitled, "Remembrance of a loved one" where I had it published on poetry.com Attempted plays: Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade, (His poetic aspirations had derived at 18 in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum) Attended Central Connecticut State University For Creative Writing: 1997 Next from 1989-1997 (Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry) , * Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ", (1998)Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland". Back with rave reviews! * (From 1999-2008: Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: (1999- Sent Editorial to: New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie; Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached, * 2000-2007: Magazine: (Catholic)Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset! 2008- Wrote poem entitled: (The Heavy Cross)to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy; (The Connecticut Poetry Society) * Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia Writers Quarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry. Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return, Thankfulness toward family and friends.(To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted? My contemporary artists include that of Ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and Carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry Having been a member since 2006, My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and Edgar Allen Poe. Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creative passion! The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a very positive light.) After experiencing a life transformation encounter.I had realized that poetry is my unique way to convey myself my work speaks from the heart with pure sentiments of though intact, As the years passed I would write over 4,000 poems and 5 short stories toward my platform, My poetry is based on the free verse style of writing, Was published in 10 venues such as Writerscafe, Neopoet, Hello poetry, Poem Hunter, Booksie, Poetryvibe, Poetrysoup, Starlifecafe.com, Poets Know It & poetry.com... I was saved by God at the tender age of nine in Charlotte Carolina where I came to know the Lord that was in 1979, Today I continue to write poetry was published on Spillwords, High On Poetry, Tuck Magazine & Setu Magazine. My main emphasis in writing poetry is to share with the mass populace touching many hearts. Hope you can read my poetry. Sea Stacks skipped rocks through a stream today the opening of a brand new day its frame is in minor decay the bleached wood massed in bone piles, we pulled it from dark beach and built fire in a fenced clearing the posts' blunt stubs sank down the circled and were roofed by milled lumber dragged at one time to the coast We slept there Each morning the minus tide- weeds flowed it like hair swimming The starfish gripped rock, pastel, rough. Fish bones lay in sun Each noon the milk fog sank from cloud cover, came in our clothes and held them tighter on us. Sea stacks stood and disappeared They came back when the sun scrubbed out the inlet Life Force through the flame cover me in silent sound dignity for with what one is willing to achieve valiantly feel the breeze nestled through the trees shaped through your dreams a piercing of the skin new hearts to begin again Choices Many have a hard time understanding They live for self and that of society They are the walking dead yet they don't even know it Eyes with blackened spots having holes Viscous fangs with blood dripping off the side You share with them the truth They choose to run away & hide Yet deep inside they may still question Why am i here ? They can't even help you Cause they won't help themselves They are the scum of the land Much too afraid to stand among the son of man A bitter taste Do they want salt or sugar coated messages Positive reinforcement strengthens the heart Negativity kills it Each of us has been given a choice We must lend a helping hand with a voice All of us have been given a choice Now which pathway will you choose ? Emerald City There’ll be no unemployment in heaven. No worry about the next meal. There’ll be no bills to harass us, and thieves will not break in and steal. In heaven, we’ll have no need for money; Everything up there will be free. We’ll enjoy God’s unsearchable riches, and have unending security. I’m looking forward to heaven, that land that is fairer than day. Where all will be joy and gladness, and sorrow and care will flee away. Up there, no mean words will be spoken. Each heart will be filled with pure love. We’ll never be hurt or rejected, in the beautiful city above. There will be no disappointment or heartache. God will wipe all the tears from our eyes. No one will ever be lonely, and there’ll be no anguished good-byes. Up there, the love we have for each other, by each heart will be shared equally. And we’ll have all the things that we’ve longed for, and at last we will really be free Little Angel Hope springs a new On a cloud in heaven Stand a heavenly angel With mere beauty of crystalized light Golden emblems encrusted their frame Sweet songs drifting to a very faint whisper Eyes, hands & face A real message sent down to earth To care for those lonely souls all alone There beauty is a surprise to encounter Slipping through locked doors to appear Many have shed a tear to numb the inner pain Causing accidents not to happen They appear in the form of brightened miracles We see them with a heart all a glow Come to the birth of a new born baby Come to servicemen who just joined the navy You will see them at a graveyard setting Even among gamblers who do there betting There all around us you see For all of life is but a mystery These Flames I Live turn back the tear drop pillow I'm sick to my stomach suffering alone and hard piercing cavity of viscious fangs that bite illusive impulsive the rant These flames I live my right to forgive undercover beyond the means living in a land of mean barren sea a shot in the dark to light the spark many are left in rebellion what an incredible talent Vitale is he is the poet of all poets the moment you met him perfect ten a chick lying with her hens a quest... flaws and failures yes he wears Depends a trip to the zoo nothing new Laughter Laughter fills the scented air through days exposed the timeless hour of a loathsome mast expounded upon the cavity of debris develop a grateful heart that one may impart look close through a pillar of glass a vergence sea out beyond the interpass a halo with a song to help you get along the sight of a fawn on the lawn greed and materialism will crush out the light in your life penetration by the holy spirit a heart change has to happen one must be open to the message care for your brother help for your pale sister one ear on the floor a cause for more through fetters got it made to even out the score Unending Brigade I ask myself politely what resistance flowers here against love treaded lightly or losing lovingness dear? give cadence to the simple, for I gave ammunition to the laughter we should we ever falter the timeless whisper of happening golden nuggets of thought & inspiration braids my hair with a great deal of wear through the conclaves of love's fastened grip shadows block the vortex to aid its message The Dream Police they come to my head at the side of my bed they are enforcing my sleep give cadence to a treat a far from ports unknown like a dog without a bone giving tickets to be enforced every time I have a dream forces scream Of Time & Dreams Father's gold pocket watch measured heartbeats, times for surgery and the slow drip of an IV all else in his life was overture to main events, like birth and death of those the family never knew Steps from my childhood dreams to his were counted in places where treasure were wet pebbles and the pulse of life was seen in raindrops on the lake now the watch is mine, and i yearn to throw it like a pebble into the past, to see it skip and yield to places we never shared, like blue-green eddies near the shore and grasses curled by the win Yet, warming in my palm, the measurer of his days seems to sing the music of turning points where drying dreams meet others born anew, emerging through images of caring to rhythms more than metrical that i've yet to understand The Land Of Dreams When you fall asleep at night, your mind goes into an eerie flight You can open the gate with the key of thought, and don't have to do what you've been taught You sing, and dance, and prance all day and you act so happy and also gay You run in circles and run into the trees, and cut your elbows and scrape your knees But sometimes you open the wrong gate, and find yourself facing a terrible fate There are monsters, ghouls and also grouches, and then you wish you were on confortable couches And when you're done and almost through, your mind knows exactly what to do you go back through that eerie flight it may be day it may be night And when your mind comes back to you, you may wake up and have the flu You could leave for school very late, and find out that it's the wrong date And you could play outside in the streams but you will know that you entered "The Land Of Dreams." Old Crow Old crow Tired and lazy' against the day Dark skies Lost in blacks and whites and grays Howling north wind Sure takes a man's fight away Wastelands, A dreamer's home on his best day Hard rain Drops the leaves and makes the colors fade And talks cheap, But for the words of time they'll ave the last say Oh the words of time, they'll have the last say And the harvest is in, it wasn't much May I have enough to get by The baskets were light, not a muscle ached And somehow I feel I'm going to die The winter is coming and the signs say hard I've never seen such a haunting sky For on the mountains, frost in the wind And somehow I feel I'm going to die Full moon Lonely above the old oak tree line Old crow Hanging empty in the black sky And a nighthawk Circles her in silence as she flies Old crow, all alone she flies Pheonix the blazing glory of a loving night Disappears in the sun's bright morning light All efforts to recall that glorious pain Fade in the dawn to be sought in vain but the memory clings of precious glory that will not become an old, dull story instead that memory promises anew that love will spring forth and again renew with every joining of two loving souls again will emerge from the fading coals a love renewed by the glowing embers so that this night, too, will be remembered. Soul Search When I look into your eyes I see the sunshine and rain, The deeper I look and also see Various kinds of pain; I can see the kind, warm love that filters thru, To surface at the top when you’re not blue, I have seen and know your hopes and fears The good and bad times you have thru years, You have seen and felt so much I’m glad our lives did touch Look deep into my eyes and you will find The heartaches and happiness that were also mine Come With Me Come with me and be my friend Lets create a fantasy just you & me lets linger through the wind and feel free lets run through the sand and make time stand still so we can treasure this moment Only until The mystical ocean touches our souls and fills our hearts with love come with me and I'll show you What I have to give come with and I'll describe The life I dreamed we'd live come with and hold me gently and watch the retiring sun slowly set Shower me with all your love pretending we just met Whenever you need me I'll be there To help lift your spirits and I want to care About you come with and be my love no longer a fantasy just you & me This time only A reality... Mario William Vitale. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform. Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson. Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct. Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet Personifications Of Oceanic Thoughts whispers sun lit morn the surf hits the turf smells of salt air through the moment savor each moment as the memory lasts bask in the vast expanse between time & space sounds of children playing seaweed next to the rocks along the cobblestone walkway solace torn up in the derision of peace with solidarity we were made for moments such as these seagulls flock overhead remember me in thoughts as these whisk through the breeze capture one's inner sense alas with angelic fervor permeates a flame of life's torn reality a new to face the day Follow Your Heart Magic breathes life in our hearts Destiny resides in our souls Our path now shimmers unshadowed by the night With one embrace partnered by a tender kiss, the bounds of time and distance crumble through fingers like drifting grains of sand Dream time is the place where I am alive Green eyes ripple into lipid pools where miracles draw me to your heart I am free to swim by your side until the sun sets and rises with you again Life is my dream I love you Cynthia When at night I close my eyes, to think all the days gone by, to feel again those passions past, and feeble joy that never lasts, I'm always drawn to thoughts of you, my only love my Cynthia I think I found you in a dream then we celebrate, the night I pressed beyond the seam, where fantasy and reality meet in summer mist so soft and sweet, But you were all I ever felt, my deepest love, my Cynthia But dreams just last within the night, when morning came, Her soul took flight I awake to find Her never there She passes like the misty air To leave me longing and alone, my painful love, my Cynthia Enigma love you swell the heart, to crush the same when lovers part But whether love and joy you bring or bitter pain and Death's cold sting I plead you come to me again, my final love, My Cynthia For My Precious Son You're standing in the doorway. Your workday is all done. He waits to see you everyday, this boy that is your son. He hopes you will go fishing. He hopes you'll shoot the gun. He just wants to be with you, this boy that is your son. He is your spitting image. To him you are ''The One''. He hopes to be just like you, this boy that is your son. You show him what a man is. You teach as you have fun. You are admired as well as loved by this boy that is your son. You've got a friend forever. Until the world is done. Then, still you will be holding this man that is your son. I'm Just A Poetical Lyricist I’m just having fun, but no doubt someone will take this serious I’m about to take you on a lyrical experience I’m having fun with words, like when a baby first starts reading books Saying I’m good at rhyming, Is like saying Mike Tyson packs a decent punch I best mention the Kardashians other wise you’ll have trouble keeping up Me with a pen is more dangerous than Michael Myers on Halloween when he starts slashing with the knife Telling me I can’t rhyme, is the biggest mistake you’ve made since you let your ex Back in to your life Speaking of exes, will someone please date mine I promise she’ll give you a great time I’ll pay for the date, its all on me All I ask, is please be good enough to get her to stop calling me I love Hip Hop, and yeah I know I’m white Please be creative and tell me how I’m the new Vanilla ice Or how I should walk right back across 8 mile I could have thrown this into my waste pile But I just wanted to write some joke lines and have some fun Sick of hearing rappers talk about drugs and how they pack a gun “yeah I’m Bad. I’ll make this Uzi Squirt” You don’t know who Nas is, And think the greatest rapper is Lil Uzi Vert Or some other mumble rapper with lame rhymes You deserve to have Biggie and Big Pun sit on you at the same time Some guy called Young Thug is wearing dresses That’s not something I have a problem with My problem is There’s so much going on in the world and these rappers are scared to address it What happened to Hip-Hop when rappers would share a message? Nas, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick, I could name so many more Now its a bunch of dudes who sound the same with empty thoughts I’d pretend to be from the hood and blast guns but I’d fail I’d rather be the real me, and I’m far too cute to go to Jail I just love Hip Hop and the way it used to be You always get the truth from me someone tell Rihanna I’m ready to give her the best 30 seconds of her life Tell her she’ll only regret it if I become a legend when I die Knowing she could of had me This is my last piece of paper, I’m now pad free I was watching rap battles on YouTube, So took you on this lyrical experience I’m just a poetical lyricist Rapula back in the day where hustlers stayed there were those very afraid he was born in the gutter his momma was a vamp selling her junk in the trunk of a car up all night slept all day he was blown from the frey viscious fangs that bite two turn tables with a mic insisted on a fight sucking the innocent patrons for blood right in the hood like you knew he would Rapula the man, the myth & the legend could very often see him in the back of a seven eleven drinking red slurpees took folks block by block like giving him a heart attack just to fit his mold no one came against him until that day in the crib Rapula lost his lobster bib very often you will see him at the 8th Street Station spinning his records there will never be another blood sucking brother so move over he's taking cover Rapula wore a high hat tip on his temple driving a white Benz looking like Baretta I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me Supernatural but it's so true the world hasn't a single clue borrowed basement pews stained glass windows a reflection of the cross some will go before the toss he was there from the beginning he is the only one that's winning perfumed stockings and a breath of fresh air the willingness to share how you really care if you have seen him you have seen the father Jesus Stop The Madness All of sudden reality happens Ruining my mind that's already jumbled "where the hell did i just go?" I ask to myself no one listens Obsecurity is still in me Recognizing situation where i have been Looking up the sky it's already dark Worrying something, i need to get up Home, i need to find home Stepping forward to pass the crowd The longer i go, the quieter it's so Taking my glasses off because its fogged Focusing my lens but the blur shows sigh Now melancholy does it again Lack of knowledge about locations Lack of someone to be asked for And there is no light to guide me on Vision, direction, companion I wish i could make them clearer But in reality, they just disappear Shaman Within I met a dead poem in the shade of spring. I was so sad I could hear the door bell ring through the furtherance of a smile I became unglued shadows block the motive bruised. Beyond the sky set flight Prison Of The Mind able to be smart without words its a topic of conversation through words spilled out on the ancient path meditate lights out beg, bitch & pout the underscore read stop I'm keeping on keeping transfused and weeping table talking swallow its extremities move the levee strong will survive thank God I'm alive the moments the solitude alone vibrations fixed temptations sensations... take me to the prison three squares a day a pillow and I pray nestled the mood away Getting Ahead Of God hearken onto the voice of a still small way let God show you the new found way look deep into the cause of wisdom seek the shelter God give the children right parents to help bring them up you never miss out in obeying God when you start off in life without God your in the wrong direction God will tell you what he wants you to do if you ask him to your life will be filled with joy, peace & happiness the issue is its not your age but what is the will of God for your life God always has your best when we wait on God you can't tell by the way it works by the way it counts you may have get by in life but you must deny yourself people have to go through disaster before you surrender your life each time we take a leap of our own choice we lose out of the will of God you'll be disapointed the issue is what does God want for your life he acts on behalf on the one who waits on him you can't get God's guidance if your living in sin happiness, joy, peace & satifaction are very valuable you made some choices but God will forgive you if you repent for them its a decision we make if we confess our sins he is faithful & just to forgive us it is a choice you make remember you reap what you sow you can't avoid or escape the things of your soul whether your 16 or 67 its time you made a decision and surrender to God I pray that every person that hears this message will stop to think of what they have done in life Take It All In God is a closer friend come back to New England plants, rocks, shrubs & things suddenly I'm waiting here for you it's a tick or take Sunday afternoon waiting by the rocks they surface with untimely leaves the leagues plagued with devastation the beef stock through the goldie locks of here hair Summertime is no better time got this crazy feeling I'm so glad that your feeling for me with your heart you can unite the heart Changes a smile from a lonesome child transformed through the eyes the timeless cavity unleashed through diverse port of space in time the child in time grew now in there teens sees the world through a fine tooth comb at home being alone the horrific scene through adolescence its a coincidence now as an adult able to leap tall buildings with a single bound the smile deminishes onto sophistication almost a loose cannon pronounced news to its folly cover me with those tender leaves falling from the stream let loose on my caboose the stars all glitter in the darkness of night Pilgrims Progress We need great golden copulations in the cemetery bury your head beneath the limbs in part of a ghostly resolve perhaps this was the path Brother Lawrence tred alone underneath the interpass of denial of speculation we have nursed path each quatrum with a deafening blow to stand in one accord to each other as pilgrims rest after harvest time Apple butter jam spread on fresh home made bread the reflections of a timid squirrel on a limb we have become immeasurable by your smile she danced in a ring of fire yet throws of each challenge with a shrug the cost of the pilgrims progress we shall never know bust up the beat to promote its tempo a beacon of light to a much hurting world in search of love Does death hurt you the most or is it fear beneath the timeless swell I live to tell sought through the variation to its cosmic flame Careless Whisper a shoulder tender shelter to lie next together, the swelter of a careless whisper left tempted shelter lies dormant onto its beckoning plough to thirst united with the throne billow with asps of the new day's pride thank God I'm still alive to delve into the ridges of each dishes kisses the torment of each smile bruisded reed tmpered on its poll the thought of vanity among humanity the faint of your legacy Spirit To Touchdown Ten years since her husband's death she still craved the sight of him and his magnetic smile coming in the door, his suitcoat slung over his back. She yearned to glance at him in a long black coat, resembling a materialized laser beam, as they prepared to go out for an evening, or in old bluejeans walking barefoot with her on the seashore. She knew he was always with her... but wanted his spirit to touchdown My Elephant There is something about the Elephant I love very much, I wish I could cuddle him but I know I cannot, if they be my friend, I will play soccer with an Elephant on my side, I will catch hold of his trunk and he’ll trumpet me to victory with pride. There is something about the Elephant I love very much. Although he is so big, he won’t give you a fright, He lifts up his trunk and blesses you instead, So different from the Lion and Tiger you meet, There is something about the Elephant I love very much He is a pure vegetarian, he won’t kill a mouse, He is worshiped as God for all his good vice. If we were to crown the king of the jungle again, It will go to the Elephant our vegetarian friend Proud To Be An American I’m proud to be American To live In a country that’s free And we’re free to be who We want to be! We’re always Free to try New things. And enjoy every Experience that Life may bring! And I was taught To stand up for what You believe in And never give up On your hopes And dreams Because the sky Is the limit! Beach Canopy The smell of fresh fry doe Time had elapsed playing at the casino Fresh lobster with a side order of fries Those spacious wonderful sky's Down at the shell the continental were playing A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting Flip flops and the sound of laughter A playground for kids in the middle The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer Love We Go through the sweet vortex of our inner frame we can dream of far off places with kings and queens shaped through the fragments of are exploits someday you will be all alone in your room there you will read a text to reflect upon your life we each are on a journey in this life some ponder the existence of God other reflect in the day to day toil love is the mere essence of are existence shine your inner light upon the twilight hour shadows block the mere reflection of my frame not having you in my arms is driving me insane lest I refrain another door by which to explore there is so much more in this game of life within its given strife we can learn one soul soars and another will soon burn we better wait are turn in this wheel in the sky the faint lulabye in its scope Elvis In Vegas Viva Viva Los Vegas he came alone with a guitar in his sack romance with the dice he's giving back a whole host of onlookers looking upon he waves his magic wand with a favorable song swivel hips stand tight in his sticks Elvis Fun House a blade of grass blown in the wind heros have erected its course leading folks away from divorce in times of remembrances thoughts shattered in the wind coming apart at the seams a brigade of thoughts What is a funhouse ? It is when the eyes of all are upon you It's not so, but when you go through it is true The funhouse is a form of torture where everything unravels around you It is a commotion of nervousness and you just want to hide from all that is around you It is a secret that you don't want to share, but there is one who helps just by saying I care It's not what you say it is what you do When you enter my world of the funhouse, you assure me that God is in control that with him I don't need to be afraid It's the gentle way in which you talk when once you have entered into the realm of commotion... It's the assurance of your sincerity that softens the blow Soon with your special way the inner strife goes away A Thief in The Night Jesus he that hath an ear let him hear when all was said to be good let it be said calamity have you ever been down to the lowest pit you look around and no one gave a shit By His Hand through long lines of being transformed to clean my room in the late month of June we move too soon we remain vital to the oncoming spirit of the game filtered through those tiny reasons to spice up the season the God Lord up above has carried us by his hand Poison Ivy there are pillars being built for those who pusue the chase we each are in a battle some have retreated at death's door lest I implore something more a quaint visitation with your higher power in a world torn up in misery & sorrow hiding behind a false hidden garb of compromise can't we easily see through those twised lies yet we embark on a new journey of are own having a house but living all alone out in the street where people meet had a gun at my head thought i was really dead out of devastation I reached right for the bottle like having a gun in hand to release its throttle the world is in misery torn some insist to curse they very day they were born eyes to see but can't hears to hear but won't there's a true lesson to be learned one soul soars while the other soon to be burned we must all wait in line for are turn each of us will have a day in the sun now I'm off on the run searching through pictures to put on my wall to stand ten feet tall amidst the social resistance join in now I must insist this casualties are enormous for a stated cause that's plain atrocious have we taken the time out to notice yet many of us have given up way to easy caught in a rut in are society out of desperation there still is a plan that we can see someday be fulfilled as a reality if we only believe one will be set free Break Away break away to a brand new day perfect display we come to pray faint sounds of grandeur right down to the wire share with those you have heard Thirst thirst after the water that has been spoken look deep beneath the vines of realization through thought and mind breath deep inside let your breath go complete with words of heightened anticipation go deep upon deeper be the keeper of the gate call it fate the twist and turn of the music to loose it the world spins like a top negotiate your buyer sweet songs of praise sweet moments raised in a time well spent in thought the spinning wheel stop just like a top remember me in times like these sheltered through the breeze crushed upon the leaves in midnight hour with pulse through the flame in moments of granduer sharpen your arrows to calm the breeze nestled to your knees cultivated with a smile to know all the great while a helmet for the passing fawn the bear from its nap with a yawn in columns of portals sprinkled dust in the wind the habitation of a needle visible through the shadows remember me in times like these through the training of the leaves taunt the moment an explosion until sunset the bill of sale A Gun For Hire there is a direct correlation between time & space scented across your universe base the climb to approach the summit peak with words do you seek famous qoutes and pictures for your desire coming down to the wire a gun for hire Beyond Her Tea- Blurred Vision The powerful voice of loneliness is screaming through her mind of twisted halls, All too painful to hear, she absorbs them into her cotton ball walls But, beyond her tea-blurred vision and through her pounding heart She hears the voice inside her that is worse than a dagger through her heart Her shadow's darkest moments are filled with hopeless pride And her tongue tied conscience is all whom she has to confide But the rose that is trying to bloom, within her salty hand, will never wither, and never be taken away, Because this, and this alone, is what keeps her going day by day the embrace... Shelter From The Storm outside violence inner silence shadows now block the vortex spaces for places & midnight traces coming apart at the seams jelly beans breath deep my pale sister confide my shady brother undercover as lovers sign so simple the cripple shelter from the storm curse the very day you were actually born a world that turns suffer inside the place to hide let go of any ambition what are you bitching cap the cosmic clap faces in the window having storms in the night Celebrate In Twilight the crimsome tide we all want to run away & hide although we suffer inside enter through the canopy of a velvet song lines drawn in the sand when to understand give yourself away take heed to pray no cornerstone no bridge unknown through the sunlit ravine The Knight Of The 1,000 Eyes softly now faintly ode to the serpent's tale dismiss the dread to reclaim its saga in darkened dungeons fit for conquest come away for a rest most of life is but a test treasure the mantle to the I am presence delve into the sacred flames within your heart enter the center of your being pull back on yourself a still small voice within you saying be not afraid I am here I am your heart I abide in the holy temple in the center of your being you have climbed through mountains you have found me after a very long trek in the darkness of human misery I am the pressence that looks through your eyes the knight will rise of the 1, 000 eyes filtered through the shame who are we to blame infinity is my measure you beloved heart belong to me let us be one once again allow the shell of outer human pass away I will be the service to life that passes through you do not accept as real to what is in the outer world fear not I am the life inside your heart I am inside you together we must intoduce ourselves onto the world. A Gripping Fairy Tale long ago let the truth be told in a city far far away lived a young hobbit who drank there was woods to hide his visitation a taste of hungry exoneration A fare maiden was on the throne ruling her army from the barren city enclosed was a message of honor high off traction from the waiting pool the kingdom was now silent These Words these words are wrapped among a cordial smile cemented like glue for what are we to do come now let us leave the door opened, a demonstration of trust in a world in quite a bit of a rush the door swings wide to the enforced way a beautiful flower display ample time to pray therefore everything will be o.k. the knock on the door lest I implore a distant shuttter of languished circumstances with a heart that's been renewed these words stand still amidst the night's appeal the even keal behind the spinning wheel trust is completely most like a seagull off the coast a reason to really trust Surfing The Internet Today I'm on point smoking a fat joint relaxing basking in the ambiance of the hour folks need to take a cold shower as they admire the scented perfume through the room we have become combersome with this world as a child as if you never really heard Leonard Cohen with his famed song "Suzanne" really makes you think about life. Through the negative light of affliction we have every bit of reason to be standing chosen yet we have are back against the wall when all attempts of standing ten feet tall, Each of us has a reason to discuss the mere notion of love sent from up above Rat tit tat tat on that ass no one gets by on any free pass we need to make are way look to your neighbor for any favors we can all learn to trust & savor Each new moment that comes along with a fast paced moving vibrant song you unleashed the inner lion in me with a whole host of chemistry Surfing the internet may not be your thing but prayer can unleash the fires within storms of life come to either make you or break you whats news for you might not be for you life is like a jagged edge roller coaster with its twists and turns one soul soars while the other one burns just wait your turn Empty Leaves onto the seventh hour of the seventh sun beckon to rule the new day's dawn the lovely fawn sitting on the lawn vibrations to great temptations captivated by a smile to know all the great while the wilderness beckons a response of wild beasts among us Light Brevity thoughts of brevity about the city stay close to me a whole host next to me got rhymes of choice stretched to the opened door the willingness to be explored stand firm in the wheel chair you know my condition to what I've been dishing kissing twisted stereo lies by the bars swift no surprise captivated by her smile still to know all the great while as if a little child faith pierced the scene eating fantastic cuisine the turning of the page is it safe to ask you your age ? the band played on Agatha The Princess she was on the throne far away from her home uniting hearts to ne fond heights carrying herself with a song Agatha the princess will lose their influence soaring to new frontiers left her to tears took walks in her garden beautiful flower display led to thoughts to pray with tears in her eyes came as a big surprise delicate hue wth borrowed lies she walks the flats on the lonely pier rapers and dishes she would hide leave behind the careless whisper a shoulder to cry the soft cascading vamp shine on her eyes to beg or even borrow moments of sorrow to cleave to her young the living stone have we just begun Back To The Front plunged into uncertainty the quest to be a want to be shining on mental enhancement there's joy in the progress smoke on my ceiling highway of what I'm dealing Heroin bang bang shoot shoot you took my nephew Shane let me be the first to explain Shane used to live with us so long ago until he shot up heroin he died in are house such a dark force it starts with a promise to relieve then one gets too deep falling apart at the seams beg, borrow & steal for your next fix to even the deal some take it with a needle others snort it up their nose but do you suppose there's always a shipment coming from Rhode Island dodge the bullet feel the passion why am I asking heroin scores a perfect 10 in the mind of an addict it takes your body then your soul engulfed in flames bust up the beat to promote its tempo Soft Parade the tear drop fell from the ceiling no matter what I'm dealing the ocean has a delicate spray through loose lines let it go time well spent in thought through the day springs hope left nestled on its undertow the stereo swell basking in the hour of belief sorted flowers in its incredible epitaph The Waiting Suspense there are pillars in doorways loosed to become forgiven loose engine the pulsating of a river where is the trigger gets bigger & bigger Destination Excellence the thought of letting go a far to time before waiting to explore the opened door life can be quite a bore the longing for more road up ahead avoid the living dead thoughts inside my head The Arms Of Rap into the arms of rap that's where its at buiding through the confusion in fusion got flames coming out my baseball cap I'm in need of a nap keep close to the doorway fresh rhymes I'm still on time you maybe brave see me at the arcade park my Benz in back folks tend to over react but I tip my hat got news for you all bridge the gap know what's up Chilling at the grill with my girl sporting heavy studs think that I'm in love you see there's brilliance in a piece mark the ege of my teeth stand still & repeat bars watching souped up body kit cars looking to the stars a view from Mars Pina Colada does anyone grow fond of Starsky & Hutch another push grasping with tender faith in my hand when will folks understand stick it to the man years have passed still having every reason to grasp the solitude in that I'm still in a good mood... Feeling high anxiety got folks sitting next to me living out my legacy of what I used to be Sipping my favorite sauce to the max you tend to over react got to stay in the zone Summer time boogy time get your cash and stand in line frozen in time Through a variation of a dream peeps do scream eating delicious ice cream Souped up high hat as if in a tempo taking you places that you need to go playing a little Spanish fly i got words by the fly your my favorite guy on my human side stand still I'm happily alive got to put first things first this is how i flirt got words for Lavert put back your gold in a purse Trump is getting busy but he makes me awful dizzy better listen to Thin Lizzy they say i'm institutionalized but I got words from the hive it's best to dream big Let Yourself Be A reflection I will be, for today I looked into a mirror and much to my surprise, what I saw was all deep, deep, inside... There it was, all exposed, the inner me right down to my very soul alarmed, shocked, and surprised, what I saw wasn't really me on the outside What have I done ? Where did it go wrong ? Why isn't the inner me the same as the outer soul ? Then I could see way beyond it isn't just me, but everyone. Life is a fairy tale to most for the really don't accept the Holy Ghost If all would look within their self, and see the person that is there, open up your heart, let it out don't pretend, just be proud, for the person you really are, is just what God wanted for he created you as he chose Don't fret, or whine, just be proud, life's riches you will surely find Now when you look at me, a mirror you will see for when you look at me, what you'll see is the inner me For I am the mirror of the real me To everyone in life who feels they are not special, you really are, you see, for God made you that way, if you'll only let yourself be...

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