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This page is not technical in nature at all. It’s a place for me to put some of my more creative material.
Did I mention it’s not going to have a technical leaning?? …..
Set in the not-so-distant-future, this poem describes an event
that took place during companies engaged in open urban warfare. The
primary mode of infiltration was through a wingless, vector-thrust vehicle
called a Doragar. Basically, an armoured troup carrier of a dozen guys that can
fly.
Kai Sang Delta
Down the corridor of death,
Our Doragars flew.
While all around, and in front of us,
Gods wrath blew.
Through the rain of mans steel,
Our aircraft did glide.
Piloted by genius's,
While around us our mates died.
The continuous rhythm,
Bouncing all around.
We dipped, and rolled, and vectored,
Hurtling along above the ground.
We smashed into the building,
With broken glass and twisted steel.
We leapt out with weapons ready,
To a scene that was surreal.
Which ever way we went,
Death was looking for us there.
Our enemies were all around,
Even lurking in the air.
We fought to our objective,
And blew the thing sky high.
Then turned and tabbed it back again,
While more of our team died.
At the landing zone,
Our ship was a burning wreck.
And then a new wave hit us,
And a few more hit the deck.
We were getting slotted,
There was tracer all around.
The only option left to us,
Was to abseil to the ground.
Some boys laid down some cover,
And we set our drop lines fast.
I was the first to leap out over,
But on the ground I was the last.
December 6, 1994
I stand in the street, with my hand on my gun.
I look to the east, to the rising sun.
As the rays pass the trees, to the ground at my feet.
I look to my foe, and with a nod our eyes meet.
I move my coat, and let out my held breath,
With a prayer to the dead, I wish 'a quick death.
As the sweat from my brow, trickles into my face,
It meets with a tear, 'cause we're the last of our race.
We draw on our guns, as the dark turns to light.
With thunder and lead, there's the quick of the fight.
In a second it's over, his life ebbs away.
When we meet with the fiddler, we all have to pay.
I stand in the street, with my hand on my gun.
I look to the east, and feel the heat of the sun.
As the rays fill the streets, there's no laughter or cheer.
'Cause I stand in a ghost town, and there's no one else here.
15:51CST, October 8th, 1995
Several hundred years ago, in 1996, I used to hang out in IRC. Back in those
days i went by the handle Immortal.
Immortal’s Ballad
They sit around the fire, and the dead begin to sing.
A tale about Immortal and the darkness that he brings.
The song is full of horror, 'bout how hero's cried in woe,
And children ran off screaming, 'cause death followed where he'd go.
The graveyards were all empty, 'cause the dead had heard his call,
Cities were forsaken; laying heavy with death's pall.
Then one day rose a warrior, a Maiden from the west,
And despite a fearsome battle this girl he couldn't best.
She stood atop his body, with a smile upon her face.
Her name was lost in silence, with his blood upon her mace.
She knelt down to Immortal, and whispered in his ear,
Then she turned and left him beaten; upon his cheek a single tear.
Immortal struggled to his feet, and set off to the west,
Vowing to seek the maiden, and set his heart to rest.
So they sit around the fire, and the dead begin to sing,
About Immortal and the Maiden, and his endless wandering.
01:15WST, February 22, 1996
When the darkness obscures my mind,
And the demons of Night come to play.
When the thunder and lightning's about,
Who'll lead me, and show me the way?
When animosity's free, and takes it's own form,
Of Nightmares, and Ghouls, and Undead.
Too afraid to look over my shoulder,
Have to watch where I step up ahead.
When decency turns it's own back,
And the devil in me has free reign.
What path leads back from insanity's grip?
Should the answers present themselves plain?
When no line marks the path of the righteous,
And the crowd's are all ugly and vain.
The thing that shows who we are,
Are the scars that we bare from our pain.
I'm not very sure where I'm going,
The view is obscured up ahead.
I'm not even sure where I came from,
Just the soul from a body twice dead.
20:45WST, April 16, 1996
What if, on the road of life,
Fate has no part to play?
And wandering through a realm of choice,
We're left to find our own way.
What if, despite the faith of billions,
Religion's out of view?
And when the shadow finally comes,
The only person there is you.
What if, there is no right or wrong,
What side would justice take?
And would our morals tell us,
What decisions we should make?
What if, the girl I'm searching for,
Is just a myth as well?
Then searching for her's pointless.
Can anybody tell?
What if, when our time has come,
That dead is really dead?
Will I look back on my life and see,
Choices I should have made instead?
16:30CST July 8, 1998