this piece I've been wokrin on here at work for the past 2 hour's, i hope you all enjoy, and please keep bumped or "upped" i believe this piece has great potential to be in the archives on this site if enough people think so.


"we've come to this pond every sunday for 24 years, brother. each day the admiral of the sun goes down with his ship... and the horizon sleeps in the trenches..."

" yes, brother... only to awake the next dawn with the grimace of war in his eyes... and to gather the blood of yesterday, to shed light on the path that will lead the rest into death..."

"does death scare u brother?"

"no... to fear death is to fear that which does not exist..."

"what do u mean?

"death does not exist in life.... so to fear it would be like fearing that which is not real.... when death becomes a reality, u won't be alive to realize it.... thus, to fear death would be both futile, and a sign of weakness...."

"ha! indeed... then i assure u that every man in his right mind may call himself a weak man, brother!"

"perhaps... but we are not men... we are Gods... i will tame death.... and set my own terms... and death will heed my commands.....there's no room for weakness in the land of the rising sun."


he rides wings on divine winds. defiant king of the tide's fringe.
osirus drinks and sobriety dawns a blurred coat... the herds float;
a cure for obscure boats observed in pure smoke. allure ghosts.
heartless... the column marches. let them poison the tip of solemn archers,
carried by the breath of fallen martyrs... solace hearkens.
all in darkness; masses flee as the savage threatens,
vast depression... damaged brethrens... man as weapon.
at last the reverence... he sits, face in palms. planning extremities.
deeming it outlandish to ever be taken captive at the hands of his enemies.
commanding the seven seas. fearless birds of prey attempting danger.
lamenting strangers. demented saviour. a final shot in the empty chamber.
the descent is wayward... never abandon ship; but wives and daughters,
are left to despise the waters; widowed by those who were blind with honour.
questions of 'why?' are pondered... the sky is sombre with fleet pilots,
who wreak violence... faces smirking, embracing death in complete silence.
trying to defeat giants... but they all know when their hour is.
as power shifts towards the bow of ships; hearts foreign to cowardice.
"this is for our kids"... "nation first"... "no one is ever gonna stop me!"
together the bombs are dropping... forever kamikaze.//

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LowerTown's Finest