Sing, sing, sing these ten lords leaping

For anyone who's reading this (Sprout-Bean? Hot Sauce? Anyone else?), today we have a "treat".
And that treat is listening to me screech horribly into my microphone. Enjoy!
(Please ignore the sick-cat howling at the end of "I'm on Fire".)

Ana Ng (From my camp days)
I'm On Fire
My Hometown
Sequel (A sequel [as one might imagine, given the title] to the song "Taxi" [which can be found below].)
Taxi
We Are The Boys From Three Point (A staff song from camp.)

New Flames

I thought this one looked like the ghosts of dead clock faces. In a calculated murder of minutes, I point to the clock, so we smash it.

This one is a star, dying. The center is the explosion; outside is the stardust, pulled by invisible forces.

Snowflakes.

'

An abstract bouquet of roses.

I like the way the central ribbon starts out bright, but at the end turns into dust. Like life... For the crown of our life as it closes is darkness, the fruit thereof dust.

This one's funny. I imagined a bowl (the round shape at the bottom) floating in a space ship. And someone is trying to pour milk into it (the white cloud) for cereal, but it just... well, there's no gravity, so it doesn't work.

This one looks like a half-wreath, or a flower-crown. A tiara for a hippy queen?

This one makes me think of two angels dancing. I'm not sure why.

(Made using Apophysis and messing around a bit. Enjoy!)

Rondeau for a Ronin

Wave man! You choose not to die
Instead you live a life, a lie
Each dishonorable breath
You could have chosen death
Each night (without Bushido) you cry

Into heaven could you fly
If only you were brave enough to die
Instead you chose a drunken lethe
Wave man!

Your sword (once with meaning) now you ply
But your end, your end is nigh
They follow with their every breath
Men of honor, they seek your death
Every man must someday die
Wave man!

Sestina for a Samurai

Learn well the secrets of honor - Know well Bushido
Which calls you to follow unto death your Daimyo
Embody that honor in your Wakizashi
And your soul keep in your Katana
Earn well and honest your Koku
And you should never fear need of Seppeku

Too many of your brothers have fallen to Seppeku
But so it is for those who keep Bushido
Would you rather they fall to banditry for their Koku?
They choose honor in death over life without a Daimyo
To their sons go their Katana
And alone they remain with their Wakizashi

Sleep with your Wakizashi
An enemy at the gates; Seppeku
You've not time to draw your Katana
Would you be captured and still call to Bushido?
Your death will glorify your Daimyo
Your legend will be worth a hundred hundred Koku

When you've earned many Koku
Will you keep only your Wakizashi?
Become, yourself, a Daimyo
Old age itself a form of Seppeku?
You cannot retire from Bushido
Even if you give up the Katana

Keep sharp your Katana
A well-kept blade is worth more than all the Koku
It means you keep Bushido
So mind also your Wakizashi
Let it be clean if you need to call on it for Seppeku
A sharp blade well-serves any Daimyo

Would you rather be a farmer or a Daimyo?
Give up the Katana
And have no fear of Seppeku?
Scrape and beg for a single Koku?
Never to die on the edge of a Wakizashi
Oh, to live free of Bushido!

Keep well the tenets of Bushido, and serve well your Daimyo
Honor and cherish your Wakizashi; Polish and sharpen your Katana
You'll find yourself with many Koku, and need never contemplate Seppeku

Greed

Here, now (another night)
Empty, alone
Crying

I want (I'm so greedy)
People, friends
Who

Want (truly do)
To talk
To me

To spend (time)
With me
Laugh

Be (free)
Relaxed, at home
Just be

I want (real)
Friends
Yes

Ones I can (see,
touch, hear)
Not ghosts

And I (feel?)
Am greedy
Do I?

Deserve (anything?)
What I dream of?
Every night?


Another sleepless night - I am alone, underappreciated, trapped. I want to get out. Someone save me please. Take me out of here. I just want to be with other people who want to be with me.

Is that to much to ask? Does it really make me greedy?

The Road

"Let me tell you the story in the form of a dream,
I don't know why I have to tell it and don't know what it means,"

The boy looked out over the masses of people - divided, but prisoners all the same. His father's cane lay beside him as he caught his breath. "Is this", he said, "the only way... Unceasing toil and suffering? No... This will change. IT MUST CHANGE!".

(Fifteen Years Pass)

The man looks about him. The workers (prisoners still) in their masks, their beautiful unique faces hidden for the sake of life. He sees their pain and suffering, looks in the sky and sees his handiwork. He hears sirens in the distance and begins to weep quietly to himself, covering his face with his hand. Nobody hears him as he says, "This isn't what I wanted... I just... just wanted to make things better."

(Opening quote edited from Fort Minor's "Kenji". Title refers, of course, to the phrase "The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions". The pictures are from radicalgraphics.org.)

East and West - White Flag

To the east
And to the west

They light their fires
To burn my soul

I come to them
With gifts

Appeasement
Peace, happiness, joy

They return my embrace
With molten shots, aimed dead-on

Still, I return
With hope sprining eternal

Peace is possible
This is my white flag

I LOVE THEM BOTH, AND ALWAYS WILL