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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 17:27:29 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 4790
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Maynard 26R
[time] => 2002-10-08 21:45:00
[hometext] => Words from the old site (15th April 02)
[bodytext] => Okay, okay, then we give up, if you stop digging and making that noise then we will tell you, though we must warn you, once you know, you will no longer be safe, the mind bats will come after us first and then you and then whoever else finds out, Warned.
We’d tell you our name and about ourself, but we don’t know that information, therefore… they might. After all that knocking they only wanted to look around, they say one of the lights is dim, but this we doubt. They do things like this all the time, trying to come in; perhaps the mind bats have control over them also. We didn't want to answer the door, but they had been knocking for 3 days and about 4 and a half hours and our ears were beginning to hurt. We told them not to worry about the lights; we don't even turn them on anyway. If we did they would see us. We noticed some particles of dust floating around near where they came though the hinged gate, could they have left a tiny gap? It didn’t matter anyhow as which one of us could fit though a tiny gap? But we knew someone who may be able to. When they turned around we silently let free the marmarcett from its cage, we figured it would sneak away though the tiny gap and go for help, who can help? But alas, when we released the marmarcett it made no attempt to get to the tiny gap, instead it ran in circles until it became dizzy and fell over, shame. So we wait, apart from the noise it’s quiet, we don’t even notice the chopping sound anymore. Many times we have pondered a daring escape, once we came up with a plan that had a possibility of success; there is a stream of light high, high above our shins, this gave us hope of the outside. As this light was a long way up, it became obvious over time that we would have to climb up to the light, as the light was not coming to us, no help. There was a rope ladder suspended from the roof, but we knew that this was a trick, this was when we came up with the thought that we could make a mountain of sugar and climb it to reach the light, but we have no sugar. Halt. If you can’t beat them, submit. Safety in numbers, more than one, we have developed the ability to split into 4 when threatened. White ants come in under the hinged gate, they feel safe here, hunters want to kill them for their tusks, Ivory Insolence. Chopping sound. I wrote a poem: Scratching at the path, before the darkness comes. We wish to float our mind away, we twist, we burn, we run. Brain matter, vice and parabol, Blankness at its finest. Someone stop the rolling knock, help us become mindless. To feel the pain is not enough, embrace with dire fate. More thoughts come, but we just hide, we can’t retaliate. Keep the spears far from our head, wrap wet towels around. Acid, dark, benevolence, walls come crashing down. But no one said you could read it. Chopping sound. Chopping sound Many times we’ve thought of laughing at the bowl of fruit, but it’s not even there. We laughed anyway. Once it was special. A group of white ants came under the hinged gate, but this time they brought with them a traveller. A cricket. The cricket claimed his name was Barry, That’s the Barry that starts with the letter B. Barry was unflinching and confident, with many stories to tell. He told us this one of his time where he lived in a small store in a coastal town, he taunted the staff until he got bored, and then moved on. Now he’s moved on from us, but he said He would come back. And come back with many shoes. I believe him. It was good then, but when was then? We don’t even know when when is or was anymore. Lost time. Right here. Below. Chopping sound. We heard it and tilted our heads left simultaneously as if we were one, perhaps we were. The chopping sound crashed through the wall in a fall of splintering fake bricks like it was really happening. When we saw the splintered fake bricks on the ground through the haze of millions of tiny mortar particles competing for unnoticed glory, we realised that it was really happening. A tall thin squidgen said to us, Rush demon rush, and apparently we could leave. But no, we weren’t ready to leave yet, or that was the theory. We had said we would wait for Barry even though he could be a while. I think it’s best we go our separate ways for now. Scatter. I’m sure we will cross paths again, but he says, right now, he has to go away. I’m a little saddened, but I know it’s best for the current currants. Of course I’ll miss him, as He will I, but what is really troubling me is I was once We, and now I am I. It’s all right though, I’m sure I’ll adapt, for now though… Peace. Fear. Solitary. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 185 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Damon_Maynard [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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