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The Caged Lion of Wonderland/Lost, Lonely ShadowI followed the rabbit through the hole in the ground.
I lost myself there, in the place that I found.
How silly it is, to go looking for what is gone, only to loose what is there!
And I'm left here to wonder, "why did I follow that hare?"
I dined with the hatter, as mad as could be,
Driven to the ends and beyond what the mind can see.
But a truth he did tell, directed at me:
"The you that you are is not the self that will be."
His message imparted,
I bid him farewell and departed.
But the face of a cat stopped me before the night fell.
A cheshire smile of one who knows all, but might never tell.
In dusklight we stood, not saying a word, nor making a sound.
And as day turned to night, he faded away into the background.
One thing he did say,
As he faded away:
"My grin may be wide, but yours will be doubled,
Once you remove your mask of the troubled."
I knew what he meant, but I pushed it away,
The thought was all that kept the light at bay.
And as I recalled the light,
Gazing at the moon
The Wind is Blowing/ The Lion's WakeDream a dream of simple lies,
And weave a web of sly deceit.
Play your part, create your ties,
And pretend you can't be beat.
For in the end, your feeble flame,
Will be oust'd by the roaring wind.
Because the day will come the same,
When you shall pay for all you've sin'd.
Do what you will to best prepare,
Because the waking beast has started.
You can't deny, nor lie, that you're aware:
That you have stirred the Lion-hearted.
And so I stalk and hunt my prey,
I will tear him, like a wind-borne flurry.
The trickster Fox, both old and grey,
Prepare yourself for the Lion's fury!
Project "Ad Infinitum"An individual who shall remain anonymous recently asked me:
"What brought about the existence of the clones who are featured throughout your series?"
Read on, to learn the origins of the DUSC Replicas!
Our tale begins in another plane of existence entirely; in a world called Demoa. In its long history, Demoa has never been at rest from the savage nature of war. Countries rose and fell, sometimes in less than a decade, and the political systems were always in a state of upheaval. Of the multitudinous struggles, one group of people began to distinguish themselves from the rest: "Infusers."
With the ability to command the very elements of nature itself, these warriors quickly became the mainstay of military force. A country with more infusers to back its ranks could turn the tides of war in their favor, no matter the number of their enemy. But there was a problem: infusion was not a common occurrence, and those who knew its secrets often died before they could ever pass on their knowledge
What's InfusionA term I've been throwing around a lot is infusion. But what is it, exactly?
Infusion is the manifestation of one's mental psyche. Similar to chi, or auras, our mental psyche is an ever-present thing that leaves us only in death. Everything that lives is possessed of it. "Mental psyche" is our state-of-mind; our willpower and resolve, if you will. And just as chi and auras may be harnessed by those select few who are sensitive to it, so may one's mental psyche be employed. Among the many different planes of existence that span throughout space, infusion is possible in only a select few, making infusers (those able to harness their mental psyche) all the more rare.
When manifest, one's mental psyche takes on a form based upon an individual's "elemental bond." An elemental bond, as its name suggests, is a particular affinity an individual has for one of the many elements of nature. Someone who likes water, for instance, would probably have an elemental bond with water. This is not always
Secrets Revealed: Project DuskGENESIS ORGANIZATION:
Organization devoted to the scientific study of genetic copies and their uses. Contains many different sub-groups each dealing with different aspects of cloning, or other genetics-related material.
The DUSK CLONING GROUP:
A military division of the Genesis Org. dealing with the mass production of clones, their interactions within groups of "pure-breds" (normal people) and their aplications as potential combat operatives. Also, recently developed methods for producing half-bred semiclones, as well as made new advances on the theory of "gene splicing."
A small-scale cloning project that is being carried out by the Washington branch of the Dusk Group. DNA samples of three individuals were taken and cloned to create five clones of each individual and mark differences between behavior, as well as develop new methods of gene research.
Abnormality Factor XI:
One of the DNA samples used for the production of five clones was submitted by an individual who's a
"TH1RTE3N": Revised 1-4"One story. Three lives. This is
CH.1: Perspective Overview:
Jay heard it, the sound of rain pounding against the window. He turned his head away from his work and looked out of the window. He could see the gray of the sky, looking ominously dark; the clouds were thick; not a single ray of light penetrated them. He got up from his workbench and walked closer to the windowhoping to see a flooded stairway. Sure enough, the ground outside near the steps was soaked and about an inch of water flowing off of them. Its a good day, he said to himself, smirking.
Weekends when it rained were always the best for Jay. April rain during a weekend meant it was time for the annual camping trip. The same each year, after the first storm of April it was time to go camping. It was a curious ritual, but the beauty of a gray sky always enhanced the trip, that is why it had to be raining. Colors seemed more vivid, grass was like a comfortable pillow for the fee
...Tension, is building between
our bones; cracking
these boundaries that bind
[lets not get lost in the moment
Our Wayward Starsguide the specimen
through the maze
and through the rain
rinsing our clothes
like they're still on fire
and somewhere, well
they probably are
and you pray
like tomorrow itself
is the fuel
that empties our dark places
like what lives there
goes away at dawn
but it doesn't
and i pray
like tonight itself
is the dark
that fuels our light
like what lives in each
feeds the ugly other
and it might
but, we're all prey
and the dream itself
is the place where
our chemical flames
hit the surface
flailing as we sink
in panicked clothes
from a distance
we must look like
lost, accepting the
drowning slow burn
of our descent
we look like what we are
I bet she smells of laurel and pineI've made a career of
standing on the back porch -
calling your name into
the wide-open ears of
You step from the house
to beckon me inside
but I swear a piece of you
is missing; escaped
into wilder arms years ago.
Asabikeshiinh (Filter)Asabikeshiinh (Filter)
I wear the dream snare like a chain.
The willow hoop filled with spider thread,
sway loose as the aves feathers
and the spun yarn traps the fallen.
I tread subconsciousness
like salmon swim
in the falls of Williamette.
And watch the net
take hold of chimera,
a phantasm of phenomena
as I greet the cousin of death
with a firm shake of the hand
and respectful grin.
But wisps of spirits tempestuous
reverberate throughout the lace,
as the new day slowly begins to take shape.
Light returns to Earth as my eyes open.
Conceptions' theories last so long
before absoluteness' presence grabs hold.
I'd rather immerse myself in abstractions.
Big BadI wanted to conquer the whole world, but
all I got was a dark room
and a fistful of dimes.
I remember being sixteen, an
American Spirit burning near my lips,
head out the passenger window
as we sped on like triumph...
You can laugh at the stars
for being so far
away, and it won't cost you
You can blow ash on the grass
and burn holes in the sole
of your shoes,
and it won't cost you
anything but time.
It was those nights
with the cigarettes
and the stars, there was
no promise in it,
no hope either. A big joke
we can all point at, we can
tilt the bottle and laugh.
The yellow half moon
half smiled with us.
The sun those nights
held its head with us.
Life without promise,
one big bad joke
and we were
the god damn punchline.
The Denial Of Truth?Why they
Don't listen to you,
Until it's too late?
Don't believe in you,
Until it's too late?
Start to listen
When it's too late?
Start to believe
When it's too late?
Couldn't listen to you,
When they should have?
Couldn't believe in you,
When they should have?
and the world just makes sensethis unexplained
interest in a woman
seen through the gap
between plane seats,
oily skin, greasy
raven black hair,
mayo breath &
pastry crumbs under her fingernails;
she allows her (likely) husband
to spoon(fork-)feed her,
whispers kisses into his ear
free from the shears,
free from form.
falling in love with
a stranger on the plane
is the easiest thing
falling out of love with your companion
whose repeated motions
suddenly become a chore
she's a hunched over sparrow
begging to be caressed;
this transient love for humanity
is it all it takes
Broken Glass/The Void Between HeartsWe are possessed of the tools which might guarantee we are never alone, yet we all lament in silence. Our solitude comes when we are at our weakest, while our friends embrace us only when we are at our best. We are all fragile and afraid of being broken like some small porcelain doll. And so we lock ourselves behind glass, that none might ever lay a finger on that most precious possession so central to our lives. It is safe, without pain, but also filled with suffering, because that glass separates us from those we care most for. It is only an act, that we falsely claim to be happy, because behind that glass, there is nothing. Only ourselves and the inevitable darkness and fear that reside in the heart of a hermit. Loneliness is not mitigated with age, it is amplified, so that one day it may drive us mad. And in our frenzied state, we shatter the glass cage we meticulously built around ourselves and run headlong into the world, driven by fear, madness, desire, and the all-powerful real
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