Lord Of Metal

KRISTA! I haven't really written anything recently (except for Her Grave Exhaled a Winter Storm; I've had a dry spell of sorts), but I'll try to dig up an old story or poem for you to read to take your mind off of this time in your life. I'm going to respond to your email once I get enough time to give the response the attention it deserves. OH! Here's something. It's a revised version of A Yard Lit by a Fall. I'm still revising the linebreaks, but I think I have the concept where I want it now. Here you go!

A Yard Lit by a Fall

A back yard, comforted serenity
For a child abandoned
Resting near the road, a pink bicycle
Its wheels worn from flying up and down
A cracked sidewalk and its body scratched
From skidding tumbles which soon after, a loving giant
Came running and scooped it back up

Lying in the center of the yard
A tattered rag doll
With stuffing seeping out of its head
Caused by an insignificant fall from a tree’s peak
The same loving giant who scooped up the bicycle
Remedied its head with a needle and some thread
And on again it went
Soaring into the air

Beside the doll
Drawings and scribbles
Animals and wonders of another world
Displayed by clouds to wide-open eyes
One drawing stands out
Not of imagination, but of affection
Which when seen by the loving giant
Brought a tender smile to his face as a tear trickled down his cheek

To the right of the road
A deep black shadow relaxes on swaying grass
Above a petite giggling girl
Her eyebrows bouncing up and down
Overjoyed by the magnificent ride her swing provides
She continues going higher, reaching for the gleaming sun
She makes it to the uppermost point, as tall as a tree
And she lets go…

In the air, her body twirls
She dances and spins
A little awkward
Like a ballerina in her first show
And the sun’s light reflects off of her bright green eyes
As she finishes her play, the finale
The grass applauds her act, a standing ovation
And she takes a bow…

She hit the ground with a thud
Her neck snapped, head cracked
And blood poured out, forming a stream to the road
Still locked onto her face was a smile, and her arms still reaching for the sun
A leaf off a tree
Pranced over and crumbled on her chest
Here the giant’s only love
Lies sleeping in his arms
 
dead6skin6mask6 said:
*sniff* i dont get messages from Hemi anymore

OLA! I've got to get a copy of your cd when it's pressed. Will you sign it for me? hope you're well, and taking awesome care of yourself. :)
 
Ah, thank you LOM! Much appreciated.

I picked these lines out real quick, as very, very nice.




One drawing stands out
Not of imagination, but of affection
A back yard, comforted serenity
A deep black shadow relaxes on swaying grass
Still locked onto her face was a smile, and her arms still reaching for the sun
A leaf off a tree, Lies sleeping in his arms


Very nice, hope you're keeping the original.

:)

:)
 
metalskater7 said:
:err: cool, but i saw that one months ago
prob your best one

he's done one that is simply magnificant. Maybe as he works on it, he'll show it later. It's the one that he mentions in his first post.

I'm on a mac, and it display images really weird, or not at all. But, metal skater, your thrusting, horny, stormtrooper of death is thrusting at warp speed on this computer! It's fucking hilarious...going about 70 mph.
 
:D Hello K and your lovely self. I guess I'm just going to be going through a revising stage right now since my creativity level is a little low. I have two more that I'm editing, and I'll post them here once I'm finished. But until then, here is the one I mentioned earlier for those who have not read it:

Her Grave Exhaled a Winter Storm

She said she was going to marry him. “His touch is like frostbite from snowflakes evacuating a purple, icicled sun.” He didn’t hate her; he just didn’t love her, and it was echoed in every feigned embrace. But she found pleasure in winter.

I loved her. “You’re leaves raked onto me to be lit.” I could see myself with her, naked on a bed of pine needles, pure, the wind evaporating our sweat. For a lifetime, I would hold fast to her waist, but she refused to let the snow melt.

The glow of her ring always blinded my eyes to tears. He placed it on her finger simply to have her. “She’s the only window clinching frost.” On days of valor, I dove into the ring’s diamond and walked its hallways, shimmering rays that stabbed my feet. Once, a ray broke through my skin, and a stream of blood stretched to the end of the hallway. I collapsed from the source of her joy.

In October, she came crying. He heard about me and tried to take her; I held her waist. In a yard of jack-o-lanterns and candy wrappers, we kissed. I saw her gaze focused on a flickering light. “Fireflies are the only insects that care enough to ablaze my palms.” She wasn’t wearing her ring.

I held her until the muscles in my arms tore. I held her until December. She couldn’t stay any longer; her scars were beginning to heal. During a lapse of insomnia, I awoke to her squeezing her arm, preventing a scar from leaping onto me. She rushed outside to the snow and buried it, and her body blackened with euphoria.

And she married him. I was the only one to attend her wedding. I was the only one to weep.

After dreaming a year away, I brought her a jar of fireflies. Her palms froze their fire.