k-times-two - Professional, General Artist

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Literature

Of Bouncehouses and Snipes - HL RP Log

Puck: It had, again, been a long day mostly of cleaning up junk out of the barn. (Who knew the last owners had such a penchant for collecting whatzits!) After working on one pile for most of the day, Puck had mostly relegated its contents to scrap metal and tinderwood... but forming the base of that tower of long-forgotten doodads was a very large, fabric bag of some sort. It had rusty wheels, and once Puck managed to make it budge, it squealed terribly under its own weight and inertia. After lots of huffing, puffing, and coughing (there was enough dust to make dust angels in!), the Rotom finally managed to pull the gargantuan pile out en...

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Of Bouncehouses and Snipes - HL RP Log by k-times-two, literature

Literature

Of Bouncehouses and Snipes - HL RP Log

A weary world by k-times-two, literature

Literature

A weary world

Let the skin be wrested from my hands Like gloves of cells and callouses. I know not how my heart can take Their doing any longer. The tendons underneath must be Tired, worn and torn from use. I know not how my mind can use Their function anymore. Bones, once strong, shall soon become Brittle, breaking pools of pain. I know not how my body takes Their silent purpose now. Find release in freedom now, For we will see the light. Yet I know not how I could cease This dreadful thing called life.

Wings by k-times-two, literature

Literature

Wings

An angel isn't beautiful-- No pair of wings, No pretty face; An angel is the dying hope Of a dying race. They say the world's not wonderful-- Too many things, Too little love; Then an angel passes by, As peaceful as a dove.And moments pass, each meaningful-- A sparrow sings, But hark! A cellphone rings. It flits to another place.Maybe sometime else, you'll find More than passing grace.

Ascension by k-times-two, literature

Literature

Ascension

This grand and rocky peak above the clouds, Who lies under the spheres of night and day, Who is gazed upon by the sun and moon, Mountains and valleys apart from the sea; How different you are from the ocean's shore! From here, above the mountaintop, the day Is bright and airy; whose whispering winds Bear up bated breath of sprites and spiders As they spin their strands of silver and dew, Down away from the boulders golden who Lay patient, strong, and perfect, above the Basest world of mutation and discord.In youth I danced beside amorphous seas, Where toes were nipped at the slightest advance By cold unyielding and waters shallow. Bluntly ...