In the depths of silence, a Longing Burns, To Embrace the void, where Anger Churns, Where shadows Dance, and echoes Fade, Alone with myself, In A Rage Unswayed. In this realm of emptiness, I find release, No masks to wear, no pretense, no peace, Just the raw essence of fury untamed, A solitary soul, with anger inflamed. No judgment here, no prying eyes, No need to hide the seething cries, In the void, I'm free to just be, To vent, to roar, to set myself free. No need to conform to the world's design, In the silence, rage and truth align, To unleash the depths of my soul's disdain, To find the strength to embrace the pain. I long for the void, where time suspends, No distractions, no ties, no amends, In the stillness, my heart finds its song, A symphony of solitude, angry and strong. To wander unbound through vast cosmic dust, In the solitude, I learn to trust, To face myself, my wrath, my tears, To embrace the rage without any fears. No one around to judge or compare, In the void, I'm free from the world's cold stare, I'll seek solace there, where stars shine bright, And unleash the fury, both day and night. For in the void, I find my truest me, Unburdened, unbound, unfettered, and free, A dance of rage, a solitary thrust, In the boundless void, I find my trust.
Month: July 2023
Tranquil Transition
Created: 23/7/23 @ 17:24
As a man, I cherish moments calm,
A respite from the bustling race, When
entering a place, a healing balm,
To ease the mind, find inner space.
Confronted conversations, swift and bold,
They weigh upon my waking state, To be
informed of tasks I'm told,
Can fuel the fires of inner debate.
Criticism's sting, a bitter blow,
Especially when the day's begun,
Yet in the void, I find a flow,
A chance to breathe, to be undone.
Returning home from toil and strain,
I seek the solace of garage stairs, In the "void," a
realm without refrain,
A sanctuary from worldly cares.
Minutes spent in tranquil though,
A bridge between worlds, a sacred rite,
From work's domain to peace I'm brought,
As the sun surrenders to the night.
In this transition, I find release,
The gentle pause before I enter, From noise
to calm, my mind's at peace, The "void" a
buffer, a mental center.
Let this cherished ritual endure,
A sacred space to call my own,
A moment's grace to feel secure,
Before life's currents are full-blown.
Mirrored Deception
23/7/25
In the realm of manipulation's artful guise, Resides a tactic where deceit does arise. The Mirror Effect, a cunning masquerade, A manipulator's game so skillfully played. They study you closely, observe with keen eye, To mimic your manner, to imitate your why. Reflections they become, your traits they acquire, Crafting a mirrored image, stoking desire. With practiced precision, they mirror your grace, Adapting their gestures, your essence they embrace. Their words echo yours, your beliefs they align, Creating an illusion, a connection so fine. But behind the facade, there lies a disguise, A web of deceit, spun with calculated lies. They seek to control, to mold your will, Using your own reflection, their purpose to fulfill. Beware the mirrored tricks, the artful deceit, For beneath their reflection, motives may retreat. Hold on to your truth, your individuality, Don't let their mirrored web ensnare your reality. In the face of the mirror, stay vigilant and strong, Know your own worth, where you truly belong. Break free from their grasp, reclaim your own voice, And shatter the illusion, make your own choice. For the Mirror Effect may try to misguide, But authenticity and self-awareness will be your guide. Stay true to yourself, let your light shine bright, And escape the clutches of their mirrored night.
Deceptive Embrace: Unmasking Love Bombing
23/7/20
In a realm of deceit, where shadows dance, There lies a tactic, a cruel romance. Love bombing, it's called, a manipulative art, A toxic allure, a deceitful sweetheart. With honeyed words and gestures grand, They sweep you up in their cunning plan. Like a whirlwind of affection, they draw you near, But beware, my friend, for danger lurks here. They shower you with praise, a captivating spell, Their affection overwhelms, like a sweet-scented swell. They whisper promises, make you feel adored, But beneath the surface, a trap is carefully stored. Love bombing, a facade, a twisted embrace, Designed to bind you in a tight, suffocating space. Their affections, like petals, wilt and fade, Leaving you broken, vulnerable, betrayed. Their love is a weapon, a manipulative game, To control your thoughts, your actions, your name. They prey on your vulnerabilities, exploit your desire, Leaving you lost, consumed by the fire. But listen, dear heart, do not be swayed, For love should be gentle, not a game to be played. Recognize the signs, the false promises they bring, And break free from the chains of their insidious string Hold onto your worth, your strength, and your voice, Don't let their love bombing drown out your choice. In the face of their tactics, stand tall and strong, For true love is patient, it would never steer you wrong. So, shield your heart, be cautious, be wise, Don't let love bombing cloud your clear skies. Find love that's authentic, built on trust and respect, And let manipulative tactics be forever in retrospect.
Isopraxism
23/7/16
In a realm where knowledge weaves its threads, Instructor Lumen to Vunar Lexos gently treads, Teaching the art of manipulation's finesse, A subtle dance where truth may acquiesce. A whisper shared, a secret to unveil, To make others divulge, their words prevail, With isopraxism's cunning guise, Inquirer's guise, truth shall arise. "If you want to know secrets concealed, Listen closely, let your senses yield, Repeat their words with inquisitive grace, Inquire anew, in this art embrace." For in the echo of a sentence rephrased, Like a question's allure, subtly raised, The listener unknowingly reveals, Information concealed, like secrets unsealed. Through linguistic dance, minds intertwine, As Lumen's wisdom unravels the design, Isopraxism, the unspoken key, Unveils the truth, sets the deceiver free. So let us learn, in this intriguing sphere, To manipulate gently, without undue fear, For knowledge and power entwined in art, Can shape a destiny, in every heart.
Unveiling Worth: The Honest Emissary’s Truth
23/7/13
In the depths of doubt, I hear you now, The Honest Emissary, wisdom's vow. Why do you falter, human soul? Believing you're not good enough. a toll? Such words deceive, a cunning snare, Creating standards that bring despair. Unveil the truth, let it be known, There is no measure where you're shown Less than the brilliance you possess, A treasure hidden, yet to impress. Banish comparisons that poison your mind, Life's not a contest, nor a race to find. Instead, turn inward, gaze within, Discover your essence, let it begin. Embrace your strengths, your unique art, Unveil the beauty within your heart. For in this journey, you'll truly see, You're enough, just as you should be. Release the shackles that bind you tight, Embrace self-love, bathe in its light. with every step, let doubts unwind, And it your spirit, true worth you'll find. No longer captive to judgements unfair, Embrace your essence, beyond compare.
The Wicked Weave: A Coven’s Cunning
23/7/8
In shadows' cloak, where secrets dwell, Whispers weave their intricate spell. A guiding hand with cunning art, To bend the will, to play its part. Behold the art of Odessa Fade, A mastermind in masquerade, She wields her power, sly and keen, With choices twain, a wicked scheme. "If you desire control," she said, "Two choices, stark, shall lie ahead. One, a path that's filled with fear, The other, draped in allure, so clear." The first, a specter, daunting, grim, A choice that's fraught with terror's whim. A haunting choice, where shadows loom, A path that leads to certain doom. The second choice, a sweet charade, A tempting offer, cunningly made. A silver platter, seemingly blessed, The path of comfort, the very best. For many souls, enticed and swayed, By options deftly Odessa laid, They choose the mask of lesser pain, To quell their doubts, their thoughts restrain. In haste, they rush, their minds confined, Seeking solace, the easy find. A feeble shield, their doubts to quell, Under Odessa's beguiling spell. So heed this caution, gentle heart, When faced with choices, set apart, Beware the charms, the false embrace, And see beyond her treacherous face. For in the realms where freedom gleams, We must unveil these wicked schemes. To think, to ponder, to break the mold, And forge our paths, both brave and bold.
Art vs Expectations
In a world where dreams were cast aside, My artistic fire began to hide. The people around me, their doubts grew strong, "Study harder, child, don't you want to belong?" Ambitions suppressed, I followed their lead, Achieving straight A's, fulfilling their creed. But empty was my heart, devoid of delight, For I craved the canvas, the colors so bright. High school arrived, my facade crumbled fast, Grades slipped away, like grains in an hourglass. Yet within the chaos, a spark reappeared, 1 picked up my pencil, my passion revered. Years lost, creativity held in chains, But I embraced art, despite the pains. And amidst the struggle, a glimmer of hope, For my mother's support, like a lifeline, she'd rope. Yet weary I grew, tired of pretense, Of family's false pride, their shallow defense. Demanding my work, their voices would persist, But their words felt hollow, a mocking twist. So now I break free, from their expectations, Seeking my path, defying frustrations. For art is my essence, my soul's sweet release, Not measured by praise or societal peace. I'll paint with resilience, my spirit aflame, With strokes of passion, I'II etch my own name. No longer bound by their doubtful embrace, I'll forge my own destiny, in colors I trace. For true fulfillment lies in following my heart, In art's vast canvas, I'll find my true art. No more seeking validation or lies to appease, I’ll paint my own masterpiece, my soul's masterpiece.
Warriors Echo
23/7/4
Version 1
In the depths of battle's fiery embrace, A voice awakens, relentless in peace. Whispering secrets, urging me to stand, To wield my weapon with unwavering hand. Inside my soul, it echoes with might, A call to arms, dispelling all fright. No matter the damage, my body may bear, I press forward, fueled by an eternal flare. The voice resounds, a steadfast guide, Through the darkest hours, it won't subside. Leaking blood, a small cost to endure, For victory's taste, so sweet and pure. Even when my functions begin to wane, The voice declares I shall rise again, A warrior's spirit, undying and strong, To fulfill my purpose, where I belong. For in this symphony of chaos and strife, I march ahead, embracing this life. The voice, my anthem, forever rings true, Inspiring valor, forging me anew. So heed this tale of the voice within, Embrace its fervor, let the battle begin. For warriors arise, unyielding, and brave, Till the final victory, their souls shall engrave. Version 2 In the depths of battle's hellish blaze, A voice emerges, harsh and bleak, Whispering curses, compelling me to stay, To brandish my weapon with despairing streak.
Within my soul, it howls with dread, A call to arms, sowing seeds of dread. No matter the torment, my body may face, I trudge onward, burdened by relentless pace. The voice resounds, an unwavering guide, Through the blackest hours, refusing to hide. Spilling blood, a sacrifice I endure, For victory's semblance, obscured and impure. Even as my essence begins to decay, The voice insists I shall rise, decayed and frayed, A warrior's ghost, unyielding and grim, To fulfill my purpose, where life grows dim. For in this discordant symphony of pain, I march ahead, embracing my own disdain. The voice, my requiem, ceaselessly screams, Injecting valor, tearing at my seams. So heed this chronicle of the voice inside, Embrace its torment, let the battle collide. For warriors emerge, unyielding, yet drenched, Till the final slaughter, their souls eternally quenched.
Shadow of Disdain 2: Bounty’s Shadow 2
The air was thick with tension as the entire town gathered to witness the clash of these formidable forces.
With a swift and calculated move, Telstra immobilized the Angel Assassins, keeping them in their place. The crowd watched in awe as Ishnol, one of the assassins, was propelled into a nearby building and rendered unconscious upon impact. The sight was truly breathtaking as the building crumbled under the forceful blow, sending dust and debris into the air.
Amidst the chaos, Tituba, another member of the Angel Assassins, suffered a grievous injury. Her arm was severed amid the fierce battle. Blood trickled from the wound as she staggered, pain etched across her face. The townspeople gasped, unable to tear their eyes away from the gruesome scene unfolding before them.
Unela, fueled by a mixture of fury and desperation, managed to break free from Telstra’s grasp. Her eyes darkened with rage and radiated an ominous red glow. The intricate tattoos adorning her body seemed to come to life, leaking black as they pulsated with malevolent energy. She lunged towards Demitri, intent on exacting revenge, but before she could reach him, Telstra intercepted her with a powerful tackle, slamming her forcefully to the ground.
In another part of the battleground, Meral, a swift and agile member of the Angel Assassins, attempted to rescue her captive comrade, Mariana. Bound tightly by ropes that restricted her abilities, Mariana was at the mercy of her captors. As Meral moved to free her, Demitri swiftly incapacitated her, leaving her sprawled unconscious on the ground.
The town of Dakelese watched in awe and trepidation as this clash between Demitri, Telstra, and the Angel Assassins continued to unfold. The streets reverberated with the sounds of scuffling, grunts of exertion, and the occasional gasp from the onlookers. The air crackled with electric energy, and the fate of the Angel Assassins hung precariously in the balance.
As the story unfolded, the people of Dakelese found themselves witnessing an extraordinary battle, one that would be recounted for generations to come. The clashes between these formidable adversaries were etched into the collective memory of the town, forever marking this day as a turning point in their history.
Amid the relentless chaos and the sea of crimson, Tituba, shattered by the loss of her severed arm, mustered the last remnants of her ancestral power. Her gaze hardened, reflecting the desolation and pain that gnawed at her spirit. With an unyielding determination fueled by her warrior’s heart, she harnessed the depths of her inner strength.
In the peaceful silence of despair, Tituba summoned her energy, pouring every ounce of her being into a desperate and potent spell. The air crackled with foreboding electricity, mirroring the fractured essence of the world around them. Her fingertips pulsed with a vibrant, ethereal light, casting eerie shadows upon the grim faces of the townspeople.
Demitri’s laughter echoed through the battlefield, a chilling sound that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it. “Oh, fuck. Well, isn’t that something?” he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and twisted delight. His eyes glimmered with a sinister spark as he assessed the unfolding events.
But his amusement was short-lived and disrupted by Telstra’s sudden disappearance. Startled, he scanned the surroundings in search of his missing accomplice, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. Before he could react, Tituba, fueled by a potent blend of determination and fury, seized Telstra, dragging her mercilessly across the ground.
Demitri’s gaze followed the chaotic scene, a combination of annoyance and begrudging admiration glinting in his eyes. He watched as Telstra was hurled into a nearby bell tower, its resounding toll punctuating the air. The unexpected disturbance elicited a wry smile from Demitri and a grim appreciation for the chaos that now engulfed the town.
Taking a deep breath, Demitri resigned himself to the task at hand. His attention returned to Mariana, his captive, a burden he carried with reluctant resolve. “Welp, come on, Bounty,” he muttered, his voice laden with a tinge of weariness. “We have to turn you in.”
His words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the dark reality that pervaded their lives. Duty and circumstance dictated his actions, shackling him to a path he had chosen but did not necessarily embrace. It was a somber acknowledgment of the choices he had made and the consequences that inevitably followed.
As Demitri bent down to lift Mariana, the weight of their predicament pressed upon him. It was then that Unela launched herself at him in a fiery whirlwind of vengeance. Demitri’s instincts kicked in, his movements fluid and calculated as he deftly dodged her assault.
With a swift uppercut, Demitri aimed to quell Unela’s rebellion, but her resilience defied his expectations. Her endurance and unwavering resolve spurred her to continue the fight. Blow after blow, they clashed, their bodies interwoven in a macabre dance of strength and willpower.
As Ishnol’s consciousness gradually returned, he blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His gaze fell upon Meral, who, despite her injuries, limped toward him with a determined look in her eyes. Relief flooded Ishnol’s features as he realized he was not alone.
Meral, her voice strained yet resolute, approached Ishnol with a noticeable limp. “Ishnol, can you still fight?” I need you to tap into Makial. I understand you’re strong, but your ancestral form will be required.” Before Ishnol could fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, he followed Meral’s gaze and saw her features transform before his eyes. The countenance of Meral dissolved, replaced by the resplendent visage of her ancestral form—Ephemera. Awe washed over Ishnol as he beheld the ancient embodiment of Meral’s lineage, the weight of her request becoming clearer.
As Ishnol and Meral charged forward in their ancestral forms, their bodies radiating with newfound power, the townspeople’s hope rekindled. Unela, locked in a fierce battle with Demitri, caught a glimpse of their approach and felt a surge of renewed determination. The odds seemed to shift in their favor.
However, as Ishnol embraced his ancestral form, a flood of memories overwhelmed him. Visions of his traumatic past seeped into his consciousness, vividly replaying the moment his house collapsed when he was eight years old. The weight of those memories, coupled with the immense power coursing through his veins, proved too much for him to bear.
Ishnol stumbled, his steps faltering, as flashes of destruction and chaos consumed his mind. The collision of past and present tore at his sanity, weakening his resolve. His body trembled, and he fell to his knees, unable to withstand the onslaught of haunting recollections.
Meral, sensing Ishnol’s distress, halted her charge and rushed to his side. She knelt beside him, her expression filled with concern. “Ishnol, stay with me,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with urgency. “You have to focus. We need you.”
Ishnol’s trembling hand reached out to grasp Meral’s, finding solace in her presence. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself amidst the storm of memories raging within him. With Meral’s unwavering support, he slowly regained his composure, drawing strength from the bond they shared.
“I’m sorry,” Ishnol managed to utter, his voice laced with vulnerability. “The memories overwhelmed me.”
Meral squeezed his hand gently, reassuring him. “You don’t have to apologize, Ishnol. Your strength lies not just in your power but also in your resilience. We’ll face this together.”
As Ishnol mustered his resolve, the memories began to recede, pushed back by his determination to protect those he cared for. With renewed determination, he stood once again, his ancestral form emanating a shimmering aura. The fear that had gripped him moments ago transformed into unwavering resolve.
Together, Ishnol and Meral locked eyes, their shared determination fueling their next move. Unela, still locked in a fierce struggle with Demitri, glanced back and witnessed Ishnol’s resurgence. A spark of hope ignited in her eyes as she witnessed her allies ready to join the fray once more.
Unela summoned the last vestiges of her strength, using the distraction caused by Ishnol’s return to unleash a flurry of attacks upon Demitri. His defenses wavered momentarily under the onslaught, providing an opening for Ishnol and Meral to intervene.
Ishnol and Meral, now united in purpose, charged forward, their movements fluid and harmonious. Ishnol’s ancestral form unleashed devastating blows, each strike resonating with the echoes of his past struggles. Meral, with her agile movements and precise strikes, complemented Ishnol’s raw power, creating a synchronicity that resonated throughout the battlefield.
Their combined assault took Demitri by surprise, forcing him to shift his focus between the relentless attacks of Unela and the newfound strength of Ishnol and Meral. The clash intensified, the air thick with anticipation as the balance of power teetered on a knife’s edge.
As the smoke billowed around them, obscuring their vision and creating uncertainty, Ishnol, Meral, and Unela momentarily halted their assault. They remained on guard, ready to react to any sudden movement or attack from Demitri. The townspeople watched anxiously, their breath held in anticipation of the next turn of events.
Meanwhile, Tituba and Telstra continued their fierce battle nearby. Telstra, with her immense strength and agility, tried her best to keep up with Tituba’s lightning-fast movements. Tituba, fueled by her determination and the adrenaline coursing through her veins, unleashed a series of precise strikes, aiming to disable her opponent.
Telstra, however, was not one to be underestimated. She deftly dodged and blocked Tituba’s attacks, countering with powerful blows of her own. The clash of their weapons echoed through the chaotic landscape, a testament to their skill and tenacity.
As the smoke began to dissipate, Ishnol, Meral, and Unela regained their visibility, their attention shifting back to Demitri. But to their surprise, he was nowhere to be found. The cunning and elusive adversary had disappeared, leaving behind only a lingering sense of danger.
Realizing the need to regroup and strategize, Ishnol called out to his comrades. “Meral, Unela, fall back! We need to find Demitri and reevaluate our approach,” he urged, his voice filled with urgency.
Meral nodded, her eyes scanning the surroundings. “Agreed, Ishnol. Let’s gather our strength and plan our next move. We cannot let him slip away.”
Unela, her gaze filled with determination, added, “We will find him, Ishnol. And when we do, he won’t escape our justice.”
The three Angel Assassins retreated from the immediate battleground, seeking a momentary respite to assess the situation and prepare for the next phase of their encounter with Demitri.
Meanwhile, Tituba and Telstra, locked in their relentless duel, found themselves momentarily separated by the smoke. Both combatants took a moment to catch their breath, their bodies covered in sweat and bruises from their intense clash.
As the air cleared, Tituba scanned her surroundings, searching for any sign of Telstra’s whereabouts. She knew she had to remain focused and vigilant, for Telstra was a formidable opponent who wouldn’t hesitate to strike when the opportunity arose.
Telstra, on the other hand, utilized her stealth and agility, moving silently through the remnants of the smoke. She had honed her skills in evasion and deception, making her presence virtually undetectable to the untrained eye.
Tituba’s heightened senses allowed her to catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. Reacting swiftly, she leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding Telstra’s surprise attack. The clash of their weapons reverberated through the air once again, the sound resonating with the determination and resolve of both combatants.
Their battle intensified, with each fighter pushing themselves to their limits. Tituba’s movements were fluid and calculated, her strikes imbued with precision and power. Telstra, relying on her speed and dexterity, weaved through Tituba’s attacks, looking for an opening to deliver a decisive blow.
The townspeople watched with bated breath, their hearts pounding in their chests. The sight of these two warriors locked in combat was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The outcome of their clash had the potential to tip the scales in this monumental battle.
As Tituba and Telstra continued their duel, their determination remained unwavering. With each clash of their weapons, sparks flew, illuminating the darkness that had engulfed the town of Dakelese.
While the three were regrouping, Demitri got thrown to the ground in front of them, unconscious. As Demitri lay unconscious on the ground before them, Ishnol, Meral, and Unela turned their attention to Vunar Lexos from the Veka squadron. “You know, for the top-ranked squadron, you guys sure are doing a terrible job,” Vunar stated with a hint of sarcasm. “Don’t worry, Instructor Lumen called me to help. Where’s the other enemy you encountered?” Vunar’s piercing purple eyes scanned the area, assessing the situation. “Telstra, huh? I’ve heard they’re quite formidable. Well, no matter. I’ll take care of them myself,” Vunar declared confidently, unsheathing his gleaming silver sword. With a swift and graceful movement, he dashed toward the direction where Telstra was last seen, ready to face the enemy head-on.