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Crack in the WallThere's a place in the wall no one knows,
a tiny little crack.
Where the wind never
blows; and the rain never
Somewhere where the sun doesn't shine.
People don't notice the crack,
because it's just a thing.
Don't care about what's inside,
because it's just a thing.
And people never question "things."
Because for now, the sun shines on them.
So it doesn't matter if you don't notice,
or if the rain never blows;
The wind never falls.
Alice shan't have to look inside the rabbit hole.
And I shouldn't have to seek her.
The hand I take,
The life at stake,
August NightsAs I lay here at night,
The atoms of my existence flutter freely as if
begging to be liberated
and fly to a Oblivion.
They wish to become the Masters of their own course,
each individual grain
that builds what is me -I am
just nothing but a want-
desires to take the sand of time and grasp it in their cold,
As I lay here at night,
For I know not what freedom and captivity
For these chains secure themselves tightly to me,
not wanting to let go.
Wanting to stop,
wanting to die.
Wanting for life to turn out right.
Backstabberit is said sometimes
"good things come to those who wait"
i'm waiting, waiting.
waiting by the gate
near a valley of reward
that i cannot touch.
like poor tantalus
reaching for water and food
that just will not come
so sometimes it is
like a back-stab to your soul;
you've killed your servant-
who was true at start
but did see your change of heart
tried to run away
(but she knew she must stay)
i don't want to go,
she thinks, lying to herself.
now she waits alone.
Pt. No ReturnI.
What teaches the mind teaches the soul,
Telling our thoughts what beauty to behold
And creating deep caverns of imagination,
Filling us with stalagmites of infinite creation.
What teaches the body teaches the heart,
Leaving behind valleys between once strong mountains torn apart,
Giving off echoes from a past behind,
Teasing us with the yearning love it finds.
What teaches one teaches all,
From the end of life to the beginning of the fall.
To the dying autumn leaves left on the trees
And those busy, busy little bees.
What calls to one calls to all,
The fatal shot against the wall.
Reaching out from the unknown as you take the hand:
And pass the land
pass the sea
pass the point of no return.
Love and Guidance Brings Him..I.
At times he can hear a soft whisper in his ears.
but he turns around, and nothing's
And sometimes he hears the flutes in the wind.
He's reaching out,
needing a soul
needing a friend.
If the seams of reality unraveled-
If the patchwork of problems tattered-
If the threads of sanity came undone-
four by four
five by five
six by six
Then perhaps it matters not anymore.
For a man who knows nothing's left,
That the reality is too much and not enough.
That problems haunt like ghosts in a graveyard,
Knows sanity only pushes you off the cliff into the Insane Ocean.
Somewhere in the wandering willows,
and the sweeping sycamores,
rests a painting perfectly
Preserved with the powerful pulses of faith and belief.
It is where the shades of musings feast
and the waves of beasts clash.
A perfect beauty,
A perfect guise.
Then there's a man.
Not the Man or a Man.
He floats through like a shadow
and ambles like the lost.
But as he sails thro
HangoverHangover. He had a friend famous for that. A dead friend. A two times dead friend. Owen Harper: marvelous medic with a snarky personality.
Hangover. What he was going to get if he could drown his sorrows with hypervodkas. If his immortal, time vortex infused body would let him.
Hangover. Such a good medical treatment. Why didn't doctors prescribe it? Tips the scale between reality and fantasy. Unrivaled bliss
Makes you forget.
Three bottles of hypervodkas lay on the bar counter in front of him. Jack was drunk, or as drunk as any immortal man could get. Drunk, as if it would wash away all the horrors he had done. As if it would heal the pain, make the wrongs right.
The human-looking bartender, probably some man from Sto, slipped him a piece of folded paper. Jack looked up at the slightly bearded man who told him, "It's from the man over there." The bartender walked away and brown hair with a brown pinstriped suit came into view.
Mixed emotions ran through the captain. Anger
Empty, Lonely, Broken, HopingSometimes your world just ends. It changes everything you've been. And all that's left to be is empty, broken, lonely, hoping...
Gwen Cooper-William's first funeral was when her granddaddy has passed away. She was four and so very innocent. She had thought that he was only sleeping. She didn't understand why the people were sad, why they cried. She especially didn't understand what everyone was saying about "seeing him again."
Then she grew up.
"We're gathered here today," the woman started, "To honor and remember a wonderful man by the name of Ianto Jones. Ianto was a fried, a brother, an uncle, a lover " She left the last word trail off unquestioned. "I'm not here today," Gwen started again, "to tell you it's all going to be alright, that we'll all move on, that we're going to see him again because I don't know that. I'm not here to tell lies and give false hope. I'm here to tell you the truth. Where you go from there is your choice."
They keep saying time will heal, b
The Drums Beat One Last Time
The sound of the drums. Can you hear them? 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. The heartbeat of a Time Lord, the four quarter notes in your head.
All his life the Master heard the noise, the drums, the beating. Was he mad? Was he crazy? Was he insane? Yes, probably, maybe. Most likely.
And all his life the Doctor, the "sanctimonious" little Doctor, would always be there to stop him, to eliminate him, to humiliate him. Oh no, but not this time. Never. This moment right there, with the diamond star and the return of Gallifrey, this was his moment.
Of course, things never turn out the way he plans them. Just take Utopia as an example. The Lord President came through, and his council, and the Time Lords and the whole of Gallifrey. Straight from the locked Time War itself. But it wasn't glory; it wasn't conquest. It. Was. A.
And all the time, since the beginning, the Doctor was trying to tell him that. Trying to hint in every battle, in every passing remark that something would come eventually. So
The Centurion's Bride-Third time's a charm
Rory. Oh Rory.
Fantastic, funny, beautiful, gorgeous Rory.
That idiot! Why, hmm? Why! Sometimes he does things I don't understand. This is the third time I've lost him. To what? The London Blitz with the Daleks behind the moon and me down in Churchill's bunker? Is that what happened? The lights came on and the Germans attacked. Is that what happened? Well they do say that the third time's the charm.
He's dead, isn't that right? And all he is now is a fairytale, a dream. Because the whole of reality is collapsing on itself and only two people are left to remember him. And when the total event collapse completes, no more. We're all no more.
The Lone Centurion, never leaving, never wavering, always dutiful to his bride locked inside the Pandorica. He was going to get married in the morning; </I>I</I> was going to get married in the morning. Now that day will never come.
My heart hurt, hurt more than it had before. Two times, two times that I've held him as he
Star Wars Infinities,EP3 introMustafar...
The planet was entirely volcanic and has almost no real purpose except as a forge planet and a getaway for certain people in the galaxy. On its surface sat the Seperatist base that was used as a new hideout when their leader Count Dooku was slain. Unfortunately a few hours earlier their final fortress had become their grave.
Their murderer was the newest Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader. Vader had slain them all at the request of his master, as the Emporer no longer had any need for them now that he ruled the entire galaxy and nearly wiped out the Jedi Order. Lord Vader only served the dark side for one reason, to save his wife Padme's life.
However when he saw her with Obi-wan, he believed that she had betrayed him and brought Obi-wan here to kill him. In response the Dark Lord nearly killed her. Then he accused his master of her betrayel before engaging his old master in a lightsaber duel. They fought throughout the entire fortress and nearly destroyed everything in the
Anakin vs. Darth VaderAnger flowed through me.
I needed to lead my son to the dark side. It was what my master, mentor, and friend instructed me to do. He always watched out for me since I was a boy. Even younger than Luke! I quickly pushed the thoughts from my childhood out of my mind and focused on finding Luke. I sensed his presence and let him hide.
I waited patiently. Listening for noises through my mechanic ears. Of course, I've never been one to be patient.
"You cannot hide forever, Luke." I said, trying to be persuasive.
"You'll have to come and get me." he replied in a low voice.
"I will not give you the advantage that easily." I replied, frustrated. I really just didn't want to hurt him. But I must obey my Master.
I had conflict in me. I battle between Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker. My dark purity that I'd carried for all these years and the Jedi I once was.
I thought surely this battle had ended years ago, when I gave myself over to the dark side to save... her. I couldn't think of her name. I
Born a Traitor
Born A Traitor
From birth he has been a traitor, having betrayed nature itself, and now he was about to betray the only family he had left. After this he would have no one. His only allies would be the dark shadow he called a Master and the dark side itself.
The engines of his gunship were humming peacefully. The calm before the storm, as it was called. There were at least twenty Clone Troopers in the ship with him. They were relatively quiet, checking their gear and rechecking it. Or were they? They could be conspiring against him at this very moment, plotting to kill him the moment he turned his back on them.
All beings were capable of betrayal in his dark eyes.
"Commander?" He called silently. "A word with you, if you please."
The blue-armored clone made his way through the crowd of soldiers and crouched in front of his superior, who had sat down in a corner, pitch-black robe covering him almost entirely. The Commander seemed alert, left hand on his holstere
The Stars Are Coming Out To Dance Tonight
Holding out until the end,
It could've ended differently,
So lonely, so horrible.
But mistakes not made,
And here we stand.
The children asleep,
Our presence not needed.
And outside under a night sky,
Me and Padmé,
Alone for a while.
And she smiles her most beautiful smile.
I take her hand,
And she takes mine,
Place a hand on her waist.
And our dance begins.
Smiling and content,
For the first time in ages.
She looks up and remarks,
The stars are coming out to dance tonight.
They're lighting up the night tonight.
And I look up and she's right.
She's so very right.
And a tear falls from my eye.
She wipes it away,
And I lift her up,
Swirling her round amidst laughter and giggles
Lost in the moment,
Lost in the madness,
But not lost in the force.
I'm so grateful I was wrong.
Your heartbeat is dying,
Your lifesigns are fading.
I can't do a thing about it.
I cannot save you Padmé.
No powers of the dark side
No force of the light side
Can stop this fate upon you.
You are unsaveable.
My soul is totured by this.
You're falling out my grip,
I hold your hand and shed my tears...
But they won't save you my love.
Luke and Leia are safe.
I will look after them.
I promise to be a good father.
They are mewling.
Can you hear them?
Why aren't you doing something?
Why aren't you being a mother to them?
Must I face this alone?
My soul is burning.
I can't lose you or I'll lose me
But somehow my soul burns alive for them.
You whisper your final words,
"Tell them about me...
When they get older...
I promise you.
Then you're gone...
Unsaveable from our loss.
Anakin's Promise CH1
"It's going to be dangerous," I warn him once again and again he pulls me close.
He sighs in my ear. I place a hand on the back of his neck and the other on his left shoulder, gripping tightly.
"It's always going to be dangerous," he whispers so softly.
I grip him tighter, then let go so we can look at each other eye to eye.
"What if the dreams are real? What if you die out there?" I whimper with worry.
He smiles and laughs softly.
"That's not going to happen, Padmé. I'm so sure of it. Your dreams are just your imagination playing tricks on you."
He kisses me so softly. I feel like I'm going to break into a million pieces and he knows it. He's been soft and gentle ever since he arrived here to tell me about this mission. The senate is still in shock about what has happened, and I refuse to ignore my dreams. My dreams of him dying, fighting against Palatine.
"But your dreams came true," I murmur and again he pulls me into a strong gentle hug. I can feel him flinching and
For the Love of a FatherNo one saw his fervent pain.
No one saw the anger seething for within.
No one saw a young little boy,
Behind a grown man of sin.
No one dared to touch him,
Out of fear and orderliness.
No one dared to approach him,
And led to lies and faithlessness.
The innocence burns away,
Lava on a soul.
An innocence that burns so great-
His body burns to hell.
A fire hopeless to forgiving rain,
A rain smothered by the flames.
A young little lad and a young little girl,
Force love on their separate ways.
And on a planet far away,
Is you and me and him.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Destiny acts on her own whim.
But one must fall for the other to stand,
Sin passed from kin to kin.
Redemption is far-fetched enough,
To be controlled therein.
Choirs shall sing of a final match,
And the two choices there are to make.
They say no third door will save the day,
And kill he must for our sakes.
Yet the impossible believe,
And the wretched door to take,
Can change a life, change a view-
And murderous fat
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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