Serok T'tunda: Gone Fishing Serok concentrated intently on the surface of the water, his hands moving slowly as he adjusted the line. He could see the dark form of the coelacanth hanging motionless below the surface, its ragged fins waving in the slow current. Six feet and 260 pounds of monster fish, there for the taking. He checked the line carefully. He’d bought the rope in one of the villages specifically for this purpose, his other cords being completely unequal to the task. The monster of the fishing hole had snapped them all with ease, retreating to the clear depths and gulping down the bait with a somewhat preoccupied air. This time, though, it would be
A Tale at ScaleHere's a tale brought up to scale.Sun's up and warming,now wormingnow squirmingOut scrabble the rabble from under the bark.Hark! The wood's getting hotBut not hotter then sand.Toes up now but walkingAnd stalkingWait.Stick arms comes hoppinglegs chirpinghe's flirting.Wait.Heart quickens, mouth slickensBlink, wait-Forward!Bite.The kill is fulfilling.Push up!Push up!Sleep.
FireRESPONSIBILITYFor it is far easier to blame the flameInstead of our own mindsReally though, they are the sameExept fire never liesFUTILITYShe's an old flame reignitedShe's pumped, she's excitedShe's admitted her mistakeThis time it isn't fake!Untill it all burns outShe turns around in turnaboutLike smoke she drifts awayShe'll come back another day.WHAT IVE TASTED OF DESIREDesire isone failure ontop of another.I THINK THE WORLD SHALL END IN FIREDesire, all men should understand,How their lives are fated A feeling fierce, as fierce as fireAngry coals of rage then fann'dan gnawing hunger never satiat
Sta.sh
