The Path Of War (PRS, #1, by Screech)

The one question I always end up asking is, "is it worth it?" or "was it worth it?"

Pretty Real Stuff: The Path Of War

Level 1: Pessimist

I see the world for what it is,

Greed and power and false bliss.

Built on fear and fake promises.

A mask on every face,

and a joker in every hand.

Everyone plays their little games,

Trying so hard to outrun their own chase.

With writings written in paradoxes,

Everyone speaks in riddles,

Playing their own tunes,

With promises that sound all too fickle.

Everyone wants the throne,

but none want to be king.

Everyone wants the scars,

but none want the pain.

Everyone wants to know,

but none want to think.

Everyone is left broken,

but still leave things unspoken.

It's all headed for a downfall,

And I'm gifted with this curse,

Of seeing it fall to pieces,

But I just drive the hearse.

Should I take hold, take charge?

Or should I wait it out and smile?

Should I be the one to save the world?

Or should I just sit back and enjoy the ride?

I see it's all headed for one big war,

It's like we've been knocking on hell's door,

I will survive this for sure,

But is there someone else who can hold on with me?

Level 2: Reflections (Realist #1)

The birds and fireflies still fly over my head,

Like a homage to the dead,

To the bullets that lie in their heads.

It's like the clouds came down,

From the falling sky,

Walk the path of war in the fog,

There seems to be no wind,

But I can still hear its howl.

Still I walk, blind and boldly ahead.

It's like all was for naught.

Like it had all happened before,

as if we knew it was imminent,

But nobody gave a shit anymore.

It's like everyone forgot

to feel,

to think,

to run with the wind,

to hear,

to see,

to wash off their sins,

to crave,

to lust,

to hunt for their love,

to hold,

to break,

to fight through the hurt,

to listen,

to heed,

to wait for their turn,

to bear,

to fear,

to watch the world burn.

Whatever happened to being honest,

I may never know.

All I did was survive,

through the endless torment of the war.

The fires and radiation zones, I have learned to avoid.

But sometimes there's something new,

An anomaly that I fall prey to.

Like the pirates or the predators,

Or the broken minded fools.

Like the ghosts of the dead,

Or the never ending ghouls.

Like the memories of the past,

Or the anxiety of the future.

Like all that I've left behind,

Or whatever I'm about to find.

Often I think "what if",

and end up with this conclusion.

The choices I made are mine,

and I'll face the consequences this time.

I've done all I had to do,

I've made it through.

So I'll keep fighting in this apocalypse.

To survive, and live my life too.

Level 3: Scavenger

Scoped in. Ready. Target in my cross-hairs.

It's a different one everyday.

It serves as food, it serves as game,

to me it's all one and the same.

My aim has improved,

desperate times I guess.

I'm still a mess,

I wish I was in my tent.

It wasn't all worth it I think,

Different times give you different thoughts.

I still don't understand what was achieved,

but at least I'm still breathing.

I had a radio that I kept close,

in hope,

That someday someone would contact me,

It was an open frequency.

I just wanted to hear that radio crackle once,

but it just gave me static.

I still don't know what happened,

I just did what I had to, even threw the radio away.

I've ended up scavenging on this dead planet,

I guess there's no more business to be done here.

It's been a long time,

the sun is harsh.

But I've got enough water to last a few hundred miles.

A hundred miles, an old chant,

Not that it matters, that world is dead.

I've got a rifle on my back,

and my pistol on my side.

I've got enough experience to make it through this time.

Will I find hope? Or will I find who I am?

Maybe all I'll find, is another barren wasteland.

But I needed to make this move.

I needed to travel onward.

Because I'm not static,

like the radio that I had my hopes on.

Pretty Real Stuff (Poem Collection, by Screech)

Hello readers, it's been almost a year since I posted here. I guess the reason would be the absolute burnout I felt after working on H-to-O... at least that's how I would describe it.

Anyway, coming to PRS or, Pretty Real Stuff, it's something I've been working on for the past four to five months as a spiritual successor to H-to-O, and it has definitely come out well, if I say so myself.

Something that always has intrigued me is the concept of choice. We're faced with choices everyday and we don't give them a second thought unless it's something really important. So I wanted to contrast some of the biggest choices that people may make at least once in life. The choice between war and peace. Now war and peace are merely symbolic here, they are supposed to represent aggressive and passive behaviors of people and what their consequences may be, but at the end how you perceive these poems is up to you.

All I hope is that you enjoy them, and hopefully it gives you some food for thought :)

Cheers... ScreechDrummer

Prologue: Pretty Real Stuff, Questions.

Questions, Quests, Goals, Ambitions, Passions, Dreams.

What do they stand for in today's day and age?

Are they merely words?

Or do some people actually dare to give them meaning?

The search for your goals is tiring,

it pushes you,

tests you,

frustrates you,

and sometimes, it breaks you.

Is it necessary to fall?

Some have said that we fall, only to get back up.

Others have said that if you fall too far, there's no getting up.

But is it still necessary to fall?

Necessary to face the darkness?

After all, aren't we looking for enlightenment?

And the light is much easier to see when you're in the dark, right?

All these questions and so little time to find the answers.

Sometimes it just comes down to choice.

Someone once told me,

We make choices and those choices make us.

But what if I want to know what lies ahead after I make both choices?

Is there time to change the road you're on?

Or do I stay at the crossroads, looking at the road less traveled?

Wondering with fear and excitement as to what lies ahead on it?

I don't know, I'm still a traveler, like everyone.

But I can dream... and I can imagine...

The Optimist (H-to-O, "O", Poem by Screech)

So this is it readers. This is what it all has lead to.
The conclusion of HtoO, I'll let you in on a secret, it has something related to all the poems I've written so far in HtoO.
The rhyme scheme is also a little weird, but it had a certain appeal to it, so I kept it.
read on, maybe you'll get goosebumps the way I did while recollecting all the other poems and writing this one.

"The Optimist"

He's known by many names,

He has reasons,

He has passions,

He has his own little games.

He's sometimes called empty,

He never was,

He never will be,

He says nothing is not tempting.

He's the one who understands,

He has sense,

He has strength,

He says his life is in his hands.

He has his own cause,

He's determined,

He's locked,

He doesn't want another loss.

He used to search the black sky,

He had a star,

He had a wish,

He wanted to rest his eyes.

He had trains of thought in his head,

He was crazy,

He was insane,

He used to design his paths ahead.

He can play any role he wants,

He's versatile,

He's nimble,

He never says he can't.

He used to keep moving,

He had a goal,

He had a line,

He never stopped believing.

But he lost, with a smile,

He never used to sleep,

And he thought it was a waste of time,

Till he saw how dark was the deep,

And he heard moving was insane,

He tried to ask a shooting star,

But the star kept burning away,

So the optimist was reborn.

He never was really fake,

He was real,

He was different,

He didn't have fights to take.

He tried to be original,

He's an actor,

He's a performer,

He does whatever is really critical.

He has plans in his mind,

He has a path,

He has a way,

He can leave them all behind.

He's sometimes way too formal,

He's warm,

He's caring,

He says everything is normal.

He fights both light and dark,

He knows,

He explains,

He says both sides bear the mark.

He can shine in the limelight,

He's the spine,

He's the core,

He rages against all his might.

But he was crazy for a star,

At times he went insane,

And he knew it was the one for his heart,

Till he got burned and lay in pain,

And he knew he had to fall asleep,

But his mind was still asking,

He was sure there was still a way, 

so the optimist started to dream.

In his dreams were ideal worlds,

He had amazing amazing times.

But when the sun rose up he woke,

And he cried and cried and cried.

He had lost it all,

He was alone,

He was sad,

He could think of just a fall.

But he saw what dreams could be,

So he set out to set them free,

To make them his reality.

He saw what he could do,

So he set out to make it true,

To live his life as it grew.

For one last time,

He looked up at the sky,

He saw his favorite star,

And he said his awkward goodbye.

Then he set off to climb his trees,

To get closer to where he wanted to be,

Across mountains he was ready to go,

The optimist had set another goal.

__________________________________________

so there it is readers, that is it,

that is HtoO.

something big, made into something small.

it has a LOT of connections between the poems, maybe if you have time on your hands you could research into it and probably get some new insight into it (or into you, you never know.)

will I be writing more poems? most probably yes, it's something I keep doing from time to time, HtoO was something else though, maybe one of you will find out why.

Cheers... ScreechDrummer

Neanic Passion (H-to-O, "N", Poem by Screech)

hello readers, yes, I apologize for this being late, but I wanted to post both of the final poems at one go. It took me some time to find the perfect pictures to make the artwork for these two, hence the delay.
I split this poem into 3 chapters, each with a different state of mind.
anyway, Neanic basically means youthful (or in this case, immature, hence "Immature Amateur's Life-ology") so what is it about?
read on.

"Neanic Passion"

Chapter 1: Retire

Dead inside,

No peace in my mind,

No motivation in my heart.

None of a kind,

Letting go of my pride,

I looked for a life among the stars.

An astronaut,

Felt like I'd forgot,

What it was to feel brave.

An imaginary plot,

A story that was not,

It will go with me to my grave.

Felt no throe,

The story existed though,

It went on and on in my head.

No sweat from my brow,

An empire of gold,

An alchemist's wonder turned to lead.

Turned parasite,

Stayed awake all night,

Designing a spaceship to fly so far.

Crashed before flight,

Wounded and in plight,

Hung all my hopes on a star.

Fell into day,

A morning of disarray,

Opened the doors to a different life.

No work all play,

An amateur's way,

Was one I'd decided to leave behind.

The story was done,

I made another one,

But the protagonist was now a blank.

But the darkness was fun,

When I got burned by the sun,

Away from the light I sank and sank.

Motivated again,

No love no pain,

The second tale went on.

Insanely sane,

No work no gain,

The story was too far gone...

Chapter 2: Reset

Maybe I should start living once more,

This new life shouldn't be the same as before,

The power I have in my mind is a force,

Untapped, Untouched, Unused and pure.

More objectives lie ahead, in front,

But my head is just as sharp as blunt.

Try and try Until I break through,

To the other side which is supposed untrue.

Chapter 3: Recover

Asleep in a bliss,

Waiting for a kiss,

Dormant, a volcano rests.

Inertia insists,

It hurts but resists,

A rebirth to reclaim the better than the best.

Worst left unsaid,

Don't fear the dread,

What lies ahead never makes itself known.

Hang on by a thread,

For glory I was bred,

I will reap from the seeds that I have sown.

That was Neanic Passion (Part 1 of Immature Amateur's Life-ology)

lookout for Part 2, which is the conclusion of HtoO, "The Optimist"

The Maniac (H-to-O, "M", Poem by Screech)

so, I know I'm late with this one.
I edited and rendered the art for it, and then, I forgot to upload this.
Anyway, this is a poem that has been called "too personal" or "too real" by people who've read it before.
I'd say, read on, and form your own opinion! :D

The Maniac

"Here we go again."

She thinks as he approaches,

To speak to her, smiling wide,

She smiles back, to hide the frown built up inside.

"Why is he so different?"

She thinks as he greets her,

Meets her eyes, puts her at ease,

Let's her start the talk, and carries on to speak.

"Am I the only one?"

She thinks as he gazes dreamily,

Still smiling, trying to read her face,

She tries the same but can't read a trace.

"He's been trying at least."

She thinks as he looks beyond,

His eyes wandering, but coming back to her,

He was restless as always, it was clear.

"Something wrong?"
She asks him as he shakes his head,

"He always does that."

She thinks as he goes back,

In a dream but he still holds her eyes,

Speaking in auto-pilot about things she likes.

"Are you alright?"

She asks in worry as he says he's fine.

"He always says that."

She thinks as he says it back,

But his eyes say something else,

But what? She could never tell.

She's always confused,

He speaks in riddles,

She tries to solve them,

But gives up in the middle.

Hidden messages that she can never find,

Say that the maniac has loved her for a long time.

"I barely know him."

She thinks as silence holds them,

He's run out of things to talk about, he says,

She laughs at this common topic they share.

"At least he's not fake."

She thinks as he laughs with her,

His gaze now focused on her,

Carefully choosing his words,

To let her know he's going, and not to leave her hurt.

"Why is he never easy?"

She thinks as he walks away,

After saying an awkward goodbye,

He half turns, but doesn't look behind.

She turns away, her mind still on him,

As she resists the urge to turn around,

She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts,

And goes on with her life, till the maniac makes another call.

keep a lookout for the next one- Neanic Passion

Cheers... ScreechDrummer

Lady Of The Stars (H-to-O, "L", Poem by Screech)

So, I was a little hesitant about uploading this poem, since it is a descriptive poem, something I've never actually done before, but then I thought 'whatever, what can happen will happen' so here it is, I consider this to be another one of my best works, so I hope you enjoy it!

"Lady Of The Stars"

A simplistic mark, I thought,

Could it even be? Or was I wrong?

I waited, my doubts had to be abated.

I'd not done this since a while ago,

Studying her face was like an unknown tomorrow.

I couldn't figure out whether it was just to easy,

Or was it all real? The honesty, the zeal?

A soothing voice, a tender sight,

Made me go insane in figuring her mind.

But there was nothing but innocence,

With a tinge of dark and a simple ambiance.

Like the evening sky pierced by golden rays,

Her hair was the perfect balance of night and day.

Her face could make the werewolves howl,

And her eyes could calm their soul.

A lady of the stars,

Shed her light into the night,

Illuminating the dark sky,

Like someone was playing god anigh.

In solitude, I thought,

Could she be? Or was I deceived?

I was obsessed, I had to give it a rest.

But I'd never ever felt it before,

Seeing her smile rocked me to the core,

I couldn't figure out why it was all such chaos,

Or was it just me and my head being to engrossed?

A radiant grace and the perfect words,

Could make me go crazy and turn over my world.

But her cognition was all just pure,

All perfectly untouched in her mind so sure.

Like the milky way, etched in space,

Her hands were mellow, holding their embrace,

Her touch could build, her touch could erase,

And her calm could make you find peace anyplace.

A lady of the stars,

Shed her light to show what's right,

Illuminated the dark night,

Like someone was playing god anigh.

Keep a lookout for the next one- "The Maniac"

Cheers... ScreechDrummer

The Kinesthesiac (H-to-O, "K", poem by Screech)

Here is poem number 4 in the H-to-O collection.
it's called "The Kinesthesiac" which is not a word that exists, but in my dictionary it means someone who keeps moving, someone who doesn't stop for others, why? read on.

"The Kinesthesiac"

He sees the void he runs,

From an illusion called control.

He wants to be his own,

For ever and ever more.

As the skies turn from blue to red to grey,

His eyes keep wandering form one to another astray.

Blindness he sees all around and starts to wonder,

Why everyone is so still, when the world is torn asunder.

He sees happy bubbles, and sad sad houses.

He sees cute cuddles, and mad mad arouses.

He sees great dreams, and small small sparks.

He sees a few downstream, and many more in the darks.

He observes the static and fails to understand,

Why they hold onto dreams and lands,

He observes the static and goes his own way,

A kinesthesiac, one who keeps moving, always.

He hears the rain, he calms,

Due to the delusion called control.

He wants to hear this encore,

Always and forever more.

As the sky changes from black to red to blue,

His ears keep listening, to all the lies and trues.

Silence he hears all around and he starts to think,

Why everyone loves to be so close to the brink.

He hears excited shouts, and crazy crazy screams,

He hears droning moans, and lazy lazy reveals.

He hears amazing speeches, and tiny tiny voices,

He hears some break the silence, and many more deaf in the noises.

He observes the static but fails to realize,

Why they hold onto memories like a prize,

He observes the static but he rarely ever stays,

A kinesthesiac, one who keeps moving, always.

He never stops, he keeps on going,

The man who can't be glued.

He doesn't wait, but understands,

That others don't like the ablude.

So he keeps on walking, trying to figure out,

The words of the static, and what they're on about.

But he's too afraid to stop,

Should he turn static himself,

Then there will be none,

That can see beyond all hell.

So he will stick around, but not for long,

He's the kinesthesiac, on who keeps moving on.

look out for the next release- "Lady Of The Stars"

cheers... ScreechDrummer