11-26-2005, 02:55 AM
I wrote this and somebody said it held some ideals of Aikido within it(toward the end). So I figured you guys might find somethign in it. Either way I'd like some opinions please! Thank you. Also if you feel the need to use it or copy it, ask first, pretty please.
Our drifter played all night and day,
and lived to vice in all ways.
He was everything from crime to lust,
And daily drugs were a must,
A viceroy and a sinner all the same,
that's how Tommy made his name.
He worked the tables into his favor
And could win without waver.
After his pockets were full, and a few too many
Tommy concurred that it was plenty.
As the night drew to a close
He took his winnings set home
When home drew near
The gambling man first felt fear
As he approached closer to his shelter,
His mind was sent helter-skelter.
He wasn't too far from his abode
The door was ajar: swinging to and fro
He entered the room with utmost caution
Only to find an open coffin
Fear turned Tom blue and pale
and everything came up, even the ale.
All went dark as he stumbled down
collapsing backward upon the cold ground
He woke under the haze of a drunken stupor
erecting himself, he purged the remaining liquor
In the guise of darkness he fumbled around
only to plummet once more down
No soft womb of the floor to catch him here;
He further fell into pitch black air
Sleep overtook him, till the thud
Whence Tom awoke, like he should
He felt his head splitting with great ache
and as to his location, impossible to place.
And echo flittered to his ears
The sweet sound of life was also here.
He spouted for help, with all of his might
full of hope, but it only caused plight.
A vile lich revealed itself to Tom's eyes,
Who gazed into death's surmise.
Rasp with death, he explained
the name of this vile game.
"It's simple you see, just stay alive,
but only the best are able to thrive!"
Taken aback Tom wept with tears
He could not face this phantom's fears
"I refuse, I say,
I refuse to play!"
"Even so, I'll have you know,
You cannot deny what I bestow!"
A slight of the hand, and he was cold to the core
once more strewn across the floor
Fading to darkness the lich stepped out,
leaving Tommy enveloped doubt
"Where do I go?! WHAT SHOULD I DO?!"
Then a pretty one said "I'll show you..."
"Where are you from? What do you mean?!
How can we leave this hellish dream?!!"
"Right this way, sir Knight,
You are here for the fight."
She slipped away without warning
Before Tom it appeared like a waking morning.
From the shadows a building manifested
Arose a giant Coliseum, of Roman vestige.
Tom, compelled to enter,
Hiked inside and to the center.
The lichling host came forth
Then laid down the rules for this course.
"Here you must fight, fight your vice!
Will you let it end your life?
No! I see,
Don't Answer Me!"
This ghoulish being began to move,
Unsheathing a frame for Tom to choose.
"Choose a weapon from this rack,
BUT be prepared to swing it back!"
Nervously Tom caroused the stands
Trying to find equipment for his hands.
"Choices; choices; everywhere!"
He picked up the flail and prepared.
"Enter combatants. COME! DESTROY!
Tear and rend this poor boy!"
Now this one wasn't fattened or softened by captivation,
Rather to the contrary, its cultivation.
In the wilds of the jungle, weaned on starvation.
Still; keep heart Tom. It's nothing more
than life's daily danger when you open the door.
The enemy appeared primed and ready.
With his weapon, Tom stood steady
"This came from one of your Zoos,
and its hungry, just for you!"
He tore off laughing into fits
The lichling was waiting for this
From the abyss
A tiger charged forth; a gaped jaw
The assault began, hand and paw
Blow for blow it all slowed still
The tiger dead, of Tom's will
He was ghaspsing and heaving,
And aware of the bleeding.
Tom brush it off, he didn't care,
All he wanted was out of there.
If playing this game really meant that,
Then how couldn't bring himself to fight back?
"Tom, that's all good and well,
but can you handle this tale?"
"Made by your own, just like your games
the bout will be the same.
Gamble, Gamble, my good man
This is the chance to play your hand..."
With another hand in slight,
A second creature rose to sight
A tale he claimed, but Tom was ready,
It was a monster much like a Yeti.
Ape of frost developed from the abyss,
Much like a monstrous man with hulking fists.
As Tom's morning star rounded
his heart slammed and pounded.
A claw over here and a mace over there,
assumed a fray of blood and hair.
Tom's skin now burned like flame,
but was belittled from the monster's pain.
Berserked, he thrust and clawed,
met one last time by the ball.
The Angel of Woe sang her melody,
A monster died, with her harmony
"Bravo! My man, you've done quite well.
But you'll have to try harder to leave this hell!"
Gasping for breath, writhing in pain
he felt as though he couldn't stand.
Deep within, he felt it smart
His body was rending a part.
He keeled down, and opened a gape.
His being rending in to two sakes.
Soon Tom came to be,
now who was his adversary?
He felt free of guilt and sin
righteous enough to rise again.
With this holy resurrection, he faced his greatest foe yet;
He must fight himself to the death!
The master lichling had orchestrated this event,
sputtering forth these words without laments,
"My dear boy, can you really do it this time?
Is there no doubt in your puny, human mind?
Can you destroy your other side?
And then after that who will you confide?"
Face to face the game was set,
light and dark have finally met.
The fight is as history to you and I.
The holy relics began to fly.
Darkness with spear in flight,
The morning star met right.
Lance and mace; to and fro
Neither overcame his foe.
Finally the pace broke down,
At last the darkness spoke profound.
The dark Tom spoke with pure sin,
He spoke from deep within.
"Do you really hate me so,
Can you destroy what makes you go?
Pure! You're supposed to be
Can you really hate me?
Inside of me are earthly desires,
Are you really full of that much ire?
I am you,
You are me
And only together can we be!"
The angel and demon resume their bout
No end in sight, and no escape.
Hand and hand, fight is matched
Neither brawler is able to become detached.
Righteous swings up, wretchedness swings down
Both are met with the sound...
Woe sings her song into flight
And whispers to end of the fight
Days pass by, till Tom is awoke
He was clueless to what had invoked.
It was all a abstract, but the memories remained
His head ached with pulsating pain.
"Forget this life, it has reached an end!
No more poison, no more sin!"
He was safe to suffice,
That he would never let his vice,
Become the end of his life.
In the back of his head the faintness of voice could be heard,
of the lichling warning him to the sincerity words.
12-14-2005, 07:29 AM
It sounds like a drinking song.