BYOC (Bring Your Own Coffee) - Now With More Coffee!

[Dusky]

Ohhh, I love Vienna Teng. Good pick, Cirno!

 

[Dusky]

Yes... Yes, I am aware I missed the last two Sundays. I don't really have an excuse, but I don't intend to see this die, so let's try this again!


Critic of the Week: @Mr. Grin @ETC @Grey @KamiKahzy


Let's see more of you next week!

 

[Hercynia]

Trapped

Sealed away from the world beyond,

All those plants of which I'm fond,

Viewed through the transparent pane,

A barrier, a wall of flame,

There's no escape, as I can see,

Trapped to keep the outside free,

tired of the monsters in my head,

The land of the living? The land of the dead.

And on, and on, the cattle roam,

Living in their world of chrome,

Metal towers, grasping high,

They jump, soar, glide, fly,

And here I am to keep them safe,

Many have tried, but my bonds won't chafe,

Forever alone, forever here,

Noone survives, I'm trapped in fear,

The good of the many, the good of the few,

Won't you come inside the room?​

 

[Mythee]

This is a fantastic idea! It's cool to see so much creative juice flowing around here.

 

[Jays]

Finally something after 2 weeks


Now we just have to wait for 2 more for Doosk to reply

 

[Hercynia]

I thought that I should probably try to revive this by posting. It's good that people are noticing, hopefully we can get this running again.


(Not sure if anyone else has thought of this, but I do believe the art of reviving threads is known as "Threadromancy".)

 

[Dusky]

I suppose I can post a turnover this Sunday! I had just assumed people weren't interested anymore.

 

[Grey]

I've had a thing stewing in the back of my mind, but when I finally had time to work on it, I though the turnover was coming.


So basically what I mean is you should probably accept the occasional dead week.


Also, I feel like a meta-thread to discuss the thread isn't the worst idea, but I am not a clever man so...

 

[Dusky]

But people can discuss it right here. xD I wouldn't link to everything if I hadn't intended there to be conversation.


Fair point, though. I'll pick it up again this week.

 

[Kestrel]

I wrote this for this topic. It is true, but I don't feel this way anymore. Things are much better.

Spoiler

Would you believe her if she said she was unlovable?


If our Confetti Girl said she had had enough, would you hold her, love her, promise her that love wasn't toxic, and a four letter word?


If the Angel with a Shotgun had her wings broken and her gun unloaded, would you still recognize her?


School was her heart's contaminant, people broke her down and tainted her heart.


And so she cries, at night.


All alone 'cause everyone's asleep.


And I beg her classmates to open their eyes, and see her for who she truly is.


Please?


Please quit pushing her, hitting her and kicking her.


She's just a girl, she makes mistakes


But do not judge her by her faults and her shortcomings.


Yes, she makes mistakes, but she is not one herself!


Yes, she has scars on her arms,


But they are battlescars!


Because of a time when she was battling herself...


The scars didn't come from a blade, They came from her own fingernails.


And her arms are contaminated.


Her heart and her body is scarred, And so she thinks she's unlovable..


So, I beg you


Every person reading this,


Every bystander who just watched,


Every teacher who thought they were "just kidding",


Every friend who ever left,


Every boy who decided she wasn't worth the effort,


All the bullies, betrayers, users and abusers,


Please quit pushing her, she may fall off the edge,


Please quit hitting her, she does have feelings!


Please quit telling her to kill herself, she's closer to the edge than you'll ever know.


But maybe it's too late.


Her heart, her soul, her mind, body, heart...


Is all contaminated.


It's contaminated by everyone who said they loved her, and lied.


It's been contaminated by everyone who ever used, bruised and abused her!


She seems happy, right?


Laughing, talking, writing, throwing around confetti.


Now everyone thinks that she's okay, but she's not!


She believes that to ask for help would be selfish, so she doesn't.


It's too late.


Her world's been contaminated...

 

[Dusky]

I'm glad things have improved, Kes. ( )

 

[Kestrel]

I'm glad things have improved, Kes. ( )

Me too. I couldn't have done it without my friends. What did you think about the actual poem?

 

[Dusky]

There's some neat phonetic agreement here and there that I think you should expand on - alliteration, internal rhyme, repetition, etc. Those things are a wonderful habit to pick up early on and it seems like you're on your way!


The poem is lacking in metaphor and the line lengths vary wildly, which is a little off-putting. Narrative poems take skill to get right without sounding like a story with weird wording.

 

[Kestrel]

There's some neat phonetic agreement here and there that I think you should expand on - alliteration, internal rhyme, repetition, etc. Those things are a wonderful habit to pick up early on and it seems like you're on your way!
The poem is lacking in metaphor and the line lengths vary wildly, which is a little off-putting. Narrative poems take skill to get right without sounding like a story with weird wording.

Thanks for the feedback. I wrote that poem fairly quickly, and did some minor editing before I posted it. I really love writing poetry, and I've used it as a way to cope.

 

[Kestrel]

I wrote another (most likely better) poem a few weeks ago, and I think it could fit with this week's topic. Is it okay if I post a second poem?

 

[Dusky]

Go for it!

 

[Kestrel]

Oh, Sunny


You're feathers were a form of natural art.


Without you, I feel so torn apart.


You broke my heart,


But I still wish I could've been there from the start.


Oh, Sunny


You were so misused.


You never deserved to get abused.


You must have been so confused,


When you were often bruised.


Oh, Sunny


You used to shine so bright,


But then you lost your fight,


And I lost my light.


Without you, how will I be alright?


Oh, Sunny


Did I make a mistake?


Or did something inside you break?


Your loss has been a physical ache.


My smile now is often fake.


Oh, Sunny


Without you, I'm so blue.


What else can I do?


In my life, you were the glue.


And, oh, how I miss you.


Oh, Sunny


You were just a stray,


Trapped in a world so gray.


Imagine my dismay,


Now, how will I be okay?


Oh, Sunny


I tried to bring you to safety,


But I think I'm going crazy,


And everything seems shaky,


All 'cause I lost my baby.


Oh, Sunny.

 

[Jays]

This is something I wrote over 2 years ago, me trying to get over a bad break up. It's clunky and juvenile at best, but I don't want to change it since each word meant something special to me.


Thought I ought to share it somewhere, for no reason at all.


Here is as good a place as any.


Lost Cause


Tell me again, darling, how you've changed.


How those were only "one night stands".


How the last time you and him met, that was the end.


How in your life, but me there is no other man.


Oh baby, tell me again how you've changed.


I wished for his head on a fucking stake.


Instead I got yours sobbing on my pillow, the snake's.


I wished you out of my life.


Instead I got your fake sorrow plaguing my head, the lies.


I would love to play the Saint, ignore the deceit.


But baby, I just don't have it in me to be nice and forgive.


If I was me then, when we first met,


I would have taken your lies for honesty.


But baby, I find it funny, how clearly I see the truth.


You kisses are dull, your tears are false, your oaths are null.


Darling, all you really want from me,


Is a sense of normalcy.


A pretense at decency.


In this society that values appearance more than truth.


You don't want to be called a cheater,


Maybe you would lose Instagram followers.


You don't want others to know your addiction, expensive cars and fancy suits,


Your parents just might not approve.


Oh baby, I find it funny, I do.


Why you ever claimed to love me is a mystery,


I'm neither pretty, nor fancy, nor especially smart.


But baby, I can't be your rehab,


Not with you getting your fix, from every pretty boy crossing the street.


So here we are, sweetheart, end of the line


Thank god.


So please, tell me again how you've changed,


And I'll tell you how you've not.


Tell me again how much you need me,


And I'll tell you, for me our love is a cause already lost.


Tell me again how with me, you feel something you've never felt,


How we've always made up before, each time we fought.


And I'll tell you, kindly, to go fuck yourself.


I still love you, but all I see are lies and rot.

 

[Killigrew]

On the Great Peasant's Revolt of 1524, as seen by Martin Luther


When lust for blood by sacred writ is hid,


When rebel’s cause with goodness must be rid,


The righteous soul is burning hot with flame;


A zealous love of God cannot be tamed.


To thee I sing, Great Muse, this tale of woe,


This tale of peasants’ hate so hot, so full


Of rulers’ hearts all cold, of hypocrites and wolves,


And of I, Luther, man that stands on Law of God alone.


With sweat and tears they stain the German soil


They cry, they shout, lament the peasants’ toil


No man with words of courtly way will speak


as witness to their woes, but Ulrich, meek,


a smith that seeks first pray’r, he will go.


And since the churches gathered, prayed to know


the wisdom to assault the minds up high,


thus light of truth, the words to say did shine.


But not a one of rulers then would heed,


And not one’s ear would bend to peasant’s creed.


I thought at first their cause was right and good,


Since Word of God they sought just as they should.


But great grew hate, and patience thin, and since


No words would do, all swore to slay their prince,


To side with Satan’s evil, rotten whim.


“I warn you now,” I cried aloud to them.


This will not stand! You Christian counterfeits


Have held a hoax you must be quick to quit.


Those rulers God has put in place to rule,


You throw aside, you risk your very soul.


By sword and steel you step on towards the throne


Ward’s life you spill inside his very home,


And rape and thieve and justify your ill


To drink, and eat, and daily take your fill,


Use scripture, rhyme, and reason falsely known


A testament of hell, not heav’n, you own


Woes are no claim to kingship, that you know.”


“May it be fear that strikes thy cruel deeds down,


for foolish crowing victory loud is heard


by princes high. They come to crush you poor,


you, the impoverished, weak in Heaven’s eyes.


They come with armies great, so great, so fear


their gleaming armor, arrows, shields and spears.


Thus, ‘tis better you shudder, weep, and plead!


Lay aside your makeshift arms, surrender


fast, be quick. Cry out, while chance yet remains


lest Lordly Princes think, recall your ways,


that mercy to blood of blue none of you


would give."


No more. No thought. No eyes of mine.


I turn aside. May my face no longer see


the ugly mess of unjust kings


and their rebellious hands.


There’s wicked sin on all their souls;


each one affronts and galls.

 

[Dusky]

If I wasn't about to pass out I would write you a nice long mostly positive critique while squealing with excitement over you posting in little ol' me's thread - or, you know, posting at all - Killiboo~.

 

[Jays]

Pfft she's come to watch this die, if for any reason at all.


T'is oncoming death has her mark all over.


Don't be fooled, poor Doosk, for it is she who orchestrated the end of Coffee.


Thus thy came to gloat over thy victory.


Begone, villain! Go harm some other maiden's sacred place!

 

[Tronethiel]

On the Great Peasant's Revolt of 1524, as seen by Martin Luther
When lust for blood by sacred writ is hid,


When rebel’s cause with goodness must be rid,


The righteous soul is burning hot with flame;


A zealous love of God cannot be tamed.


To thee I sing, Great Muse, this tale of woe,


This tale of peasants’ hate so hot, so full


Of rulers’ hearts all cold, of hypocrites and wolves,


And of I, Luther, man that stands on Law of God alone.


With sweat and tears they stain the German soil


They cry, they shout, lament the peasants’ toil


No man with words of courtly way will speak


as witness to their woes, but Ulrich, meek,


a smith that seeks first pray’r, he will go.


And since the churches gathered, prayed to know


the wisdom to assault the minds up high,


thus light of truth, the words to say did shine.


But not a one of rulers then would heed,


And not one’s ear would bend to peasant’s creed.


I thought at first their cause was right and good,


Since Word of God they sought just as they should.


But great grew hate, and patience thin, and since


No words would do, all swore to slay their prince,


To side with Satan’s evil, rotten whim.


“I warn you now,” I cried aloud to them.


This will not stand! You Christian counterfeits


Have held a hoax you must be quick to quit.


Those rulers God has put in place to rule,


You throw aside, you risk your very soul.


By sword and steel you step on towards the throne


Ward’s life you spill inside his very home,


And rape and thieve and justify your ill


To drink, and eat, and daily take your fill,


Use scripture, rhyme, and reason falsely known


A testament of hell, not heav’n, you own


Woes are no claim to kingship, that you know.”


“May it be fear that strikes thy cruel deeds down,


for foolish crowing victory loud is heard


by princes high. They come to crush you poor,


you, the impoverished, weak in Heaven’s eyes.


They come with armies great, so great, so fear


their gleaming armor, arrows, shields and spears.


Thus, ‘tis better you shudder, weep, and plead!


Lay aside your makeshift arms, surrender


fast, be quick. Cry out, while chance yet remains


lest Lordly Princes think, recall your ways,


that mercy to blood of blue none of you


would give."


No more. No thought. No eyes of mine.


I turn aside. May my face no longer see


the ugly mess of unjust kings


and their rebellious hands.


There’s wicked sin on all their souls;


each one affronts and galls.

I wish I could hype cookie this.

 

[Killigrew]

Pfft she's come to watch this die, if for any reason at all.
T'is oncoming death has her mark all over.


Don't be fooled, poor Doosk, for it is she who orchestrated the end of Coffee.


Thus thy came to gloat over thy victory.


Begone, villain! Go harm some other maiden's sacred place!

Cry and curse, do make thy panic plain


While, with slip, betray thine heart


And intention stored under, lain


In a bed of spires unfurl'd


Now all may view thine impurity,


Thy horror as I succeed.


Jealousy, friend, becom'st thou not.


And certainly prose, when grammar,


Though antique, departs,


Lacks itself a kind of bite


Which otherwise would pierce me direct


As thou, no doubt, desirest.

 

[Jays]

one word.


wat....

 

[Ozmic]

Z3N and the Art of Complete Hostile Takeover

​

Neon lights illuminate dirty streets. They undoubtedly sway, this way and that, as the junkie stumbles down the alleyway toward me.


Poor fool.


Well... maybe that's how some would see it. As far as I'm concerned, this 'poor fool' and the many like him are on the fast track to making me rich. Not really in the monetary sense, of course, as credits aren't worth next to anything these days but good intentions.


Everybody loves to feel like they've got some worth, don't they?


For me, the big payout isn't the credits - helpful as they may be to continue my little 'operation'. No, the payout is control. Simple, really, and some might say barbaric in this day and age. Honestly, I'm just looking to add a bit more spice to our mundane lives, maybe take down the rich and powerful in a jazzy way.


Who doesn't love fireworks?


You see... I don't hate the Augmented, really. Maybe I'm a bit jealous of them. Running faster, jumping higher, thinking quicker, all that. All without having to put in anything extra.


I think that's why I did it. Created Z3N.


Imagine - a world of Augmented at your fingertips. People that make up a pretty sizable chunk of the overpopulation, all under the control of one. Now that, my friends, is how you get things done.


And, surprise surprise, you're all eating it up. The timing of that ridiculous prohibition could not have been more perfect. Makes me wonder if there's not someone above me pulling the strings. Thank You World Government. You're the heroes inhumanity really deserves. Hah!


But let's cut to the chase here.


Z3N isn't just a street drug marketed to Augments. It's not a way of life either - despite what the addicts will tell you. It's... well, I suppose it's a bit of a perfect storm. A highly addictive drug that causes intense euphoria, sticks around in the system for a long time, is nearly untraceable once ingested, and infects all augmentations with a sly little virus.


And we're not talking influenza here. Think computer virus. A fun little program that lies in wait until I press that big, shiny red button.


To quote the prophet Louis Armstrong... 'And I think to myself...what a wonderful world.'


Won't be long now, and I'm getting anxious. But, for now... I've got another happy customer to serve.


Be seeing you.