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britesparc · 4 years

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Weekend Top Ten #472

Top Ten Suggestions for Future Star Wars Games

Concluding an accidental trilogy of Top Ten lists that feature the word “Star”, here we journey back to a galaxy far, far away. This is also one of those lists that’s been bubbling under for quite a while, since the announcement (feels like ages ago now) that Disney have shopped the Star Wars licence around to a number of developers, and we’ll get future games from companies other than EA. But really it goes back even further, because for me Star Wars and gaming are inexorably linked. I associate my teenage PC gaming phase very closely with Star Wars, because it occurred in the mid-nineties, when Star Wars games were truly ascendent. In a run that I would argue stretched from the release of X-Wing in 1993, right through to Knights of the Old Republic in 2003, it felt like just about every genre was getting a nod from the House of Skywalker, and generally speaking the games were excellent. This time also saw the resurgence of Star Wars as a multimedia powerhouse, with the films getting reissued on video (and in Widescreen!) before the 1997 release of the Special Editions, the subsequent DVD releases, and then in 1999, the beginnings of the Prequel Trilogy with The Phantom Menace. You could argue that that’s when the wheels fell off, because even with the “Han Shot First” controversy and mixed reaction to some of the new effects shots, the late-nineties releases had been warmly received, Star Wars felt cool and exciting all the time, and anticipation was building to fever pitch at the thought of new movies. Amidst the Jar Jar hatred there was, I think, a bit more antipathy towards stories set in the Clone Wars, and although there were still some very good games being released (the first LEGO Star Wars came out in 2005!), the spark of the Golden Age was mostly absent.

Could we be entering a new Golden Age, or at least a Silver Age? Maybe; hopefully! I really, really enjoyed Jedi: Fallen Order and Squadrons, even though neither are perfect and both have plenty of rough edges. Now that the Skywalker Saga is out of the way and the franchise as a whole is spreading out into new areas (check out the number of Disney+ shows on the way), perhaps we’ll see all different facets of the galaxy explored in games too. And that’s what this list is: ten possible games, set in the Star Wars universe, that I think would be cool.

For the most part I’m not trying to invent a whole game; rather, it’s “Star Wars in this genre” or “Star Wars with this hook”. There’s probably an exception or two here and there, but you’ll get the drift. Some of these have been in my mental wishlist for years, from right back to when I first played X-Wing on my mate’s Mac, or when I installed a friend’s copy of Dark Forces from floppy disk (we, er, did that in those days). One of the best things about Star Wars is that it contains multitudes; George Lucas really did create a whole galaxy full of weird side characters, intriguing backstory, and funky-looking locations (aided and abetted, of course, by a bevy of talented collaborators). What corner of the universe couldn’t support a game of some kind?

So here’s to the future, to the newly-rechristened Lucasfilm Games, and to ten titles that could all benefit from beginning with those classic blue words on a black background.

Jedi Padawan RPG: I’ve wanted a game like this for about twenty years: a third-person action-RPG where you play a Padawan. You create your character and build your lightsaber, and then follow your master on missions around the Republic, learning the ways of the Force and developing your character. In a way, Fallen Order has adopted some of these ideas; the fact you only use a lightsaber and Force powers, for instance. But in my mind this is more similar to something like the first Fable, or maybe Mass Effect, where you’d have a hub to return to (the Jedi Temple) and then go off on missions that you could choose. All the while there’d be a plot bubbling up, and an arc to follow, and all sorts of quasi-open-world Jedi shenanigans. It’d be cool if they could make lightsabers feel like the really dangerous one-hit-kill weapons they are in the films, or if you could use them to, y’know, open doors and stuff. Maybe this could be set in the “High Republic” era we’re starting to explore.

Deus Ex-style first-person RPG: I suppose this one could be reductively called “Cyberpunk on Coruscant”, but the idea is you’d play someone – not a Jedi, in my mind – going on quests or solving some kind of mystery, shooting people in first person whilst also upgrading your body and abilities in typical RPG style. I wouldn’t want it to be too dark; I don’t like it when people try to make Star Wars “edgy”. But that Mandalorian or Rogue One tone of seriousness interspersed with Star Wars’ typical melodrama and weirdness would be good. I see your character as a small-time crook or maybe a minor mercenary who by circumstance is forced to take missions for either the Rebels or the Empire (or maybe First Order and Resistance); perhaps mirroring Poe Dameron’s journey from spice smuggler to X-Wing superstar. It’d be cool if there was Fallout-style hit-modelling on characters, and if your arm or whatever got damaged, you could have it replaced with a robot one.

Star Wars meets Elite: I even have a title for this one: “Scoundrel”. Basically, like I say, it’s Elite but in the Star Wars universe; you have a ship, you fly from planet to planet, you trade goods or offer passage, you spend your money on upgrading your ship or buying a new one. You’re Han Solo, basically; hence “Scoundrel”. In my mind it’s set at the dawn of the Rebellion, so you can choose where your allegiances – and your ethics – lie. Take on official Imperial assignments? Help their war effort? Stay neutral but legal? Stay out of the politics, but, y’know, smuggle a little bit? Run a bit of spice? Or do you go all-in and work for the Rebellion – even take part in military action? Maybe it could even run all the way up to Return of the Jedi and give you the chance to fight in the Battle of Endor! C’mon, this one has “hit” written all over it.

Clone Troopers turn-based “Tactics” game: by “Tactics” I mean like X-COM or, well, Gears Tactics; turn-based team combat games. I think of all the groups of military characters most suited to this style, it would be the Clone Troopers; they’re a well-organised military force that functions as part of a team. We know there are loads of types of Troopers, with different uniforms for different jobs, so there’s lots of room for customising your team, as well as experimenting with different classes. Plus if they die there’s more to come, they’re just in vats! Get Temuera Morrison to voice them all for added authenticity.

A point-and-click adventure: this was the first ever idea I had for a Star Wars game, because at the time I was really, really into adventures. This could be anything; I’m not too fussed on the plot. Some kind of mystery obviously lends itself to the format. Whether you play as the same character all the way through or switch protagonists (a common genre trope), I don’t mind. But I want it to be a fairly straightforward, old-fashioned point-and-click game, with no action or QTEs. Make it look like Thimbleweed Park, make it look like Clone Wars or Rebels, make it look as real as possible, it’s all fine; just give me a slow-burn narrative adventure story in the Star Wars universe please.

Lemmings, but with porgs: yeah, there’s nothing more to add to this. Maybe you play one of the Space Nuns, or even Chewbacca, and you have to help out all these crazy porgs? They’re just wandering around, getting into mischief, chewing on the Falcon or playing with a lightsaber, and they’ll kill themselves if you don’t help. That’s it. That’s the game. Lemmings, but with porgs.

Rebel base construction/management game: my template here would be stuff like Evil Genius or Two Point Hospital: real-time games where you build different rooms or services in a given play space. So, the Rebels are constantly darting all over the galaxy, setting up shop temporarily and then evacuating when the Empire comes a-calling; here, you have to kit out the different bases, often to service different aims (a recon base, an aerial support base, a training centre, etc), and in different planetary conditions (think Hoth, Yavin, or Crait). Obviously there are essentials: communication, power, accommodation. Then you can build starship docks, weapons arrays, bacta tanks, astromech services, even Jedi training rooms. Instead of attracting “customers” the idea is to be recruiting new Rebels, so the bigger and better your base, the more troops you have. Maybe there can even be some kind of meta-game where the progress of the war is smoother if your bases are better? But there’d be virtually no combat, apart from maybe shooting probe droids or scaring away wampas. Anyway, I think it sounds cool.

Rebel Commandos cover-shooter: I guess this could also be a Clone Trooper game, but we’ve already had a Clone FPS, and I just invented Clone Tactics up the page a bit, so let’s spread the love. It’s basically Gears of War but with the Rebel Alliance. Think about the Battle of Endor or the Battle of Scarif; teams of well-trained and battle-hardened troopers up against superior odds but still kickin’ ass. Unlike the rent-a-clone nature of the Tactics game, this would be more story-driven, with a small team (four, maybe, as it’s a good number for co-op) who have to infiltrate and/or assault heavily-fortified enemy positions. I think this could be good with a nice narrative behind it, fleshing out the Star Wars universe, and maybe offering a bit of those Rogue One-style shades of grey.

Fallout Shelter-style Jawa Sandcrawler management game: utini! Jawas are great aren’t they? Whether it’s electrocuting Artoo, cheering at podracers, or just eating the shit out of a great big egg, everyone loves a good Jawa. How can you make a game about Jawas? Well, what about if you’re this tribe or group or whatever of Jawas, and you’ve got your own knackered sandcrawler. And as part of the game you have to develop it, tart it up a bit, recruit new bands of Jawas, and then, y’know, rob droids and flog ‘em. Like Fallout Shelter, you have to build and maintain different rooms in the sandcrawler to grow your people and earn more cash from droids, but you’re constrained a little by size. The sandcrawler can’t be expanded too much, and although you could upgrade to bigger ones, you have to make strategic decisions about where to allocate precious space. I see this as being quite low-fi and stylised (bring back Yoda Stories!), and working as a kind of chilled-out time-wasting game on Switch or something.

Homeworld, but in the Clone Wars: and we’re back to the Clone Wars again! But here, we kind of have to, as it’s the only war in the Star Wars wars that features two huge and evenly-matched armadas (Rebels vs Empire and Resistance vs First Order are both very much “scrappy underdogs up against vast organised militaries”). Playing as the Republic or the Separatists, you have to maintain huge fleets of capital ships, support craft, fighters and bombers, and go on missions to attack, defend, or escort. It’s probably the best way to recreate the feeling of that absolutely vast battles we see in the opening minutes of Revenge of the Sith. Maybe an add-on could even give us ground battles too, recreating scenes such as the Battle of Geonosis. Anyway, sounds cool don’t you think?

Incidentally – and speaking of the Star Wars of it all – this is the first week that we’re not watching a War for our family movie night. We’ve done ‘em all! All the episodes of the Skywalker Saga, the two live-action spin-off movies, and even (well, me an’ the eldest) the animated Clone Wars movie. I might do another Top Ten ranking them, based on the kids’ opinions; that’d be interesting. Although – of course – we’ve only got a couple of weeks to wait until the two Ewok movies hit Disney+. What a time to be alive!

Now, the Ewoks – there’s a good idea for a game there…

#top ten #star wars #games #gaming #lucasarts #lucasfilm games #jedi knight #fallen order #squadrons

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buzzdixonwriter · 5 years

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Duty Now For The Future (part three)

(When last we left our intrepid scrivener, he was spitballing ideas on what he thought the post coronavirus pandemic world would look like…)

Creative Breakthroughs

A lot of people are going to be doing things that interest them during the lockdown, and we’ll see the benefits of that very soon.

Ideas will collide and new ideas will emerge from that.

The high ticket items that our capitalist system kept saying was what we wanted will be supplanted by smaller scale, more personal ideas.

In my phone right now is a free app that enables me to make movies of any length.

There’s a music making app as well.

People are going to create and they’re going to create with the resources they have on hand.

The big movie theaters are taking a hit. There will not be enough audiences to sustain them. They’ll be rapidly repurposed.

Once a vaccine is developed for the coronavirus, live venues will flourish.

Pop up theaters and clubs along the times cited above for stores and restaurants will also flourish.

Some of those big empty shopping centers will see crowds return since every week will have a new batch of stores and food stalls and live entertainment to offer.

There are going to be some remarkable media projects created by this, and that will be the artistic wave of the future, and out of necessity it’s not going to be the bloated big budget blockbuster.

If you can tell an interesting story shot in your house using family members as cast, you’ll be able to craft other small scale dramas.

(The only movie theaters likely to flourish will be drive-ins, and for pretty much the reasons they flourished in the past: They’re cheaper than motels.)

Also, if you thought my incel prediction was scary, try this on for size: iPhones + senior citizens X trapped at home X several weeks or months confinement = epic granny porn. (Right now a bunch of you are rolling your eyes and saying “there goes Buzz, making up weird stuff again” and to that I say “you wish!”)

. . .

Print Takes A Hit

Disposable printing (i.e., cheap magazines, books, comics, and newspapers) may not be wiped out, but it’s gonna get rocked back on its heels.

There will always be a small and identifiable market for quality printed works (and here I’m talking about the physical package, not the contents), but the days of buying a magazine knowing full well you’ll throw it away in a few days or weeks will end.

Disposable printing will remain for specific local events (conventions programs, conference brochures, etc.) but mass market printing will go. (And expect more and more conventions and conferences to make their programs and brochures available online only.)

That’s going to be quite a block to several overlapping industries and creative disciplines. There are new venues springing up digitally and online, but the transition over will not be an easy one for older consumers.

. . .

Collecting & Crafting

Bad news for all you folks holding onto “collectables” that were cranked out by the shitte-tonne. The only people who value them are folks like you, who bought ‘em hoping to sell ‘em to some other sucker. Real 21st century collectibles will be precious because of their scarcity and their craftsmanship, in particular the fame and reputation of the crafter making it.

. . .

DIY Culture

This is going to overlap with a resurgence in home crafting, making items by hand that become desirable because they were made by hand. Smart tailors and jewelers and other crafters will operate on margins too thin for large scale production but will do quite nicely since they’ll eliminate mid-level distribution by selling direction online. Already Etsy and similar sites are making this possible.

Couple it with 3D printers becoming cheaper and more reliable, and a lot of small household items are going to actually be made in the house they’re intended for.

We should also see people creating automated looms, knitting machines, woodworking lathes, etc., that eliminate or at least drastically reduce the skill set required to turn out serviceable goods.

Not everyone will own one (much less all) of these devices, but in neighborhoods and among family and friends we should find people we know and trust who can make things for us.

. . .

Pop Up Stores And Restaurants

The worst business to be in is the restaurant business.

An estimated 20% of all new businesses fail in their first year, and 50% fail by their fifth year, but for restaurants it’s a staggering 60% in year one, 80% by year five.

Who would want to get in any new business?

No, what we’ll want to do is get our new business out.

What kills most new businesses is a tug of war between financing (never enough) and real estate / hardware (always unexpected costs there).

A restaurateur needs to find an affordable location, make sure it is outfitted with a suitable kitchen, assemble a staff, then open at set times in a fixed location and hope enough people come to make the venture profitable.

Why?

Look at food trucks. They go everywhere and they do good business. Of course, there’s no fine dining establishment, you just grab your grub and go, so it’s not the wort of thing that appeals to people who wish to socialize or do a business lunch.

But a pop-up restaurant could offer that. Find an empty venue, either take over its kitchen if it has one or truck in your own if needed, open only during the hours you wish to be open, then cart everything off when finished.

There are night clubs and raves that do this sort of thing already on a much lower scale. And it doesn’t have to be confined to entertainment style businesses.

A small shop could easily open up for a few weeks in a specific location, sell products, then close and move on / wait till the next opportunity. (This already happens in the form of Halloween and Christmas shops that pop up for a few weeks then disappear around those holidays.)

Returns could be handled in a centralized location; the business need not generate what it sells but could be the storefront for a manufacturer.

It will mean a change in the way we shop and the way we market what we shop, but with most durable goods purchased online, and with smaller items either made at home or by a local crafter one knows, this might be a viable market for items and services that might otherwise fall through the cracks.

. . .

The Knowns, The Known Unknowns, And The Unknown Unknowns

The above are what I think is going to result from this current coronavirus outbreak.

Frankly, there are still so many wild cards in play that there’s no guarantee any of the above will come about.

Consider: The tragic polio outbreaks of the 1920s / 30s / 50s were rightly or wrongly associated with public swimming pools.

A great many families, once they rose high enough into the middle class, bought a backyard pool -- either an inground or a temporary seasonal above ground model -- to keep their family safe.

It became a status symbol to show how well you looked after your kids.

Even when polio was finally defeated, it remained a status symbol.

There’s no reason for everybody to have a backyard pool, and in places like Southern California they’re actually counterproductive, contributing to climate change (you’re better off filling ‘em in and planting trees instead).

Nobody anticipated that in the 1950s when building pools became more and more common for middle class families around America.

You’ll notice I’ve avoid discussing contemporary politics.

That’s because this crisis is ultimately one of a political nature, both in the US and around the world, and it’s going to be solved (hopefully) through politics.

Or violence.

Which is why I’m rooting for politics.

Whatever happens, it’s going to be change in a big, big way.

It may not be good change.

We may not like it.

We may have to fight to change to something else.

But we’re never going back to where we once were.

. . .

Bottom Line: We’re going to get through this, but we’re not going to be the same on the other side.

#duty now for the future #future #culture #coronavirus #morals #ethics

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paddymurraypoetry-blog · 7 years

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Twenty Two years For This? A Collection of Poems

Poetry

7/9/2017

All the joy has been depleted Continued happiness is fleeting Each day has me believing That I should be deleted. Swirling, sober or drunk, thoughts, A moon shaped pool, ought To describe what I've bought: A purpose for this life! Naught! Dragging days, rushed ride dings, Thousands of off time mood swings. "These are a few of my favorite things," I'm not Julie Andrews, I no longer sing. First attempt to regain creativity! This' my Renaissance, my nativity, "This'll work out fine," pure insanity I'm sorry to all my friends, my family.

Dawn, The beginning to every morning, To everyone's, I want you for my own, I doubt anyone else is this happy to see you, A smile forms before my eyes open, The blue birds brought me your message, "How are you?" a great way to wake up. The days are easier when speaking to you, Songs have beautiful new dynamics, Food has several new savory flavors, The sun's rays are not so harmful, Hell, people are tones more bearable, And work barely ever feels like it! Thank you for loving my quirks, Thank you for all of your concerns, Being here doesn't seems so hard, When I hear from you, it warms my heart! Dawn, The thing I feverishly wait for, Night isn't nearly as colorful as the day, I barely hear from you at all then. The smile earlier turns to a heavy frown, The blue birds stopped soaring long ago, "How are you?" now has a different answer. Nights are tougher not speaking to you, Songs now all sound like discord, Food becomes another coping method, The Moon's rays aren't as charming, People are the last thing I want near me, Work continues at home, it's my life. I am sorry for never opening up, I am sorry if I rushed us to be more, Being here is harder than ever before, This feeling I have for morning breaks my heart.

Last Chance Thoughts on a Country Road (Poem #4) Red telephone towers, Stretching beyond sight Oceans of green, And blinding sunlight. Hoping for obstruction, Some sort of beam, Ongoing construction, Split me at the seams. Can I go now? Should I go now? Dead deer decaying, Isolated blacktop, Altima now swaying, No signs to STOP Lonely country road I love your grace. One last solid day Be my resting place! Can I go now? Should I go now? Blue telephone rings, Mother is calling, Dinner must be ready, Now I am stalling. Is this what I want? Should this be? Racing to my own end, But she loves me. Should I go now? Can I go now?

Dare to Speak my Dream? (Poem #6) Vivid dreams of your divinity, Hopefully occupy me for infinity. Oh please be in my vicinity, Is it wrong to feel sanguinity? Maybe one day we'll hold hands, Observe the sky and make plans, Have some kids and buy some land, Full of lush evergreen away from the sand. How do I approach your semblance? Those rosy cheeks in my remembrance. Can we sing together then dance? Your cerulean eyes locking me in a trance. My tongue will not let me speak, The task is too daunting, too bleak. These stirrings have caged my beak, But would you prefer if I take the leap?

Beat Me New (poem #7) Beat me blue, Smack me around, Burn that insignia and watch it brown. Choke me tight, Hug me firm, Torture this man and watch him squirm. Strike me quick, Set me ablaze, Burn this Gardenia in a haze. Stomp me out, Call me brash, Mix the mulch with the burning ash. Cast me far, Drown me deep, Submerge the fool with all his grief. Rinse me well, Hang me dry Use this shadow then cast it aside. Break me down, Build me anew, Reshape the being with physical ques. Hold me back, Push me forward, Drag this shy clown from the corner. Kiss me long, Give me more, Divulge in the madness til you're sore. Love me now, Love me then, Love that crazy character until the end.

Streams (poem #9) art by Kevin Haley Seeping through the days haze I flow down the city sewer On my way to the great ocean I lose a piece of my identity. Jealous of the Sting Rays and Trout I've taken a brand new form Their freedom is what I most desire So long my Christian name, I'm gone. Sludge and shit sift through my stream Maybe I am not meant to have a life Purposely flowing to build up others Sacrificing clarity for sincerity. I am now together with Big Blue Surgically attached, expanding its size Now I realize all streams flow together One's identity is never just that of itself.

Sing (Do we?) (Old poem) Do we, oh do we sing? How well does the ear hear? Does the music sting? Or is that just fear? Raspy the lyrics leave The pink oral abode, To find a sea To unload the ode. Do we, oh do we sing? How well does it taste? Does the music swing? Or has it gone to waste?

Personal (poem #11) Most days I don't touch an instrument Most days I can't hear the sentiment Most days I can't see the love Most days I can't taste your push and shove Most days I can't smell the motivation Most days I just hate the stagnation Few days I feel truly inspired Few days I smell beauty in burnt tires Few days I savor the fleeting high Few days I grasp that leprechaun "Joy" Few days I hear excitement, Oh boy Few days I crumble like the city of Troy But don't worry about this golden goose The karats don't weigh my wings down The luster blinds all potential seekers As I flap towards the brighter future But don't worry if I don't go the distance Through repentance I've accepted my existence

Garden Shed, Rotten Soil (poem #11?) Piece together tranquility, With sedative memory trickery. Thoughts grow from fertility; The mind is made of garden soil. Enter my garden shed, Root around for root killers Sprays of self-doubt, Shovels formed out of depression. Ransack the toolbox of seeds, They must be planted with ease, Blooming under warm UV light, Soon the thoughts will be ripe. Too long have these plants died Never maturing to positive rays. Go back to my garden shed I must Plant new seeds for the next Spring. Harvest comes and goes with haste For none of these plants are ready Bogged down by heavy rains and cold Shriveled from mistreatment, my scold. But the patch will see a resurgence, Too long have these plants died. Introduce a sedative to the mind, The soil will soften in time for Spring.

Hello Friend (poem) Seated in the presence Of your one true menace Witness the ovation, standing At attention with persistence. Do this, do that he says A figure of darkness my guess, Guess you should be the guest Of his marvelously devious jest. Ask him your true role The mark, as borrowing as a mole The purpose you want, the sole Reason you live and more. The figure lends his voice, Giving you no manner of choice "This is your life's meaning boy, Find it in yourself to rejoice!" He leaves and you are askew, For anxiety runs and runs through The streets of your mental compass; You'll never know how to process

These thoughts, these doubts Cumulous like those clouds They'll stick by your side now Until you kick the bucket and bow.

The End (The last poem I write) The lines are there but I won't draw them They are for another day When I fully give in to Doubt And let him reside fully in my mind. I love you all, but he is always here Driving me over speed limits Past red lights to certain dread. He takes ME for a ride when I'm not ok Then calls my friends in a freak-out foray. I feel like I should embrace Death itself And rid myself of this confounded hell. Every minute is agony on my brain, I'm sorry friends, I can't deal with the strain. Think kindly, or think resentfully For I wish I was able to battle freely, These lines are etched, traced over my bones Time to cut them loose or set them in stone.

Resentful Blessings (new poem) I'm sorry father. I realize now how much of a bother, me and my brother, who I do not treat as a brother, have been to you and mother. My mother, who only smothers my brother and I, with love and pride, is the main reason I have not yet died. Resentful is my deal, but blessed is how I truly feel. You never said I love you, you never said I'm proud of you two. That sounds horrible, and it very well may be incorrigible, but Dad, that is you! The rigid man with the heavy soul boots. I'm sorry father, for we are now growing roots farther. This apple has rolled, miles from the tree hoping to be sold. We could not be more different, for I do not reward resistance. I give my love and affection, things you won't find even with detailed directions.

Remember Mother? (New poem) Remember the porcelain tub Mother? Remember how you used to wash me Crafting bubbles for my amusement? Remember the good times Mother? Remember showing me your favorite stories Filling my head with so much wonder? Remember the doctor's Mother? Remember all the things they said Allergic to outdoor life no matter where? Remember the separation Mother? Remember when father was removed Cast off by you for torturing both of us? Remember my visit Mother? Remember me flying across the nation To see you in person on that vacation? Remember when I was alive Mother? You found me in that porcelain tub Curled up with Fitzgerald's works Not breathing, this time not to allergies Still feeling the abuse father bestowed Not reveling in that vacation, or you.

Convenience (poem) I met the most wonderful woman So open, like a 24 hour convenience store. However, nothing about her is convenient. Any time of day she's got the door open, but I refuse to enter the quaint shop. Why do I believe my money is no good? Everything I want, need is located there, but I choose the inconvenience. Running down the asphalt away from it, from her and the welcoming florescent glow. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with I? Casting myself out of the greatest role, for fear of never earning my own Oscar. The Pearly Gates squeak for me up above, "What a pour soul, torturing himself." Fuck those gates, I want in her corner store, yet I choose the supermarket during the day. Forgettable, lonely, large yet also empty inside, I could have had what I needed last night. Shot in the foot? More like a bullet in the head. Racing away from openness straight home, wishing the convenience store best of luck. Find the right patron miss, find them well. "My money is no good there," I tell myself.

Irony (poem) I hate the ocean, but I'm always out at sea, Staring blankly across the vast cerulean plains, Yet underneath me is a slab of dirty cement, I have always been planted on solid ground, Why does my mind travel to the places I despise? Visions of desperation flash past my brown eyes, I reach out, but the air has no physical shape, I am just merely pushing oxygen side to side, I realize I am drowning on land, how's that so? That oxygen I disturbed has flown away, Swept off by the actions of my own doing, Looking up, the cotton candy clouds laugh, Holding in the rain I so desperately want, The sun no longer matches my bright outfit: My canary shirt and blinding ivory sneakers, Misrepresent the arguments in my own kopf, Without a paddle I remain lost out at sea, The place I despise the most with no recourse, The far reaches of space escape my sight, I taste the salt that also burns my sweaty skin, How cruel God is to the fish, What did they do wrong? Trapped in the water which they need to survive, Yet here I am, unable to breathe the delicious air A fish out of water unable to stand due to despair.

Covering (poem) What is this flabbiness? It stares at me through the mirror. What useless covering it is. All my blood flows underneath. The veins of life pop out. Patches of hair randomly scattered. What is this fleshiness? It's wearing me at this point. I want to peel it off, free the bones from the stickiness. I despise staring at it, who would want to peer at it. I admire others' coverings. How more perfect it is than mine. I want a brand new disguise, I want to obtain another identity. Scrubbing the dirt stains away, I envy those who can touch, skin of their partner, against the skin of themselves.

Exit 36 (poem) Vastly approaching is exit 25, 11 more then I'll have to merge, I asked the girlfriend to lose some weight, "Where do you get off?" Guard rails as far as 20/20 vision can see, The buffer keeping me from the Pine wild, Who cares if we tear down all this green, "Where do you get off?" Troopers camp out next to the camp grounds, Scanning the heaps of metal flying past, Flying at 90 I barely see the flag lights flash, "Where do you get off?" Two more exits until I arrive at home base, No girlfriends, activists, nor troopers, All this time it's about me, me, ME! Everything is owed, better have it hand delivered! Shed those pounds dear not those tears, Cut those trees down, soon you won't hear 'em, Issue that ticket sir, I fucking crave it! I will take any exit to fulfill sadistic needs. Feed me the cries Hun, send me to the pen, Chop it all down so the name is only Barren, Wails of sirens and betrayal stab the drums, My actions have consequences that I can't outrun. Where do I get off? Where do I get off?

Warmth Warm towel out of the dryer, Please transport me back in time. Mother's love is no liar, "Honey you'll be fine, you'll be fine" Whispers floating in winter's air, Louder than the voices inside my head. Changing winds like mother’s hair, Cracking the skin of faces bare. Help me mother for I have sinned! Or is it father I should have told? Hung up on a clothesline, pinned! Due to freeze from past wrongs now cold. With the dryer no longer emitting heat, The Arctic breeze regains its control, But mother's warmth isn't easily beat, She taught her Son how to melt the snow.

Recreation (poem) Shoestring twists Caked in sludge batter Return of the Red Eyes Excuse the stoner laughter These cheeks are inflated Music keeps me elated Blonde dome rising A dank balloon gliding Having lost grip of the string Two hours ticked by Floating down from the high My skin has shed, sober again

Drop-out [Dedicated to you asshole] (poem) You dropped out of life. Two kids, faulty future up ahead Scraping nickels together last night Just to feed his family tonight. You dropped out of college. Took several courses online But never actually finished the race Yet boasts his unsuccessful accomplishments. You dropped out of dreams. Just due to having to now provide Busting your shoulders to grinded dust For a few bucks and no dreams You dropped out of my life. Spit on me when I picked my school Smacked me when depression came to stay Squashed the miniscule love I still offered. You dropped out of life. Judging others because you hate your choices Drunk each day with fierce regret Burying yourself deep while we all still live.

Straightforward Delusions (poem) Sometimes I want to chuck it Far past the reaches of vision The happiness, the great joy Trade it for the rustic gloom Because what do I deserve? Hand grenade with no pin Tuck that away for another day Catastrophes caused by I Sometimes I fail to grasp it Far beyond my comprehension Stick a fork in me and twist it Bop the wonderment right out Exorcise these glorious angels I hate dragging myself to hell But I can't tow away another soul As I board Satan's elevator Sometimes I need to abandon Freeze the beef of my emotions Rotten the fruits of my labors Cast away Hanks of all shapes too You earn what you obtain here Captured fish, career with a degree I hate that I go on murder sprees Eradicating my bliss due to my fears

Wet Floor (poem) I slipped again, but I'm fine, No "Wet Floor" sign this time, Crashing down I feel it, Sharp pains and bones have split, My head bounced off the tile, Maybe this time I'll file, Damages definitely need to be paid, To cover up that I am afraid, Never will I step foot in here again, The home of a once dear friend.

Grief's Angel She swoons to the sounds of the leaves Rustling in the cool night breeze Dancing in the radiance of the moon This is her favorite time to move Breathtaking is the sight The charcoal haired angel of the night Stealing my heart like a common thief Causing me insurmountable grief We were once together long ago Loving and laughing, now just sorrow Each day was spent frolicking through the fields But she stabbed my heart with cold sharp steel Observing her beauty I notice her steps Her blood red lips and bright white dress Popping out of the dark night abyss Holding her tight, oh how I miss Twirling around she sways to and fro She begins to hum a song, that gorgeous swallow A smile forms upon her pretty semblance Striking up a past remembrance Torturing every lover she ever had Those men were driven to become mad It is her pleasure and source of entertainment Watching them turn into insane men Each love aged like that of the leaves Crunchy and brown and dropped from the trees Why did she play such abominable games Breaking their hearts and soiling their names This radiant angel, once mine before others Swoons to her song without any troubles I gaze over and watch her steps repeat As blood rushes down, and I deplete

Circulatory China Shop (Poem #5) This super glue won't fix us Neither will masking tape Duct tape is just as useless While putty won't take shape I am the bull, I am at fault The China's smashed The past cemented The future now and forever is affected The Humid summer air is putrid Sticky streets and vanishing cumulous Don't look at the yellow-green sky Love's in the air and I got no invite I am the bull, I am at odds Charging too fast Too slow to catch Will somebody give this animal a chance?

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