August 30, 2552They woke you from cold sleep,
Demanding yet again
One of your miracles.
The Fall of Reach mere seconds
And yet, light yearsbehind:
A planet glassed, erased,
Its image burned and branded
On Halsey's and my face.
Still, no moment of silence.
Only rapid rounds
From automatic rifles,
Soundtracks to us now,
Staccato hymns, present
Even within your dreams.
But Spartans never mourn.
There isn't time to weep.
So let me be your heart,
And you can be my feet.
I can never forget
All that we have lost
Only for these simple sets
Of symbols in my head.
Remember Reach. Survive.
Fight for the friends who've died.
I'll keep them close to me
So they will always be
Forever by your side.
Missing LinkWhat choice have I? Why must I wage
This war against the darkest page
Of destiny? Where is my will,
When goddesses deny me still?
Is there no other in this land
Who can be found? No other hand
To grip this sword and purge this shrine?
Why must this hero's name be mine?
No longer shall I don this cap
Of emerald, this compass, map,
This bow, these bombs, I claim them not.
Let another's line be shot;
Ancestral generations lost.
Playing savior has its cost.
Hero of Time? Hero of Light?
I'd rather save myself this night.
My princess, pray you understand.
For you, I've spanned mountains and sand.
Through ocean waves and citied skies.
But some day, every hero dies.
Tell not my tale. Let legends end.
On no tears shall memories depend.
My resting place shall ne'er be known.
This final journey is my own.
Little Sisters' LullabyI will not scream, I will not cry,
I will not ask my Daddy why
these monsters try to make me sad.
I will not run, I will not hide,
I will not leave my Daddy's side
until he makes good all the bad.
I want to make my Daddy proud,
but some nights I still feel afraid.
Life is like the drops of tears
the lonely ocean windows sprayed.
There's sad ones splicing in our streets
and I sometimes recall a dream
of me, without bright glowing eyes,
so far above the ocean's scream.
I must not think; I must not try.
It hurts to always wonder why
Gamerverse Haiku 3Tiny prince, roll us
up in Katamari, so
we can become stars.
Requiem of the ServantThere's skin against the walls again
And sheepish sinners stumble in
To Silent Hill, and here I dwell,
For here the natives know me well
As Valtiel: the one whom She
Hath sentenced, both to serve and free
Your wicked minds from all your sins.
This town disgorges what's within
Your memories. And these I use
Like blueprints baring brilliant hues
Of rusted blood scraped over streets
And heart-hymns in aberrant beats.
Now in this mist let me assume
A metal mask; mark in this gloom
How sparks fly from this cleaver's edge;
How in recorded tapes you dredge
For truth, or hope, and all these lies.
I'll be the mirror you despise.
Or if you yearn to live and feel,
I'll fashion beasts of bone and steel
Whose mad mechanics twitch and strike.
Please notice how you're not unlike
These monsters; these children of you.
Your self, fashioned in skin and screw.
Two of SevenYour Scotty asked me for my autograph.
Is he for real? Or is he fake like you?
Is he your heart's stunt double? Will he laugh
When I warn him? What's an ex to do?
Well, I mean, besides becoming evil.
But every sell-out has his price. And mine
Wasn't hard to find. I want a sequel.
Beginning when I break your boyfriend's spine.
You cheated on me, broke me down, a rail
Without support, 200 steps of shame.
What am I now? A star that can not bail?
The second villain in this life's cruel game?
Or will your mem'ry vanquish us at last?
This mithril board; a number from your past.
One of SevenFlowers. It fits you well. A name designed
To pacify our minds. Did you know then
Back when we fought the jocks, when we combined
Our shocks and charmsthat I'd return again?
WELL BABY, HERE I AM! MATTHEW PATEL!
The FIRST love that you ever left behind.
And now I've got your Pilgrim in my spell,
and spectral groupies fighting for my mind!
I'm that one guy, whose email was ignored;
the Bollywood romantic from your past.
I can not leave until your heart's restored
the balance of our loneliness at last!
Or is my dream too foolish to unearth?
Is two dollars and ten cents all I'm worth?
Gamerverse Haiku 2Call me Proto Man:
A whistle, then red armor
On a faulty core.
From the UnitologistsIssac Clark, you tortured soul,
you could've made your lover whole
againa part of Altman's dream;
a blended voice within the scream.
And yet you stand, beyond your prime,
to break our hearts a second time,
with life and limb we all forwent
to consecrate our discontent.
And how? With weapons made to mine,
while in your memories you find
no gem of value? Nothing pure?
Can you be trusted?
Are you sure?