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…from where there was never a future

We rape and pillage this once proud Earth
into damnation overload, until the cure to suffering
is contested by limitless excruciation.
The execution of our planet has already been handed down,
a rope, thick like the trunk of a behemoth tree,
strung around the neck of our once wholesome world.
When the execution of the cadaver is later orchestrated,
the exhumed beauty, which had once considered suicide,
will reveal how an attack, over seven billion strong,
struck several violent blows, bringing an end
to substantial happiness. The love which we each shared
for this globe of green and blue, has not beat like a drum
in a time consumed by a longevity greater than any figure
which has come before. But now the alphabet of love
has dried like blood beneath the sun, and as the ground shakes
with the rumbling of rubber and steel,
soldiers flood through our streets, trampling the toys
of children into oblivion towards a fate chosen for them
by men in suits, who shall never do the dying
forced upon the slaves of countries.
Before we are even invited in, we become part
of a war conceived by the hands of others,
and our battle songs are then replaced by stolen symphonies,
sung by broken parliaments corrupted by governmental greed.
On this night, when death walks the Earth,
picking the happiness out from between the teeth
of hapless victims to and fro, I myself
do not wish to see you cry, because you have been waiting
for superman far too long, and he has not returned
after leaving to do the laundry late last night,
and much like all of the other pretenders,
the chance of his coming back rests between negative figures.
If I could hold you to my cheek perhaps we could stop being victims,
to a world that has long forgotten the spirited vengenace
of true love, that guided our hands together once, but sadly no longer.
As the green foliage is swept clean by the ever changing winds,
I will have you know that a future exists beyond our horizon,
leading to a changed existence, and if we may traverse the foothills
which separate us from here and there, a new beginning
may well awake from where there was never one.

A Murderer Known as Love

If love is a battlefield,
then I have been caught
in a war torn country,
with regret as my companion.
I had a chance to find
happiness, and I had another
not too long ago,
and yet I still have hopes
that the one I truly love
will see for who I am
and say ‘I want you,
I love you, I have been
waiting tirelessly for you
my whole life; marry me,
would you, you are all
I have been searching for,
and together we shall
never be apart no more.
Let loneliness be abandoned
in these arms of mine
as you hold me to your heart
so I may hear the beat
that I inspired,
for without me you are flotsam,
and without you I am
not myself, but combined
we are everything we need
to see this journey through,
and never shall we be without
the other.’ But this is but
a dream, and dreams, they
do not come true except
in fairy tales, which this
is not, because the gloom
of this here world
lingers upon my shoulders.
Many live for love, so
I doubt it could be
surprising if one were to die
for such an emotion too.
When an unknown man
walks in with a shotgun,
I gladly throw my arms out,
outstretched at my side
as though I am to be crucified,
and I cry for him to slay me,
but no, he shoots himself
instead. It seems that love
has claimed yet another victim,
and it be ironic that an emotion
of such happiness is responsible
for so much death.
There is barely enough left
to describe the stranger
that lies upon the ground;
one second he was alive,
the next he was no longer,
and has become yet
another faceless man in a crowd
of aching hearts, and no matter
how hard I screamed, never
would he have pulled
the trigger with the barrells
aimed down at me.
I want death so badly,
but I do not want to commit
the act myself no more,
for I am terrified my heart
will cramp up and my body
will stutter, and that will
be the start of yet another
colossal failure. The only
way to guarantee success
is at the hand of another;
but what hand would happily
do what I feel must be done?
But maybe I am scared
of death, and have mistaken
cowardice for absolution,
and if this be the case
I needn’t live with such ignorance,
so please, someone smarter
than I notify me,
so I may die with my intellect
intact before I reach my end.

When Death Becomes Her

Is conceding to defeat
preferable to basking
in its inevitability?
Humanity began
another war today.
Where one concludes
another begins;
there is no end to
tyranny.

Oppression is what
keeps the heart at bay
and prevents our love
from living. Where
once love reigned
supreme, now she
knows only defeat, for
we have failed to
nurture that which we
once hailed as our
most paramount emotion.

When death became her,
she was taken at the
reaper’s blessing. His
minions, our militaries,
were only too eager to
prove themselves reliable
by eliminating the only
force strong enough to
halter humanity’s violent
expansion.

In the name of hate we
killed her; love is now all
but gone. Her demise will
not be remembered; just
another death on the
casualty list; just another
nameless number in the
statistics; just another
victim to the grinder that
is war. If love was as
popular as hatred,
perhaps she could have
outlasted till the bitter
end.

If this be true; if these
written words are proven
reliable and all that this
piece dare reveals is the
inconvenient existence we
are all bound to, then what
is the purpose to our
continuation? Why bother
submitting to a life that is
destined to be unfinished,
for what is life with the
absence of romantic passion?

The lie we would be forced
to tell ourselves in order
to get out of bed each
morning would be a betrayal
upon our very souls and
lead only to our damnation.
This writer can already
taste the suffocating hatred
that has drenched the
surface of our planet; can
you not taste cherub’s
defeat?

If love was so easily taken,
then what unfortanate
future is in store for our
soul mates? Why bother
living, breathing, eating,
if your lover’s flame has
already been extinguished?
With the amount of death
that has covered this
world, what chance is
there that your future
lover has already been
consumed?

What chance is there for us
if our futures do not include
such passion? What hope is
there for anyone if
tomorrow brings us no
closer to that which we are
lacking? If love is truly
dead, then we have
already joined her in the
afterlife. I only hope that
hatred does not exhist
there too.

Zen and Peace

SYNOPSIS: A poem about the hope for peace and Zen in a world that has been fractured overtime due to excessive hate and violence. Some of the themes raised in this piece may be controversial to some readers.

Take me to the place where the great golden sun never sets,
where the evil men do to each other we can forget.
Take me to the place where glitter always hangs in the air,
where those who are capable of emotion always care.
Take me to the place where roses are always red; where flower’s always bloom;
where same sex has been legalised, and a man can marry his fellow groom.
Take me to the place where religion is not mandatory,
where people, rather than their Gods, receive all of the glory.

From the evils of the world, I wish to have immunity
and to see the world for what it is; a place of rare beauty,
for I wish to live in a world of love, rather than a world filled with hate;
it is the other side of the coin I know, but why must it be our fate?
I petition that we bring an end to all of the world’s evil,
and that we open our hearts to God, rather than to the Devil,
and that finally each of us can experience Heaven on Earth,
which is what all of us have been seeking from the moment of our birth.

Take me to the place where God does not forgive the sins of evil men,
where people may love whomever they choose and ladies can love women.
Take me to the place where angels do not sit back and watch countries burn,
where teachers truly teach and captivate, and young students truly learn.
Take me to the place where the injured do not feel pain,
where those who are dead or dying never die in vain.
Take me to the place where the grass is never greener, it’s the same on either side,
where respect is mutually accepted and people are not overcome by pride.

Please, do not frown upon my ambitious peace loving dreams,
I beg of you, do not frown upon these words that I scream;
at the top of my lungs I cry out through all the years
and those who support me, do so with relentless cheers,
for those who follow my path to peace believe me to be in the right,
I have fortunately stumbled blindly into the adoring light
and now the dark can no longer have a hold over me
for I have discovered the road to true peace, finally.

Take me to the place where those suffering from hunger never starve,
where all the goods and necessities are divided into halves.
Take me to the place where people are fuelled not by rage but honor,
where everyone has a friend beside them and is not a loner.
Take me to the place where everyone is free to voice their opinion,
where there is always an answer given to every single question.
Take me to the place where marriage is built up on sacred vowels,
where people are but people rather than animals run fowl.

‘You are either with me, or you are against me,
you’re either on my side, or you’re my enemy’;
I was once taught this. I don’t know if I believed it, I don’t know if I still do;
I don’t know who taught it to me, or if I ever felt such a thing to be true,
but why does everything have to be so black and white?
It feels so wrong, when it is supposed to feel so right
but that is just the price, of not seeing things in shades of grey;
inevitably you live in the darkest of all the days.

Take me to the place which is a better, more beautiful world,
where there are equal rights for everyone, not just guys, but girls.
Take me to the place where governments act out of love for their followers,
where there is no need for war; no need for violence; no need for warriors.
Take me to the place where everyone can finally feel accepted,
where everyone can lay their heads back and feel so calm and contented.
Take me to the place where the true lover never leaves;
where everyone can find love – this I wish to believe.

Untitled Beauty Part II

SYNOPSIS:
For anyone who has read my former poem ‘Untitled Beauty’, one would know that I based the piece upon a beautiful young woman who dressed up as Jedi Master Aayla Secura from the Star Wars universe for a ComicCon. I do not know her true identity, and I would really appreciate it if someone in the world could actually tell me such information…the link to the image and additional info on this topic can be found in the ‘end notes’ section of the original Untitled Beauty post which can be found at this link: http://wp.me/p24LWs-2H

THE POEM:

This here is not a love poem – no, it is a poem of longing,
about hope, prayer, fantasy, discovering oneself and belonging,
which begins as every morning inevitably does. The light breaks through a moderate sized hole in the wall; the ominous ‘they’ call it a window,
but I call it a distraction, for it wakes me from my slumber where I dream I strike up a conversation with a rare beauty by saying ‘hello’,
rare beauty who is you. All the money in the world cannot buy me another minute in this fabulous fantasy,
where I kissed your sumptuously luscious and tender lips and you held onto my big, broad shoulders oh so delicately,
and I fear, the only way to experience this moment once again, is to physically find you and express
‘you are the only lover Untitled Beauty I have been frequently and hopelessly attempting to impress,
for you are the only young woman in all the world, if not the known universe I am constantly thinking of,
my sumptuously delightful lady of whom I hope to forever and always unconditionally love.

It is true, and it is a fact that I do not dare deny, that never have either of us yet met,
but even with that said, you are a young beauty I can never easily in all my years forget,
and if I am supposed to move on from this fantasy, where am I supposed to move on to?
for no one else in this great round world could ever tame this heart of mine for no one else is you.
Additionally, if I am supposed to move on, where am I supposed to go?
for you are the single greatest adventure of all time that I will ever know.
It is also true that I do not know your name, but, my darling, it is a two way street. You could ask ‘what name do you go by?’ and I’d reply ‘you may call me Naughty Nefarious’
and a giggle may suddenly spring forth from the corner of your mouth. I swear it is no joke, for a name is a name, and mine is mine, for my world becomes so much more delicious
the second I lay my eyes upon your pretty face. I feel so invulnerable, but the truth of it all is, I really ain’t all that tough,
and I fear that those three words that mean so much, but also so little, for they are said too often, in regards to you, I have not said enough.

Ma’am, I am certain you grew up in America, where as I’m from down under, from a state far adjacent to that of Perth,
and it would most definitely seem from our noble beginnings when we were born, God wanted to give us both quite the wide berth.
I dedicated my life to writing and gaining a doctorate, whilst you dedicated yours to staying at home,
loyally watching over your loving family with respect, like an unflinching, always trustworthy garden gnome.
In your spare time you use your remarkably athletic form and go dancing in the grim shadows,
whilst back in Australia, not everything is the stereotypical gullies and meadows.
However, what the two of us have in common are the numerous stars that we watch at night, and the clouds all black and blue;
that unusually warm touch you feel right now upon your shoulders young lady – that’s me, romantically thinking about you,
for I frequently hunger for your passionate affection, and I swear I’ll starve without you near,
and I wish we weren’t separated by oceans and continents, I wish you were with me right here.

I often wonder what is happening with the world, and where the old one I once knew and loved inevitably went,
and why all of the once potent emotion is being poured into pain and horror, and if it is emotion well spent.
What happened to the age old conception ‘treat others the way you want to be treated’?
for in this world, truth justice and mercy are sacrificed, and true love is defeated.
I hope this inevitability ain’t my fate, and if so, I ask you, give me another toss at the game of luck, give me a second chance,
for although I ain’t no proud patriot who can fight through thick and thicker, I am a strong believer in emotion, reminiscence and romance,
and I can assure you, I would bleed on the Union Jack to make sure the faithful stripes stay bright red.
No matter whether I’m alive or in my time of dying, I feel there’s nothing more to be said,
but I would ask that you do not become overburdened with sad and depressing emotions and burst into tears for me, and that you happily smile in remembrance instead,
and if the world was plunged into war tomorrow, I would participate if it meant I could keep dreaming about you inside my head.

When imagining a fantasy world in which we know one another I can picture a location of common place where you’re listening to Metallica
over the radio, their awesome rock n’ roll classics ripping through the speakers as you loyally jam to their tunes, before introducing yourself as ‘Aayla.’
It must be an expensive persona you are living as we attempt to guess your origins. ‘No’ you say, ‘I ain’t from Launceston, and I ain’t from Maribyrnong.
No, I am from nowhere near here.  Instead, I come from a different place entirely with traditional working man roots, where Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Wrecking Ball’ is the theme song;
where the widely renown Star Wars theme is sung every night before dinner;
where the biggest loser can almost always become the biggest winner.
That’s right ladies and gents, I come from the mighty United States, and I will certainly return there soon,
so if you’ve something to tell me I suggest you confess it real quick, and by that, I mean this afternoon,
cuz come tomorrow I’ll be long gone, and young man, you especially, will be left on your own,
and being a pure blooded California gal and a pseudo Australian I can tell you twice, it’s awful cold when you are all alone.’

I have this uncanny feeling inside my heart and soul, one where I believe legitimately to have already lost you once, but I promise I won’t lose you again twice,
and to this I can assure you to ensure my promise fulfilled, I will commit to anything you ask of me and do whatever you say and I would take any advice,
no matter how fruitless it may seem, for I am officially sick of being alone, and all of this empty space;
I am sick to my stomach at being away from you and wherever you want I will meet you, any time or place. 
For if feeling good is a crime (and I’ve never felt this good until I laid my eyes upon you), someone had better lock me up right now cuz I feel fantastic,
and in regards to all of your truth and beauty, and all the love in your gorgeous heart, I have officially become an addict
for you. But when it comes to love, perhaps I am simply and without a doubt incompetent
cuz I fall madly in love way too easily. Then again, perhaps I am a delinquent
for failing to expertly spot the difference between human life, unconditional never ending love and horrifying misery,
but even with this said, if I were to die tomorrow, I would never want to go to Heaven, unless you were up there waiting for me.

To have you rare angel, I will delve deep into formidable places where no hero dare goes,
and upon hearing this you might reply ‘really? Well, tell me Pinocchio, how long is your nose?’
I am no liar, you have to believe me when I say I think I love you, and to ensure your survival, I’d push you out of the way of a nuke.
You won’t ever need to be a fabulously rich duchess for me to love you, but if you were, and you were to ask of me, I’d gladly be your duke.
After hearing these words Untitled Beauty, it might be best that you throw away your key after locking all your windows, and barring all the doors,
and make a pact with Satan, or pray to whomever God you solely believe in, for no existing mortal entity can save you anymore
from my love, which is invulnerable to harm. However, in reality, I have to ask you, in regards to romance, how can it be a good thing if those we love are doomed to die,
after pledging all of our allegiances and our love into their lives, and rare angels such as yourself succumb to destiny and perish, before plummeting out from the falling sky?
But if this unfortunate fate were to become yours, to get you back, I can assure you, I would traverse through the village of the damned,
if it meant eternal happiness could return to me again, and I could one day have my loving heart safely under your command.

When the world is at its darkest, and I’m drowning in the depression of the rain
I simply sit back and gladly admire your beautiful picture once again,
and imagine what you might ask me if we were to meet. You’d enquire ‘Derek, Naughty, whatever title you choose to go by’, before asking what I am going to do for you,
and I’d truthfully reply ‘I would take the stars right out of the night sky if such an act could prove my love alive and whole, and I would paint ‘em pink and purple and even pure gold too!’
It may sound completely out of this world insane, but what I say is not a total fabrication, and it certainly ain’t a ruse;
if given but one opportunity to spend my life with anyone, you are the only person I’d always faithfully choose,
because sweet Aayla impersonator, you are without a doubt one in 7.4 billion.
Dressing up in all those outfits moreover, you look exactly like a saucy chameleon;
you look incredible; you look beyond inhuman; you look flawless; you are perfect undoubtedly,
and with those luscious red lips and that sugar sweet smile I just know you are destined to belong with me.

Sometimes the darkness wakes me up and sometimes the silence speaks so loudly it is deafening to behold,
for whenever I am without you Untitled Beauty, I suddenly feel so indescribably cold,
because it is only in your eyes that I believe I have found where I eternally belong
and never until this moment which stands before me now have I felt so immeasurably strong.
However, in this inhospitable place, I fear I might be labeled the interloper, or the pariah
because of you my darling, for being all that I’ll ever want, all that I’ll ever need; for being my eternal desire,
and, to put a stop to this, people may light up their torches and sharpen their pitchforks too, before coming to claim me,
and will point to those who can corroborate that it was I, the antagonist, who acted with such vile villainy,
for all the boys who look upon you are filled with lustful gluttony, and the women become so jealous
at your unfathomable angelic beauty, and as for I, you make me so romantically ravenous.

Remember when I said this was not a love poem my dear? Well, I have to admit that perhaps I lied,
and if such be the case you could always blame it on the demon I have within this heart of mine inside.
I can assure you, I do not write these words in order to gain power, and I will certainly never need the likes of money or fame,
especially after I win over your beautiful beating heart, for then I will have everything I’ll ever need once it’s you I claim,
and although I still don’t quite know you, from your personality to your values, from your general likes and the neighborhood
you grew up in, judging by your looks alone, you deserve to be erected centre stage in the middle of Hollywood,
and then, once I’ve identified who you are and more, as promised, I’ll spend my life staring lovingly into your eyes forever.
The chance, if even there was one which I doubt, of me falling out of love with you my darling rests somewhere between naught and never,
so if you have ever had grave concerns, I ask that you ‘don’t fret, don’t cry and don’t ever believe
that feelings from your heart unto mine is not the one thing that I have always wanted to achieve.’

THANK YOU FOR READING!

Untitled Beauty

THE SYNOPSIS:
Set in the hypothetical future, this poem outlines the romance of an alien woman and her human lover as they attempt to enjoy a romance fulfilled in a universe that wishes to ultimately see them fail.
Later in the poem, an artificial alien language is generated. Below is a key if anyone is interested which translates the alien words into that of English. However, if you don’t speak English, this will be about as useful as a cup holder on a motorbike.
A/All/Is: ‘Es
Again: Ernst
Allow: Alst
Always/Constant: Nien’elieniat
Am/Are: E’tta
And/Beside/More/With: Plutus
Anyone/People: Rayrul
As/It/To/The/Yet: Ese
Back: Butus
Beautiful: Belis’imira
Can: Du
Cannot/No/Not/Nothing/Stop/: Nien’te
Cause: Effectus
Children: Rayrulli
Consequence: Terra
Could/Should/Would: Derse
Do/Or/So/To: O’
Enjoy/Good/ Great/Happy*/Yes/Very: Yess’et
Even: Cosi
Façade/Lie: Falsa
Feel*: Fueta
For: Es’e
Friend: Ger’rat
Grow: Tre
Have: Hi
I/Me/Mine/My: E’ (only caps for ‘I’)
In/Of: Iti
If: It’e
Inspiration: Halo
Just: Ka’
Know: Knowledge
Life/Live*/Reality: Perpursella
Loudly: Cres’endo
Love*: Romanca
May: Mult’i
Mother: Ray’pareta
Much: Elien
One/Only/Single: Lone’
Oppurtunity: Opal’li
Own: Posset
Partner: Ray’ro’am
Please: Pleaseus
Put: ‘U
Rather: Alta
Said/Say: Spek’ola
See: Magnesus
Softly: Silenzio
Source: Circe’
Stand*: Terret
Strong*/Strength: Muchi’popollala
Than/That/The/This: Ti
Thank you: Kah’le’halset
There: Arr’ot
Thing: Ni’rayl
Through: Crevact
Unforeseeable: Nien’magnit
Universe: Galaxus
Was: Additial
Way: Wurs
What/When/Where/Who: Wersa
Whole: Percetta
Will: Forcus
Wife:  Wilahundra
Words: Spera
Year*: Ullet
You/Your: Uset


THE POEM:
The beautiful Aayla heard a rapping at her chamber window last night; she thought it was a murderer.
Little did she realise it was in fact her love struck white knight who had come to passionately rescue her,
for if he were the sharp sword then she was the strong shield, and together they would never be apart.
The unfortunate truth is however, she was to never accept the proposal of his heart,
and so twisted and broken, battered and weary, he was to walk alone, and never have such true beauty by his side,
whilst safe in her bedroom, Aayla would crawl up under the covers and for an indefinite period she would hide.
For never was there a story quite like this one about Derek and his Aayla that was to never be,
and every night when he desperately wanted to curl up beside her, he’d wonder, ‘why cannot you love me?’
and to this, if given the chance, Aayla would reply ‘for such is not written in the stars – it’s not our destiny.
Women such as I cannot love men such as you; stories like these are not designed to end at all happily.’

Aayla was born on the lush, fertile planet of Illos, raised on the continent of Amazon, just outside city limits, by two loving parents who were Rayringii.
In a forest region, all of them lived in a village, Aayla, her parents, sister and grandmother. Neither of them were human, no, they were something else entirely,
but they were living beings all the same. Aayla’s two eyes were hazel, her lips were crimson, and she would have a stud in her nose. As for her head
there wasn’t any trace of hair, not even a strand, no, there were two large tentacles that curved their way symmetrically down her back instead.
Like all Rayringii, she would become tall and athletic, with jewelry in her naval and tight brown pants and boots on her lower body.
A small piece of fabric would run around her chest, Aayla growing up to become the definition of unfathomable beauty.
The people of the continent Pandora were green, on Durkazette they were orange, on Warlock they were red, and Aayla, like all the others of Amazon, was aqua.
But this peace, it did not last, with many villages like Aayla’s been razed to the ground. Aayla survived however, the war many theorists have described as ‘spectacular’,
to be rescued by galactic peacekeepers known only as Paladins. Becoming one with their culture and obeying their rules, she came to fight by their side. She avoided other people, who just made her nervous,
her ability to trust and to feel love being utterly diminished. Instead of a life of normality, she chose one of gross restrictions; one of justice, sacrifice, mercy and never ending loneliness.

If this were far, far away into the all unforeseeable future, the year would be twenty six thirty two;
I’d assume the role of human, Derek Childs, whilst my darling Rayringii, Aayla Strogura would be played by you.
From the moment we first met, all those years ago, I could not tear my eyes away from you, and by sheer happenstance we kept meeting again and again. Caught in the embrace
of your ravishing beauty, my eyes would never lose the static electricity magnetically attracting them to your unfathomably irresistible face.
Never in all my years, from adolescence to adulthood, have I been captivated by such uncontrollable emotions,
for if we are a blue planet, capable of containing love, I’d most certainly be the land, and you, my dear, are the ocean.
If such be the case, you’d be the tide needed to spin this archipelago around to face his eventual destination,
which is wherever a certain blue Rayringii would be in. If I’ve anything to give you, it’s a life time of affection
and I can promise you, these feelings, they will never die. I’ll be your Derek Childs forever, I’d only too gladly play the part
and I infinitely promise you, no man could ever love you the way this brave soul will once I grant you all the love in my heart.

I know you gave your heart to someone once after vowing to never do so. You have not loved anyone, not in quite a long while
since the death of your beloved, and you promised yourself you’d never love again. When his name is mentioned, you cautiously fake a smile
as you reminisce frequently over the loss of a lost lover you feel you could not ever in another million more lifetimes live without.
I can see that you’ve been crying sweet Aayla; there are tears in your eyes. I know this to be true for you’re the only woman I ever think about
every waking day and foreboding night. I cannot seem to ever acquire any sleep for you frequently haunt me in my dreams;
I have fallen unconditionally in love with the only woman in all the galaxy who cannot love me back it seems.
I realise, your code, it effortlessly prohibits you from doing what you did, and loving who you did love,
but take heart in the knowledge, his spirit lives on in Heaven, and I’m certain he looks down on you from up above.
Tell me though, code or not; do you believe he would want you to live life alone, to never experience a romance
with someone new? I ain’t no stranger Aayla, I know you as well as you know me, and all I’m asking for is a chance.

If those who you do serve, the Paladins, caught us in a close relationship, you they would in all likelihood banish and I they would certainly apprehend.
Such violent consequences are not those that would ever be allowed consideration by anyone who so much as wished to call themselves your ‘good friend.’
But perhaps ‘good friend’ I am not, for I frequently want more than you could possibly ever offer. Your defences I long to breach
to prove to you once and for all that with me you will never be burned, and true love will never die; with this said, finally I could reach
your heart, after proving beyond reasonable doubt that my truth is like the comet that will come to you like the brightest light
in the gathering dark, and until you have made your decision on what path you should take, my blood will become a ghostly white
with anxiety. I hope you realise, one cannot live without that which is a part of them; one cannot live without that which makes them whole,
for you are forever buried deep inside me, and because of that I love you. I love you with all my might, will all my heart, with all my soul,
and just like true love throughout the centuries past and those still to come, my feelings for you will never change, not with age, and certainly not with death;
I will continue to love you immensely even after my body is all but gone from this universe, and I have finally breathed my last breath.

I can clearly remember the first time I saw you, but in all honesty, how could I possibly ever forget
the night I laid eyes upon the single most beautiful Rayringii at a luxuriously majestic banquette
catered for by the Paladins whom you unconditionally serve so passionately. I could not believe in that moment I’d found a Cinderella
of my own. You smiled that gorgeous smile. You danced that exquisite dance. You spoke so enthusiastically, and whilst doing so introduced yourself as ‘Aayla.’
You turned to me as if to express ‘I love you’ and together we formally said our hellos, ‘beloved buongirono’, before I graciously took your hand in mine and gently plucked your succulent blue flesh
with a kiss. Turning to the dance floor, you became my partner for the duration of the piece. You placed one hand on my shoulder; I placed one hand on your hip; you placed one hand on my arm; I placed one hand on your back, your tentacles I longed to caress.
We moved like liquid, rhythmically pulsating across the crystal dance floor, before you gradually turned to leave. ‘Do you really have to leave so soon?’
I asked pleadingly as you turned to me and smiled. ‘There is a transport waiting to take me to the other side of the universe this afternoon’
you softly said, before disappearing from my sight. In the heat of the moment, I promised myself then,
as I am right now, that never will you be provided the opportunity to leave my side again.

One is the number of times I have thought of you in the past second. Sixty is the number of times I have thought of you in the past minute and all of the minutes that are to eventually come. Twenty four
is the number of hours I think about you every single day and seven is the number of days per week you flash before my eyes. Ten are the number of years I have known of you, and not a moment more,
for although I know of you, I fear you have no knowledge of me, and if I wait any longer to confess my true feelings this number will sadly become indefinite,
in determining the time it will take for you to feel as I do. However, I am willing to wait all the time in this universe, even whether it is infinite,
to one day have the opportunity to have and to hold you in my arms as I have always believed to be our fate,
which would, after all the eternal struggles of not having you standing beside me most definitely be worth the wait.
And when I could finally have you with me, and confess these feelings that are unlimited in their love for you, cherish
I would the moment, and all of the moments together that would undoubtedly come as our feelings take flight and flourish,
for incalculable is the vast amount of love I have for you within my beating heart, a number that may very well seem sublime;
not just a number, but a rare source of strong undying affection too, that will forever unto eternity stand the test of time.

‘Miss. Strogura’ I would begin when meeting you once more, as I take a breath, before expressing my feelings into words.  ‘E’ knowledge uset spera, ka’ ese E’ knowledge e’ posset plutus ka’ ese muchi’popollala Ernst ese E’ knowledge
ti nien’te forcus E’ nien’te romanca uset, cosi it’e uset nien’te romanca e’ butus, es’e it’e ti iti nien’te plutus ti es’ falsa ti E’ e’tta perpursella, ese ‘es ‘es falsa ti E’ derse yess’et elien yess’et ese magnesus tre,
es’e E’ derse alta perpursella ‘es falsa ti fueta ti yess’et, ti perpursella iti ‘es perpursella wersa uset e’tta nien’te terret plutus e’ crevact ‘es ti ullet iti e’ perpursella,
ese e’ lone’ plutus lone’ circe’ iti nien’elieniat halo, iti yess’et forcus plutus romanca, plutus ese e’ ger’rat, e’ ray’ro’am, ti ray’pareta iti e’ rayrulli plutus e’ wilahundra.
Plutus ti spek’ola, pleaseus alst e’ ti yess’et opal’li ese yss’et, plutus ese o’ silenzio spek’ola, es’e ese spek’ola ese cres’endo mult’i effectus nien’magnit terra; E’ romanca uset.
E’ hi nien’elieniat romanca uset Aayla Allen Strogura, plutus E’ knowledge E’ forcus nien’elieniat romanca uset, plutus arr’ot ‘es nien’te ‘es lone’ ni’rayl iti ti percetta galaxus ti rayrul du spek’ola o’ o’
o’ ‘u ‘es nien’te o’ ti wurs E’ fueta.’ You might gasp, your mouth partially ajar, as I take a gulp of air. ‘Kah’le’halset’ you would announce with a nod, ‘wersa uset spek’ola additial belis’imira’,
and I’d stand back with renown determination, proud to have had the strength to confess my feelings to the Rayringii woman who’s so unfathomably incredible.
‘May the Paladins grant you your wish’ you would begin anew, ‘to find the woman who it is that you have long sought after,’ and to this I would bow my head and gently say ‘amen’,
before you suddenly explain ‘for it isn’t I that can fulfill your dream. If you really, truly love me, you will kill yourself right now, for I never wish to see you again.’

To hear such words; words scarred by the years of endless torment and pain from your life unlived, is painful enough to listen to, but to watch you lose, as you announced such unspoken truths, the unbelievably gentle grace
that makes you who you truly are today, was incomprehensible. However, as I look at you once again, I realise, you are the same woman I always loved, with the captivatingly beautiful face,
who has, when I’ve been terribly lost within the universe, helped me find myself once more, after you found
me all alone, for I am never quite the man I am supposed to be whenever you are not around.
To be with you might take the impossible, but if I must transcend the walls of society and scale up past the broken parts,
to successfully navigate around the limitless brutal legions of failed relationships and horrifically wounded hearts,
then I would gladly do so to prove my vows of love for you anew. Once more with feeling, I fall to my knees at your feet; I am at your mercy;
I only hope you can see the truth within my loving eyes; I can only hope, like this universe, you have not become corrupt with zealously
unfeeling emotion. Here, before you now, I take your hands in mine, and I pledge my love to you; not for a minute, not for an hour,
not for a single day, or a week, a month, a year or a decade; but eternally and always unconditionally forever.

But vows are only ever vows when they are finally fulfilled, and on the eve of my confession, the universe breaks out into war,
as if only to screw with me, and you are called off with the Paladins to help bring balance to the peace and go into battle once more.
I promise I will wait for you. I have waited almost a decade to have you Aayla, and to wait another would mean nothing to me as I dream about you every day and night,
waiting for the day when you can return to these arms of mine so I might finally have the opportunity to kiss those crimson lips of yours after all of your courageous fights,
and explain that you are safe now, and free from the heat of battle. And perhaps one day, I will place all of my love into a golden band, and after placing it upon your finger, we could begin to start a family,
but this image of perfection is diminished by the sudden unfortunate truth that you died on a planet called Fargollis whilst defending your fellow troops from the endless onslaught of a vicious invading army.
I cry an endless ocean of tears that lasts for days and days, and even though your body now is nothing more than some burnt and charred remains,
still, the ghost of my affection taunts me, as does the ghost of you, whilst my heart is constantly kept secure behind a wall of iron chains,
and not long after the funeral, in which an empty casket was buried deep below the surface of the ground, my heart slowly but surely begins to die, and later I die too,
because Aayla Allen Strogura, Rayringii Paladin and peacemaker, I, Derek Childs, cannot live alone in a universe without your beauty, I cannot live without you.

END NOTES:
I am sure any Star Wars fan would have being able to see through the falsified identities that I created within this piece. Obviously the Paladins are Jedi, the planet Illos is Ryloth, the Rayringii are Twi’lek and Aayla Strogura is in fact Jedi Master Aayla Secura, with one or two minor changes to her identity and that of her home world. I purposefully changed such identities because I do not own the rights to any such aspect of the Star Wars universe and very obviously did not want to be sued.
I always wanted to write a poem about a love story between a human man and an alien woman, and I was inspired to do so by the image of the incredibly beautiful young woman found at this link http://www.flickr.com/photos/32613560@N08/6912124745/, who is unfortunately to this day an untitled beauty. I don’t know who she is, but she is quite possibly the single most gorgeous Aayla Secura impersonator I have ever seen, and because of that, she helped me develop Aayla Strogura into a more beautiful and lively character.  Also, I don’t own the rights to the image or to the link that is generated within this piece.
Thank you for reading.

The Man That Can’t Be Moved

SYNOPSIS: Jimmy, a student attempting to do a research project on the mysterious town of Gransnapia discovers a story about a statue of a man that is placed on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and why he will never leave.

Jimmy rode timidly upon his bike, the immaculate town of Gransnapia located around the bend, the entire town looking considerably bleak and dark, a shadow of its former self. He had never been present during its glory days, but had heard stories of its brilliance, which is why he had decided to do his assignment on the town. The teacher requested they write on something fantastical, and this was it. Jimmy however never imagined the town would be so frightening to behold, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he rode into town. A dense cover of fog emerged from the confines of small broken town houses and spiraled around him like ghosts, eager to accept him as one of their own.
Jimmy began to feel his decision to come was a mistake, slowly turning his bike around before slipping to the ground,  gravel digging into his skin, the fog appearing to laugh at his own inconvenience.  Making his way to his feet, Jimmy noticed an old man standing a few metres away, his clothes ragged and dirty. The man turned his head to look directly at him, causing a shudder to crawl along Jimmy’s spine. Taking a deep breath, Jimmy summoned all the courage he could muster before asking ‘do you know any interesting stories about this town mister?’
‘Depends’ stated the man, taking a step forward. ‘Do you want to hear a story’ he asked, ‘or do you want to hear a story?’
‘Which one is which?’ asked Jimmy.
‘The latter is far more fanciful’ stated the old man. He pointed up at a statue of a man placed atop of a cliff edge overlooking the entire town. The statue appeared sad and alone, the body posture signaling the man had lost something significantly dear to him, his head bowed in a silence that could never be broken. ‘I can tell you a story about the man that can’t be moved and the story of his Juliette for all eternity’ he said, before beginning to tell the tale.

The town of Gransnapia was traditionally inviting. Bright and beautiful, lights flourished across the city at night making the small civilisation stand out like a beacon.  However, what Gransnapia was most famous for, were its apples. Gransnapian apples were sold for twelve dollars per kilogram, visualised as one of the most succulent and addictive forms of fruit ever conceived. This world renowned delight was what made the town so famous, comprised of many wealthy industrialists who had made a living of extravagance and luxury for themselves.
However, nobody ever distinguished the true nature of the townsfolk. They were, each of them pretentious, egotistical and presumptuous, having a great amount of prejudice towards outsiders. If they were not a part of their society then they were simply seen as misfits, the scum of the Earth whom they believed needed to be swept clean.
The townsfolk wore luxurious and exquisite outfits, dining at the only restaurants they had ever known, incredible arenas which were crafted specifically for the kings and queens of industry.
This behaviour was clearly represented the day the new shipments of parts for their hydro-electric dam were sent over by ship from the far side of Australia. The vessel was black in colour, looking like a beast on the horizon as it docked in port. The gargantuan containers were removed from the ship, and in addition there was one passenger.  Nathaniel Buck was his name. His costume certainly wasn’t extravagant, appearing dirty and ragged from his trip at sea, his face unwashed and covered in hair. The townsfolk looked down at him as though he was a weed, one which needed to be destroyed quickly before any harm could be done to their Garden of Eden.
Nathaniel immediately had trouble attempting to be accommodated into a room at the local hotel, and the next morning found it even more trying when nobody wished to offer him a job, instantly being deported to the docks to ensure the area would be kept immaculate.
Whilst working there however, he couldn’t help but notice the comings and goings of an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. Virginia Copperfield was her name, daughter of Harvey, one of three men who had founded the Gransnapian apple trade.  Her blonde hair flew out behind her as she rolled by in a luxurious gold trimmed carriage, her attire being a blossoming gown made from the finest silk imaginable.
Nathaniel was told by fellow workers he was crazy for having any romanticised thoughts over such a person. But the dock master liked the work that Nathaniel had accomplished, providing him with a larger economical cash flow, and as he built up his savings, Nathaniel made himself more presentable.
Even after Nathaniel had dined with the best of the town however they still failed to provide him with any respect, especially Harvey, who had noticed the stranger looking at his daughter on countless occasions. He needn’t have worried however. The stranger was never able to sum up the courage to communicate to such an attractive young woman, believing, like the town did, that he was a creature no woman of such brilliance could ever have feelings for.
One night after watching an adventurous piece of dramatic art about a couple of travelers and their escapades, Nathaniel had actually met Virginia in the booth above the stage whilst he was making his way towards the exit. The both of them had stopped what they had been previously doing and looked at one another for a second. Nathaniel had attempted to form words, but had ultimately failed, instead, tipping his hat in the presence of the beautiful young woman and departing from sight.
Although he was still disliked by the locals, Nathaniel did indeed begin to have additional occupations opened to him. Through these he was able to pull off many endeavours the entrepreneurs wished to have accomplished, from moving something from one place to another, to helping to advertise for bigger business. The most attractive feature of such occupational occurrences was the payment, which added to the luxurious lifestyle Nathaniel wished to concoct for himself. He had come to believe such wealth would make him appear to be quite the gentlemen in the eyes of Virginia, nothing apart from his self esteem been able to stop him from achieving his dream of finally being able to ask her to spend an evening with him.   
When Nathaniel realised Virginia was being sent by ship to Europe a couple of weeks later under the machinations of her father he felt his entire body begin to shut down in grief. As the luxuriously gargantuan vessel pulled out from the harbour, Nathaniel stood atop of a cliff edge overlooking the vast ocean, and for a moment, just one, he could have sworn he noticed Virginia look up at him. It was almost as though she too had wanted him to approach all this time, and in one split second all opportunities were vanquished.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months, and months inevitably turned to years as Nathaniel continued to wait on the cliff edge for his beloved to return, to tell her exactly how he felt and pray he was not too late to be with her for all eternity.
But never did the ship return. Nathaniel continued to wait after the ship and all of its crew were reported missing, and after a period of seven long years the constant brutality of the sun caused Nathaniel’s skin to crumble into rock, until he became a part of the cliff itself.
A few months later it was reported the vessel had been attacked by enemy troops invading Europe, no survivors ever being reported after the ship had being razed into the depths of the ocean.

Jimmy took a few steps back, his mouth open in shock, unable to say anything to properly establish the way he currently felt. ‘Wow’ he managed to say in awe.
‘Yes’ nodded the elderly man. ‘Virginia and Nathaniel were the best of all those who ever entered the town, and without them Gransnapia inevitably destroyed itself through wrong doing.’
Jimmy looked at his watch before shouting ‘gee, thanks mister, but I really must go now’, quickly leaping onto his bike and beginning to ride out of the town. He turned around suddenly and looked up at the statue one last time, instantly recognising the resemblance. The old man was the ghost of Nathaniel, trapped for an eternity away from his true love, the two of them cursed to forever be apart.