raven-quote
And it cried: Nevermore!
60 posts
Latest Posts by raven-quote
This is one of those days that math punch you in the face and you can't do nothing but cry.
Lots of artist sing about love, woe and abstract perceptions. Hovewer, I propose to sing about mundane things, such as that slice of pizza that calls upon you at night when you're 12 beers deep, or that thing that lives in the walls and steals your left socks.
Life is to short to worry about emotions.
Human leeches
You know one,
Those who fall up
They hoard your luck.
So you'd better watch out!
That gift or prize,
Will be taken away.
With their white smile.
So you'll suffer for them.
They love to be near you.
You'd better escape.
You can't beat them.
Karma will punish you instead.
They'll leave you empty.
And accuse you of envy.
Happy, they'll move on.
Leaving you with boiling blood.
Linux: every time
Guide: follow this 3 simple steps!
Me: ok
Guide: step 1, copy this command a put it in terminal
Me: ok
Guide: step 2, copy this config template and fill it with your email.
Me: ok
Guide: step 3, run the test command on your terminal it should prompt your email with an OK! Message.
Me: press enter, [FATAL ERROR] on lime 36783, EVAL_RSA_ID == false.....
Me: ok, checks badly written documentation followed with obscure ask-forums with the same problem but with a small diference that doesn't apply to my case.
Me: gives up.
The modern prometheus is a story about a neglected child trying to make sense of life while being outcasted by everyone, meanwhile the father is living its best life.
<puts tin foil hat> Until the rich people manage to implement a dyson sphere, thus privatizing the very sun.
What do you expect from you?
Fair dreams the maiden draw,
Awakened by regrets and woes,
She awaits some warmth.
Alone, she drowns in her own thoughts.
Her mind and heart wandered lo and fro,
Expecting, yearning to fill the void.
"C'est la vie, so long."
"I shall never forget you, 'amor'"
When the future comes, that'll be the words.
Now, she caresses herself in the bedroom.
From her flustered head,
Down to the twitchy toes,
Filling her body with long overdue comfort.
The pale man yelled alone.
Unnerving stanzas of Edgar Allan Poe,
I realized and cried, "You moron!"
"That's not a raven, it's a crow!!"
Do you have a favourite conspiracy theory
I'm between that conspiracy about bots managing internet traffic, data mining and manipulating the public's opinion to certain agendas and the alleged vampire attacks in central america staged by some US agencies in order to cause mass hysteria.
Interloper
I remember that day well. My first delivery was at an old man's house. He was taking a nap, alone, in his library, hugging a big leather bound tome. I slowly woke him up, called his name and we went for a walk.
After a couple more takeaways, I sat down at a cafeteria for some ice cream.
- "Don't worry, I'll order one for you." Said the middle-aged man to his wife.
She didn't take any seat, she was looking rather annoyed. Shortly after, the man emerged from the ice cream parlour.
- "Pistachio, whisky cream and ... what was your favourite flavour?"
- "You well know I'm allergic to pistachios, change it to strawberry." she said, raising her voice a bit.
The fair haired man entered the shop again, now she really was annoyed. Not even a minute has passed when the man knocked from inside the place's window.
- "Do you know where I put my credit card again?" asked with a mix of meekness and muffleness from the glass panel.
The red haired woman sighed in frustration, passed the shop's threshold, extracted the man's credit card from his pocket and said: "let me do it".
After a lovely cool dessert, I took another nicotine gum (withdrawal is hell I tell you) and paid a visit to a brother and sister. The sun was up high, vaporising everything it touched. They were buried alive under rubble, a missile hit their apartment. He was hugging his little sister when I came. A really sad picture, I confess, but the job must be done. I held him by the shoulder, called his name and we left that horrible dark place. I shook his clothes to remove the little debris he had on his clothes and we went for a walk.
They said "Juan Gonzales" (a cover name), you see, I know everyone by their name, their true name, so I know where to find them. The room of the hospital was white, clean in appearance, he was on the hospital bed, being watched by his friend, who was holding his hand. I did not waste time, a few minutes later I was out, consuming my next nicotine gum.
The next call was in an apartment, a guy was punching the walls in rage, she was lying in the middle of the living room, covered from head to toe in blood and bruises. I hate to see them in bad condition, moreover, I can't finish a delivery successfully if they look so rough. So I did the humane thing of cleaning her wounds and wash her carefully in the copper bathtub, she then woke up, she looked herself, looked at me and smiled, thanked me, told me she was an engineer, she just won an internship at NASA, I congratulate her, said her name and we went for a walk.
I was having some pepperoni pizza for lunch when they said "Juan Gonzales", I remember thinking: "Again?! Did I miss that one?". I entered the hospital's lobby, 10th floor, white impeccable room, the two alone being engulfed by the yellow emanations of the noon's light. The bedridden’s friend was immobile as a marble statue, I swear, he was not blinking the whole time! I said Juan Gonzales' true name, and a few minutes later I was masticating another nicotine gum on a bench at the park.
The next take-away was a courtesy call from a rockstar, he was trying to reach me, after he broke up with a gorgeous gal. He shut himself in the damp bedroom and produced a rusty, filthy, syringe from his backpack, laid down on the bed and he inject himself with some white substance, an hour later I was holding his long greasy hair, helping him puke into the toilet, I said his name and we went for a walk.
I was drinking my evening black coffee with some toast when they said "Juan Gonzales", I exploded in anger, complained and argued whether that was some kind of prank or miracle, they replied that there are miracles no more.
Flustered, I entered the old hospital, took the lift to the 10th floor, now the orange lights were the only warm thing in the room, Juan Gonzales was looking at the night sky while the statue-for-a-friend was still holding his hand. Then it struck me, the fact was I couldn't recall that living statue's name, in fact, I do not recall seeing his face before!. I need to tell you this, because I'm good with names and faces, I can exactly pinpoint down the flavour of ice cream, the middle-aged couple where having that morning, but, this man was a fuzzy memory, a dream you usually fight to stay with you after you wake up. So I was there, next to the IV drop, about to say the bed ridden young man's real name, when they shouted at me that the contractor had cancelled the order due to some unforeseen factors, suffice to say it was an uncommon event.
After such a change of plans, the healthy one got up and walked up to the door. I was still puzzled by his nature, so I tried to follow him, but just before leaving the patient's room, he turned to me and I swear we made eye contact for a second! my heart almost stopped, he didn't say a thing, I was struck by a lighting bolt, he just scouted the room and then he entered the empty corridor. Did he see me? Did I imagine it? I shall never know, for I had doubts, it might well have passed a second or a minute, I left the room and found nothing in the corridor! the young fuzzy man was nowhere I mean NOWHERE to be found in the entire hospital!
The last thing I remember is that it was a quiet night, other times, I would have complained to the air about lacking any take-aways. Now, I was grateful, I needed to take some fresh air on a building roof overlooking the pretty lights of the urban landscape. I touched my right pocket, there was an old dry stick left, I remembered her lips under the slimming moon at sea, I remember her too well: "You shouldn’t smoke, it’ll kill you." she said, taking the same cancer stick from my mouth, robbing me a kiss. I can still hear her sweet laugh when we went for a walk. I remember thinking "yes, it will kill me" while lighting the cigar.
Of what happens after
When all is done
You'll find yourself falling down.
The judgment criteria are unknown.
But you'll know real soon.
For those found guilty of pain,
Filled with hatred and disdain.
The unfathomable, hungry depth awaits.
To devour such a wretched mistake.
The lucky few will be held
By the hands of fair cupids,
To be carried away
to where souls disintegrate.
The writer would also be falling
For is a sin to imagine
The winged heralds will laugh.
And the darkness will be around.
However, those who scribe the world,
Shall be held by their own words.
Those characters whose lives have bestowed,
Will carry the writer far away from the woe.
Angels will cry in anger.
The depths will scream in hunger.
The writer will be full of tears of glee.
For not even the gods will take their iron will.
Wraith
The little girl at night wept.
It is no use, no time to pray.
The family man could hear her.
His time is about to end.
What a pain! So much despair!
Since the failed business, his destiny has been set.
The unrelenting foreign sorrow,
Is the hunter for such bad men.
Trapped inside his home alone.
There goes Mike O.
He was drained of blood.
Every single associate is now cold.
"I didn't do it," he shouted.
"It's not my fault, you know!"
But the walls answered with blood.
And he hears the creaking floor.
"Please! Don't come closer!"
He fired into the empty hall.
Midnight was announced by the grandfather clock.
Now her presence is seen in the corridor.
On his knees, he crumbles.
Praying to deaf gods
She touched his shoulder.
All her pain flowed into his soul.
Before being drained of blood.
He saw through her eyes what he had done.
He felt short of breath,
His finger nails are hot as hell.
He made the mortal order.
For a crime she witnessed herself
She was buried alive.
Thus sealing his twisted fate.
Ah yes! Antidepresants!
You can't be depressed if you are uncouncious...
Today I started with the medication
What a wild sensations came!
I feel ready to sleep, but it's not the same.
Am I loosing counciousness or am I insane?
Is it normal? Or an overdose is about to break?
Orange crescent moon
My dear friend is near.
But it is so far away.
I saw her last night.
By the side of the road.
How many years have passed?
How many tears had I wept?
No matter what choice I make,
I forgot to pray.
How much does the guilt weigh?
How much time passed? Or I ate.
Now she's a shadow of herself.
While a hole grows larger in my chest.
I want to sleep by her side.
Hiding from undefined mistakes,
For once, to feel rested and well.
Again, I say, so fair, lady.
Eyes as blue as the sky,
With a charming, big smile,
Her red lips against a skin so pale.
I should forgive everyone.
Even those who broke my entrails
Because God is looking up there.
While the moon is my only friend.
Typical old book cover : blank
Well... what about the first page? Also blank
Ok, ok let's see the book spine: Name of the author who I don't know (sometimes it's Russian)
That doesn't tell me anything, I shall see the back cover: blank
I'm loosing it! Maybe the last page has an index: nope.
Ok, last try second page of the book: title
But... but what's the book about? I'm in a hurry!!
Writing dialog 2:
Two friends were drinking ice tea on top of a bridge, overlooking a dead road.
-"So... how was your week?" Asked Suzzane, mixing some sugar in the cold infusion.
-"Nothing out of the ordinary; I went to a cemetery," said John, sitting on the bridge's guardrail.
-"Thank god you didn't do anything weird! what happened? was someone you knew?"
-"No, the professor recommends that I see some scultures for my anatomy assignment," answered John nonchalantly, serving himself another glass of tea.
-"Let me get this right," said Suzzane, with a contagious smile. "When someone says sculture, do you think of cemeteries?"
She had a quirk when talking about something funny; she would move her hands as if they were a tennis fan, moving his head from one opposite side of the field to the other in mere seconds.
-"No, it wasn't my first pick; museums aren't cheap, you know." John almost choked on his tea. He was about to ask Suzzane about her week when suddenly heaven became real and in technicolor, a great roar could be heard from miles, John almost lost his balance from the guardrail, the silvery light became lighting shooting upwards, breaking that afternoon's peace in the valley, shaking bones, breaking glasses, and damaging eardrums. The rocket, the last wonderful thing humanity created, was now in high orbit, leaving a white, fluffy cloud where it once flew.
They were rigid, looking upwards, not in glee as Suzzane's little brother, but with disdain. The first rockets were a great talking point among the people of the valley, some sort of privilege and pride they share and show like a medal to the region, "They are close to the stars!!" Would said journalists but now it's more like a nuisance. The Mac's and Roudy's were the first families to leave, followed by the Carlson's and the Evans. Soon the grand majority of the town was a collection of empty spaces, lost in time while the future was roaring and flying no more than 6 miles from them.
Suzzane broke the silence.
-"The old tongues said that winter and fall were below 68 degrees, and that the rockets brought longer days and shorter nights." Said Suzzane contemplating the amber liquid flowing from the broken glass.
-"I went to the cemetery because it's quiet, no packs of people, no flashes, no laughs. I mean, what kind of museum puts on display bright colors and chalkboards? Cemeteries have that hidden effect on us; it's no place to be joking; it's solemn. A radiography of time, where different art styles and movements solidified for eternity, did you know that the real Gioconda was burned for her smile? Cemeteries have this aura of the past, the unbearable past, where all the bad, decadent, and violent were normalized, a place where museums go to die, where memories are set in stone, crimes and regrets are visible for you to be horrified or wonder, not only did I finish my sketches, I came with horrible conclusions."
But before John could elaborate, another wonder of humanity rose free from gravity. A deafening chorus made by millon dammed souls.
In order for something to prosper, other things or someone must be wretched.
-"I'm sorry about your father. I know things seem bleak, but he will get a job really soon." Said Suzzane, enveloping the broken glass in newspaper.
-"Thanks, it was a long week." John sighted, jumped from the guardrail to Suzzane, helped her put the glasses in the basket, and they started to descend the bridge.
-"My little brother is obsessed with space; he wants to be an astronaut when he grows up."
-"Good for him, I guess; at least he doesn't need to commute that much from here."
And they walked together, alone, in the middle of the dead road to their homes.
Random idea for a fighting game character: three little bear cubs on top of each other, wearing a trenchcoat.
Just another day...
Another comunist eating a big mac
It's so hot in the summer; it's a waste of time.
Free thinkers are chugging Simon's chyme.
[Chorus]
Just another day in paradise!!!
Don't sit around; you better get green bucks!
While the fascists are doing peace signs
Happy Birthday, Rosy! Have some rotten pie!
[Chorus]
Just another day in this futuristic grime!!!
Life and microchips were a mistake.
A crisis is caused by greed and pain.
Don´t ask your grandma, or she'll rot in hell.
[Chorus]
Just another day is what it takes!!!
Just don't look at the news!!
Panic and powder are on the Day view!!
Shit eating grins showing a school phew phew!!
[Chorus]
Just another day in disgust!!
"The law is made for you to abide!"
exclaimed the micro-plastic rich with pride.
While politicians are launching the last genocide.
[Chorus]
Just another day in paradise!!!
Writing prompt. Dialog: 1.
-"How do you make beer?" Asked Ryan.
-"As far as I know, It's like making bread , but you add water." Said Muck
-"It can't be, my cousing works in a bakery, they use water to make the dough." Ryan took a sip of orange juice.
-"Well, if you know so much, why are you bothering me?" Muk protested.
-"I've never claimed to be an expert, I just know water is used in both processes, I was asking out of curiosity."
-"Ok, but why is beer a subject matter now? It's not even noon!"
-"I've heard some cats are collecting postcards as a hobby, well I want to make beer as a passtime."
-"You mean, penpals?" Asked Muk with a grin.
-"No, no! I mean the square thing on the postcard!" Ryan, as short tempered as he was, slammed the table, spilling some juice and almost tipping off Muk's cup of coffee.
-"whoah! Slow down pal! You were talking about beers, why this craving all the sudden?"
- "I don't want to drink them, I want to make them, as a change of pace."
-"So, are you quitting the job anytime soon?" Asked Muk before taking a big gulp of black coffee.
-"No, It'll be a passtime. Look at Tom, the poor guy never took a day off, no passions, not even a single nap. And now he's shaded, a walking corpse!"
-"I see what you mean, it would be a shame to lose you, including your charming personality." Muk smirked.
Ryan was about to protest, but he keep it to himself.
The waiter brought the check, Ryan invited the breakfast.
-"It's called a stamp." Said Muk, while giving his friend the knife.
And they crossed the door thresshold at the same time.
The calm before the storm.
Waiting in vain, bound to a chair.
Is it me? or the walls are now green?
Why do dreams taste sweet?
Today is a new day, but I feel the same.
I try to run, but my legs just walk.
Why can't I write? Whom must I pray?
"She walked along the beach,
A small breeze made her dress swing.
She was alone, under the morning glow.
She was waiting for her friend to come."
What shall I write? Which ink should I use?
I weep for I don't know.
I don't want to, but I need to punch the wall.
"Until an aparition came,
in the form of a yellow grand hotel.
A majestic sight stood erect over the waves.
Hypnotic, as if the hotel were calling her name."
I sight in frustation; I can't wait.
Maybe tomorrow I'll finish a play.
But today, it's difficult for me to rest.
December fright
December fright.
There's no peace of mind.
Just empty laughs, echoing around.
-"OMG! Are you sad?"
-"Hide your face right now!"
-"You're dragging us down!"
Now, I drink alone on the roof.
Having a slice of pizza at midnight.
While fireworks paint the sky blue.
No more empty ball rooms,
No more wasted champagne.
It's so easy to say: "enough!"
Now the summer night is turning cold.
A small relief from the old,
Alone with my pop songs.
happy festivities to you all!!
False Diamond
The golden edge was intact.
Every piece was left behind.
A far cry and a lost vow.
It's up; no more jolly facade.
Now I walk alone among the displays.
Hiding from the dull gray dismay.
Dry eyes are hunting me down.
My only witness is a crow.
Stomach open, red liquid flowing with rage.
The sound is dimming. An angel touched my hair.
No more sight, heart beating fast,
A last breath, no more thoughts...
A quick one before supper
I took a heavy drag.
My lungs relax.
Heavy silver smoke
The tremors are gone.
'It's so bad for you!' said the yellow teeth hag.
She took my fag from my dry mouth.
In a second, my roll was pulverized on the ground.
I almost broke her nose. I was so mad.
Nowhere to go, not a single light.
The game has been changed.
Everyone has a fake mask.
And nobody can lend a hand.
Away from all.
Under the bridge, I lit a new one.
Far from the empty laughs,
I inhale the noxious gas.
Everything is fine now...
Magic, but is used and created by subscribing to one of many magicOS.
Of course you can use the well-known/used propietary MagicCraft-11X, But uses all you energy and twice a day you must update your connection to the official magic-server by a fee, in order to use the full support system.
No habría llegado a los 50 «Me gusta» sin vuestra ayuda. ¡Gracias por este sueño!
So cool! I can't believe I've reach 50 likes!! Way more likes that I was hoping for!!