This is inspired from a story I read. During World War 2 an Ace German Fighter Pilot spared the lives of an American Bomber whose crew was either mostly injured or dead and the plane severely damaged. The German fighter pilot escorted the Americans to safe airspace over the North Sea.The pilots met together later in life and became best of friends.
It was almost Christmas,
My fortress had been shot up by swarms of fighters.
The bullets sounded like buzzing bumble bees.
The tail gunner was dead.
Blood dripping on his fifty caliber machine guns.
I was just a kid, scared and stunned.
Stuck in hostile German skies, with nowhere to run.
Flying North to escape the hell.
Maybe to reach the safe skies in Britain.
I heard a buzzing from my right.
My stomach dropped out from within.
There sat an enemy plane.
The German cross painted on his tail.
It would take nothing to shoot down this plane,
it had become so, so frail.
I prepared for the end,
for the loud fiery crash.
But nothing happened,
and I was still flying fast.
I looked over at the German, who waved to me.
I did not know what he meant.
But he kept flying with me,
So I guessed he had good intent.
We reached the German coast.
He saluted me and my crew.
As he banked right, my crew was ready to shoot.
But he was gone, and my plane still flew.
I don't know why he didn't kill me.
I was a sitting duck.
For whatever reason that man spared us.
I wish him the best of luck.
"How do I do this?" She asks. "How can I blindly stumble my way through life like this? Why can't I understand anymore?"
For that, they have no answer. No answer for her pleas for help. No answer for the questions she cries over. Nothing.
They never have answers, the quiet ones, because--and she is quite sure of this--they don't really exist. They are simply a way for her to live. She must believe there is some greater force out there, with absolute control, becuase, lets face it, leaving humanity to strive on its own is stupidity at it's finest. Humans are confused, dangerous, harmless, arrogant, constantly surprised. Part of what makes us human is our dreams of something better, something bigger.
Her dreams, however, have become too real. And they sit in dark corners, the quiet ones, hiding answers from her, she knows it, hiding all the answers, because just like she hoped, like we hope, The Quiet Ones have the answers, mapped out in those dark corners of life. But they do not want to be found. They do not want to share their secrets. Or at least, that's what she hopes. For knowing means no searching, and then there has to be an end, and another thing that makes us human? We fear the unknown, change, anything different. But most of all, we are afraid of the end. The end is the biggest change of all, the largest, "what if". The end, said aloud at the end of each story, the end, a terrifying, infinate thing we try to capture with two little words. Read more »
What once was human
Retains a bit of what it once was
Anyone can be a monster
If they throw away their humanity
But you can't escape your past
It always comes back to get you
It rears up in your face
No one can deny it
It will take back over eventually
The humanity comes back
But it can be forced down by
Those who are terrible enough
To destroy it
Sometimes people need someone
To bring them back Read more »
I see the beauty in things–
maybe it’s just a strange sort of altered vision,
or maybe it’s my own naivety
(& I know I’m naive,
for all I may seem otherwise,
don’t try to tell me I’m not)
but I see the elegance,
in everyday things.
is a little miracle
every summer rain
a little bit of
I see people
in much the same way;
however much of a fault this might
I know that it’s not human nature
good and perfect and
all of the time, but I’d
much rather believe that that’s
what we all strive for Read more »
moving in rhythmatic pulse—
a calming chaos
i may crumble and fall—
an autumn leaf
with only my words—
another unread story
moving in rhythmatic pulse,
i may crumble and fall,
with only my words.
i am a calming chaos,
an autumn leaf,
another unread story.
The stench of metal,
the acrid taste
fills my senses,
stream by me
in a river
Where are they going?
are they going
there in such
and the busy metal
over the dense
As I stand.
In their midst.
Me. Proper noun.
and the people
in the crowd
spare a glance.
At the person
What am I?
Question: What is the square root of a negative number?
-sometimes i am disgusted with humanity,
not just with wars, poverty, racism etc and the like.
i am disgusted with the self-obsession the complete lack of
putting yourself in "their" shoes,
everyones shoes are on so tight,
they could never take them off anyway.
where is the respect not to post other peoples pain
all over tabloids?
where is the care, of forgetting about
your image and helping other people
simply for the sake of doing just that,
what happened to being happy at a birth, forgetting all thats around you,
instead of angrily adding the baby
to a count of "over-population", then yelling at the empty eyes of a woman
forced to have an abortion,
why the people who have peace,
anti-global warming stickers stuck the back of their,
the people fighting so hard to stop this and that awful thing,
that they forget about their own family.
the religious alcoholic who rages at the man of gluttony. Read more »
My English teacher's parents were killed in a car crash two school-years ago Memorial Weekend. This past Memorial Day weekend, she stood up in front of the class and told us. We all knew, of course we all knew, but she told us. My English teacher used, "murdered", not "killed". She said that she might not be able to hold it together the following week and that we might have a sub. My English teacher was usually this very light, calm person whom I admire to this day but when she was giving us a heads up, she was solemn and removed. I could almost see tears starting to form in her eyes but perhaps it was the light reflected off her glasses. She was in pain and all of us as students were noticeably uncomfortable. Was she going to start bawling? What should we do if she did? As a human being, I wanted to go hug her, comfort her, but as a student, that would have been inappropriate. As a human being, I was in pain just listening to her be in pain. It was horrible. Read more »
Long ago, you became frustrated with your fellow humans. It had started off as a nagging almost-thought in the back of your overworked brain. It grew. It became a regular thought, a constant thought, an obsession. You would lay awake at nights, listing undefined things that you hated about mankind. Your job ceased to apply. You became unemployed, hungry and impoverished. You never noticed. Too many people were suffering. There was too much wrong with the world for you to notice your own problems.
Death was not far off. You became a mess of bones contained by taut, colorless, rubbery skin, nearly robbed of life by your own brain. Read more »
Of the television
It's 10:55 at night
And I'm crying
Like a baby
America's Got Talent
And all these people
Work so hard
Trying to be the best
They've gone through
It makes me weep
Everything in the kitchen
Except for the small
4 foot cone
Feeding off the TV screen
The colors from
Light up my tears
Make them visable
On my cheeks
On my eyelashes
On my arms
I just sit
And feel happy
I've come to the conclusion
See what I see. I see a world falling around us. I see people lost and confused in the wake of a crumbling world. Morals and principle are on the verge of exstinction.
Hear what I here. I hear the sound of billions of voices crying out in the desparate struggle to find themselves. I hear the constant falling footsteps of lost souls as they wander into oblivion. Read more »