Sen Oisel
Jan 27th, 2007, 04:01:58 PM
War is On
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v706/LaLaBoogie/Caizer_City_by_WilhelmII.jpg
Life doesn't wait.
"Leave me alone...let me sleep."
All the things of the galaxy change, shift, go on without anyone or everyone noticing. No one cares if the star beyond known space combusted, or turn to bits. There is nothing seemingly important about those things that seem irrelevant to one's own life, so why pay attention? Well, people forget that each other matter, so it's to be expected that objects and aliens on far away planets fall under many folk's ignorance.
"Turn that off!"
A few eyes don't shift to the side when a line of homeless faces beg, lament and dry to the horrid sun. Nomads are quickly forgotten on lost or troubled planets, and no one desires to fall in such endeavors. Over time many have been lost in the tide of foolishness. Ignorant waves ebb across the galaxy, reciting the words of self-pride, and absolute independence. There is little importance in not caring, that is the truth. Without relationships people die, even with their eyes open.
It just happened that way, and most of the galaxy falls into that branch.
I dont...
I never will.
"Okay, okay--get out the way."
The ease of the spray had come easy. Every time I had decided it was purposeful, which seemed to be each day now, it ran from the can with pleasure. Propaganda, art work, call to fame, vandalizing...no matter how one put it, the work caught attention. Faces splurged in an artistic diagram of demise and joy. The extremes flourish from the darkened red, crimson furnace banging against the light. In total it carried a sign relevant in the old ages...a circle, parted by a forgotten sword...an archaic weapon.
A lightsaber.
A lot of tales come along with people's lives. Every human and alien carry stories that very few get the chance to retell, or even hear. Instead everyone's face is stuck in the troubles of their own lives which really don't matter. Bills and all that other crap that just stands as a bulwark from understanding and caring about one another. Really it's not the people...it's just their actions, beside that I love everyone.
At least I try, ya know?
"One more touch..."
One last hint pressed against the wall. Coruscant was once a nice stomping ground for me, about a few weeks ago. A lot of faces crashed the sites, hoping to void my statements with their blasters. Stormtroopers didn't scare me, I had faced them before, and I would be in trouble with them again. All of it was just a horrible cycle of truth against lies, and they didn't like my truth. That was just...how it went.
A lot had changed since I had though piloting was the way to go. No crew sat behind me, and few were concerned with my personal affairs or directly bonded by my acts. The webbing I had created died out as soon as I hit Wookie-land, and set off. After a stump here and there with the spacer life, the months spelled for odd-jobs. Work as a scholar had commanded a few more lessons in the finer arts, giving me a few trades to play with as I ran the lanes. Even a little time as a comedian had called for a nostalgic laugh or two.
People seemed to like me. Girls--or woman, I'd like to say, loved my genuineness and "cuteness". I wasn't handsome...I was cute--weirdos. Plus, I laid down jokes from the head, more so by just being random and talking about actual subjects. Even that grew tiring though, and the road just kept calling for a different face in my repertoire. Few trades past my hands, and little credits weren't put to use. Not always good use...but they were put to use.
However, that was a few months back after that masquerade with the bald girl and I was simply happy to be alive. The highest building on Coronet stood coated with my artistic piece. A lightsaber pointed to the sky, separating the war machines. The two political parties of Rebel and Imperial were both wrong. War had no place in civilized world, with laws and so many other subjects it contradicted. Even the lightsaber was embedded with the faces that the war destroyed.
War was on...and it was against war.
"Move it, move it. Come on droid! Lets go!"
I knew in a few seconds troopers would be on my tail, but as I said...that was the cycle--that was how it went.
Note: Art by Wilhelmll
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v706/LaLaBoogie/Caizer_City_by_WilhelmII.jpg
Life doesn't wait.
"Leave me alone...let me sleep."
All the things of the galaxy change, shift, go on without anyone or everyone noticing. No one cares if the star beyond known space combusted, or turn to bits. There is nothing seemingly important about those things that seem irrelevant to one's own life, so why pay attention? Well, people forget that each other matter, so it's to be expected that objects and aliens on far away planets fall under many folk's ignorance.
"Turn that off!"
A few eyes don't shift to the side when a line of homeless faces beg, lament and dry to the horrid sun. Nomads are quickly forgotten on lost or troubled planets, and no one desires to fall in such endeavors. Over time many have been lost in the tide of foolishness. Ignorant waves ebb across the galaxy, reciting the words of self-pride, and absolute independence. There is little importance in not caring, that is the truth. Without relationships people die, even with their eyes open.
It just happened that way, and most of the galaxy falls into that branch.
I dont...
I never will.
"Okay, okay--get out the way."
The ease of the spray had come easy. Every time I had decided it was purposeful, which seemed to be each day now, it ran from the can with pleasure. Propaganda, art work, call to fame, vandalizing...no matter how one put it, the work caught attention. Faces splurged in an artistic diagram of demise and joy. The extremes flourish from the darkened red, crimson furnace banging against the light. In total it carried a sign relevant in the old ages...a circle, parted by a forgotten sword...an archaic weapon.
A lightsaber.
A lot of tales come along with people's lives. Every human and alien carry stories that very few get the chance to retell, or even hear. Instead everyone's face is stuck in the troubles of their own lives which really don't matter. Bills and all that other crap that just stands as a bulwark from understanding and caring about one another. Really it's not the people...it's just their actions, beside that I love everyone.
At least I try, ya know?
"One more touch..."
One last hint pressed against the wall. Coruscant was once a nice stomping ground for me, about a few weeks ago. A lot of faces crashed the sites, hoping to void my statements with their blasters. Stormtroopers didn't scare me, I had faced them before, and I would be in trouble with them again. All of it was just a horrible cycle of truth against lies, and they didn't like my truth. That was just...how it went.
A lot had changed since I had though piloting was the way to go. No crew sat behind me, and few were concerned with my personal affairs or directly bonded by my acts. The webbing I had created died out as soon as I hit Wookie-land, and set off. After a stump here and there with the spacer life, the months spelled for odd-jobs. Work as a scholar had commanded a few more lessons in the finer arts, giving me a few trades to play with as I ran the lanes. Even a little time as a comedian had called for a nostalgic laugh or two.
People seemed to like me. Girls--or woman, I'd like to say, loved my genuineness and "cuteness". I wasn't handsome...I was cute--weirdos. Plus, I laid down jokes from the head, more so by just being random and talking about actual subjects. Even that grew tiring though, and the road just kept calling for a different face in my repertoire. Few trades past my hands, and little credits weren't put to use. Not always good use...but they were put to use.
However, that was a few months back after that masquerade with the bald girl and I was simply happy to be alive. The highest building on Coronet stood coated with my artistic piece. A lightsaber pointed to the sky, separating the war machines. The two political parties of Rebel and Imperial were both wrong. War had no place in civilized world, with laws and so many other subjects it contradicted. Even the lightsaber was embedded with the faces that the war destroyed.
War was on...and it was against war.
"Move it, move it. Come on droid! Lets go!"
I knew in a few seconds troopers would be on my tail, but as I said...that was the cycle--that was how it went.
Note: Art by Wilhelmll