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As The Tide Flows
Xenon sat upon the beach
Preparing his board to surf
The waves were fully pumping
He smiled--his home turf
From the bowels of the open blue
The Maraquan Kyrii emerged
Having navigated its cerulean depths
As its mighty tide rolled and surged
Elheena stared in wonder
As Xenon tamed the savage beast
It roared and moaned in hunger
For surfer flesh on which to feast
Eventually, the sea took him
But he resurfaced quick
Elheena finally saw his chance
And thought up a crafty trick
"Say, you're pretty good,"
Observed the native of the sea
"Though I'll bet I could outsurf you
Since you're not built as well as me."
Xenon merely smirked and laughed
"Oh really?" quoth the Kyrii
"Then let's paddle out right now
And I'll debunk your theory."
And so the pair of braggarts
Each grabbed a wave and flew
Both were deft riders
Of the mighty open blue
Jack watched with amused interest
As his master and friend competed
The little Anubis shook his head--
Neither was ever defeated
He trotted down the sunny beach
To where Arzaohe sat
The yellow Kyrii picked him up
And gave him a nice pat
"They'll be back soon, you'll see.
Once they've worn themselves out
Elheena will retreat to his cove
Xenon will come ashore and pout."
The two friends chuckled softly
Then sighed and fell asleep
The ocean's gentle lullaby
Held them in its peaceful keep
Arzaohe had been correct;
The boys finally called it quits
The tide had jostled them quite about
Till they could hardly keep their wits
They bid each other farewell
And Xenon, sulking, returned to shore
Elheena curled up in his cove
Feeling awfully sore
Later on, as nighttime fell
And the moon began to rise
All daytime tensions were forgotten
As spirits were drawn to the skies
Friends and neighbors gathered
At the seashore for some fun
Nobody really cared anymore
About competitions lost and won
That was the way it happened
Dented pride went and came
As the constant tide has always done
When the two surfers played their game
Juma, Juma, coat of bright,
What art marvels in thy sight?
What hair on thy head can tell,
What your one voice can repell?
Juma, Juma, tail of long,
What occasion I prolong?
What padding of paw can be,
What strange things you do see?
Juma, Juma, tell me here,
What fierce order did thee hear?
Of a land of mis'tries bent,
Why have you here been sent?
Juma, Juma, land of old,
Of what legends we are told,
Of what meadow, mountain, plain,
Of what rulers of long slain?
Juma, Juma, from where art thou,
coming from the world of now?
Ov'r sea and grassland travel,
What new secret old unravel?
Juma, Juma, coat of bright,
Why art thou in my sight?
Shenkuu, Shenkuu! you shall say,
Of whose words you obey.
Ode to Plushie Tycoon
Oh what a boon to be a Plushie Tycoon.
I've found a new game to play.
If I get this game right the rewards are out of sight!
One hundred thousand Neopoints they say.
But there's raw goods and rent and workers to pay.
I have eight jobs ready to go.
I hope I picked well and the plushies will sell
But sometimes you just never know.
First update I check and, what the heck?
This is starting to drive me crazy.
Though I started eight jobs, only two got done
'Cause my three hundred workers were lazy.
The warehouse is slow but there's no cash to grow.
A load takes four hours or so.
Finally they're done but I haven't yet won
It's off to the store they go.
The plushies won't sell unless I pick well
On the upgrades and ads, you see.
Will a carpeted floor send plushies out the door?
Or should my money be spent on a Marquee?
What's this? This is dire. For I forgot to fire
My crew of three hundred trainees.
All that work down the drain! Oh what a pain.
It's another restart for me.
Oh what a boon to be a Plushie Tycoon.
This game isn't easy, it's true.
But a top tycoon I'll be, just wait and see,
Maybe by restart ninety-two.
Green cooking pot, am I alone?
A mystic wind runs through my hair
Disturbing the flowers, overturning a stone
As though it were without a care.
One item dropped, then a second and a third;
A roar is all that it could bear;
I replace one item, then, stirred
A magical clunk; the juice turns clear.
Mumbo Pango appears in front of me
I'm unable to see nor am I able to hear.
Such an eerie cloud of smoke
But a resonating light soon reassures me.
With his hands, great Pango presents
something magical object, from a recipe I've created
it has produced something
great for the Island peasants
for a small price that I have stated.
I carefully wrap this precious gift,
special and sacred, it must be treasured.
I'm going to give this to a higher authority.
My mind wandering, I begin to drift
and so the gift has disappeared.
Frantically, I start to search
for I must not lose this beauty!
A wild bird from Mystery Isle is swinging on his perch,
but instead he helps me search - it's his duty.
We search throughout the grasses tall
wide and far, high and low
Through every house we must call
this process begins to slow
but, oh, at last! We have found
the gift; I tenderly add the finish touch
and, without a sound,
I take it to the recipient -
they're not impressed by much.
Ungrateful as he is, it produces a smile
from his gracious lips
and he proceeds to put it upon a pile
of other gifts, many with rips,
but I know he has appreciated my efforts all the while.
A faint whisper in the distance,
hatred, in his eyes.
no mercy, or forgiveness,
he is powered, by their cries.
The sword of once a noble one,
is now red stained with blood,
the memories give him pleasure,
the fighting, in the mud.
He knows, he'll pay a deadly price,
for the wretched deeds he's done,
by the people, he is hated,
and loved by barely anyone.
For Lord Kass, he is an evil one,
in the town's heart, he strikes fear,
the people with no savior,
but a hope, is coming near.
For Jeran is approaching,
he will save the town!
He will defeat, the evil Kass,
and by the people, win the crown.
A battle rages on by two,
Jeran, and Lord Kass,
Lord Kass's sword flies through the air,
and lands, proper, on the grass.
For now he is defeated,
but he will come again in time,
for this master of endless evil
will always commit a second crime...
Total Poetry Pages : 1984
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