RainbowsI started out looking for rainbowsAnd found only grimy grey liesAnd I could keep searching and searchingTil the day that I drown in the skiesRoaming without maps or anchorsWishing without voice or prayerThinking I was lost foreverChained to walls that were never thereIt’s a game you win when you stop playingUnsolved and intact, you succeedThe wide open sky is my canvasI can paint all the rainbows I need
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 11Austria waited outside the bedroom door, tapping his fingers against one another. The doctor had wasted no time in arriving and beginning the examination, and yet a great deal of time had passed since the door shut. Anytime an unpleasant thought imposed itself on Austria’s mind, he replaced it with “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.” Still, time wore on and his strategy was failing him. At long last, the bedroom door opened.“Come in, please,” said the doctor. Resisting the urge to run to the bedside, Austria entered the room. Inside, Hungary lay nestled in the centre of the bed. She was resting with her arms folded behind her head and a peaceful look on her face. A serene smile graced her lips as she watched him approach.“Thank goodness you’re alright,” Austria said.“Better than alright,” said the doctor. “There is good news.”“Wait, wait,” said Hungary, si
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 10In panicked heartbeats and hushed whispers, Austria and Hungary scrambled for a plan. Many rooms away, Chibitalia was still practising. Austria could not believe that this example of precocious diligence was related to that odd man waiting outside.“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” Hungary said, although her voice betrayed that she suspected it wasn’t. Unexpectedly, she stumbled backward. Austria caught her just before she would have hit her head of the bust of Mozart.“I hate that thing,” she said faintly. Austria looked at her in concern. He had never seen her look so strained.“Why...”“I’m fine, Austria,” she said. “Just a little dizzy.” As one, they looked at the door. The anachronistic stranger was probably still waiting there. Gentle, clumsy notes continued to flow from the music room. Austria gripped Hungary tighter.“We must act now.
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 9Hungary awoke that morning to the sound of musical notes. Just the notes - not really music. The sounds were plain, clear, and orderly, yet punctuated often enough with missteps and awkward pauses. She found her slippers and wandered down the hall to investigate. As she approached the music room, she remarked how unusual it was for the door to be left wide open. Peeking inside, Hungary could not believe what she saw.Not only was Chibitalia inside the room, but he was actually seated at the piano bench. Technically, he was seated atop a stack of books on the piano bench, but he was indeed playing. Austria stood beside him, hands folded behind his back, as he watched the young child navigate the scales. Another batch of eight notes concluded. Chibitalia looked up at Austria for approval.“Again,” Austria said with a nod. “And this time, remember to only use the correct finger for each key.”“But my
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 8Even in Austria’s dreams, the elusive melody taunted him. The song he had been straining to compose presented itself in the feeling of a perfect flow, and yet was discernible only in tantalizing bits and pieces. If he could only capture that song, he swore, he could hold the key to maintaining his empire’s glory. His family would need -Wait.He had a wife, not a whole family. There were no -
Wait, again.Blinking awake, Austria tried to bring his world back into focus. It was pitch dark inside the bedroom. He couldn’t see a thing, so he just listened. The faintest chirping of the crickets outside. Hungary’s gentle, even breaths. And something else.A string of strange and discordant notes drifted from the music room. Austria slipped out of bed and followed the sound. He paused outside the music room door. Sure enough, the sound was his dear piano being played by horrendously unskilled hand
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 7Working by the burning frustration within him, Austria let his fingers fly over the piano keys. It wasn’t an angry song, per se, but it was a song being carried on the fiery energy of anger. That worked just as well. Austria felt furious and dignified at the same time - a tiger, king of his lair. The very air in the music room resonated with the bleeding notes. Austria didn’t know what he was playing and he didn’t care. Intuition guided him. The song he played was fury, as primed by years and years of training.“No one can take this from me. No one!”His hands crashed down on a sour note, causing Austria to realize how loudly he had been playing. The child was probably in bed already - not that it mattered.“This is my house,” Austria hissed to the ivory. “I’ll dictate the rules.” The moment he said so out loud, his fingers lost track of where to land nex
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 6Dinner was early that evening and Austria resented it. There was no excuse for interrupting his piano rehearsal. Adults could eat later than 6pm and if the child needed his food sooner, there was no sense in shifting everyone else around because of it.“But isn’t it nicer if we all eat together as a family?” Hungary said. Chibitalia nodded in agreement and had a large bite of his beloved pasta. Austria refrained from pointing out the obvious. Hungary paused, perhaps testing if he would.“Do you know who I saw at the market today?”“Couldn’t imagine.”“Poland and Lithuania,” Hungary said. “I told them all about Chibitalia, and Poland said, ‘Your son sounds totally cute.’”Austria’s hand froze halfway to his glass.“You... told Poland that this child is our son?”Hungary giggled and waved dismissively.“Poland assumed.”“You didn
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 5In the centre of the resonating sound, Austria let his fingers run across the keys. In stressful situations such as this day’s, he generally chose a piece of considerable difficulty, so as to fully occupy his mind. This time, however, he had begun with the first etude on his piano desk stand and let the routine take over. There was probably something new from Schubert somewhere nearby, but he felt too cloudy to retrieve it. Fine. This piece would do. It was enough for him to feel the cool ivory under his fingertips and let the humming aura of the sound consume him.With Hungary and the child preoccupied, Austria allowed himself to forget the world. Following the familiar patterns was hypnotic. It gave him a sense of pride and power knowing he could stylishly trace each song and recreate it like magic.As his fingers spidered across the octaves, he thought he heard something rustling behind him. He looked over his shoulder and
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 4The endless pantry contained shelf after shelf of jars, Flours, grains, dried berries for sauces - Hungary could have sworn they had some egg noodles somewhere. Chibitalia had requested pasta, politely at first, but ever more adamant. He had been more than agreeable about everything else thus far, but pasta was non-negotiable. Austria had whispered to Hungary that it was a disciplinary issue. With a wave of her hand, Hungary told Austria she was happy to at least know what the youngster would eat. That would make things easier. At least, it would once she found the pasta. If they had any.Behind her, the pantry door creaked open. Like a slinking cat, Austria stepped in and shut the door behind him.“Have you seen the pasta?” Hungary asked, completely ignoring Austria’s expression of grave seriousness.“Pasta is the least of our concerns.”Hungary ignored this as well.“How is Chibitalia doing?
The FaceFace to face with GodI asked, “Why do I love death?”He grinned, and I knew
No one's a No oneNo one's a no one.Everyone is a someone.Takes one to know one.
Starry skyNight sky is a mineDiamonds thrown by careless menMiners have yet to sleep
Credo of the RevisionistLet your mind decayFlay the skin, and hate the SonNo God, no God here
Renga Tree: CurrentTears run down my faceand join the water’s refugea leaf swimming by.
Savage the Gods of OldDisgusting visionsMy God, traded for pennies -Now, I rend my idol
Oblivion time....I know there's a placeWhere you can restWhere you can sit and clear mind a bitStop for a whileAnd just disappearI'm sure that you know thisAnd you escape tooWhen you start feeling worthlessYou just seek the retreatYou just want to forgetYou just need more spaceSo you hide from the whole worldOr just from yourself
The One, who saved meI figured it out.It wasn't loveIt wasn't braveIt wasn't lifeI was in painI faced the fearAnd that was when you weren't nearYou gave me faithIt wasn't too lateYou showed me the truthAnd You gathered me to youWhen all of them just leftYou stayed, and You were
DreamerThey were saying she was madThey were calling her insaneShe didn't understand what was wrong with herHer life was falling shortShe needed something moreMuch, much more than this world could possibly give herShe lived in a prisonWith the grilles in the windowsShe couldn't fly awayFrom this hell of banned dreamsThe flame of her lifeCouldn't shines like a starCause she had to live in real timeShe was seeking in secretShe visited the dreamlandIn the moonlight and soft sounds of starry, cold nightAnd she knew in her heartThat this couldn't lastBut she had left all her hopeIn that remote fairylandShe lived in a prisonWith the grilles in the windowsShe couldn't fly awayFrom this hell of banned dreamsThe flame of her lifeCouldn't shines like a starCause she had to live in real time....
Aquarius HaikuCosmic OasisSeek the Aquarian AgeThis is the dawning