Poetry Prompt #22- Astronomy

Burst of Fire, Cosmic Supernova
A wild card thrown into the pile.

Passive Implosion, Lying in Wait
A calm and discreet nature.


Infinite Beauty, A Deadly Solar Flare
Silicone injections.

Crosswinds of the Universe, Part 2

BANG BANGBANGBANG!

Gunshots could be heard outside of the tavern. Well, only if you were really listening. The tavern was so noisy that one could barely hear anything over the music, laughter, and cheering. Every once in a while someone would glance at the door as they heard another round of gunshots. But on this planet, gunshots were pretty normal to hear. And the girly screams of men running for their lives were pretty normal too...right?

Only minutes before, Jotaru Joesi, a young woman with a powerful punch, stepped off of the steps of the inn and let out a yawn as she stretched her arms skyward. It was another day to look for work. Her brother told her that her best shot for a line of work would be to be hired by a big shot. Now a big shot in her mind only meant two things. The Seventh Sanctum and The Jade Empire. As Jotaru walked out toward the tavern, a few wolfy howls could be heard in her genreal direction. She turned her head to see a couple scraggly men whistling at her. This action made Jo rather angry. How dare they hoot and holler at a person such as herself? Didn't they know she was a man!?

"Th' hell you whistling at!?" She shouted at the men and pulled out her dual Desert Eagles. She shot once, then quickly three times. Instantly, the men screamed and ran. "I'll show you what to whistle at!" She growled and continued to shoot. Her right cybernetic eye locked onto one of the men and she ended up purposely shooting him in the shoulder. Her target went to the next and she shot him in the leg. The last in his arm. Once them men were a good enough distance away and rendered useless, Jo twirled her guns and placed them in their holsters before walking into the tavern.

Once inside, she looked around. Now...where were those big shots?

On The Verge, Part 1 cont.

The Overcooked Cook

"Listen you shitty old geezer! I'm not going to take being thrown out of the damn Lolita! Hey! Get back here old man!" Loki's words fell on deaf ears as the other workers of the Lolita just shook their heads and offered meaningless words of condolence. Once Zeff decided on something it happened. Vexed beyond belief the irritated man was left with nothing more than a half pack of cigarettes, a lighter and 50 dollars in his pocket. "Shit" Was the only word to describe his situation.

Shouts of culinary commands drifted out into the tiny alleyways behind the Lolita as Loki made his way back into the crowded streets of midday. Embrose was a big city by his standards, it'd be more than easy enough to find a cheap place to sleep tonight as Zeff cooled down. That seemed to be the only downside to his life. When the craggy cook was in a bitter mood Loki was kicked out of not just the Lolita but his loft above the restaurant too. "Fifth time this month... What a bother..."

Pulling out a cigarette he chewed the end lightly before lighting up and letting the crowd pull him in every which direction. The crowd never seemed to thin out but the type of people he began to pass did, in very drastic ways. There were a lot less women around was the first thing he noticed, there were only ape like figures that seemed to represent women in some foreign comical way. Secondly there were many filth-ridden men about, men with tattoos and many more with missing teeth. And lastly the shops lining the sides of the street were peddled by shady folk dressed in dark colors with hidden faces.

Crosswinds of the Universe, Part 1

The Tavern was a mass of activity. Laughing and yelling could be heard down the street as it's inhabitants let loose into the night. Species from all over had gathered in the little tavern to compare bounties, have a drink or tell stories of their great adventures through space. A man and a woman danced on top a table as a crowd watched and cheered. They banged on the tables, with glasses and hands, to the music barely heard. Men jeered and whistled as the women walked by, slapping their backsides or pulling them onto their laps. The women giggled drunkenly or let loose a string of curses, that put many of these men to shame.

Among the chaos in the back of the room sat two motley groups. Less rowdy than everyone around them and much more serious. At least one individual was. She leaned back into the old battered chair and folded her arms. Fingers tapped angrily against her arm; clearly displeased with her current situation. On one hand she had a reason to rejoice. They got a new ship, their other one had been so old it was a surprise that it could break through the atmosphere without falling apart. On the other hand they had the Intergalactic United Planet's Chief Commander's map of Acolis. This version of the map depicted every nook and cranny of the solar system, making it an easy raid. And there was only one.

Sharing the map with another crew was not in Aço's agenda. If she had a full crew she wouldn't have needed to resort to another for assistance. 

"My gut says to take the map and shoot every single one of you dead. My head says there is no honor in killing the ones who just helped you... Seeing as we stole this together, we have an equal share in it. So how 'bout I buy your half? How much do you want?" Aço raised and eyebrow at The Jade Empress. Aço was willing to spend all the money they had at the moment. The map would lead to an even bigger payout in the end.

The Paranormal, The Supernatural and Religion

I'm very much into the whole Paranormal thing. I believe there is something out there. So close, yet we can't see it. Now don't mix Paranormal and the Supernatural. Those are two completely different things. Though Ghost tend to fall into the Supernatural set.

Vampires, werewolves, fairies etc. I think they're cool but just not possible. So the difference in believing about in the Paranormal and the Supernatural? Probably has a lot to do with pop culture. Vamps, werewolves, ogres and what not are all glamour-up in movie, stories, not to say Ghosts aren't but odd things happen to you that you just can't explain. And when in life do you ever wake up to someone trying to drink your blood? Never.

Is it odd that I believe in the Paranormal even though I don't believe in God? I'm not sure what to believe except that if you're a good person you'll go somewhere good afterwards and vice versa. The whole idea of being reborn seems reasonable, just as the notion of no God seems plausible.

On The Verge, Part 1 cont.

The Overcooked Cook

The sun was directly overhead and the air hung heavy. The noisy street assaulted every sense in a dizzying blur. Merchants called out their wares and prices, feet rumbled like thunder as too many people busied the narrow streets and children's trill voices floated over the heavy baritone of the midday rush. Taking a deep breath of the hot and musky air Loki walked at a leisurely pace down the road back to the Lolita -his home and work place- freshly bought fish in hand. As he retreated into the crowded restaurant he was met with the roar of Zeff from the kitchen door way.

"Listen here you shitty cook, we've got costumers waiting. What the hell took you so long?" Zeff bellowed, as Loki remained calm in the face of the costumers. There were ladies around. It was unacceptable to act like a brute in their presence. Slowly he made his way into the back of the kitchen -not before whirling over to a few ladies in an attempt to woo and seduce them- were he put the fish down; well out of the reach of any fighting that would ensue. The first kick came from the old cook. A swing of his bad leg towards Loki who still had his back turned to him. In a flash Loki turned and blocked the attack, backing up for more room. A low kick here, a jab to the guts there and an over head kick every once in a while was all the other workers could see as the two top chefs danced around the kitchen in a furious flurry. Soon enough the steamy kitchen became too much for anyone and they shoved their way outside into the smoldering heat of the Anjean desert.

On The Verge, Part 1

The Overcooked Cook

Light trickled in through the cracks in the ceiling, illuminating dust as it danced its way down from the porous stone above. The blazing sun burned brightly past the worn walls of the holding cell. The clash of metal on metal sang throughout the stale air. The savage cries of the invaders shook the very foundations of the land. Cracked lips exhaled and a few shaky breaths were taken. Pale skin was marred with gashes and bruises; puss oozed from the worst one- a bite to the arm done by, at best, a wild animal-. Palms knelt eye sockets to try and rid the image that burned brightly behind them; the image of burning homes, crying women and blood. Lots and lots of blood.

'I was lucky enough to not have my ass eaten by the animals out there. But nowhere near lucky enough to escape it seems.' 

A head full of matted blond hair turned and gazed out into the small hallway. There was nothing but more cells and the one lone door at the end of the hall. Leaning forward slim- almost feminine- hands reached out to pull the lanky body up; only to be pulled back down by the weight of the chains binding his legs. Struggling was futile with so little energy. Blue eyes dimmed and the one visible thin eyebrow lowered in exhaustion.

One last curse slipped past Loki's lips, as blackness clouded his conscious.

Snow Day

The day passed by too fast. I got nothing done but a small bit of writing.

Maybe I'm the only one who thought it was a rule to our Tradition.

And the more I think about it the more upset I get. 

At myself

But I can't stop the hand the clenches at the beating organ within my chest,

Or the burning sensation that builds behind my eyes.

'Sorry' is what I want to scream.

Sorry for not holding on tighter.

Sorry for not realizing you actually didn't need me to hold on but to let go completely.

I'm sorry that I still need you.

Why Creative Writing?

It's an escape from reality. Nothing you write needs to be logical, confined, inside the box. It's like drawing with words.