Revolution vs. Sini Pt.2

Lindel · 11-08-2024, 10:18 AM

Arthur

The man is named Arthur, a man who shows no love for man-kind – he lives about life with a manic mind
The savage kind that laughs at your cries, and is glad if you died – he’s truly an evil mad hatter by design
He’s a business man living on an island hosting five hundred and five – so everyone knows his havoc ways
But setting foot on that airplane that had been delayed – they wouldn't know - what would happen that day..

Arthur had arrived on the plane with a smug on his face – all because his private departure was late
He sat on the back seat - opposite of where the flight attendant should be – so she’d have to walk back and forth through the lane
“Is my coffee ready yet”!? He yelled across the plane in disdain – not caring about the dismay of the lady who served him
“Coming right away sir” – she said with pain in her words – wishing he wouldn't treat her like a slave or a servant!

5 Hours have passed since Arthur has been on the plane – now he's drinking champagne and writing down notes
But not for his job – No – he’s writing down quotes – so his arsenal of mass verbal weaponry grows
“The people of my island are all idiots – so after this trip – I'll leave with my riches and give nothing to them”
Well maybe the mayor – I’ll leave him a prayer – where he turns to vapors or chokes on his phlegm!”

Suddenly while writing – Arthur hears a loud noise – which falters his poise - and sends him in distress
“What was that sound, you better tell me right now, land this plane on the ground!!” - Arthur yells very upset!
Next thing you know – the engine combusts into flames - This must be the reason the flight was delayed!
(Pilot) “Brace for impact – we are going to crash - God I haven’t been bad - save me with your grace!!!!”

*CRASH*

The plane crashes face first on a deserted island – killing the flight attendant - and pilot in the cockpit
But out of the rubble comes Arthur – injured and noxious – glad that he's survived this violent process
“That was a close call, but my left arm is fractured – and my forehead is bleeding faster and faster
I must find a medical kit – for tissue and making a splint – he quickly thinks looking at the disaster

Scouting the plane – Arthur finds the supplies he needs to survive – and nurtures himself back to good health
“Where am I exactly”? He says to himself – I better find a radio and call for some help
Yet he finds nothing but debris and ash from the plane, so he tries to call from his cellular phone
But there’s no signal in these vast parts unknown, as he looks around to realize…he’s alone

Finally...

"Finally! I'm free from every human being!" Arthur screams ecstatically while running on white sand
"I'm free from all imbeciles, simpletons, and infidels" - he screams following a maniacal laugh
But as soon as Arthur's celebration is finished - he realizes just what that really means
It means that as long as he's stuck on this desolate island - not a single soul will ever be seen!

This can't be...

"This can't be!" Arthur cries in denial - "It's only me on this island? That I just can't believe!"
He scours day and night for someone alive – passing through vines and coconut leaves
Finding no-one – he shades himself with a tree to hide from the blistering sun - and sits idly on a stone
Looking deep into the Ocean with his mind Trapped in a zone - he wishes that he was - safely back home

5 months pass and Arthur is running out of of hope - he doesn't want to live here - melancholic and broke
For being alone had damaged his soul - but changed him into an actual human being with a pulse
"I'm sorry - I just want to go home" he says everyday - " I promise I'll never have hate or anger displayed"
As he walks devil's sand with a coconut in his hand - he begins to kneel down and give God his praise..

That's it...

"That's it"! As Arthur finishes praying - his mind sparks revelation - so he gets up and sprints towards the plane
Looking in a craze - he finds the tools he was rummaging for - a pen, paper and empty bottle of champagne!
But instead of merely writing "help" on the note - he writes an atonement for everyone on his island - even the Mayor he hated the most
"I'm sorry everyone for my hateful - disgraceful - frivolous quotes - especially you - The Mayor Of My Home!"

Signed, Arthur

And so the bottle is sent out to sea - a bottle atoned - going where the crashing waves take it
Till 5 months later it washes up on a Beach - intact with the note - not broken nor tainted
It's picked up by a man in a suit - who was looking at fish - but the sparkling bottle he couldn't resist!
He opens and reads it - then says while balling a fist - "Wait till' everyone on the island hears about this!"

You're forgiven, Arthur.

Frequency --

When I was twenty one, it was a very good year
It was a very good year for city girls who lived up the stair
With all that perfumed hair and it came undone
When I was twenty one

They said he had a frequency like some white noise that carried itself along
Buried in wealth, money couldn't buy happiness, he lived vicariously with song
Every stanza was a minúte movement, he likely wasn't good at expression
The highest notes captured him, the lowest notes understood his depression
On the brim of regression, his passive aggression attaches a lesson explained
As a passionate quest to answer the message, a rite of passage is a testament gained
No home - no family - simply, a vagabond with a softer soul and a subtle caution
From rubble, stones and bones broke, but nothing more important than the one he lost when...
...that mourning began - a collapsed lung from collapsed ceilings, shrill screams
The new soundtrack to his hardened shell, the muse of music now nothing, but still scenes
And so he thought of her, thinking from time to time that this riddle connects
Tears stream down the face of a man whose eyes dwindled down to a ripple effect
In giving respects, he mutters sweet nothings through a whispering breath
Just praying that the clock could wind back, without revisiting his vision of death
That mind like a prism, never confined as a prison - shine light in the darkness
Pint-sized as an artist making parchment the last resort for the might he could harness
But he was life-like; juxtaposed with a mannequin's stare and hipster clothes
Mixing those feelings of emotion with others of tension while he wished for growth
Disgusted, he trusted none, but befriended many on the path to a distant cove
Where oceans crush salt in his wounds underlining the face that his grimace wove
Through the grimmest known tragedies, he lifted gold and shifted goals casually
Never taking a minute to choose, no minute to lose, the only limit he knows naturally
...is the sky, once that fell, his heart sank deep when the reaper was coming
Cause the weakness of man is falling short of glory through the demons we summon
But the reason we run is the same reason we hide our secrets in dungeons
The people mean nothing, they feast with their eyes and eat for consumption
And he was not of this world, no foreign language - still lost in translation
He believed in right, morality never seems to die alone in a spot of stagnation
So then who is he? He is you and me, he is a human-being...he's an illusion, see
Portrayed as a loser, not opposite winners, but a person with no sense of truth to be
What was once his youth could be now stated as a useless plea for hoping at all
Considering the changes, pictures vividly painted everything he wrote on the wall
A word buried in ink - followed by a shot fired blindly with no beginning or end
His demons are awakened, he could die trying to face them or live and pretend
With nothing to fight for or against, his closest friends were his rivals at best
The shadows shrouded him for year and sleepless nights have put survival to rest
If it's vital, he was dying, but up until this point I had you sit through it, tense
Cause it's like the metaphor of feeling ripped apart has taken on it's literal sense
And if you've never felt the anger and pain, it's nothing like accepting abuse...
...he went through this alone and his memories escaped him as he bled to his shoes

Now the days grow short, I'm in the autumn of my years
And I think of my life as vintage wine from fine old kegs
From the brim to the dregs and it poured sweet and clear
It was a very good year

Memory Lane. It's the road most traveled. Also, the most feared.

11-08-2024, 10:18 AM	#1
Lindel Box Join Date: Dec 2018 Posts: 1,141 Rep Power: 0	Revolution vs. Sini Pt.2 Arthur The man is named Arthur, a man who shows no love for man-kind – he lives about life with a manic mind The savage kind that laughs at your cries, and is glad if you died – he’s truly an evil mad hatter by design He’s a business man living on an island hosting five hundred and five – so everyone knows his havoc ways But setting foot on that airplane that had been delayed – they wouldn't know - what would happen that day.. Arthur had arrived on the plane with a smug on his face – all because his private departure was late He sat on the back seat - opposite of where the flight attendant should be – so she’d have to walk back and forth through the lane “Is my coffee ready yet”!? He yelled across the plane in disdain – not caring about the dismay of the lady who served him “Coming right away sir” – she said with pain in her words – wishing he wouldn't treat her like a slave or a servant! 5 Hours have passed since Arthur has been on the plane – now he's drinking champagne and writing down notes But not for his job – No – he’s writing down quotes – so his arsenal of mass verbal weaponry grows “The people of my island are all idiots – so after this trip – I'll leave with my riches and give nothing to them” Well maybe the mayor – I’ll leave him a prayer – where he turns to vapors or chokes on his phlegm!” Suddenly while writing – Arthur hears a loud noise – which falters his poise - and sends him in distress “What was that sound, you better tell me right now, land this plane on the ground!!” - Arthur yells very upset! Next thing you know – the engine combusts into flames - This must be the reason the flight was delayed! (Pilot) “Brace for impact – we are going to crash - God I haven’t been bad - save me with your grace!!!!” CRASH The plane crashes face first on a deserted island – killing the flight attendant - and pilot in the cockpit But out of the rubble comes Arthur – injured and noxious – glad that he's survived this violent process “That was a close call, but my left arm is fractured – and my forehead is bleeding faster and faster I must find a medical kit – for tissue and making a splint – he quickly thinks looking at the disaster Scouting the plane – Arthur finds the supplies he needs to survive – and nurtures himself back to good health “Where am I exactly”? He says to himself – I better find a radio and call for some help Yet he finds nothing but debris and ash from the plane, so he tries to call from his cellular phone But there’s no signal in these vast parts unknown, as he looks around to realize…he’s alone Finally... "Finally! I'm free from every human being!" Arthur screams ecstatically while running on white sand "I'm free from all imbeciles, simpletons, and infidels" - he screams following a maniacal laugh But as soon as Arthur's celebration is finished - he realizes just what that really means It means that as long as he's stuck on this desolate island - not a single soul will ever be seen! This can't be... "This can't be!" Arthur cries in denial - "It's only me on this island? That I just can't believe!" He scours day and night for someone alive – passing through vines and coconut leaves Finding no-one – he shades himself with a tree to hide from the blistering sun - and sits idly on a stone Looking deep into the Ocean with his mind Trapped in a zone - he wishes that he was - safely back home 5 months pass and Arthur is running out of of hope - he doesn't want to live here - melancholic and broke For being alone had damaged his soul - but changed him into an actual human being with a pulse "I'm sorry - I just want to go home" he says everyday - " I promise I'll never have hate or anger displayed" As he walks devil's sand with a coconut in his hand - he begins to kneel down and give God his praise.. That's it... "That's it"! As Arthur finishes praying - his mind sparks revelation - so he gets up and sprints towards the plane Looking in a craze - he finds the tools he was rummaging for - a pen, paper and empty bottle of champagne! But instead of merely writing "help" on the note - he writes an atonement for everyone on his island - even the Mayor he hated the most "I'm sorry everyone for my hateful - disgraceful - frivolous quotes - especially you - The Mayor Of My Home!" Signed, Arthur And so the bottle is sent out to sea - a bottle atoned - going where the crashing waves take it Till 5 months later it washes up on a Beach - intact with the note - not broken nor tainted It's picked up by a man in a suit - who was looking at fish - but the sparkling bottle he couldn't resist! He opens and reads it - then says while balling a fist - "Wait till' everyone on the island hears about this!" You're forgiven, Arthur. Frequency -- When I was twenty one, it was a very good year It was a very good year for city girls who lived up the stair With all that perfumed hair and it came undone When I was twenty one They said he had a frequency like some white noise that carried itself along Buried in wealth, money couldn't buy happiness, he lived vicariously with song Every stanza was a minúte movement, he likely wasn't good at expression The highest notes captured him, the lowest notes understood his depression On the brim of regression, his passive aggression attaches a lesson explained As a passionate quest to answer the message, a rite of passage is a testament gained No home - no family - simply, a vagabond with a softer soul and a subtle caution From rubble, stones and bones broke, but nothing more important than the one he lost when... ...that mourning began - a collapsed lung from collapsed ceilings, shrill screams The new soundtrack to his hardened shell, the muse of music now nothing, but still scenes And so he thought of her, thinking from time to time that this riddle connects Tears stream down the face of a man whose eyes dwindled down to a ripple effect In giving respects, he mutters sweet nothings through a whispering breath Just praying that the clock could wind back, without revisiting his vision of death That mind like a prism, never confined as a prison - shine light in the darkness Pint-sized as an artist making parchment the last resort for the might he could harness But he was life-like; juxtaposed with a mannequin's stare and hipster clothes Mixing those feelings of emotion with others of tension while he wished for growth Disgusted, he trusted none, but befriended many on the path to a distant cove Where oceans crush salt in his wounds underlining the face that his grimace wove Through the grimmest known tragedies, he lifted gold and shifted goals casually Never taking a minute to choose, no minute to lose, the only limit he knows naturally ...is the sky, once that fell, his heart sank deep when the reaper was coming Cause the weakness of man is falling short of glory through the demons we summon But the reason we run is the same reason we hide our secrets in dungeons The people mean nothing, they feast with their eyes and eat for consumption And he was not of this world, no foreign language - still lost in translation He believed in right, morality never seems to die alone in a spot of stagnation So then who is he? He is you and me, he is a human-being...he's an illusion, see Portrayed as a loser, not opposite winners, but a person with no sense of truth to be What was once his youth could be now stated as a useless plea for hoping at all Considering the changes, pictures vividly painted everything he wrote on the wall A word buried in ink - followed by a shot fired blindly with no beginning or end His demons are awakened, he could die trying to face them or live and pretend With nothing to fight for or against, his closest friends were his rivals at best The shadows shrouded him for year and sleepless nights have put survival to rest If it's vital, he was dying, but up until this point I had you sit through it, tense Cause it's like the metaphor of feeling ripped apart has taken on it's literal sense And if you've never felt the anger and pain, it's nothing like accepting abuse... ...he went through this alone and his memories escaped him as he bled to his shoes Now the days grow short, I'm in the autumn of my years And I think of my life as vintage wine from fine old kegs From the brim to the dregs and it poured sweet and clear It was a very good year Memory Lane. It's the road most traveled. Also, the most feared.