Thursday, 17 October 2013

The Crane Fly & It's Web!


The other day, I came across something that made me stop in my tracks and got me periodically thinking. What I saw before me, was a crane fly that had seemingly hung himself, by the remains of a spiders web.

The thing that got me thinking, was how symbolic this scene was. For those of you who are unaware, the crane fly is often referred to (more often through confusion) as a ‘Daddy-Long-Legs.’ The irony in this case, is that a daddy-long-legs would have survived and escaped the web, whereas this fly died. What I’m really getting at here, is that this insect had lived his life deceiving many people (essentially lying about his race) before being killed in this web of lies.

The analogy of the crane fly and the web could so easily be translated to the types of liars and deceivers we have in our world.

Now we’ve all told the odd white lie here and there, to get ourselves out of a situation we’d rather not find ourselves in; but there are people out there who I class as professional liars. These are the kind of people who can’t help themselves but lie and deceive others. It’s more than likely you’ve already come across one of these types of people in your lifetime – and if you haven’t, then you’re bound to sooner or later.

Could we not compare these kind of people to the crane fly who deceive so many with just their appearance? Sooner or later they could all end up in a web of their own lies, or perhaps a trap left behind by a smarter other.

I guess you could say the morale of story is, tell enough lies and you could find yourself trapped or hanged in a very sticky web!


- From The Inquisitive Mind Of Ed

Sunday, 13 October 2013

Strangers

The line is blurred between the morning and night
No warning for when tomorrow may come.
The only light you see is the invite for sorrow,
The only colour you know is snow.
The dream is never the same,
In it you endeavour the nightmare.
The ones you knew never stay,
Their remembrance your shackle,
You choose to stray,
Numb to condolence.  
To live is to win;
You’ve no kin.
The only solace is in solitude.
Safety is not a number,
It’s you.
Only you can watch over yourself while you slumber.
Only you can stop the hunger burned in to your stomach like a dagger.
Only you can follow the road away from the aching cries
Only you deserve to wallow,
As you disguise the pain you feel,
By locking away your eyes.
The person you can’t see before you isn’t real,
The two of you aren’t brothers or sisters;
We’re nothing more than strangers.

By Daniel Dean Russo

Sunday, 6 October 2013

Vir + Light - The Boy in the Forest

This like most stories is about a boy and a girl,
Its about quite a few in fact.
Our story begins in paradise
But it's abstract affair
Is akin to a nightmare.
Rainfall is all that greets the island
With two peaks.
Fish by the boat load is all those who visit crave above all.
Where its sand was once white and all effulgent
 Its now a sorry sight with violent waves abundant.
It is here and now where a young boy finds solace in the forest,
Kept at bay from joy by his peers that torment in chorus.
An extrovert forced into the role of an introvert,
The boy's nature is to venture.
Turning the palm tress in to climbing frames,
And making the animals take part in his fun and games.
What was once a quite existence,
Must one day become a pursuit for the truth
 spanning across an unordinary distance  
The only fuel; persistence. 

By Daniel Dean Russo

Saturday, 5 October 2013

Detective Poetry: Plants in the Pants

Driving through this winding avenue
Slamming the gas on this boiler
Leaving behind a trail of scorch marks and speeding tickets.
SHIT!!!
I nearly hit that lady off her own porch.
  Wait was that a lady? No its a drag queen.
I must still be in that part of town. 
...
Where did they go?
Better ask the nearest daddy-o for the 213,
I pull up beside this teen; 
I catch him like a deer in the head lights
I didn't mean to make the kids voice drop
I just wanted him to lend me an ear. 
He shoves his hand down his pants faster than a sheikh in the west.

64 BIT STREET!


Follow the adventures of a young boy and his best friend through the glitch riddled 64 BIT STREET! 




Thursday, 3 October 2013

Retro Glitch: Symphony of the Night Pt. III


Welcome to Retro Glitch, a retrospective of the gaming industry’s most shining moments prior to the advent of DLC, micro transactions and online multiplayer. In this entry we’ll be taking an in depths look at the process and circumstances that led to Konami’s masterpiece Castlevania: Symphony of the Night; as well as its narrative, themes, characters and aftermath.

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

Fewer Dreamers


London / New York, September 2013

I would sink into a daydream
while I rest on a bench
too old too soon
too young still

I would write I am famous
I would write I am grand
and while a parade marches by
past central park
I would rest my aching back against the stone wall
the lonely wooden bench 
listening to the wind in the trees

I would carve a heart into the wood
with our lovely initials
how they rhyme
on an Autumn day in Manhattan

too many lives gone

the place 
where the dreams go 
has 
fewer dreamers this year
the list too long
words cannot describe what has been lost

I would rest the blade
I would cry
as too young and too soon
you had gone 
and left me here
on this bank
near Central Park

By Zorro Rodriguez