It Takes At Least 2

Agent Weebley. You seem to want some critiquing on yours and dogmax’s past Chapter 1 on boards.ie. We, in the Aircar, would be happy to oblige.

Firstly, it’s great that you have decided to become creative, but judging by the high quality of colour that others add to their stories, you might want to follow their style?

Paraphrasing what dogmax said 2 days ago, pretend the reader is blind and they can only see what you see:

05-08-2012, 22:28
Post #25
dogmax
Join Date: Apr 2012
Posts: 34

Well Agent Weebley neither of us is trapped anywhere, our minds are free they always where and they always will be, there is no twilight or illusions or silly little politics or religious tricks that could ever keep us, we are like the ancient bog oak we are loyal to the true reasons why we’re here, for in our minds there is history true history history that has bought us to this meeting place so we can both check out the scenery for the scenery is us, and it will help us in what ever time we move into, and yes in our minds there are many legions and they will join us on this journey for whatever that journey may be – oh and thanks for your kind words on my poetical tale I will re post it, and I have to admit it was a very enjoyable journey maybe we might meet that old man in our journey, but fact or fiction I do hope his son has grown up a lot, and I do mean, a lot, but anyway – just one other thing Agent Weebley, do you have a funny feeling there are eyes watching us, maybe some of them would like to join us on our search for the truth, and if they do, please Agent Weebley don’t tell them that old Donn bites, oh and by the way old Donn is ready – no just wait “old Donn put the telly down – no its not a demon put its down – that good now you go and sit down in that chair over there” – sorry about that, but really Agent Weebley, he is ready – and yes I read amanfromMars critiqued about this thread, but I have to admit he does go on a bit – but I should be use to that by now eh, Still your show Agent Weebley.

CONSCIENCE OF GUILT
————————————
Last night as I rest in my sleep
Through a dream I felt sand beneath my feet
In the distance stands a great throne made of ancient oak
Seated is a grey hair old Man
His feature where strong but his face was drawn
In serious thought of what I know not yet
Slowly I approach kneeling to rest
Beneath a look from eyes that where old but wise
He greets me with a mournful smile
In cloth he is draped of the finest design
In hope I wait to hear his mind speak words I feel
Of troublesome time
“This land” he says in a growl tone that rise the spirit of my soul
“Was once own by one who cared who loved who cherish it all
Then from his life there born children equal in their race
and this land where he once roam became home for his own human race
But as their time roll on grown up divided they became
Refusing to share spoiled to the core delusion as they greed for more
For the one who give had long since gone for he could no longer call
The land where he once roam his home
As their decades pass and centuries they became
his people mourn in hope that he would some day return
But in their human greed they fail to see
That this is now their home all the land and seas
Then soon their greed turn to hate for all living things
even their neighbours even their friends
And the one who give just sits and waits
As in disgust he watch his own human race
Destruction and carnage became their daily routine
and his people versus people how their blood runs free
and as for their children how he grieve for these
for they are been taught by what they hear and see
And soon they shall inherit what they will receive”
The grey hair old Man in his throne he sinks as his eyes stares he pause to think
His face I study how powerful he seem and then suddenly again he speaks
“In a world of plenty they had it all yet he still hears their sadden calls
Finally he decide they do deserve one more chance to see that he cares
So answering their call is the one he choose
with his gift of life their saviour he becomes
But in a world divide he dearly tries to teach their mind the fate of life
But only those who seek his words they greet as many more where undecide
And for some their evil reach new high”
The grey hair old Man his face crease in a harsh tone I hear these words he speaks
“They spit they stone they mocked his name
even those who believe just hung their heads in shame
And for many the proved was in his deeds but still they refuse to believe
On trial he stands like a common thief convicted even before his judges meets
They tease him whip him call him a king a king of people covered in sin
Then on his head they place a crown to show their appreciation a crown of thorns
A cross they carve was their ultimate treat
and many watch as he drag it along the streets
Finally on their cross they lay him down “crucify” was his judges call
So they hung him by nails through his hands and feet like a animal and still they mourn
Their saviour he sent to answer their call
but in horror he watch waiting for word that would put this human race to a end
Words that this brave Man refuse to send”
The grey hair old Man bowed his head to my feet I rise and his hands I felt
With looks of sorrow he rise his head in gentle tone these words he said
“From their cross hung his flesh like a piece of meat
Without life his soul in thy kingdom we greet
With open arms I comfort him for their saviour is my son
I give them life this human race yet they betray their only fate
Now again I grieve but not for them but for my son
who wish to return to a world which is dying
from their own Human waste”
As I rest in my sleep to a new dawn I wake in a world that I love to begin a new day
Sad thoughts of a dream which happen long ago
My hopes for a future when our troubles will be no more
But my feeling are for one who his race betrayed
But that was in the past I hear many say
Yes our lives has improved greatly since then
But I do wish in hope that his son shall remain
in his Father kingdom where he shall be safe
Why? Look around – we are still the same HUMAN RACE
Or are we — Fact or Fiction

Oh, and that was a great poem, dogmax!

Was that reply to RichardAnd on his new thread, Gulliver’s Postscript, a way to take a breather and travel in a new direction, Agent Weebley?