Quaerion the Dark-aelfe stealthily strode through the shadows into the dimly-lit tavern, ignoring the inebriated "tally-ho!"s of the ignorant knaves around him, quietly slipping through the crowd to a table in the corner. He was clad in a dark, hooded cloak of purest Gwynthymoryan mithril-silk, and the Whisper-Bootes of Rhydrissa the Pale, and although his pale, fine features did not reflect any emotion, save perhaps for a flash in his deep green eyes that reflected a certain amount of contempt for the surroundings in which he had been fated to find himself this evening, his ringed right hand was somewhat tensely curled around the hilt of his Spirit-clay'dh-dhmore, FyreDestyny.

Suddenly, a rough, oafish hand grabbed his shoulder, and a voice bellowed "Quaerion!"

Quaerion whirled around, green eyes flashing, to face his oppressor -- an unutterably fat, blond-bearded man in a loincloth and a plumed helmet.

"Who dares speak the name of Quaerion?!" spoke Quaerion in a quiet, commanding voice that caused all who in the tavern who were still conscious to fall silent and gaze in his direction, wondering who the powerful yet quiet hooded stranger named Quaerion could be.

TO BE CONTINUED...

-10-

"Quim"

"The question 'Can machines think?' is as ill-posed and uninteresting as the question 'Can submarines swim?'" - Edsger Dijkstra

So apart from spazzing out on meth-beakers and party-whazzes every tooby beeper, and writing poetry about how deviant you are, what do you actually do that's so fucking deviant? Nothing. You've just got an obsession with being different from other people, because it's the only way you can excuse your astounding mediocrity in all areas.

The Baker's Apprentice (Free verse) by -=Dark_Angel=-

On this warm summer night,
as I cruise effortlessly
down this country road,
the stars shimmering off
the black hood of my car,
I pause and reflect on
the majesty of the universe.
In the quiet solitude of
this smooth endless road,
I ponder creation and realize purpose.
With escape from the noise of this world,
the silence has made all things clear.
I am here to serve my Baker.
And as the cool breeze
whisks at my cheeks,
I am at peace.

Complete genius. However, I would recommend changing "He's soiled" to "He soils". -9-

Jesu's Sandals are +2 against Ogres. I doubt you could afford them.

The Rajah's Morning Movement by -=Dark_Angel=-

He strains;
His royal fruity gas is followed
By remains of what he last night swallowed:
Chilled monkey brains.

Recently I have become fascinated with the idea of pulling one's cock out. I spend most of my day assessing the probable consequences of pulling my cock out in whatever circumstances I happen to be in.

I can accept closure.

But not indecent exposure.

I bet you wish you were an elf. Yeah, that would be so cool, wouldn't it, to be an elf? But what if everyone else was an elf too? No, that wouldn't be as good. God, you're pathetic.

A disaster on wheels.

"Imperfection is where true beauty lies."


A perfect motto for the flaccid-minded, ' artistic' teenaged girl: vague and wishy-washy enough that no definite meaning can be assigned to it, even by the author, but so manifestly absurd that one can show each of the particular possible meanings to be utter buncombe. -10-

You know what's worse than th insincere rhetoric of equality? This poeme.

[_] AABB rhyming scheme
[_] About romantic love
[_] About poetry-writing
[_] About suicide or self-mutilation
[_] Arbitrary indentation
[_] Arbitrary line breaks
[_] Autobiographical but in the third person
[X] Clerical errors
[X] Cliched imagery (staring out of window, pits of despair)
[_] Cliched rhymes (love/above etc.)
[X] Devoid of alliteration or any such linguistic embellishments
[X] Devoid of rhyme
[_] Devoid of simile, reification or any such literary devices
[_] Devoid of wond'rous or fantastical imagery
[_] Drug references
[_] Elves, unicorns, etc.
[_] Exclamation points used to mark 'the funny bits'
[_] Insipidly whimsical or zany
[_] Leaving rant
[X] Lower case only
[X] Melodramatic
[_] Naively religious or superstitious
[X] Obsessed with femininity
[_] Overabundance of ellipses
[_] Overuse of 'depression' words (putrid, wretched, darkness, etc)
[_] Pointedly unanswered questions
[_] Protagonist has a smug name
[X] Rage against the machine
[_] References to the author's 'social life'
[_] Repetition of a single word or phrase to the point of nausea
[X] Sanctimoniously moral
[_] Sentimental
[_] Self-pity
[_] Thesaurophilia
[_] Use of internet shorthand or emoticons
[_] Vicarious wish fulfilment

Bonus comment: Kittens do not knead their mothers.

-9-

But what happens after death? It's all a bit of a mystery, isn't it?

You're not supposed to put your own poems in your favourites list.

Well you can, but it makes you a tool.

You are second only to horus8 in your ability to utterly mangle the form of the limerick.

I take it "geek from Trinity" refers to -=Dark_Angel=-, and that I can add this to my ever-growing list of -=Dark_Angel=- tribute poemes?

I thought this was going to be the pilot of a TV series about a crack team of secret agents who burst into meth labs in the middle of the night and adminster instant divorces to all the evildoers inside. I was wildly excited for a brief, sodden moment.

If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd somehow turned into a Mature Poete in your absence.