Many moons ago part II

One day the season's hand will guide me towards the great ocean,

Where death is unpredictable,

And it's the thinking not the thought that survive.

I dream of a foreign sun so bright it would scorch your corneas.

Many moons ago

One of the many reasons I love MGS

tell me you see it too

I called this poem safety, but I'd probably call it more of a "working title"

...and I'm beginning to notice shards of the sky strewn across the pavement,

and I'm not going to say I get scared,

but it happens.

I know I'll falter under the weight of it when it falls,

and I hope it doesn't think I'm going to hold it up,

I'm simply not that strong,

I hope it never asks me to be.

How many people will worship the empty sky?

I'm not going to say I'm waiting for that day to come,

but it's going to happen.

I wrote this poem after a long time of not being able to write poems. It made me happy to write it, the 15 or so meters of pavement that I started thinking about it will always make me happy when I walk on it.

100% did not do this.

Hardship

The King Of Flightless Birds

We've walked in his shadow for days,

and peppered the sand with the sweat of our brow,

His wingspan stretches for miles.

We walk,

We converge,

To the feet of this "king" to flightless birds.

Hello,

My name is Scott Smith. I write stuff I think and I take pictures of things I see. Some of these pictures move. Sometimes I write songs and sometimes I write scripts. Sometimes I play PS2 and sometimes I read books. I watch a lot of TV.

I've decided to work under the moniker, the King of Flightless Birds. I do a lot of stuff that never goes anywhere, this is my remedy...temporarily.

My spelling is terrible and I'm not going to pretend that every entry was thought up/executed sober, but I promise to do the best I can. Thanks for coming, don't shit on the carpet.