Tuesday, May 23, 2006

What Agent 47 Might Write If He Were A Poet

I have just picked up one of my favourite games from a franchise. Yes Hitman: Contracts rocks. I played the 1st game but evetually gave up cuz the controls were wonky & the cutscenes always cut in on my action. The 2nd was freaking awesome I played that one with a fury, yes I know that sounds funny & is meant to be. Anyhow here I am in the 3rd installment, there is a 4th one out or coming out soon. Anyhow I got to think how just how much fun I have had creating pixellated mayhem & then thought hey, why not try to write a poem & pretend Iwas Agent 47. Yes the pyschological profile of a game charecter if he were a poet, ha, ha, kinda' funny. Then again after all the headspaces I have climbed into over these past few years this is like a vacation. Anyhow here it is.
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Flowers For The Fallen

It's spring time again
The winter was bitter
Now life begins once more
The memories from yesterday
Have all but faded
Yet for some unknown reason
When I look at flowers
I think of all the people I've killed
& find beauty in the destruction
Yes it was all so systematic
Done with all the finesse of a dancer
I know what you are thinking
It all looks so easy
But it takes years of practice to become this deadly
One by one I take them down
Sometimes others get in the way
Can't leave no evidence so they must go as well
I like to try to keep it to one shot one kill
But sometimes when they are shooting at you from a throng
You mow them all down
The sounds of gunfire, the smell of gunpowder, the flashes from muzzles
The screams, shouts, & gurgles of the dying
The bodies hitting the ground, the casings bouncing & rolling around
It all begins to sound like a symphony
Time slows down
I read my opponents movements
Gotta' stay one step ahead
Then when all is said & done
I go back home, to the hotel I am staying at or whatever
Take a nice hot shower
A bath if there is one
Try to unwind & think about something else
It is here where I begin to think of flowers
Chyrsanthenums, roses, begonia, pansies, & hundreds of others
So there you have it
The reason I sometime look neither here nor there
When clutching a flower
It takes me away from all the madness
But serves as a subltle reminder

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