Mt. Denali

Current Events
I have a name you've never heard. Call me what you want. I was before you. I will be here when your dust mingles with mine in a tributary of time and patience. Use me as a peace offering, as a statement piece, as an exhibition of genius, but let's be clear; I belong to no man.
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Homeland

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Home ties you to something fixed -   though there’s nothing set about   development and the creep   of city fixtures that sweep   away life-long play-places. The breathless, tireless machines   tear away my memories. When they clear and dam and pave,   they lay asphalt right over   childhood and adolescence. And in East Marietta,   no fortification could   stop the enemy - this time   a real-live tree-tearing tank -   next to Chad Taylor’s old house. We couldn’t even pretend   to fight them with stick guns and   pinecone grenades - better than   petitions and town halls, though. Further north, off Merritt Road   (tamed now, like a circus bear),   the salamanders are gone;   the crayfish - forgotten ghosts. The mighty river that housed   a thousand creatures is a   drainage runoff now - lifeless. But, in my…
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Legacy System

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Why would I reject a legacy? I've inherited more than pennies; You have gifted me a treasure trove and a den across the misty moor where monsters and majesty await. I must hate something innate and keen to cut it out or apply brute force where coping mechanisms won't work. Is that it, or does misery love companions so much as to despise mirth and plot to kill sleeping guardsmen to enjoy the imposed grief and gloom? Do you aim to lure, distract, or hide? No need to kill if we understand.
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God’s Post Office Wall

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Recompense is coming to generals who won't defend the powerless, to killing-kings who try elimination plans. So, feed yourself on graves and boys, and don't forget to kill their screeching kin. Recompense is coming for every single one.
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What They Taught Me

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I raised my hand and asked what the story meant. They told me, "There's as many meanings to this story as there are readers. It's your story." I asked about a symbol. "Symbols are deep and personal, connected to the collective unconscious, but ripe for the taking. It's your symbol." I took a story and a symbol and hung them around my heart. They told me, "Take it down! That story is wrong. That symbol means hate." I should never have raised my hand.
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Coming Soon

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We are building our network and refining our work flow. Please come back soon, as we hope to launch August, 1, 2015.   Beginning a thing is beautiful, as it pulls out your teeth and shows them to you one by one. You were a child all along - smacking soft food. And you thought you could eat steak.
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