Death of a star

He was so mortified by the destruction of the death star that his his normally stoic facial expression switched to one of true horror.  What had happened was so inconsevible so impossible that the sorrow was delayed by disbelief. All of a sudden his little tie fighter started to shake violently as it was thrust backwards by the force of the explosion.  Further and further he went, closer and closer to the planets surface.  He knew that the planet which was scheduled for destruction would become his grave. 

He hit the atmosphere, hard. The force of re-entry caused the electronics to turn on once more. As he hurtled toward the planets surface he franticly tried to restart his fighters engines. With a sputter and a shout his engines roar to life. Fighting against the G's of his rapid decent he lifted the joystick skyward and his fighter responded in kind. Putting all power to engines and forward shields leaving little left for life support. He rockets through the planets lower atmosphere dodging large pieces of wreckage from the downed space station. As he breaks through the danger zone and into the relative safety of low orbit  he wonders just how he will find his way back, he wonders just how will he survive.

The Hammer

Hammer hammer come crashing down, 
Break this illusion and free my soul.
Please mister strike my crown,
And shatter my jewel.
For an instant I am free,
And free is what free does.
For a moment I am me,
My shackles are gone to the horror of my foes.
I rise to take my place among the stars.

Beautiful Night

A warm night and a dark sky,
The perfect night to try and die.
I sit and wait upon the tower,
And await the clock to strike the hour.
My eyes drift upwards as my voice whispers I die,
The man who stabbed me starts to cry.
In that moment we are one and the same,
The anger inside him is on the tame.
As the cold blade pierces my heart,
The heart of his has begun to start.
The clang of the clock,
And the caw of the cock.
My life blood flows from the wound,

Big Ben clangs again and I am drifting downward,
Into the endless sleep, peace is finding me.  
The little man who struck me down cries in pain and anguish,
As the knife falls from from his trembling fingers.
I feel myself being pulled backwards,
A sense of weightlessness fills me.
As I begin my journey doves take off as my soul doth fly.
My worries are gone and euphoria fills me,
escape from the pain and troubles I thought were slowly killing me.
Down and down further and faster,
The little man is getting smaller and smaller.
I pivot in air and face my fate,
All is quiet and I am free.

Mine More Minerals

 "Mine more minerals."
This is what the voice says,
It's all it ever says.
I face inevitable destruction if i can't expand and improve my macro,
And yet she still say's,
"Mine more minerals."
My workers and my marines,
All clad in steel, scurry about the base,
none move without my order.
My defenses are not ready, i must build more.
She say's again,
"Mine more minerals."
I jam on my keyboard in frustation, willing the reasorces to come faster.
Her voice becomes a loud drone as the buttons are mashed.
"Mine more, MMMMMmmmm, Mine mo, Mmmmmmm, mine more minerals."
As time passes I become more confident, I tell myself,
"maybe the enemy general is as inexperienced as i am."
A false hope grows from thins thought.
More time goes by and i feel safe, i feel at ease, i feel ready to expand, unaware of the menace outside my walls.
I am at my most calm right before it happens.
A loud Shout is heard, Gun fire follows.
I zoom to the action, and watch as my men are swallowed by a torrent of creatures the likes of which have never been seen before.
I whisper to myself,
"Zerg."
For a moment it seems as if my defenses will hold.
That moment is quickly over.
I stare as the wave of creatures quickly obliterates everything I worked so hard to build.
My men and buildings fall as one.
Fire leaps from building to building, the flames give the creatures an eerie glow.
I lock eyes with one of the Daemons, his eyes black and remorseless.
the Voice says again,
"Not enough minerals, Mine more minerals."
I wonder to my self,
"Hasn't she ever heard of a loan?"
BY: Bobby Nice

just so you know, this is unedited, and it was done in about ten mins.

the guns are silent once more, and the carrion birds descend.  This battle field which once knew so much violence and blood shed, is quiet. The acts that were committed here should never have been committed, things that no man in his right mind can conceive.  the landscape is bleak, mounds of dirt rise on both sides;  red and brown mix, the earth seems to bleed; remains of men and machines of war still litter the scene.  the eerie quiet is broken by a ragged cough, soon men who still hold the spark of life enter the landscape.  they shamble, slowly moving back to there old home.  the pace is slow but each and every man breaths heavy,  the sound of distant gun fire blows over the ridge; one man tries to break into a trot, he trips on a piece of rubble.  that simple action reveals part of a man, a groan is heard from below the earth, frantically people flood the area, more of the groaning man is revealed.  no one knows who he is, but no one cares, the men begin to feel hope,
"if a man such as him can survive an ordeal like that then so can I!"
line open line of soldiers file into the once abandoned trenches, man the once unmanned guns and wait.

a day passes and all seems calm, some wonder if retreat was really what they should have done, others wonder if the people they left behind to guard their rear were able to do more then they were tasked with.  all of this thinking is stopped as the shells fall once again.  first heard as a distant boom, then a whistle, then the shell leaves its destruction.  hearts sink, all think they will die, any hope is lost, as the first few rounds hit their marks. the one who was saved waits for the dirt to cover him once again.

BY: Robert Nice

Another crapy poem, hope you like it.

Mire, it can stop you entirely,
Or simply slow you down.
Mire an ugly word when left alone

Mire is a word with out a mate,
Something distasteful and seldom used 
This poem is mired in itself.

Quag a word that is ugly in appearance,
And also in use,
But what would happen if you combined the two?

Quagmire, it simply means confusion,
Such a lovely word, and pleasing to the ear

Put two distastefull people together and the effect is the same,
While they might still hamper or harm 
They can still be beautiful,

All one needs is a mate.

  

By Robert nice

Crapy poem, I hope you like it.

Life goes on and on, never stoping never waiting 
You are simply pulled along for the ride
When the good comes you embrace it's presence and wish it not to leave
When the bad arrives it stays to long and doesn't know when to leave
you don't care because all of the bad wither and die with age 
But the good seems to own the eluded of immortality 
Life never seises but the mind can linger.