So, I just got back from one of my favourite places to go, the Renaissance Festival. If you've never heard of it, I don't feel like taking the time to explain it all to you, but the basic gist of it is acting as though it were the Renaissance era. And no, not the Harlem Renaissance. It's full of shows, stuff to buy, and a good time to be had, mostly. I camped out with my friend and mother there over the weekend. Anyways. On to other stuff.

I gots me a sword. I also gots pictures of aforementioned sword.

That's a sword. With the sheath on, it's taller than me. I've ran out of things to say, I guess it's because I can't think of anything that you all care to hear about, so…

Long poem goes last.

"Campaign."

Sudan, a street corner,

Devastated by war,

A glowing neon sign stands, still,

Yelling "Coca Cola" to the streets of nothing more,

An explosion, and all is over.

An emaciated child,

His desolate mother,

And bodies, on top of each other, piled,

A Mcdonald's sign torn apart,

Shrapnel from it in the deceased,

The mother covers her heart,

Utters a prayer for any other,

The message is received,

the two are shot by, by an insurgent wiild.

Dead land for kilometres,

On it, the signs of greed,

"Burger King', "DQ", "Taco Bell",

Bodies lying dead for their holy cause,

A martyr without extremities bleeds,

Among the A/C and heaters,

And, without a warning, without a pause,

From heaven rains fiery hell.

A man with a Kalashnikov,

Rested upon his dead torso,

A look of anguish on his face,

Next to him, debris,

The remnants of corporation,

Caught up in the rat race,

It's the next generation,

Life from this area flees,

A Starbucks sign piercing his gut,

Ethereally crying out so:

"Save me from this flood."

Destruction rains down,

In the form of corporate greed,

A destroyed town lies in debris,

All that remains is the American way:

Gluttony, lust, greed, done is the deed,

An ideal American town,

A false hope to be free,

America had its role to play,

Such a thing, it has done well,

A society in ruins caused by war,

A city in its own personal hell,

Dying, lasting never more.

Lying in the desert sand,

They pray for their god,

From the heavens, an angelic band,

May come down, and trod,

Serenading death with sweet nothings

All men are equal,

In the eyes of death,

The eventual destruction is foretold,

And written on the walls,

The greed has taken over,

Slowly fading out, stealing the breath,

Walls and signs of gold,

It's the final fall,

The rise of evil.

Posters on the walls, of dollar signs,

The new currency is dominating,

A single identity is what they want,

They're sacrificing lives,

With their nickels and dimes,

They're on the hunt,

Diseased, like hives,

There is nothing, no sign of withdrawing.

The helicopters blaze,

The sun beating down,

The heat is unbearable,

They're lifting a man,

Dressed in a burial gown,

The craftwork terrible,

Buildings to raise, to raze.

The devil of modern culture,

A literal antichrist is he,

Followed by evil, by death,

He spreads the culture of disdain,

Until the old no more can be,

He takes every last breath,

Controlling the masses, his job,

Spreading famine, pain,

Ensuring that there is no future,

Putting down the many of the mob.

Money is corruption,

And physical manifestation of greed,

Behind it all, deception,

Upon which the evil feeds,

The hatred is in his eyes,In his genocidal outrage,

He strikes out at the divine,

Launching an assault,

The missiles, a screeching warcry,

He is the archmage,

The masses running out of time,

He is at fault…

The masses are all gone,

Melded into the Earth,

There are no more bombs,

Hidden within the mirth,

All is lost.

There is no more life,

And there is yet no more death,

There is no more strife,

And there's no more air for breath,

There's no people, no creatures,

No sign of any life,

Just a desolate planet with no features.