hark, a death on dawn's steady wings;

rising a cry from deep in thy streets

a hollow, scraping thing.

it crawls from underneath

thatched roofs and empty swings

their chains doth creak

sudden in thy wind's pointed gasp,

an aching throb everlast

these iron ribbons of childish glee

can do nothing but moan mournfully.

another child never to be seen.

thy village cries, and never sleeps.

.--. .-. . .--. .- .-. . ..-. --- .-. - .... . . -. -.. --- ..-. - .... . .-- --- .-. .-.. -..! .- -. -.. .-- .- ... .... -.-- --- ..- .-. .... .- -. -.. ... --..-- .--. . --- .--. .-.. .!!

Filling the word count limit.

I used a website called morsecodetranslator.com

If you want to know what I’m saying, I recommend using that.

%%%%%%%

*** ***

< (8.) (.8) >

!

^^^^^

V

[<------------ ! ------------>]

!

!

!

! ! III ! !

! !

! !

< ! ! >

Anything,

just don't

But you said

anything.

Which is it

somethings or

anything?

What do you

really mean?

Someone who likes to play with people likes challenging things and more likes taking and providing creative and unusual ways. Someone who can give simple answers but still they would blow your mind because they are either unexpected, or weirdly correct and satisfying, or even somehow funny. It makes me think about someone calm and smart. He may look cold, but that is not necessarily true. Someone who has a certain way of thinking and style, which makes it not easy to impress him/her or not easy to push him to follow your writing.

“Where were you Bryan?” said Bryan’s Mom, Libby.

“I told you, I was on the moon visiting the man on the moon. His name’s John,” said Bryan who’s 8 and loves to tell stories, but this wasn’t a story, it was real.

“Alright Bryan. Can you take me tonight to see your friend then? I want to talk to him too,” said Libby still not believing where Bryan went.

“Yes Mom. I have an extra spacesuit you can wear he gave me to have. He said he no longer needs it and just gave it to me to keep. He said it was from an astronaut that visits him,” said Bryan.

That same night came and Michael, an astronaught came to pick up Bryan. He told him that his Mom wanted to come talk to John. Bryan’s Father, Brent said it was alright that both of them went with Michael. He wanted to go but they didn’t have an extra spacesuit he could wear so he had to stay home that night.

“Well, we’ll see if you’re telling the truth or not Bryan,” said Libby while looking at Michael.

“Hello mam, I’m Michael. I’m a NASA astronaut. I’m friends with your son. We met online and he told me he wanted to be an astronaut and wanted to meet the man on the moon. The man on the moon’s real and his name’s John,” said Michael.

“Well, alright. I want to meet John and talk to him,” said Libby still not believing all of this yet.

The three of them rode to NASA, then Michael put them on board a space shuttle. Just like Michael said, they’re going up to the moon. After they arrived, they took a small vehicle to ride to John’s home.

“Well, here we are, this is John’s home,” said Michael.

“I’m starting to believe all of this,” said Libby.

Unfortunately, John wasn’t home. He was out collecting moon rocks. Now Libby didn’t believe that John was real.

“I knew that the man on the moon wasn’t real,” said Libby.

“Well, he could be out collecting moon rocks. He likes to do that. That’s where Bryan got them from,” said Michael.

“Mom, can we wait for John? I want you to meet him,” said Bryan eagerly.

"Yes, but only for a little while,” said Libby.

Not long after Libby spoke, a man in a small vehicle appeared. He dismounted near the opening of his protective home bubble and approached everyone. He shut off his vehicle and started to talk.

“Hello everyone, my name’s John. I’m the so called man on the moon,” said John.

“Well, you are real then. I was beginning to not believe this. It’s nice to meet you John. My name’s Libby. My son told me that you’re his friend,” said Libby.

“Well, please do come into my home and let’s talk,” said John waving everyone to come into his home.

Everyone talked to John. He gave Libby some moon rocks. He told her that he and her son were friends and that this was all real. Libby was happy and told her husband about this when she got home.

Brent eventually got a spacesuit and he got to go up to meet John too. Now Libby and Brent believed Bryan about his friend John and going up to the moon at night. When Bryan grew up, he moved next door in a bubble home next to John. His parents came to visit him often and they also collected moon rocks.

Though we are of different races, of different gender, of different backgrounds, of different beliefs, though we speak in different languages, with different accents caressing our words, we speak with one voice, and that voice yearns to be free. If you look past the wrapping, you'll see that our hearts are the same.

Trump is the only other U.S. President besides Kennedy (please correct me if I'm wrong), in recent history, who tried to rise up against the establishment and elites directly.

As Trump became President there was a real difference, not just in the administration, but in the presence of living in America.

A secure feeling to be precise; a moment we've been waiting for since the beginning.

We are stronger with America first. Sure, is assisting other nations important? Of course. But when you prioritise this to the extent of crippling your own nation, military and citizens, it must be confronted.

The mainstream media, elites and administrations needed to be confronted!

We're not backing down from our support, no matter how far you try to push us. You may be able to state your view, but the state doesn't want you destroying it! America awake!

May pride wash away in a salty wave

To the horizon, left to drown and rest

Amongst forgotten relics of past days

May obligation fall from a high peak

To the hard earth, left to shatter and rest

Amongst overlooked grains, brittle and weak

May burden catch a wing on a sharp wind

Up to the heavens, left to hang and rest

Amongst unearthly matter, all sun-singed

We now trudge the novel, fresh –

                                                    ly broken

Undetermined ground of a new era

Raw and wounded, it crumbles under foot

We need guidance, path makers, mould shapers,

Not solely upholders of tradition

Clinging to sepia hued memories,

But ones to lead us forth through blinding light

Into foreign atmospheres unfolding,

For you must conquer a bold decision,

Unasked of you until this affliction