Book of rampage, p.1
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       Book of Rampage, p.1
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           Ryan Paich
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Book of Rampage
Book of Rampage

  Copyright 2011 Ryan Paich

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

  or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,

  please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did

  not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to

  of this author.

  Table of Contents

  1) Fantastic Distraction

  2) Clock Tower

  3) A Salute to Those Behind the Curtain

  4) Burn

  5) Dice

  6) Like the Phoenix, Like the Chameleon

  7) Hell Wisp

  8) Take a Bow

  9) Watch Me

  10) The Uniform

  11) On Guardian Prayer

  12) Muse Call

  13) Mad Draft

  14) Major Giant Definition

  15) Flex and Flow (heaven push)

  16) His Rhythm

  17) Her Rhythm

  18) Their Rhythm

  19) Gray Girl Shadow

  20) Delusional Superstar

  21) Split

  22) Stasis Breaking

  23) Redemption Style

  24) Leaver 1

  25) Leaver 2

  26) Sun Fire Song

  27) System Trigger

  28) The Game: a Challenge Sense

  29) Gamble the Question, Gamble the Odds

  30) 5D

  Fantastic Distraction

  When you chase perfection

  closely as you can,

  the result is excellence

  just below where you shoot.

  I chase a fantasy,

  a foolish hope,

  obsessively and with skill.

  I now know

  how it feels when

  reality becomes a daydream.

  In the heart of this fantasy,

  its unreachable,

  perfect middle,

  she also

  waits for me and

  suffers without me.

  Clock Tower

  Could’ve sworn I saw the starlight flicker

  making the jump to uneven ground

  a break in breaths and the space between seconds

  Night-stepping over old ideas and burnt bridges

  I looked again at the tower with wiser eyes.

  The sight was scattered and familiar

  like staring into a broken mirror

  a version of the past stretched tall.

  Once the foundation of arrogant plans,

  now a reminder of dreams crashed down

  My eyes play tricks.

  What did I see and what do I see now?

  The night darkened and the Earth shook

  or I wasted my time here.

  Inside the tower was different

  An ancient quality-

  time was strange in this place

  partly because we wanted it to be,

  partly because there was something.

  It still stands;

  not as high as I remember.

  A Salute to Those Behind the Curtain

  I know

  you’ve got your weight to shoulder


  memories that destroy

  your mind.

  It doesn’t stop, does it?

  I understand

  you see much;

  you enable much.

  No one sees.

  No one knows.

  I believe

  God sees,

  and I salute you

  for being behind the curtain.

  Your suffering and your triumphs

  mean something more there

  out of view.


  The light hours can’t compete

  not now,

  not with the slow, even rhythm of darker times.

  Inspiration fuels genius like fire

  words playing at the abstract

  concepts that dance just beyond human understanding

  Open to relate and apply to individual lives

  someone else’s creative burst

  interpreting gives meaning in listener’s ears

  each perception a different, unique reality

  What could be untrue?

  What if that fire burns so high, it touches the heavens

  even for a moment

  God trying to tell us something we will barely grasp.

  Find this.

  Harness the sound, cool rhythm

  unleashing your will on the world.

  And when the dark fades into day

  light draws a balance,

  weighing out the inspiration that dwells within the night.


  At certain times

  we notice what lies behind things;

  coincidences that hint at the divine.

  This makes me wonder,

  is insanity a burden,

  is sorrow?

  These states are alternate perceptions

  outside the realm of comfort;

  eyes that spring open unwanted.

  A burden, no.

  I once had the honor of being ripped away

  from myself.

  I saw a fragment of truth -

  I am monster or soldier,

  bitter enemy or loving friend.

  It was damned necessary

  for me to know this.

  When I believe the eyes are closed

  the reality is that

  shadows blind them mostly and

  conceal them.

  There are times when something greater than ourselves beckons;

  will we see?

  Like the Phoenix, Like the Chameleon

  Whoever you are,

  how you are,

  as you are,

  burst forth from death like the phoenix.

  You are simply a soul with senses;

  turn your perception inward.

  Pierce through thick distortion and SEE

  search your heart and FEEL

  quiet your mind and LISTEN.

  What do you find within?

  could it be,

  your guardian guns or

  your fire or

  some slow poison?

  I know not!

  Whatever you find,

  how you find,

  as you find,

  camouflage your light like the chameleon.

  Hell Wisp

  Years later, and still sensitive to that demon’s growl

  We hear it close to madness

  cogs of the spirit crunching on one another,

  a low hum.

  A language we forget; terrifying yet familiar

  the roots of our being disturbed after years of comfort

  Some understand how to break,

  Shifting a high torque mind with their own insanity

  They look me in the eye

  I see rage

  I see too much truth inside them.

  To shortcut reality,

  grasping at madness for a glimpse of some master plan,

  this is sure death.

  For us this is death,

  Smoking quick since something suicidal sits on our shoulders

  More weight to keep us looking down; not ahead.

  The demon’s hum still upsets.

  Bleeding us while winded already;

  the spirit pushes forward.

  We create this life.

  None can stop our walk toward the sky,

  where the Gods reside.

  Take a Bow

  Though I tread on pitch black pavement

  I remember back

  to a simpler tim

  when the people of Earth worshipped the sun and moon

  because it was the most obvious thing to do.

  Going backward in a simple trick of time

  pavement turns to dust

  constellations shift

  clouds dart like ghosts while the sun moves west to east

  across the heavens

  Traveling from new to old

  Shows low, short-lived kicks of heel to the sky

  forward steps toward the past.

  No longer the obvious action,

  I lower my head for a second

  acknowledging all that I don’t understand.

  Watch Me

  Watch me

  as I move around

  try to keep up.

  A clever deception to try my trust,

  but you underestimate

  this speed so fast it may seem slow

  to you, a master of sneaking low.

  Watch me if you dare.

  I’ll watch you back

  and time may decide the survivor,

  old friend of mine

  this game I never lose.

  Watch me and not my shadows

  though they try tricks on eyes.

  Patiently in the darkest corner I wait

  where seldom sitting I’ll often lie

  choosing truth or sleep in daylights gate.

  As I move just watch me

  before it’s too late.

  Your sun falls faint tonight;

  soon to discover time is my ally –

  don’t panic.

  I may be easy to spot

  but no one knows.

  Watch me as I gaze through you.

  Into the light I walk,

  or could I be another shadow?

  You’ll never know.

  Watch me as I go.

  The Uniform

  A crown of scars rests on my head

  from ripping off the horns and

  the halo.

  Absolutes I cast aside

  every night I see clear the gray.

  On my shoulders there lies a noose of smoke

  tightening; slowly it suffocates

  helping me stand tall amidst chaos.

  It takes only a glance to notice

  the bright armor of apathy strapped to my chest

  deceptively hiding my obsession.

  My gaze is thrown vertical to make sure

  I keep looking at heaven or


  Perceptions I embrace

  every night I lose sight of the gray.

  On Guardian Prayer

  Sharpen me, O cruel tormentor!

  Force me to be what I must.

  Lead me not toward distraction

  and save me from ordinary

  keeping my method random.

  Decide for me what I won't.

  Let me hold faith in you for some insane purpose

  I hardly grasp.

  May your fire burn perfect toward the heavens

  igniting all it touches

  destruction that awakens and hell-bends

  warriors on their way.

  And God help me

  should my faith be returned

  I would survive the blow

  always the fantasy trumps the real.

  Stay with me, whispering spirit

  bleed me dry if you dare try

  I want nothing else.

  Muse Call

  She has become words

  a symbol that rests in mind’s eye,

  or some permanent, glorious idea that was never real.

  Buried if I like;

  present should I call on her to tease me.

  She will walk toward me, slowly,

  playfully shy and hard to see through the dark.

  Then I glimpse those lovely brown eyes.

  They set my thoughts ablaze like white fire,

  making me weak.

  A beautiful and tragic story flashes in her gaze

  revealing some divine pattern,

  a weave of life’s routes stretching into infinity.

  I look aside as the pull becomes too much;

  dizzy with want I will her to walk away.

  But she doesn’t.

  She steps closer to me, her presence crushing.

  I fall to my knees with closed eyes

  she wipes the tears from my face

  I feel a rip in the distance;

  she takes something.

  Too slowly she walks away.

  Without mercy.

  Without grace.

  Mad Draft

  If you catch yourself wondering

  about digging graves and mania waves

  what matters most is

  the control

  the impulse.

  The embrace,

  the rejection.

  The world needs madness.

  To accept the monsters leash

  for the weapons of a soldier

  is a sacrifice

  done with purpose.

  Major Giant Definition

  At times,

  how truly relieving it must be

  to cast aside intangible tactics; not asking

  how does one define

  making a difference


  Let us discuss

  maneuvers of the unsuspecting mind.

  Notice your heart cackling?

  I hear a gleeful shout

  at a vile outcome.

  You do feel when

  the devil laughs.

  How about watching the situation unfold

  for the worse,

  feeling powerless as

  your influence does nothing.

  I believe

  the most disheartening blow

  is how you will always want

  what you never ought to strive for.

  At times,

  how truly happy must be

  to grow giant sized; always wondering

  how to evolve and

  how to use your subtle strength

  to move the universe.

  Flex and Flow (heaven push)

  There is no victory you can pull off

  no lasting constant through time

  able to realign this broken world.


  it is possible

  to flex

  and work your minor miracles

  within yourself;

  within what you choose.

  This helps me realize

  there exists a method

  to action versus inaction

  words versus silence.

  Because every choice is still a move;

  the flow of the universe

  reacts to you.

  His Rhythm

  A beat pulses in his stride

  As his footsteps fall

  the ground beneath bends to swinging rhythm.

  Walking steady with the noise,

  his thoughts add to an easy groove,

  building the tension.

  The march toward his hell

  is forced and deadly.

  As he gets closer,

  his rhythm must be heavy enough to embrace

  the guns of mercy firing through the night;

  strong enough to ignore

  demons that attempt to counter-inspire.

  “I will not fail,” he says to himself.


  he halts at the open gate


  Whispers he does not hear tempt him to enter,

  his rhythm overwhelming.

  Quietly he whispers back,


  Her Rhythm

  Stubbornness swings lightly with her walk

  a rhythm is borne of counter-reason,

  of why not.

  As her footsteps fall,

  the beat is accidentally charming;

  her spirit builds a simple groove.

  The journey toward her heaven

sp; is foreign yet gentle.

  As she treads the easy trail

  her rhythm is light enough to ignore

  the guns of fury firing through the night;

  clever enough to embrace

  angels that show the way.

  “What awaits me here?” she asks herself.


  she stops at the open gate,


  She hears whispers welcoming her home;

  her rhythm unknown to her still.

  Quietly she whispers back,


  Their Rhythm

  Tragedy and delusion bind them together


  Their rhythm is born of fantasy denied,

  of near death.

  Their walk toward each other

  is too much to grasp.

  As they draw near,

  their rhythm is perfect madness,

  love impossible to bear.

  “Do you crave death?” she asks.

  “Yes,” he tells her.

  “Good,” she says, “you’ll need that too.”

  They recall

  the gates

  and a door off to the side

  of a familiar hallway.

  “You know I can’t live without you,” he says, “and I must.”

  “Yes,” she agrees.

  The kiss inside the room

  as they understand

  what must happen.

  Whispers they know too well pull them apart,

  their rhythm beautiful.

  Quietly they whisper back,


  Gray Girl Shadow

  There is so much I want to tell you;

  I don’t know your name.

  Your story is equally filled with mysterious coincidence

  barely allowing you to overcome.

  The call was difficult for me also

  stress heavy enough to break- forcing change in the soul.

  Our crashed dreams led to suicide prayers – not to be answered

  though we begged for His divine pardon.

  What have you seen?

  I would love for you to show me.

  Have you got your scar; the empty pull

  that replaces something valuable?

  Did you hear your hymn when you woke up?

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