The Lair of the Ghetto Gamer
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Jim's Hood

Random thoughts from a confused mind
  • Sorry Webpage is under Construction UPDATES
    July 31, 2004
    Well, since no one acutally comes to my website
    i thought that i might put a post about my writings
    about my love. that section will come when i finish
    typing them up, peace put and let the good times roll
    January 26, 2004
    Hey! Since Sara (what a sweet-ums) showed me that
    I can have a real Blog without all the
    jibber-jabber, I now have room for an Updates section!!!

    January 26, 2004
    I opened up my Updates section and Blog Section!!!
    My Favorite Things to do My weird picture gallery
    A Tribute to a lost Friend (tear)
    A little about me
    My Speech Pictures

    Ballad of the Lost
    By Jim Stith

    Lonesome are the streets,
    Paved in dirt and asphalt
    Eroded away to gutters
    And gasoline rainbows.

    Where once were children
    Laughing in the park
    There once was grass and weed
    That choked aging equipment

    The streets are now silent
    Main above all
    There rubble encases the earth
    While mud and dirt encrust

    The orange tank on the hill
    Once beautiful in it’s day
    Now a different kind of orange
    As rust erodes its sides

    The sky, a once beautiful sight
    Filled with birds and noise
    Now wrecked with pollution
    It pained me to see it die

    Then back in the day
    The school imprisoned children
    Now what is left is a shell
    Which now encases their souls

    The once white marker board
    Hangs eerily by a corner
    Once home of Dogie pride
    The gymnasium is just a floor

    The greenhouse by my home
    Now rotted with decay
    As vine and shrub crushed its glass
    Vegetation had its revenge

    The courthouse; our county seat
    Lay a broken mass of marble
    The blind justice once atop
    Will see nevermore

    Darkness chokes the neighborhoods
    Once named Frontier and Grey
    Are now dank and dusty
    And resemble a junkyard

    To look across the desolate landscape
    Will bring a tear to your eye
    As you see shadows of the past
    Get sick, and then they die

    That fateful day that commeth
    Was thought a myth by all
    Till that one day it came
    The nuclear fireball

    Great was the suffering
    But greater was that of survivors
    Not the task of burying the dead
    But leaving their broken homes

    The refinery ever churned
    With harmful radiation
    As the bodies of the stricken
    Burned silently unto shadow

    These sights no longer visible
    Without a suit or barrier
    Because of the protective dome
    Made of concrete and lead block

    Such as Chernobyl
    A reactor near Kiev
    The streets will never see the light
    For a thousand years or so

    Gone is the day when the flowers lived
    Before the warhead took them away
    The day exploded with light; a second sun rose
    As people burned into shadows in the blink of an eye

    Now lies a plaque mourning those that day
    As the rest did vow revenge
    On those who took our town
    Our home, our lives away

    Then began the campaign
    The theater in the Orient
    As superpowers flung nukes
    Crippling the war machines

    The Neocolonial wars
    Broke into violence
    But the ones who survived before
    Drifted to quiet seclusion

    Here we lie mourning the dead
    Crying softly in the fallout shelter
    To say a prayer and bow our heads
    Then shun the heinous technology

    We await the “Great Day”
    When we can finally see
    With ones own eyes
    And not by fluorescent bulb

    Waiting and brooding may be too long
    We ourselves may never see the true sky
    And to frolic in the green fields
    But the children may see the wonders of my day

    But only I know
    I know to fear the “Great Day”
    Knowing our children will not…
    No! They cannot see the sky

    The sky is scorched
    Polluted beyond repair
    As smoke and nuclear plume
    Choke out the once-fresh air

    They cannot frolic in the fields
    Where machines of destruction lie
    Because the ground is sterile
    And nothing but charcoal

    I wish our children wouldn’t see
    The destruction of our race
    That race that emptied the ocean
    And burned the sweet sky

    I like to think of simpler days
    When life consisted of school
    The carefree life of a child
    Learning and playing all day

    Fifty years later, I still remember those days
    I mourn for the dead, I mourn for the living
    They cannot know the joy I once knew
    Their skin doesn’t know the touch of grass and dew

    As for me I sit here
    Stuck in this concrete hole
    Today it is my protector
    Tomorrow it will be my tomb
    The End
    My Favorite Web sites

    My Computer Apps web site
    My web page design web site
    A web page help site
    Binary fun
    The Lair of Metroid web site
    My Created Hell
    The Master Sword .com
    A Comic about retro videogames

    Thank you come again!

    Sara may enter