The Sandwich-Man And The Dragon Once upon a time In a land far away There was a powerful kingdom In the middle of disarray. For this royal kingdom Was infamous for having, A big, fat, ugly, smelly, Fire-breathing dragon. Many warriors Tries to slay the mighty beast. All ended up as the main course At the dragon's daily feast. And then one day There came a man of mystery, He said, 'don't you worry about the creature, Just leave it all to me.' Oh, oh the people laughed, Oh, how they wailed. How could this man succeed Where so many others had failed? And so the shrugged him off, Dismissed him outright, This strange little man could never be A legendary knight. He left the city walls, Into the open air. Got to climb the mountain side in order To get to the dragons lair. The inclination of the exploration Led to perspiration, But motivation and inspiration Led him to his destination. The air was ominous, There was a foul stench of death. Rotting corpses that were charred and burnt By the dragon's fiery breath. When out of the darkness He heard a sinister sound. The beast had become aware of the Sandwich-Man Encroaching on his hunting ground. With a snarl and a grunt The dragon raised his ugly head, And said, 'Who disturbs the powerful Smaug, Fool, you're already dead.' 'The last 6 knights Who dared to challenge me Are resting snugly with the rest Of the contents of my belly. ' The Sandwich-Man stood firm, He did not crumble or stutter, He just took from his bag a loaf of bread And he began to butter. Upon this unusual sight Smaug did snigger, And said, 'you better be quick little man I'm going to have you for my dinner.' But before old Smaug Could take a bite of the Sandwich-Man, He received a mouthful of a projectile Pickle, cheese and ham. With this delectable bombshell The dragon did glitch, And from that day forward vowed Only to eat the finest Sandwich. The Sandwich-Man returned Triumphantly to the town, And the villagers held him high And offered him the royal crown. The sandwich man said, 'Thank you kind sirs, But I really must decline. 'You see the glory is for the sandwich, None of it is mine.'

The Trip As the sun hangs in the midday sky The black ghost of a figure passes. Footprints in the frail, dead soil, Evidence of toil. Yet as quickly as they appear, they disappear; The cruel wind unforgiving. He walks so that others may forget, And walks so he can remember, All the pain and sorrow, past and present; All his untold stories laid bare at his feet. The great white sword he carries on his back, A burden to him and those around him. This burden his to own, His, and his alone, Tainted with the blood of enemies and friends. Always eager to unequip, To dig his great sword into the spoilt earth. However, he knows this is not possible. All the misery it would cause, All the people it would hurt, The great scar left on our world. The path ahead is long and unmapped But he knows it is never ending. No one to return to. Nowhere to call home. Nowhere but the road ahead. Forever moving on, Yet always standing still. Another step taken, Another cruel memory irritates him. It's fate the same as the footprints in the soul. The sun is low now, But the heat still high. Time stands still; If only for a second. He continues on. A solitary bead runs down his face.

Tales Of Dark-Town Introduction Deep within the skeletal foundations of Velorium - a city perched 100 meters above the desolate waste ground of the Border Desert - there is a long since forgotten realm of darkness and depravity. The citizens - or rather, the prisoners - of this realm are embroiled in an endless struggle for survival. Blood thirsty gangs rule the streets. Murder, theft and violence are the main wares traded throughout the city and the law is withheld only by those stupid enough to fight against the system. It was not always like this, there was a time, far in the hazy history, when the murk-some city thrived by the light of the planet's twin suns. But now, over-shadowed and consumed by the metallic#moonof Velorium, the inhabitants float in a sea of filth. No one knows how long the dark town has festered in the gloom of the high town, no one cares. Generations of civilisation have been and gone and now there is no one left who can remember #life as it once had been, before the erection of the steel sky. The story of Dark-Town (as the inhabitants have ineffectually named the dead city) is a long and interesting one, involving corrupt governments and misplaced loyalties, but it is a story for another time. For now, we find more interesting tales unfolding deep within the entombed city of eternal twilight.

Death Of A Sandwich-Man One fine day the Sandwich-Man Decided to make the best sandwich in the land. He'd make it from the freshest bread, And use some of that delicious spread. It would be 6 feet wide and 10 feet tall, He would invite everyone, he would invite them all To experience his sandwich with him, The sandwich he'd made that was fit for a King. He finished that sandwich this much is true, And he invited me, and he invited you. Outside his house there was a mighty line, And they were all waiting for opening time. Now the Crowd grew restless, and the line grew long, And within seconds it all had went wrong. They barged into his house you see. Everyone. Including me. He went down hard, and he went down fast, Trampled by everyone trying to get past, To get to the sandwich he had made them all That was I front of them standing 10 foot tall. The Sandwich-Man, he was trampled to death, By the crowds of mouth he once had fed. Their gluttony had consumed them all, Taken over their minds and their very soul.

Little Boat I am a little boat, I drift along the sea, No lighthouse to guide, No navigator for me. I float along in silence, Emptiness fills my ears. I look straight out in front, I fear I'll be stranded for years. And sometimes when the wind blows hard, I tumble round and the waters rise, I feel the fear that I have inside, That one day my little boat may capsize.