when I was in third grade, I was the tallest in my class, as tall as an emperor penguin, as tall as a king. I would be 6 feet tall one day, they said. When I turned 12, I came to school and forthe first time I looked my classmates in the eye.
He was no emperor. He was a dirty, horrible son of a bitch who shouldn’t be alive. I don’t like talking about my father that way, but he always considered himself a king that was ‘under his rule.’
He was the emperor, and he made sure everyone knew it. Not just his subjects, but all the countries around him. Wars and trade and subterfuge were everywhere, and there was a healthy amount of sex and torture as well. His wife just sat there and looked pretty, everyone said. But no one knew the truth.
Unjustified. Indignant. Harsh in his ways, cruel in his policies, impure in his intent. He fails to realize that no matter how much he accumulates of what he perceives to be power, his thirst will never be quenched, the void will never be filled. He has furthered himself from salvation more than he may ever know.
“Y-your father is the emperor?” she stuttered, suddenly feeling very exposed, despite the mask which obscured the bulk of her features.
Aralia tilted her head to the side, confusion flitting across her features. “Oh course he is. How…how could you not know that?”
His eyes bore into the man in the looking glass. He looked tall, square-jawed, and had a sort of low burning about his eyes, much like the dying glow of a fire, that emanated resilience. But he did not look like an emperor; not quite self-assured or powerful enough. Yet here he was, robed in plum purple and waited on by the hundreds of guests attending his coronation. It was time to make his appearance.
He strut across the stage, puffed up and dignified, already predicting the fawning gazes and rousing applause that would greet him once his presentation concluded. And yet, when the lights came up and the fanfare faded out, there was only silence.
The Emperor sat on his throne in the veranda high on a hill looking over his people as they milled around doing their daily activities. He was happy knowing his people were also happy.
I have no king. This is no village. Peasants and villains and knaves are we. Call me a another name if you will, I have but one. Read the stones, you’ll find my name.
The ship was a dot on the horizon at first, growing slowly. He looked down at the photo of his mother that he had taped to the dashboard. He knew he would never see her again. He had sworn to die for the emperor, throwing his life, his plane, and its bombs into the belly of the enemy. As his plane closed in on the American ship, it grew to fill his entire view, and became all that he could see. His engine’s scream drowned out his own.
welcome emperor. We love you. We worship you alone. Be careful though sir, you will be overthrown soon, or your son will. It is the way of emperors, don’t be too worried. You might want to hire a man to taste test your food though, in case your brother or son tries to poison you. Long live the king!
Emperor penguins are evil and kinda like vampires. They like to suck the blood of their enemies from their buttcheeks though, not their necks. They’re cray like that. They also like to wear suits lined with seal fur, cuz it gets cold and they like to murder baby seals for sport.
An emperor is some one who rules a country. There have been many emperors – some good and some evil. In the U.S. we have a democracy so we don’t have an emperor, we have a president who is voted into office by the people.
He’s sitting on a silk cushion. The picture of haughty imperialism. We are all his pawns and playthings. He barely bats an eyelash at my humble, grubby appearance. Who am I to disturb him? He finally acknowledges me and ends up meowing happily when he realizes that it’s feeding time.
It was a foggy day and they were supposed to make a big war for their emperor. They didn’t feel themselves ready for this but there was nothing to stop it. They had to face with their fate
I peer out over the porch rail, like an emperor admiring his vast conquests. It feels great to be free and safe on this warm, winter’s day. Such has not necessarily always been the case. But if the ends ultimately prove to justify the means, however convoluted and tortuous the road has been, is it worthwhile to admonish oneself for the missteps of the past? Isn’t that much like trying to stitch the clouds together with twine?
An emperor is a ruler of a kingdom. Usually rulers have complete power over a kingdom. Emperor’s can be kind to their servants, but the connotation of the word is often negative. Emperors are thought to have absolute power and to control in a greedy and self-serving way with little regard for their people.
I am the emperor of your dreams. Minions made of ash bow to me and eagles made of cotton candy perch on my regal shoulders as you struggle to shake yourself awake. I will not let go. You will not awake. I will dominate. But you turn around and see yourself in the mirror: two hazel eyes gaze back at you in confusion; one, two, three, four, five fingers in each hand; and over your shoulder I smile, ragged clothes and overstretched hand inviting you to my windowless party van.
Oh lawd I’m an emperor, bless mah soul fried chicken ROYALTY food yes the emperor chicken and his golden wings oh MY he is fancy rich the emperor chicken and his empress hen and they ruled over the hen house and the chicken den together they were the king and queen of the farm
china
with no clothes, past concept
roman
contols
object of modern ridicule
by birth
penguin
larger than life
imperial
the sunset never sets….
pure lineage
The jewels glinted red around his throat. They made him look like he had been hanged, his throat stretched tight across a rope. He imagined the droplets of blood trickling down his neck as he slowly choked to death. Of course, they were merely rubies, a sorrowful intimation of the feeling of real blood.
How he wished that he could really be killed, feel his own warm heart stop beating without feeling pain. Alas, it cannot be done. Better to settle for killing others than killing himself.
This is what power was.
Months of ruin now lay behind, his closest companions now awaited him in the lands of the one true golden sunrise and painless eves. 200 were the number of soldiers now left to him, many heroes, many captains, but no lords no generals. It fell to him now, son of the emperor to lead. To lead straight to death, with boldness and courage, for the hope of freedom and joy. To plunge darkness and seek for light to shine once again brighter then all. He grabbed his sword, swung it from his sheath, raised it with all poise and strength. “For the emperor!” Began the roar.
We paddled down the chilly river, passing chunks of ice left over from this year’s harsh winter. As we drifted closer to our docking point, we spotted a lone Emperor penguin standing at the edge of the icy bank. He waved enthusiastically at us and dove into the frigid water.
Once upon a time an emperor
who loses all his tears
crying over an ancient book;
it was a collection of letters:
letters from nobody to somebody else.
Words and words written
with a shivering calligraphy:
sentences of love and hatred
of feelings and emotions.
They were letters of life.
Once upon a time an emperor
who loses all his tears over a bunch of letters
written from Life.
And he died sinking deeply
inside the melancholic ink.
“Did you know there was a guy who declared himself the Emperor of the United States?” said Otto as we sat down at the corner table in our favorite pub. “Name was Joshua Norton. He tried to make a fortune on rice and blew it.”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” remarked Sandy. “Not the losing money over rice, mind you. The emperor part.”
“I don’t know, man…” Francis murmured into his pint of stout.
“Hey, I’m down. The guy’s funeral was attended by over thirty thousand people in San Francisco.”
The skies shall burn and the swords shall clash
when the final battle comes at last.
I waited so long to cast my steel
at my enemy most dear.
There will be shouts of salvation and death
but one thing is certain as hell.
I shall rise as an emperor, and conquer this land.
Take what is mine by birthright.
The emperor stood still, petrified at the sound of music he was hearing. Never in his life has he heard such sweet melody. And here she was, this mysterious woman, a slave nonetheless, producing the most beautiful sounds he has ever had the pleasure of hearing.
Emeperor penguins: frilly eyebrows, a perpetual sneer, a snow globe brain full of quietly spinning dust and little else. Shuffle through the snow, dragging tracks open behind him. Left right, left right, waddle waddle. Tail dragging through the ice. Chest high, puffed up full of air.
I wanted to rule everything at one point, I think. Or maybe it was my mother who did that – maybe it was my fear of not being accepted that made me want to be the best. I just wanted them to treat me like something important – instead of exchanging stories of other people’s scandal and laughing at their own wonder. I crudely tried to reflect that in myself and felt stupid. I wished that I was the new vogue, that everyone would try to crudely reflect me instead.
Emperor. Emperor of what? Napoleon… emperor of the world? Short man but not really. Have you seen the entire world. Yes, but then to be isolated on one island of Corsica. Take me to the Isle of Capri!
“The rebels are fastly approaching, and we still aren’t clear on how we should proceed. We await your command, Emperor.”
Emperor Shane tightened his grip on the wooden railing, his back to the corporal. His mind was still reeling from the unexpected attack the previous night. “We will attack at dawn, Darius. Ready the troops. And make sure Esmeralda doesn’t get any word of this.”
when I was in third grade, I was the tallest in my class, as tall as an emperor penguin, as tall as a king. I would be 6 feet tall one day, they said. When I turned 12, I came to school and forthe first time I looked my classmates in the eye.
He was no emperor. He was a dirty, horrible son of a bitch who shouldn’t be alive. I don’t like talking about my father that way, but he always considered himself a king that was ‘under his rule.’
He was the emperor, and he made sure everyone knew it. Not just his subjects, but all the countries around him. Wars and trade and subterfuge were everywhere, and there was a healthy amount of sex and torture as well. His wife just sat there and looked pretty, everyone said. But no one knew the truth.
Unjustified. Indignant. Harsh in his ways, cruel in his policies, impure in his intent. He fails to realize that no matter how much he accumulates of what he perceives to be power, his thirst will never be quenched, the void will never be filled. He has furthered himself from salvation more than he may ever know.
“Y-your father is the emperor?” she stuttered, suddenly feeling very exposed, despite the mask which obscured the bulk of her features.
Aralia tilted her head to the side, confusion flitting across her features. “Oh course he is. How…how could you not know that?”
His eyes bore into the man in the looking glass. He looked tall, square-jawed, and had a sort of low burning about his eyes, much like the dying glow of a fire, that emanated resilience. But he did not look like an emperor; not quite self-assured or powerful enough. Yet here he was, robed in plum purple and waited on by the hundreds of guests attending his coronation. It was time to make his appearance.
The emperor surveying his lands and peoples. All these possessions, ring hollow in his heart.
He strut across the stage, puffed up and dignified, already predicting the fawning gazes and rousing applause that would greet him once his presentation concluded. And yet, when the lights came up and the fanfare faded out, there was only silence.
The Emperor sat on his throne in the veranda high on a hill looking over his people as they milled around doing their daily activities. He was happy knowing his people were also happy.
I have no king. This is no village. Peasants and villains and knaves are we. Call me a another name if you will, I have but one. Read the stones, you’ll find my name.
The ship was a dot on the horizon at first, growing slowly. He looked down at the photo of his mother that he had taped to the dashboard. He knew he would never see her again. He had sworn to die for the emperor, throwing his life, his plane, and its bombs into the belly of the enemy. As his plane closed in on the American ship, it grew to fill his entire view, and became all that he could see. His engine’s scream drowned out his own.
welcome emperor. We love you. We worship you alone. Be careful though sir, you will be overthrown soon, or your son will. It is the way of emperors, don’t be too worried. You might want to hire a man to taste test your food though, in case your brother or son tries to poison you. Long live the king!
Emperor penguins are evil and kinda like vampires. They like to suck the blood of their enemies from their buttcheeks though, not their necks. They’re cray like that. They also like to wear suits lined with seal fur, cuz it gets cold and they like to murder baby seals for sport.
An emperor is some one who rules a country. There have been many emperors – some good and some evil. In the U.S. we have a democracy so we don’t have an emperor, we have a president who is voted into office by the people.
In the late 1600’s there was an emperor named gugmgugtj and he liked to eat p,b and j’s.
He’s sitting on a silk cushion. The picture of haughty imperialism. We are all his pawns and playthings. He barely bats an eyelash at my humble, grubby appearance. Who am I to disturb him? He finally acknowledges me and ends up meowing happily when he realizes that it’s feeding time.
It was a foggy day and they were supposed to make a big war for their emperor. They didn’t feel themselves ready for this but there was nothing to stop it. They had to face with their fate
I peer out over the porch rail, like an emperor admiring his vast conquests. It feels great to be free and safe on this warm, winter’s day. Such has not necessarily always been the case. But if the ends ultimately prove to justify the means, however convoluted and tortuous the road has been, is it worthwhile to admonish oneself for the missteps of the past? Isn’t that much like trying to stitch the clouds together with twine?
An emperor is a ruler of a kingdom. Usually rulers have complete power over a kingdom. Emperor’s can be kind to their servants, but the connotation of the word is often negative. Emperors are thought to have absolute power and to control in a greedy and self-serving way with little regard for their people.
I am the emperor of your dreams. Minions made of ash bow to me and eagles made of cotton candy perch on my regal shoulders as you struggle to shake yourself awake. I will not let go. You will not awake. I will dominate. But you turn around and see yourself in the mirror: two hazel eyes gaze back at you in confusion; one, two, three, four, five fingers in each hand; and over your shoulder I smile, ragged clothes and overstretched hand inviting you to my windowless party van.
Emperor Crigh reigns from on high,
On a silly throne of broken bones,
He rules to this day,
In a world without the brave.
Oh lawd I’m an emperor, bless mah soul fried chicken ROYALTY food yes the emperor chicken and his golden wings oh MY he is fancy rich the emperor chicken and his empress hen and they ruled over the hen house and the chicken den together they were the king and queen of the farm
china
with no clothes, past concept
roman
contols
object of modern ridicule
by birth
penguin
larger than life
imperial
the sunset never sets….
pure lineage
The jewels glinted red around his throat. They made him look like he had been hanged, his throat stretched tight across a rope. He imagined the droplets of blood trickling down his neck as he slowly choked to death. Of course, they were merely rubies, a sorrowful intimation of the feeling of real blood.
How he wished that he could really be killed, feel his own warm heart stop beating without feeling pain. Alas, it cannot be done. Better to settle for killing others than killing himself.
This is what power was.
Months of ruin now lay behind, his closest companions now awaited him in the lands of the one true golden sunrise and painless eves. 200 were the number of soldiers now left to him, many heroes, many captains, but no lords no generals. It fell to him now, son of the emperor to lead. To lead straight to death, with boldness and courage, for the hope of freedom and joy. To plunge darkness and seek for light to shine once again brighter then all. He grabbed his sword, swung it from his sheath, raised it with all poise and strength. “For the emperor!” Began the roar.
King prince god power in control orderly beautiful clothes over others
He was the emperor of sadness, the ruler of everything that is unnecessary and melodramatic.
We paddled down the chilly river, passing chunks of ice left over from this year’s harsh winter. As we drifted closer to our docking point, we spotted a lone Emperor penguin standing at the edge of the icy bank. He waved enthusiastically at us and dove into the frigid water.
the penguins piled into the fish being thrown at them by the keeper
Once upon a time an emperor
who loses all his tears
crying over an ancient book;
it was a collection of letters:
letters from nobody to somebody else.
Words and words written
with a shivering calligraphy:
sentences of love and hatred
of feelings and emotions.
They were letters of life.
Once upon a time an emperor
who loses all his tears over a bunch of letters
written from Life.
And he died sinking deeply
inside the melancholic ink.
“Did you know there was a guy who declared himself the Emperor of the United States?” said Otto as we sat down at the corner table in our favorite pub. “Name was Joshua Norton. He tried to make a fortune on rice and blew it.”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” remarked Sandy. “Not the losing money over rice, mind you. The emperor part.”
“I don’t know, man…” Francis murmured into his pint of stout.
“Hey, I’m down. The guy’s funeral was attended by over thirty thousand people in San Francisco.”
The skies shall burn and the swords shall clash
when the final battle comes at last.
I waited so long to cast my steel
at my enemy most dear.
There will be shouts of salvation and death
but one thing is certain as hell.
I shall rise as an emperor, and conquer this land.
Take what is mine by birthright.
The emperor stood still, petrified at the sound of music he was hearing. Never in his life has he heard such sweet melody. And here she was, this mysterious woman, a slave nonetheless, producing the most beautiful sounds he has ever had the pleasure of hearing.
Emeperor penguins: frilly eyebrows, a perpetual sneer, a snow globe brain full of quietly spinning dust and little else. Shuffle through the snow, dragging tracks open behind him. Left right, left right, waddle waddle. Tail dragging through the ice. Chest high, puffed up full of air.
I wanted to rule everything at one point, I think. Or maybe it was my mother who did that – maybe it was my fear of not being accepted that made me want to be the best. I just wanted them to treat me like something important – instead of exchanging stories of other people’s scandal and laughing at their own wonder. I crudely tried to reflect that in myself and felt stupid. I wished that I was the new vogue, that everyone would try to crudely reflect me instead.
The emperor of Brazil was Dom Pedro I. He lived in century XIX. He wa
Emperor. Emperor of what? Napoleon… emperor of the world? Short man but not really. Have you seen the entire world. Yes, but then to be isolated on one island of Corsica. Take me to the Isle of Capri!
“The rebels are fastly approaching, and we still aren’t clear on how we should proceed. We await your command, Emperor.”
Emperor Shane tightened his grip on the wooden railing, his back to the corporal. His mind was still reeling from the unexpected attack the previous night. “We will attack at dawn, Darius. Ready the troops. And make sure Esmeralda doesn’t get any word of this.”
Darius nodded. “Yes, sir.”
You win or lose based on the strength of your own fury.
Or is it conviction?
Perhaps it is wisdom.
And luck.
Good luck, Emperor.
he is the emperor of her heart. ready to take everything down. she fights back. we will see