Ninjah
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
The samauri hovers, waiting. In his slightly pink eyes can be seen the reflection of his foe, but he is invisible. With one slash of his diamond tipped needle his adverseries could be thrown aside like petals blown from the tree- but it is still. One ear vibrates, the light foam nestled round the shell like casing becomes warm, he is listening. From far away comes the cry of plastic pushing against steel, being forced backwards and forwards like some madly timed pendulum, for the rythmn of the cry does not conform to their ways, only the ninjah can feel its pattern beat. Beat it does, slowly the style becomes evident, here is the regularity that he craves, from within the madness of stomping basketballs and brushing teeth, steam trains leaving their stations while a bird flaps accross the horizon, comes the beat, pushing it all along with its underlying neatness.
Remember kids - the ninjah hears all.
Remember kids - the ninjah hears all.
