Oh goddess of fire and healing,
of blacksmiths and poets hear my cry
I invoke thee fill my lungs with your breath
and take my mind from the cold night's worries
Burn the ghostly bonds of profane doctrine
heal the weeping cuts along my soul
forge my heart to be your worthy vassal
guide my hand so I may celebrate you
II
It is fitting that I am never ready
for the first, most potent offering
it burns, but let those burns strengthen me
so that I may breathe deeper
to be not the journeyman shaman
but the druid at one with all
The innumerable stars are fair tribute
to celebrate beauty and your strength
I am glad that I could share them
Greatest are the colours
that reveal themselves in the dark
whose only witnesses
are the celestial and the enthralled
III
I can't tell where my mind goes
or whether it stays
or if it was ever there at all
but it feels good
it feels right
I can feel your hands at work
and it makes me glad
IV
It really is a rather silly thing
to worry about knowledge
and religion
and science
and politics
when I sit here (and here)
and know that everything is alright
I am real, and this is real
everything I feel is real
what is real?
A couple wary merry lonely travelers are we!
Mountains, cliffs, and crags,
dales, dells, and valleys!
I'll lollygag and jolly wag my tail while you taste berries;
and if you like that I'll eat some cat and you can swallow me!
Once I'm on the inside, you'll probably forget I'm there.
Except I'm gonna turn your stomach, into my evil lair.
Smashing and bashing and gnashing and crashing
through whichever ever door I please.
Eventually I'll make you exit and bring your puny world to its knees.
And then we'll go back to traveling, aren't we the best of friends!
We'll always be the same, some say it never ends.
I'm supposed to do my best-
But why not? Imagine a knot
On a tree trunk
There's a secret behind it
Just break a twig
And stick it in the middle
Then wear a wig
woven with clovers
And tell it this awesome poem is
over.
and when they are tired and lost you can fix them and show them what they got wrong, just like that.
When do you talk and when do you feel.
I could easily bull**** that whole thing, of course you could,
the space between us space reveals us as nothing more than automatons who fight and think and love for the same things everybody else wants, or needs.
A country says, nothing's real,
let's trade reality for fakeness, it's so much easier to watch than to do!
Robbed of the dizzying heights and tumultuous valleys of the mundane,
we make up our own.
The writer has a much more boring life than the character.
It is in the blank stare that the great trick is achieved, lull your audience to silence with slow, steady movements, as though they're watching a clock tick in the background,
until the clock itself runs out of time,
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Branches which once strained for sunlight
Now blossom unfettered
Waiting for the guillotine to drop
For millennia in this forest
No one has heard the trees fall
Yet life once flourished here
Creatures which did not philosophize
About the falling of trees
Creatures long ago driven out
By the creatures which did
Tranquil silence is broken
In an unnatural roar
The Final Silence descends
In a once mighty forest
A man stands alone
A tree once fell in a forest
Did it make a sound?
Trees falling in a forest
Never to be heard again
Green cleansing wind biting cold off the Strait
wrap 'round all petty shelters, heed no grey construction
signs marking out their sad little abodes,
carry the sublime lavender and holly, sing
sweet soft melodies of a less hateful diety
and whip the boughs into marching order
for they have their orders, to endure.
Moisture and heat, from a million million
heartbeats in tune with Pan's pipes,
carry their essence in breath and swoon,
nay spin faster and faster, let all the sick world
mark your footprint, carry Morrighan's shrill
horncall, death is nigh.
We feel them, we hear them, some of us
can taste their presence in a bedewed
sunrise, call, call the sleepers and
let loose the bards, alight the fires
in their eyes and let them extinguish
the fires in their internal combustion engines,
let spirit again take the rocky throne
and reclaim the race that got away.
Look at the time,
I'm going to be late!
But I have something to give you first.
Don't you want it?
It's a gift!
From me to you.
I wrapped it after work at the toy store,
with their most expensive paper!
I got the largest bow and best for you!
Only the best.
I can't stay,
but I just thought I'd tell you that I love you,
and I'll see you in a year.
No, sweetie, of course I do!
Why would you say that?
Without my job I can't make all this money to buy you all these presents,
and you do love your parents,
don't you?
I know you love your presents.
There you go. There you go.
Don't you know? The paper unfolds.
Like a starburst - your favorite candy!
You don't like starburst? You're sure?
Oh, that's Ted's kid. I remember now.
I'm sorry.
What do you like? Hershey's?
I'll get it for you, anything you want.
Just ask and it's yours.
And your nana loves you very much.
and you're with all these shiny things
and maybe they'll love you
if you try to love them?
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Read into every action.
Do you know? Do you know?
Polar opposite reactions,
Do you know? Do you know?
Why're you posting and reading there?
Why're you fussing with your hair?
Why're you running far from home?
Why're you thinking that you've known?
Do you know? Do you know?
Why do you ask so many questions?
Don't you know? Don't you know?
That the best one is the last one.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Poetry pays no dividends;
Thus they teach an end to hope
But optimism stays, infectious!
And in the age of budget cuts-
The Center for Disease Control
Has wealth enough to cut the ropes
For some people to be born in Black
Is often a burden and a pain.
I disagree with that.
The most intense hue, a sign of demise
A moonless night sky, so deep for the eyes.
All is Black.
Under the snaps of whips
Children must go through their ordeals
By the white hands of their tormentors
Judging their wits, no more deals
In maize plantings
and jungles of cane
no sugar for blacks
just blood and misery
We drink their labor
To sell more sacks.
Whatever is inside the senzalas
It is no cattle.
Where is equality?
Through countless years
White was unable to hear Black's pleas.
Black! Negro! Wipe the tears
See the changes that are already here
And the scars of the past can not hide it
Black is your race and not your hopes
Pierce your roots in this blessed land
This fair tree of thousand fruits
Of all colors
that we call Brazil.
--------------
off topic:
after reading this poem twice I wondered about Akroma going to clash against Phage.
Oh goddess of fire and healing,
of blacksmiths and poets hear my cry
I invoke thee fill my lungs with your breath
and take my mind from the cold night's worries
Burn the ghostly bonds of profane doctrine
heal the weeping cuts along my soul
forge my heart to be your worthy vassal
guide my hand so I may celebrate you
It is fitting that I am never ready
for the first, most potent offering
it burns, but let those burns strengthen me
so that I may breathe deeper
to be not the journeyman shaman
but the druid at one with all
The innumerable stars are fair tribute
to celebrate beauty and your strength
I am glad that I could share them
Greatest are the colours
that reveal themselves in the dark
whose only witnesses
are the celestial and the enthralled
III
I can't tell where my mind goes
or whether it stays
or if it was ever there at all
but it feels good
it feels right
I can feel your hands at work
and it makes me glad
IV
It really is a rather silly thing
to worry about knowledge
and religion
and science
and politics
when I sit here (and here)
and know that everything is alright
I am real, and this is real
everything I feel is real
what is real?
V
Thank you, Brighid
I'm glad
A couple wary merry lonely travelers are we!
Mountains, cliffs, and crags,
dales, dells, and valleys!
I'll lollygag and jolly wag my tail while you taste berries;
and if you like that I'll eat some cat and you can swallow me!
Once I'm on the inside, you'll probably forget I'm there.
Except I'm gonna turn your stomach, into my evil lair.
Smashing and bashing and gnashing and crashing
through whichever ever door I please.
Eventually I'll make you exit and bring your puny world to its knees.
And then we'll go back to traveling, aren't we the best of friends!
We'll always be the same, some say it never ends.
and baked brains twisted by "think
crime": appetizers
about the decline of literature.
Listened to a song,
about the demise of music.
Watched a movie,
about the departure of cinema.
But never once in my time
Have I seen a single life
about it's own, grisly death.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
But why not? Imagine a knot
On a tree trunk
There's a secret behind it
Just break a twig
And stick it in the middle
Then wear a wig
woven with clovers
And tell it this awesome poem is
over.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
When do you talk and when do you feel.
I could easily bull**** that whole thing, of course you could,
the space between us space reveals us as nothing more than automatons who fight and think and love for the same things everybody else wants, or needs.
A country says, nothing's real,
let's trade reality for fakeness, it's so much easier to watch than to do!
Robbed of the dizzying heights and tumultuous valleys of the mundane,
we make up our own.
The writer has a much more boring life than the character.
It is in the blank stare that the great trick is achieved, lull your audience to silence with slow, steady movements, as though they're watching a clock tick in the background,
until the clock itself runs out of time,
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Yes it is true that my passion has dwindled
I no longer sense the excitement
A fire once kindled
I have slain many beasts
Stormed beaches and castles
Earned the eternal adoration of my vassals
Oh to feel that passion once more
To rouse such vigor
To spring off the floor
Where are the dragons
What is my quest
My soul is not yet ready to rest
I think back on that time
Not long ago in my mind
No mighty mountain was too tall to climb
Give me a sword
Curse these old bones
Let them see I do not just climb thrones
Yes it is true stones may turn to dust
As time crumbles my kingdom
As my statues rust
My final consolation
As this king waits to die
The thought which keeps the gleam in my eye
Is that soon I will be standing at the Devil’s gate
The thought of this final, pure battle
Makes my heart elate
For what lies beyond
Past my final days here
Fills me with not a shred of fear
Yes that is where
All the dragons have gone
Flames crackling their deadly song
Oh how I yearn with all my being
For this last adventure
The only one truly freeing
To seek my last quest
I need not struggle or despair
Or beseech it to pass with a single prayer
For surely as soon as I lie down in my grave
After so many years
Full of deeds so brave
So surely soon will I again be standing
Armor wreathed in holy fire
Angelic legions commanding
And all I must do to see that glorious day
To finally stand at Hell’s damned gate
All I must do is wait
And truth a thing of quickness
So it seems that the Turtle and the Hare
Are blind to the finest sights of life.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
I can't see through it
My mind's eye is blinded
I can't create
I didn't think I'd have mental illness
Looks like I was wrong
I'm wrong
In a once mighty forest
A tree stands alone
Branches which once strained for sunlight
Now blossom unfettered
Waiting for the guillotine to drop
For millennia in this forest
No one has heard the trees fall
Yet life once flourished here
Creatures which did not philosophize
About the falling of trees
Creatures long ago driven out
By the creatures which did
Tranquil silence is broken
In an unnatural roar
The Final Silence descends
In a once mighty forest
A man stands alone
A tree once fell in a forest
Did it make a sound?
Trees falling in a forest
Never to be heard again
wrap 'round all petty shelters, heed no grey construction
signs marking out their sad little abodes,
carry the sublime lavender and holly, sing
sweet soft melodies of a less hateful diety
and whip the boughs into marching order
for they have their orders, to endure.
Moisture and heat, from a million million
heartbeats in tune with Pan's pipes,
carry their essence in breath and swoon,
nay spin faster and faster, let all the sick world
mark your footprint, carry Morrighan's shrill
horncall, death is nigh.
We feel them, we hear them, some of us
can taste their presence in a bedewed
sunrise, call, call the sleepers and
let loose the bards, alight the fires
in their eyes and let them extinguish
the fires in their internal combustion engines,
let spirit again take the rocky throne
and reclaim the race that got away.
The stars in a city park?
Have you ever felt
The moon on a quiet night?
Have you ever heard
Birdsong on a busy block?
Me neither.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
All submitted poems will be saved for the next round.
Look at the time,
I'm going to be late!
But I have something to give you first.
Don't you want it?
It's a gift!
From me to you.
I wrapped it after work at the toy store,
with their most expensive paper!
I got the largest bow and best for you!
Only the best.
I can't stay,
but I just thought I'd tell you that I love you,
and I'll see you in a year.
No, sweetie, of course I do!
Why would you say that?
Without my job I can't make all this money to buy you all these presents,
and you do love your parents,
don't you?
I know you love your presents.
There you go. There you go.
Don't you know? The paper unfolds.
Like a starburst - your favorite candy!
You don't like starburst? You're sure?
Oh, that's Ted's kid. I remember now.
I'm sorry.
What do you like? Hershey's?
I'll get it for you, anything you want.
Just ask and it's yours.
And your nana loves you very much.
and you're with all these shiny things
and maybe they'll love you
if you try to love them?
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
May we never strive in vain
And if our dreams fail to happen
May we dream those dreams again
May we be kind to our kindred
May we never lose an eye
Might we break each other's peace
May our wine never run dry
May we enjoy compassion
May we make amendments
If we ever start a fight
May our love know no borders
To follow us even after death
May we never get lost
May we find our way
May we be ever soulmates
May we marry in May.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Read into every action.
Do you know? Do you know?
Polar opposite reactions,
Do you know? Do you know?
Why're you posting and reading there?
Why're you fussing with your hair?
Why're you running far from home?
Why're you thinking that you've known?
Do you know? Do you know?
Why do you ask so many questions?
Don't you know? Don't you know?
That the best one is the last one.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Though the wound is bound
Cast set, bandage wound
Below the white cloth wrapped ‘round
Infection will spread and fester
Sometimes in a broken life
When a part of us is infected with strife
The radical cleansing of saw and knife
Is painful, but the only true answer
Thus they teach an end to hope
But optimism stays, infectious!
And in the age of budget cuts-
The Center for Disease Control
Has wealth enough to cut the ropes
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
For some people to be born in Black
Is often a burden and a pain.
I disagree with that.
The most intense hue, a sign of demise
A moonless night sky, so deep for the eyes.
All is Black.
Under the snaps of whips
Children must go through their ordeals
By the white hands of their tormentors
Judging their wits, no more deals
In maize plantings
and jungles of cane
no sugar for blacks
just blood and misery
We drink their labor
To sell more sacks.
Whatever is inside the senzalas
It is no cattle.
Where is equality?
Through countless years
White was unable to hear Black's pleas.
Black! Negro! Wipe the tears
See the changes that are already here
And the scars of the past can not hide it
Black is your race and not your hopes
Pierce your roots in this blessed land
This fair tree of thousand fruits
Of all colors
that we call Brazil.
--------------
off topic:
after reading this poem twice I wondered about Akroma going to clash against Phage.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
A teacher lectures to an empty classroom
The attrition from sleep and sloth
More than any difficult test could cause
Precious knowledge fills the hollow void of a room
Instead of the eager void of a curious mind
Empty seats
In an empty classroom
Empty seats
Empty minds