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C H A T A N T Apr 2019
Through the wind and across the sea
My true love stares and he waits for me
Upon the water near the open shore
Where sea dust and foamy waters soar
The mermaids stare and they weep for me
Aware of my kin and what is unto me
The sirens watch in their blissful prose
They've blessed me with love and a voice of gold.
My name means "maiden born of the sea,
Forever ****** and youthful be",
I love a sailor tall and fair
Whose heart I hope to one day bare
My hair is made of the ocean waves
Colored with the sands of the ocean floor
My skin is tinted with the bliss of sun
And my lips are of red coral stone
I enchant and bewitch all who stare
And hope to catch my sailor fair
For I do love a man as he
Him as free and bold and charming be
random song inspired by pirates of the caribbean and mythology
C H A T A N T May 2019
A misunderstood soul
With many complications
Walking a steady pace
Into the darkness
C H A T A N T Sep 2019
Look this way Apollo, Dear
Play your lyre for me and I'll play my ukulele while all the grasses sing along.
I'll sing my sweet song for you, honey, sweet like you.
haven't posted in a while
C H A T A N T May 2019
Above and below, I go.
To and fro, to and fro.
I'll row my rowing boat
To touch every jelly fish
And kiss every sharks lips.
Then I'll row,
Far across the star filled sea
To dance and bounce
On a whales leather belly.
And if he's hungry,
Perhaps I'll let him take a
Small bite out of me!
C H A T A N T May 2019
There is something so calming
About the spiders spinning web.
Something so comforting,
A song sung by the dead.
Hear it wallow in the distance
Like an unforgiven tune.
Sung by the rivers daughter,
The beauteous sunset muse.

Bask in the moonlit waters
Barely but blessed by shining sun.
Hold to your heavn'ly quarters,
The likes of which shall come undone.
For if you catch the spider spindle
You are likely to be safe.
In other wares, their finer fares
In absence, stay awake.

I speak not for the Titan,
Or God nor Goddess alike.
I speak not for the tongue
Of the mumbling friars might.
For Alas my hearers hear this plea,
Beware the nymph of sophistry
C H A T A N T Apr 2019
It is you who I blindly follow    

For every kiss, we have made,  

Tastes like blood and mint

With the bitter decay of a lotus heart,

Just as spoiled as a cup of  

Pu-erh.
how do i title things

— The End —