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Max Neumann Sep 2020
got bass-addicted at age 5, waterfalls boliling
holy high, i'm asking god for forgiveness
lost my morals on the way, lord forgive me
a night and a fifty, forever frisky

time is frippinly frozen, so much ice and a watch
i can't say that i'm not chosen, maybe watch and listen
between the shore and the castle, i am trippin'
everybody needs a trademark, i got a lion birthmark

how can you count on people when they are leaving
find me down by the boat, measure my breathing
under the palm trees, we will be leaving
16 souls in the bottega, zippers are shivering

investments full of frippers, you feel me?
the magic of the rubix is really speedy
i am needy like an infant, a snow male, steely
benjamins are flying through the money machiny
Frippy...
Hermes Varini Jul 2020
In the year 1332, at auld Dupplin Moor,
Wi' a shimmering Dagger of War,
Ah pierced the Looking Glass,
And amid so wild a Fire Mass,
Ironclad and devastating,
Mine awn Wraith cam.
Owre He beheld me!
His Claymore gleaming, unsheathed,
Into a darkness no one could see,
Ghaist, I winna yield to thee!
Across yon shield wa, quo' He,
In tyme of war ah threw myself,
Wi' gilded Targe and unforgiving Fury,
High flames falling athwart my iron wame,
While thoosan times boiling wapin fell
O'er that clan of skellums (Wundor Sceawian!)
Frae the white barbican, before the black well,
While thoosan times rising nae fellow-mortal
Amid thoosan deadly onslaughts
Ironclad frae the Fire;
But now man, to my warlike whisper do listen:
Ere the rust, in robes of Time,
Shall curse thy blade,
Airn fist ye maun ay wear,
To hold the Firestorm,
To avenge yon star shining still,
And auld Duntulm's stane,
Sae ah shall be strolling forth
In battle ahead of thee!
And when before Dirleton's Wa,
Wi' Colour of Hell reddening,
And next to auld South Ruin,
Yell warlike, enraged Wha Daur!
To thy enemies, and to thy consumed flesh
Doomed I say no longer
Within a forerunning Shade of Death;
And now advance! thy lane, and faithfu'
To thy auld Emblem of Steel,
Whar moorlan winds gaed,
Whar Immortality gleamingly dwells.
There is a semiotic version of this poem, which is written in a potent, altogether martial medieval Scottish tone. It contains my own image "Ghost of Iron". The main theme remains the speaking double, or alter ego, as generated from within a very mirror, and as leading the narrator to immortality. In this light, the underlying message can be looked upon as proving antithetical, although no doubt related to Edgar Allan Poe's own tale William Wilson. The title refers to Dirleton Castle, in Scotland.
Raven Blue Jul 2020
I live in a cursed castle.
It's dark and scary;
And you can feel it's pain and misery.
It's cold and messy;
Yes, I live in there;
And I'm bound to be there.
Cattatonicat Jun 2020
In a castle of sand

What are we breathing
What are we wasting
What are we protecting

Why did we build this castle
Why did I build this castle

I built it to leave it behind
I built it to love
I built it to live
KJF Jun 2020
The collapsing tide lurks
with rogue waves
gathering energy,
swaying to the moon
until it returns to upend
the diligent castles
we’ve built of sand
Nothing is as firm as it appears.
Reappak May 2020
My castle by the sea
I built this bold castle,
friendly nudging the sea
A wonderful place it straddles
shadowed by the trees!
It stands strangely tall
A shelter for the lost
Before it's ****** walls
stands a bridge never crossed!

This castle I built
by the rocks and stones
which were there on the roads
I walked
I saved them all,
the ones thrown at me
and built a castle
with ****** walls
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