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Xan Abyss Apr 2018
She dances like a diamond in the wind
And sings like a symphony of birds
She knows the ways of Magick
And how to Summon Shadows
with her words
Her blades are like a part of every limb they are attached to
A Natural-Born Performer
with Unusual Tattoos

In every town, she is found
Enchanting
The Raven-Haired Metal Maiden
Wilder Lore is always born all around her
But no matter where she goes, she never stays long

Silver Girl in the Circus of the Moon
The Song and the Dance & the Smile of Doom
A Jester of Death & a Friend of the Tomb
Silver Girl in the Circus of the Moon

Her Kiss of Steel, most deadly
As Swift and Silent as she is Serene
Seductive & Bloodthirsty
She Slays with Grace like a poison dream
One look can **** you faster than a dagger to the throat
But she prefers to Wage her Wars through the Sorcery of Notes

In every town, she is found
Enchanting 
The Raven-Haired Metal Maiden
Wilder Lore is always born all around her
But no matter where she goes, she never stays long 

Silver Girl in the Circus of the Moon
The Song and the Dance & the Smile of Doom
A Jester of Death & a Friend of the Tomb
Silver Girl in the Circus of the Moon

Red is the Color
Of the Lust in Her Eyes
Artistic Brilliance
In taking Wicked Lives
Young & Old
Lowborn or High
Of All who might Fight
None will Survive

One look can **** you faster
Than a thousand burning arrows
One song will make you hers
For better or for worse
One dance can mean disaster
Or a majestic miracle
She can be a Blessing
And she can be the Curse
New lyrics about a character im working on.
Dakota J Dawson Mar 2018
Echoes of yesterday
Where do they end?
Upon the elf on the shelf

Santa has passed
Forsaken my abode
The inner being of my soul

He is the sole provider
My decider
Triumphant tyrant of woe

Must he be my foe?
Glowing with reassurance
Of the personification of hate

I'm a good boy
How about a treat?
It has to be just for me

To eat
Forcibly scarf down
My bitter hole

Santa will want
Me to rake
His' yard

But I will refuse
The suddenly offered abuse
From a passing sore of lore
After Beck kin me in One Direction, and thence
Upon meeting me (in am i am the walrus who also
doubles up as mister kite - on windy days) Act Naturally
Because Crying, Waiting, Hoping For No One
in particular who will bring delight lite, like Good Day
Sunshine prompting me to perform The Hippy Hip
p Shake while Seals and Crofts dine with the late Jim Croce.

When we r close and come together, I Want To Hold Your Hand,
I Want To Tell You,  I'm Happy Just To Dance With You
The Inner Light from your being guides this fool on the hill
who needed to Get Back To The USSR boot my B52 combo
Cars getup kept Stalin this Joe Schmoe as glanced up
at passersby along Penny Lane.

Lonesome Tears In My Eyes this Mother Nature's Son
(a grown mwm),  Of Love, this modest no name brand Sun King (Elvis) at two score and nineteen Van Halen ZZTop Young Blood, who sweat his tears completing Orbitz in tandem with Earth, Wind And Fire (On A Three Dog Night) for...someone to call my Eleanor Rigby, He Jude, Honey Pie, et cetera.

Friend this Marquis De Sade light skinned (caucasian) sated bloke,
who (on green Sade Doors days) ambles along the boulevard of broken dreams axe sing (as a Petty Fuel doubting Tom
please axe a Pink Foreigner or Devo tad Survivor (asper this
Heart felt gun shy yet rosey guy) to board the pearl jam AC/DC powered Reo Speed wagon to Nirvana, particularly during a Black Sabbath.

Although aye Faith No More (and doo to Bad Company abetting my bad Hair line),I seek a SoulAsylum, where Our wings could travel charged via a super duper AC/DC Def Leppard shaped device at the speed of a SoundGarden while playing in Marcie's Playground, we Nsync like a Led Zeppelin into the depths (comprising many a Puddle Of Mud) ideal for Rolling Stones unable to Journey intoAerospace amidst Talking Heads.

If an absolute nyat, no, nada...sans the opportunity for us soar
like Eagles (where Air Supply quite thin) then I (Joe Schmoe
Money less), would like me Nickelback to purchase a ZZ
Top hat to travel incognito like a Foreigner and Survivor
of Earth, Wind and Fire maelstrom that turned his Motley Crue
into a teenage wasteland of Indigo Girls.

Tis best for this fool of a Meatloaf on the hill
Envision himself to be a Killer Grateful Dead Talking Head
   now lifeless per being terminally ill
   tumbling while tweeting n twittering jill
whose response an emphatic nyat, no nill
to help carry my pail, which stung like a quill
bryn mawr the place name along rail road still
and quiet even for Lady Madonna
   who might hear the blackbird song or a whippoorwill.

Our Wings could travel at the speed of sound
as we rise like a Led Zeppelin into the heights of Aerospace.

If an absolute nyat, no, nada...
the opportunity for us soar like Eagles
then I (Joe Schmoe Money less), would like me Nickelback.

best forU2 to text this fool on the hill
tumbling while tweeting n twittering jill
whose response an emphatic nyat, no nill
to help carry my Nine Inch Nail, which stung like a quill
bryn mawr former place name go win n One Direction (with me self as a former groupie of Traveling Wilbury's) rail road still  
might hear the blackbird song or a whippoorwill.

aye ham a non Blondie passenger, Who once
didst aboard Jefferson Airplane property of one Joan Jet.

This offer meant for U2 and haint no Cheap Trick
nor available to another Super ***** boot a once in a lifetime Luvin Spoonful of one humungous Kiss.

from -- juiced another beetle browed, civil chap, decent dude,
genteel guy, eclectic edified egghead, a Foster Child with preference for Pearl Jam Goo Goo Dolls, who goes by the pseudonym
of Arctic Monkey Beastie Boy.
seminal squirt didst sanctify
   an anonymous boulder
when mercury dipped below
   hashtag mark registering colder

than usual temperatures circa
   winter of year 2000 in proximity
   to the sacred chapel
   at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania

   (house zing carillon player)
   rifling thru manilla folder
first inn search of apropos
   mailer daemon ***** muse sic,

   thence finely pitted secretly riddled with holes
   encoded sheet threaded thru bell jar contrivance
   sans, handy dandy mechanical holder
to accompany prurient powerful ******* pang
   bubbling (like the **** kens), and didst smolder

especially, cuz a free ranging
   NON GMO, **** in boots
hello kitty sauntered
   (emanating pheromone heat
   hand dill lee pronouncing feral passe faux foots),

dripping, seething with hormonal secretion
   uttered via vow welled roots
gluten and monosodiumglutinate free *****
   hapt tabby on the prowl ready
   for par laid view ****** piqued Saint Peter

   to enter heavenly labial shoots
rather than suffer frost bite
the above mew wing tigress attempted  
   to keep toasty warm
   ('thru minuscule tunnel

   lacked add **** quit light)
prickly endowment fired
   raging testosterone
   with braggadocio, brio, bravura and might

owing pretentiously pusillanimous feline
   fur reed black as night
hood hit attempt to cap cha moxie *******
   thus ensuing a mutually satisfactory plight

until a park ranger back his utility truck  
   than gregarious, felicitous, erogenous
then quick as greased lightening
   ***** creatures disappeared out ta sight.
Colm Dec 2017
Hold my hands, look into me and see the truth.

Meet me in the deepest part of the glowing forest.

If your heart is there, next of Gondolin, the same as mine.

How beautiful the stars to shine atop our heads.

Like the crowns of old. As the glowing trees ignite your eyes.

As mine have glistened at this very thought.

Perhaps to meet you there at all,

Would make my heart glow as a Silmaril.

For not even I know when this glow was crafted.

Formed out of the unknown and the song.

I wait for you.

Though to Varda your eyes,

And Yavanna your heart may forever belong.
(:
Graff1980 Feb 2017
She dances with veils of fire,
Walks on wild waves.
What aches inside should not be so dire.
She soars with eagles and dines with doves,
The closest thing to a perfect love.
Green eyes glowing with druid magic
Red hair flowing like angry flames.
In and out of strange caves, and portals,
Yet I do not even know her name
I pursue her, in my weakness
Struggling in vain
Enraptured, I am trapped
Her long pale legs striding
Dreams living and dying
Arrows and swords
Dragons and unicorns
I would wrap her in fairytales
Spread kisses gently across her thighs
But these dreams I keep to myself
Cause I haven’t found my **** elf
Blossom Jan 2017
We all do know this is true

That life one day we must leave

By a gruesome unwilling way

Or by the time of aging naturally

But the thing I must now implore

Is your thoughts on a life after this

As I lay unmoving in my stony grave

Will my soul feel as if it's amiss?

So mermaids, humans, elven and wolves

Please give me a piece of your time

What do you think become's of our souls

While our bodies rest buried beneath lime
Kate Willis Apr 2016
Why are we so
Obsessed,
with the liquid paint
that we slather on our
faces-
morning after morning?

We stroll the isles of
Fifty shades of Nudes
to find the shade
that makes us look like
Painted glass
Porcelain dolls,
and Fake.

Why?
Why are we so obsessed with
Maybelline and
Covergirl and
Elf?
The brands that contour
our faces
and create an illusion
a canvas
Over-painted by
Overpriced
Chemicals.

Beauty costs
Money.
Youth.
Clear skin.
But it brings this sense of
false hope that
maybe-
we can accept ourselves
after we put on this paint
and call it beauty.

We see Photoshop,
the blurred lines,
the perfect wing,
and the rosy shade of blush
that seems perfectly
Fake.
Too perfect to be real
Too perfect to be real.

And yet we strive,
for this unattainable beauty.
The **** we see on
Facebook
YouTube
Instagram
drives us crazy
because no matter how hard we try
no matter how much we waste
we can’t seem to get that
contour right
and that wing sharp
and that mascara clump-less
and that lipstick perfect.

And even though
we cannot seem to get it right,
we buy
we strive
to be the perfect shade of perfection.
Because we’re obsessed.
I edited this again; added and deleted some things.
galio Dec 2015
In mighty kingdoms far away
Grew an elven king, stern and wise
Whose young daughter grew in the fields
with eyes as blue as the clearest skies

Elenir, was the daughters name
who danced amongst leaves like gold
whose laughter rang like a thousand bells
whose fair skin would never grow or old

There a traveller came from mountains
and lost, he wandered beneath the trees
he drank from nameless rivers
and voyaged across the savage seas

They met under the sheets of stars
as she saved him from himself
he touched her hair, felt her voice
and till death, he stayed with the elf

His human life frayed away
After a mere blink of years
She watched and stroked his aging face
and wiped away her tears

And when he passed, she could not bear
the pain that she felt inside
the once swaying trees that danced
felt empty, old and dried

She traveled up to the clifftops
Elenir cried her lovers name
She threw herself into the raging oceans
for her life was never the same

The elven king was despaired to see
the loss of his cherished daughter
He cursed the lands
Set fire blazing
and froze the wicked waters

He hide away his treasured kingdom
and watched as the world around him burned
His soldiers pleaded, his people begged
to not leave the world so spurned

But his heartbreak was too great to deal
The world fell into darkness
and with the once-beautiful Elenirs death
the skies grew black and starless
inspired by king thranduil from the hobbit
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