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MetaVerse Oct 6
How many crows
would a scarecrow scare
if a scarecrow could scare crows?

As many crows
as a scarecrow'd care
to scare if it could scare crows.
Anais Vionet Feb 15
Night witches own the dark, as they sweep the skies on their knotted broomsticks. They take to flight, in pairs, under waxing or new moons, when the sky is darkest, the stars at their dimmest and gloom the deepest. They steal souls, drink warm blood, gather teeth and fresh, human meat.

They drift, smoke-like, with noir-intent, chewing their charcoal treats in that imperfect silence that prickles with all the sounds of the earth: growing plants, creeping insects, rustling leaves, and shivering birds.

Although their stygian laughter is frequently mistaken for cat fighting, they are soundless, becoming the shadows that disturb, that draw startled glances from the periphery of vision.

In their dark-passing, a mother will check her sleeping children one more time - dogs will whimper and fathers, the hair on their neck standing, will check already-locked windows.

Are you meandering out this night - to walk the dog or check the mail? If so, look to the sky. A little decision can be the worst mistake of your life.
BLT word of the day challenge: Meander means "to wander aimlessly or casually"
FunSlower Aug 2021
10 times in 10 years is nowhere near enough.
Though these sounds I’ve found,
They’re quite renowned.
They call me on my bluff.

I could call him humble gleaner,
With a will to stand in quicksand.
He knows I get the shakes.
But a minute with him and I’m ready to swim.
He knows I’ve got what it takes.
I should call her Thumbelina,
With the fastest hands in the land.
She’s there with me when I wake.
Through whimsical words and unwavering plans,
We can laugh at every mistake.

Embrace this place. Self pity is never pretty.
He’s so calming, she’s so witty.
So pick up your feet and own their city.
There’s nowhere to hide.
Swallow that pride.
Recall their wise words.
It’s high time to glide.
Healer Jul 2021
Does the solitary candle desire to melt and die?
Is it silvered kite fate to glide on the wind?
How can a blind seek the uncertain light?
What if these wishes are the test of an unfair life.
Maybe it wasn't about the candle's love,
But the warm gaze of baleful flame grew all unkind.
Maybe a blind can't find the light,
can't differentiate between black and white.
Like pandora's box mystery, the light will give him a fright.
Maybe there is no answer that is right.
My mother once said,'no one is empty of love'
Then why every soul is thirsty,
Why is every heart full of questions?
I fled to the sea to find the living,
drowning in dyslexia of libraries.
Have we forgotten how to breathe?
Illiteracy was discoverable amongst
the feeble beckoning hope

Dance to peace unbeknownst death,
requested by an idyllic spokesperson 
My fear for these gentle beings
ventured into an alarming fantasy
Ignorance to fully expressing
their brains taste nauseating

Frightened of touch,
Cautious of aroma,
Cowardice of expression 

Fear has evolved drastically
into feelings rather than sight

Never lose yourself
midst the crowd of the sheep
For they walk unknowingly
to death swooning them
kindly than ever

Find yourself and your mind
You may win or lose delightfully

Cowardice is idleness,
fright is reversible,
& caution is granted.
avoid the trio, take each one with a grain of salt, and you live to see another day.
Hex Oct 2020
A cathedral backed by reddened skies,

Remnant of a diluted heaven,

Few who controlled the lives of many,

Played with chaos, and lost their game,

What remains is ruin, relinquished of life,

And a revered site destroyed, like butter cut through by a blade,

Inside dance spectres, unlike those seen before,

Ghouls of the past, souls who were garishly slayed,

The melody of laughter and sonance of screams,

Echo from the abyss, an alien and somber plane,

The feats of the few claimed the spirits of the many,

And now they slave together,

The minds of the sick enlivened by screams,

As all are watched by the King.
For an October goal of writing one project every day.
10/7 Theme (Late): Haunted.
Hex Oct 2020
Mosaics scrawled in oak,
Charters to a new dimension,
Candles bring forth grey smoke,
Filling a stygian room with tension.

A hallowed oversoul awaits a sacrament,
Crimson stanzas chanted, a return anticipated,
The King still needs a benighted advocate,
Atonement was made, with a blade of onyx, serrated.

Throughout the hall, a sensation,
First came the scent of velvet nectar,
Then, the impact of consternation,
And all among the walls, dark and unearthly spectres.

An observance had concluded,
As the veil was torn by madness,
And the microcasm, polluted,
A world overthrown, by the abyss.
For an October goal of writing one project every day.
10/6 Theme: Magic
Andrew Sep 2020
If words were your dress
then I'd be a king,
sinking in your dazzling brilliance
as people came to look
and ponder
over what you just
said
Zack Ripley Dec 2019
Shadows are the darkness in the light.
They're harmless during the day,
but can be scary at night.
So if you're alone,
And the shadows give you a fright, Now you know their weakness.
Now, you can fight.
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