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I cannot see the end in front of me?

How...

WHAT THE **** IS GOING ON!?

Something about two buckets of soil...

GO NOW!
GO NOW!

Go ...now,

How does the Seer work?

Do You
See?

AMC

Vikings

I

see

Why are my skinned eyes?

...crows, crows, crows, crows

Messages
The whirlpool, it spins,
while the mountain, it twists.
As two serpents entwined,
are surrounding this.
Some had once claimed,
that it started as a bear,
others claimed it began at Canopus,
way over, down there.
Multi-headed or spring of rocks,
cavern, mountain or egg,
a great wheel forever-turning,
with a circus and a one leg!
Pushed along by two giants,
grinding up salt with its gear,
thus responsible for the seasons,
floods and movements and the year.
Two horns of the monster,
but not found on its head,
the Earthen plane a giant treasure,
where Drakon made his bed,
with two stars on his brow,
like the two in his eyes,
the porthole of the ship,
a flying horse in disguise.
Scylla, Charybdis,
Jason, Argos, Deucalion,
Ziusdra, Manu, Noah,
-and the two birds who carry on,
and the mountain from below,
which they all rested upon.
Ameleth or Kullervo,
…and brother Utamo’s great wrong,
…and the whirlpool from above that created this song!

And the evil found inside us, the Id and its kin, will nurture the abused child and continue the sin. The great black wheel of madness, as always, will spin, churning out more abusers to fill the Hell that we’re in. When, where or how did the wheel of blackness start? Corrupting the love and joy into the evil in man’s heart and turning family into tragedy and tearing them apart? Next time you feel weak and let the succubus inside, just remember all those in Hell and the reasons they died.
Astrology and ancient magic are a belief in the powers of celestial movements over the lives of men. This piece contains cosmogonical elements from Norse, German, Roman, Greek, Mesopotamian, Persian and Hindu.
R M May 2016
You gave me conversations
I otherwise would never have
You let me talk about the things
I've always wanted to talk about
but just couldn't find the right listeners
You've let me be my geeky self
and you listen to all my weird stories
about art, travels, music and literature
the same way I listen intently to yours
In a way, you allowed me to grow
you allowed me to see the world
through your own light brown eyes
and your own wonderfully delicate words
and I'm thankful for the weekends
we've spent roaming around the city
trying not to get too lost while still having fun
In your impending departure, I wish you well
no matter where you are in the world
I hope you'll remember your friend
your skinny little friend who loves sugars
and museum walks and philosophical talks
I hope I've touched your life
the way you've touched mine
It's an imprint I will always cherish
Auf wiedersehen, mein freund.
Til we meet again.
I will miss your funny stories, C.  Hope we'll be in touch for a long while. )
John F McCullagh May 2016
The snow was blowing among the trees. In large wet flakes it tumbled down.
My captain turned, as if to speak, but from his lips there came no sound.
A red rose bloomed there on his chest -staining dark the Wehrmacht grey.
I looked in horror as he pitched face forward to the ground.
“******” I yelled and ducked for cover. The copse of trees echoed the sound.

Somewhere out there he awaits; the Devil’s son, the cunning foe.
He’s stalked our party for three days yet leaves no footprints in the snow.
I served in France in Forty –one; before   these Russians were our foes.
I shiver but it’s not from fear; it’s just that we lack winter clothes.
I motion briskly with my right hand, I think the shooter must be there
my corporal nods and starts to move; perhaps he can outflank this man.

My soul is black for I’ve done some things;
  for which I once would have been ashamed.
I saw the Jewess try to shield her babe
as I placed them in a common grave.

This man out there, a warrior; he risks his life upon command.
He is clever, this one, he waits his chance.
Either its him or me that’s dammed.
The drifting snowflakes hide his breath.
But He’s still out there this I know.

My Captain lies still upon the earth
and is slowly covered by the snow.

We are soldiers who risk our lives.
We sacrifice for the Fatherland.
We dream of a woman and a warm bed
Never of Death’s cold clammy hand

My men cry out, the fox is flushed
The ****** has at last been found.

It’s true what they say of the bullet that kills you;
I never even heard the sound.
Ich wünschte, die Leute nur wissen konnte, warum ich darüber schreiben, was ich tue.

Ich wünschte, die Leute könnten verstehen, wer ich bin, und was ich erlitten haben .

Ich scheint, wie wenn ich zum Vergnügen zu schreiben , ist es immer noch so sinnlos empfindet .
Sie meine Geschichte hören , so wird es nicht wieder passieren
von ,
Bluten- Diamanten
what did I say? If you care, you'll translate it
Flo Feb 2016
Hin und her in meinem Kopf
Verworrene Gefühle überall
Emotionales Chaos trifft es sehr
Warum ist Liebe gar so schwer?

Woran erkennt man Liebe?
Was ist gar ihr Sinn?
Wenn ich bei dir bliebe
Schmelze ich dahin?

Bin ich dir verfallen?
Oder spielt mein Herz mir einen Streich?
Unzählige Stimmen schallen
Meine Knie werden weich

Unzählige Male hab ich mich verliebt
Doch erlebte ich die Liebe nur zu selten
Kann ich mir sicher sein was mich umgiebt?
Oder schwebt mein Herz in and'ren Welten?
Mein erster Versuch Gedichte in deutscher Sprache zu verfassen...
wandabitch Nov 2015
Encore five *****
Like a dollar stack of records
Original **** can be found here.

Old vinyl is heavy.
Like Siberian fox Sheba husky
No doubt

Original **** can be found here.

Getting off work,
Waiting for the first beer.
Something is off here,
Can you imagine the atmosphere? Vo beat du?.
German poem
No one born too far from Niedersachsen, said Oma,
ever quite captures their sing-song intonation.
Characterized by subtleties, like an umlauted vowel,
all non-native imitations sound inevitably as ******
as would a cry of “ello, guv’nah!” in a London coffee shop.

Her Plattdeutsch instincts neutered
by decades abroad, married to a son of Milwaukee,
her permanent, dormant longing for Salzgitter awakes only
to trigger hunger pangs of irreconcilable nostalgia
at the passing whiff of a Germantown bakery.

She taught me the word “sehnsucht” over lukewarm coffee
and a pause in our conversation: a compound word
that no well-intentioned English translation
could render faithfully.
It isn’t the same as just longing, she sighed— longing is curable.
Sehnsucht holds the fragments
of an imperfect world and laments
that they are patternless. How the soul
yearns vaguely for a home
remembered only in the residual ache
of incomplete childhood fancies;
futile as the ruins
of an ancient, annihilated people.
How life’s staccato joys soothe
a heart sore from the world,
yet the existential hunger, gnawing
from the malnourished stomach
of the bruised human psyche, remains—
insatiable, eternal.

Long enough ago, a reasonably-priced bus ride away
from the red-roofed apartment in which she babbled her first words,
a kindly old man in a pharmacy asked her
about her peculiar, exotic accent. Once inevitably prompted
with the question of where she was from, she responded only
that she was a tourist off the beaten track.

And when I pointed out, to my immediate regret,
that she gets the same question back here in Ohio,
I realized then that, not once, has she ever referred to the way
the people of her pined-for hometown spoke
as though she had ever belonged to it.
Echoes Of A Mind Sep 2015
Was ist Zeit?
Zeit ist die Stunden, die Minuten und die Sekunden.
Die Zeit ist eine Augenblick, eine Ewigkeit und ein Tick-Tack.
Zeit ist die Vergangenheit, die Gegenwart und die Zukunft.
Wir können es nicht zurück bekommen
und wir können es nicht giben.
Zeit ist Zeit...

[Translated version of the poem]
What is Time?
Time is the hours, the minutes and the seconds.
The time is a moment, an eternity and a tick-tock.
Time is the past, the present and the future.
we can't get it back
and we can't give it away.
Time is time...
[this is what happened when my German-teacher told me to brainstorm about what time is :J]
Mila Berlioz Sep 2015
Opa
I look back
See how you held me
I look back,
I see your kindness,
How caring and loving you were
All I can think about
Is about the time I spent with you
And how I wish I would've spent even more time
With you.
I miss you, that's all I can say.
We all miss you.
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