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Graff1980 Mar 2019
Old one-eyed jack,
old all father
dressed in
****** black,
walking down
a windy path
while Fenris
nibbles on his chains
and the Midgard serpent
goes on searching
the tree of life
for something
like an apple
to sink his fangs
into.

Slipperier than
all his other
trickster friends
Loki
doesn’t make amends
just contends
with puckish trends
acting like a nave,
a slave
to playful
impulses.

And all those
Asier,
Asgardian,
Norsemen,
Reapers
valiant Valkyrie,
well I would concede
gratefully
going to the halls
to drinks some mead
but I am not a warrior
just a very bad bard.
Matt Sol Jan 2019
The clouds striate      
and stratify
into the gray.
In the divide
a candle bloom
consumes the night
as shadows stray,
and shadows stray,
to coalesce
and incarnate.
As shadows stray,
and shadows stray,
like travelers
of the arcane.

And thunder rolls
down a stale sky
into the fray
of a twilight.
A candle bloom
consumes the night
as shadows stray,
and shadows stray,
to coalesce
and incarnate.
As shadows stray,
and shadows stray,
like travelers
of the arcane.
Eleni Jan 2019
Several days ago,
I wandered through the ashy town-
Which once grew with wild flames
Before the eternal Frown.

The bistros and stores blacked-out
Signs hanging, muddy paths
Doors locked and smashed windows
No signs of life, haunting wraths.

The smell of burnt leather
And bones rattling against the wind.
Broken signposts leading nowhere
And corpses of animals, skinned.

What savagery and fright hit this old place?
As I look to a hole in the ground-
Rats and rotting bodies
and bullet shells all around.

Perhaps these lands will never be free of outlaws
Who **** in cold blood.
Then let them drown in their crimes
Amid the Great Flood.
Javanne Dec 2018
There's something
Strange happening
I feel
A storm within my bones
Like Fire gelded by tongs
Thunder and lightning crashes my home
Turning it to ash that blows over yonder

But I feel at ease
None of these things are stopping me
I am paralysed with dread, I admit
But I'm not about to forfeit or
Forget
That this is what I wanted

I summoned the devil
and he delivered
So now I must react
And deliver everything back
Ten times better
The prompt for this was "Challenged" So here's hoping this conveys some type of challenge To hear it read: https://vocaroo.com/i/s0nAqCC6fjsM
Duncan Brown Sep 2018
Not long after the beginning, and a bit before the end, the Almighty said to Noah: “Is that your real name?” “Yeah”, said Noah: “you gave it to me, your ever generousness. I was hoping for something a bit more romantic, maybe even an extra syllable or two, or become all psychedelic and have a hyphen and a double barrel, but Noah is functional. I’m not complaining, a lot. After all what’s in a name? Wouldn’t a cactus be just as uninteresting if it was called something else? Why am I and my not very exciting name so humbly in your almighty and quite tedious presence?” asked Noah. “I’ve had a great idea”, said God: “and I want you with the very boring name to be the first to hear it.” “Can’t wait to hear it your Denseness, even if it is only half as brilliant as the square wheeled chariot and deep-fried ice cube you nearly invented for us last week; and as for the three-armed jacket, well what can I say? Jacob wears his every day and I won’t tell you what he does with it at night, as it involves folk music. And didn’t the Paisley patterned boulder illuminate the landscape?” said Noah “Oh good”, said God: “I do so enjoy it when the minions are attentive to my every word and trembling syllable, What’s the point of being an Almighty if you can’t Almighty it over the lower orders from time to time?” “I couldn’t agree more, your Bampotness. Even if you do appear to be a few slices short of a full loaf on occasions. So, what’s this big idea you’ve had?” said Noah. “I want you to build a boat, the biggest and bestest boat there’s ever been” said God. “Why”, said Noah, “we live in a desert, we don’t do boats; never have done, don’t get a lot of call for them in these parts, your Obliqueness. Ordinarily you’re every utterance is a symphony of sound and beauty to the sticky out bits on the abstract countenance you have so generously created for me, O Guano features. Couldn’t you do another plague of frogs and locusts? We loved those. Your subjects haven’t eaten so well since. Very tasty they were indeed, and so much more nourishing than the daily fare of cactus bark and centipede you dish up to us as we go about our increasingly diminishing mortal trespass. I hope you weren’t baffled by the paradoxical construction of that sentence. One Almighty’s punishment is another lowly minion’s business opportunity. I was running a fast food joint while it lasted. Made a change from the normal feast, where you have to catch your dinner before it catches you. Eat before your eaten that’s the Law ‘round here. It makes you feel more like a recipe than a person on occasions, your Compostness.” “Be that as it may, said God: “I’ve got some drawings which Eve helped me to make” “Eve?”  said Noah: “did you say Eve?” “Yes” said God: “Eve”, that’s what I said, she likes me more than all the rest of you put together and that’s why she’s my favourite” “This will be good” said Noah: “let’s be having it. Let’s see the cosmic blueprint of a less than useless boat that Eve devised” “I helped to devise it as well”, said God: “In fact I done all the pencil sharpening, and here it is.” Noah sniggered and said: “That’s not a boat it’s a camel!” “Brilliant, isn’t it?”, said God: “you’ve got to hand it to Eve; she’s a genius at this kind of stuff, and she says it will make me look jolly clever as well. And that will stop all you ungrateful and wretched minions from smirking and sniggering every time I have a wonderful idea.” “This is even better than the ten commandments, three dos six don’ts and a maybe” said Noah. “My Ten commandments were wonderful” said God: “even Moses said so.” “The only reason you have ten commandments”, said Noah: “is because you have ten fingers. If you had seventeen fingers we would have seventeen commandments; one for each digit. People who use their toes to count their fingers should avoid life’s mathematical complexities. And as for Moses ‘The Born Leader’ he’s a party hack. He’ll agree with anything you say as long as he gets his name on the tablet. He’s publicity mad. When he grows up he wants to chisel the definitive text on cactus attraction, for the benefit of future desert wanderers. Eve says he a bit of a Freudian fruitcake on the quiet, whatever that is. She also says, his mother told him he was adopted, and he’s never quite got over it.” “Why would Moses want to get over a cactus, seems jolly silly to me” said God: “He’s a complete basket case, according to the local grapevine. Never mind all that, let’s see the blueprint.” said Noah: “A wooden camel, only a cosmic idiot could imagine it. If it was a wooden horse it could have been sold to the Trojans, or a wooden cat to the Pharoahs, and I’m told the antipodeans go a bundle on timber budgies, but camels; nobody wants one, not even other camels. How did someone as colossally dense and as infinitely thick as your self acquire the surreallness of thought to imagine it in the first place?” said Noah. “You’re a bright little chappie for a minion”, said God: “Eve told me about the Greeks and their wooden gee-gee and I suggested a boat, then Eve pointed out that this was a desert, and consequently we need a desert boat. ‘One that floats on sand’, I said. ‘Not quite El Plonkero’ she said. Then Eve said we have to adopt and then apply some lateral thinking to the problem. She pointed out that we live in a desert and that we need a boat that sails in the desert. And then I had the mostest cleverest thought I’ve had in ages. We need a ‘desert boat’ I exclaimed. And Eve said I was a true plankton eater. She says the nicest things to me. A ‘ship of the desert,’ she says, ‘and what’s a ship of the desert?’  Quick as a flasher in the rush hour, I said ‘a camel’, and Eve replied that I was quite bright for a log, and that camel plus ship equalled wooden camel to sail away from here to some other paradise she called Hollywood, ‘Land of heavenly bodies and the drop dead gorgeous Brad Pitt.’” “And you believed her?” said Noah. “Of course I believed her”, said God: “she’s Eve and if you can’t believe in Eve what else is there to believe in?” “There’s an answer to that”, said Noah: “but you’d toast me like a heretic on the happy juice if I repeated it, your Doorknobness.”
HTR Stevens Aug 2018
How cool and sweet the air I drank,
Standing beneath the starry sky;
As I stroll’d the starlit bank,
I saw my Fairy Queen float nigh.

She shew’d me petals for my bed,
A long grass for my easy-chair;
Mushrooms for umbrella or shade
Should rain pelt down from Anywhere.

She gave me May dew for my thirst,
Nectar sips to sweeten my lips;
She shew’d me jasmines, bloom’d and burst,
Whilst light-foot’d fairies round us tripp’d.

Not until I heard the church-bell
Strike with delight the morning hour,
Did I hear a thud as I fell
Off the red petals of a flower.

None was in sight when I came round;
A small red flower stood by my side.
Not a stir was heard, not a sound;
My Fairy Queen had gone to hide.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
The history told is full of lies
for it's molded, muddled,
told by the victors.
As much as I love history, I know that it has its untruths.
Lyn ***
MicMag Aug 2018
The moon's not a crescent
It doesn't glow
It doesn't shine
It doesn't hang in the air
It doesn't show your love
Or mine

Blood moons? Not ******
Blue moons? Not blue
Super moons? Not so super
New moons? Anything but new

Superstitious? Full moons
Don't fill the earth with fright
Don't induce labor
Nor raise werewolves
In the night

No man in the moon
Hate to break it to you
Moon's mysterious myths
Mere legends
All untrue


These unscientific lyrics
Carelessly thrown around
What a load of crock!

The moon is nothing more
Than a cold empty sphere
A pale lifeless rock

And this just in
From all the moonlight lovers:
So is my soul, what a shock!
PS Aug 2018
I sit here.
I fall prey to your charms, harms and weaknesses.
I see you in my mind with glasses, Onassis.
Your brother flying across the Atlantic
And you are Atlas holding the world up.
I feel the old pang.
I fall prey- that’s me, Persephone.
I’ve had my time in Tartarus
And you were my Spring. My Astonishing Adonis,
Sunglasses, Onassis. All second chances.
The night I met a Greek hero disguised as a man
Who turned out to be a man disguised as a Greek hero.
And I miss you, as you go off.
I’m not Persephone, I’m Penelope.
I was unsure I’d wait for you
And now I don’t want to.
But still, part of me does.
Everyone is like a Greek god in some ways.
I’ve had my fun with Apollo and Hades and Zeus-
Who I’m still holding out for. But aren’t we all?
And you, born on the same day as my Pallas.
My palace in the future, my ramshackled past.
You know a surface, you weren’t meant to stay in my world.
And I prayed and prayed to let you stay.
But as always it was up in the air.
So I sit there.
I fall prey to your harms, charms and weaknesses.
Mine is weak ankles, yours is your weak spine.
And I wonder,
Did love ever make you blind?
This goes in about five different directions.
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