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Dark Jewel Jul 2014
In the eyes of mortals,
They are monsters.
Of vibrating destruction.

In the eyes of a Rider,
They are worshipped and strong.
They seek companionship,
A guardian for life.

These creatures fly high,
Over the mountainous peaks,
Through the Evergloom valleys.
Down the rising sea.

They pride their right as Dov.
Rightful to their kin.

They are...
The Dragons.

They are not monsters.
Who create destruction.

They are not viscious,
When it comes to Royals.

These Dragons are so misunderstood.
Cant they live among us,
For the good?

Their sleek scales,
Massive wings,
Ivory claws and spikes.
Two lungs create,
Fire and Ice.

These dragons,
They are breath-taking.
Almost Immortal,
They will outlive a human being.

Don't take them as Deceitful.
They wish not to destroy.
They are guardians of this world.

Our Dragons,
Are definitely.
A riders Bestfriend.
Sin Jul 2014
long ago,
I could tame a lion with the click of a pen,
watch the teeth burn to ashes in his jaw,
and his gums bleed, dripping with every word.
drip, drop.
funny how lions are a symbol of God.
funny how, I used to glance into the
cold black irises of my strongest demon,
and tell myself I loved him.
every boy I've ever written for
seems to vanish before the novel ends,
before the sun sets, before they think-
maybe,
"it's safe to leave her before she falls in love"
little do they know that love was my oxygen,
love was my unused journal
from a lost friend,
love was nothing until I met you.
you cannot be another night
without razor sharp stars in the sky.
you cannot be the hundreds of songs
I can no longer ******* listen to.
you cannot be another Willow Springs-
another road I think I've traveled,
I've seen children pray on the corners of Italy;
I've seen mountains breathe
and thought it would be my last time
kissing their snowy tops.
I've seen straight into the
amber eyes of the lion
as I lay under fluorescent lights
with sixteen pills rattling in my stomach,
thinking maybe,
the King of the Jungle will release me
with His jaws of life.
but the truth is,
you are the only god I believe in.
you are my savior,
you are the King of the Jungle
and the closest thing to heaven
I will ever know.
Martin Narrod Jun 2014
Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.
Adrian CG May 2014
I found myself rather regretfully royalty
I was the only prince who loved lakes like licentious ladies loyally
without question favoring the bodies long overdue with residue
sounding this through soft interludes of chorus contorted to slither through forests

I’ve intensely investigated an inner identity that is immediately invaded
Intrinsically it envelops the slopes of my sinking body a womb created
Warmth and depth traveling the leagues of notches spiraling spines
when the repetition sets like leaving eight minutes left I’ll call this skin mine

and of this, a mirrored radiation met my edges with great intention
the waves of infinitely expelling time held my cells in detention
radical rays of reason seasoned the sensational sensibility within me
meticulously making messes of undefined cross-faded reality

I separated the sections of spaces between the places I’m unfamiliar to
I comforted myself with resounding sighs of width washing away a ‘who’
but the width was not distance
it was the cognitive dissonance of temporal restrictions
eight grade year,
Mary May 2014
A fantasy love,
Between two worlds
The real,
And         the fairy tale

An unlikely prince
Sings to find a lovable Princes
Tragedy strikes
Loves caught between two worlds

I know that the prince
Will find his princess
Loosing one
He shall find another

A love of bonds
A love of life
A love for music and
Nature alike.

Two marriages
Two new royals
Royal blood
Royal love

A love like no other
                                      Just a fairytale
Dark Jewel May 2014
Your a Tyrant,
You doth not fear our kind.
The Kind of Honor,
And gratitude..

You sit upon your smugly throne,
Beholding the power you own.

When in all reality,
Your just a tyrant King.
A king that must die eventually..

And all Kings,
Are not Honorably right..
Red Bergan Apr 2014
A gleam of white,
A flash of power.
A spice of Royalty.

Ingredients of that potion.
THAT potion of power.
OF Beauty.

The Potion of Truth,
Of Lies.

Tis the Potion of Life.
I remember,
When I was young
I was a princess-
Not in the conventional sense
However.
I wanted to grow up
And become-
Not royalty-
Especially not
The Queen.
No, what I wanted to be
Was the vicious and coldblooded
Dragon
That can destroy everything
Without worrying
About someone greater
And fiercer coming along
To stop me.

Even if
You just went back 5 years

You would clearly
Be able to observe
That I was a fawn-
Still just a little princess.
Who can say when
This drastic transformation
Transpired?

I must have started sleeping
With my limbs dangling hazardously
Over the edge of the bed
Near the void-
Because I know well enough
Something profane did
Creep up from the darkness
Into me-
And now there is
No
Going back.

I mounted
These vapors
And took to the atmosphere.
I soared
Up
And up
And up
Until my problems
Were no longer my problems
And I ceased loving.

You’d better believe that
I am
Gulping these flames
And these infernos
Are, in fact,
Licking away at my insides.
I am a great serpent  
Borne from something unholy-
Guarding my heart
In a haze of smoke.

There was surely a time
When I was light
And morality
But
Somewhere along the way,
I stopped caring
Took in the dark
And the fire
To fuel my own desires.

But evidently,
I am not the merciless drake
I so anticipated becoming.
Because just the other day
I was terror and dread-
And today
I feel no larger
Than a teacup.

Here I was,
Deluding myself
Into thinking
That I am a fireball
Capable of extinguishing cities.
When lately,
Every night
I contract into myself
Fighting to keep warmth
In my heart
Before I freeze solid again
Because they tell you
To light a fire within yourself
In order to keep warm
But
They never tell you
That sometimes
It can scorch pits into your ribcage.
Across my room I spy my cat,
proudly looking out her window,
watching over her kingdom.

She gives a challenging glare to those get rid of one of these who oppose her kingdom,
high stands my little black cat,
perched gracefully in her window.

Strong bright eyes wait for the sun to rise out her window,
in her glorious beautiful kingdom,
another exciting day in the land ruled by a cat.

Little do the people know they are in a kingdom ruled by my cat in the window.
Dedicated to my cat Piwacket who is always looking out of my bedroom window.

— The End —