#dwarves
In the tomb, it reeked of rot, of mold, of cold—
a crypt where time gnawed silent, slow, and sure.
Through years of thirst and famine’s cruel hold,
my flesh dissolved, my bones lay bare and poor.
The glass turned black with filth, with creeping blight,
rust ate the chains—one snapped, its strength undone.
The dwarves, who forged them, never reckoned right
how time kills everything and everyone.
The cave breathed hush. Just water’s hollow chime,
drop after drop, on stones no light could warm.
There, at the threshold, steeped in grime and time,
a sleeper waited for the spell to swarm.
Then came the knight—a bride in steel, in flame—
her shadow pooled where no light dared to tread.
She knelt, her lips a breath away from mine,
her voice a spark to raise me from the dead:
Then kiss me, Snow White. Let the curse be cleft—
I’ll rise the third dawn, under Pilate’s hand,
or Charles’, or any other power left,
that rules this land.
Apr 3, 2025
Apr 3, 2025 at 10:35 AM UTC
Snow White isn't easy
Maybe she just needs seven extra sources
of income
Maybe she gets depressed
easily
Maybe she is very good friends
with every single one
Why does everyone have to assume she's sleeping with all of them?
Snow White is better than that.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:50 PM UTC
Nordri, Sudri, Austri and Vestri
Jumped right off of the castle tapestry
Lithely they run to the cardinals post haste
And cannot regroup or the dragons they’ve chased
Would hem in the map again, like long ago
When the world’s termination at mount, cliff, or snow
Would imprison folks fearful of fathoms in fright
And torture the thoughts of the children at night
Our heroes hold up the corners of sky
They've all said hello, and politely, goodbye
To a remnant who seek to look outside their square
Compelled by their heartbeats and chilled foreign air
There may be dragons outside of this dome,
But we shall slay them! And leave hearth and home
To illumine the darkness and know our own worth
To fulfill what's been destined for all since our birth.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
I am a glass of skim milk.
I am a reconstituted congealed protein fixture-ate
molded like a rack of ribs.
I could be alien technology
if I weren't christmas lights and a projector.
In fact if I were any more prosthetic I'd be...
a picture of a painting of a plastic rose.
I'd be at the globe theatre.
I'd be lear, othello, hammers, macky, romero and roz.
Cuz I'm a lick-on-stamp of higher education,
and I'm a bottle of **** that you find under your seat in the van
when you're so thirsty you can hear Berbers in the distance.
I could be the mermaid on the front of wooden ships.
I would be the black olives on your gordita cruch;
and I'll smile at you with 9 inch long teeth
as I dutifully hang your laundry in the rain.
With dozens of laughs all covering up
tender spots I'm too chicken to cry about
I am a master parade floating up, up,
in the middle of the street,
Til I fall with a big black box of bottled bourbon *****
for my buccaneer bravado's.
And fists
I make while walking
and beating sticks
I carve, still beating,
with imaginary reasons
that I find a bit disturbing.
When I go walking I go walking off into the ending
cuz I'm just killing time while trying not to go crazy
i-I-eye-shouldastudiedmore
I shoulda beat up my *** drive in a dark alley
while it was still raining,
and a I shoulda
red more
bled more
sweat-ed more than I did,
cuz I'm standing here in a bucket
with the thunderstorm looming
clutching onto a flag pole for dear life
like it was my mother.
Hoping just for one big bang
to send me off into the twilight
to shoot me out past the moon once again.
Cuz I'm drowning in the rain that doesn't hit the ground.
and I'm smiling like Bob Wiley on a tree stump,
as I sip at strychnine
like it's Chianti.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC