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Four hobbits are to do one thing... Two flex and look commited. Two whine, while clinging to a ring They have been tasked to yeet! How many hobbits must it take To dispossess a nay-lord? Up to what Gendalf can't forsake Due to increasing payload. I have become a tyrant beyond limits! Man prostrates, elvish people begs. Alas, I have a mortal weakness. Short people with absurdly hairy legs. There's nothing in this world beyond my power, There's nothing in my sight beyond my grip. But **** this helmet that resembles static tower. I cannot register the men below 5 feet. If only I could tilt my head a little, I could have spotted little rascals go! I could have stayed forever ancient evil Whilst having healthy posture over all!
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Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 12:59 PM UTC
How many hobbits does it take to change a lightbulb?
We press on forward, there is no going back, with the menacing presence in our track cut off we had just no other clear route... In a desperate act we made our way through the putrid stench, rot and decay that embraced and hid us from the pursuit. And though the Ring Wraiths roam the sky the marsh did not betray us to scrying eyes and our quest goes on though hanging by a thread. We tread with caution among many plights of this realm governed by entrancing lights - as if revenants of the warriors long dead, who haunt and taunt us with piercing stares from every and all of the murky meres like wet open graves scattered around. The submission comes at a harrowing cost. A moment of weakness and we'd be lost to the enchanting spell of the drowned. Their pale faces beyond the turbid shroud either evil and grim, or fair and proud all harbor a foul and twisted spark. Long gone are the souls of both elves and men Only these hungering husks now remain On guard for a new prey in the dark. Countless paths and yet just one leads out. I'm being riddled with despair and doubt as we're passing through the lasting haze; in between the burden I barely abide. and the uncertain whim of our guide, will we ever emerge from this shifting maze?
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Sep 29, 2024
Sep 29, 2024 at 6:33 AM UTC
The passage of the Marshes
Where would a Hobbit be, struggling alone in his long quest, without the second set of sturdy feet? How could a Hobbit stand a hope had he to face the eerie taunting of the Ringwraiths, the haunting, blazing evil gaze on his own? How could a Hobbit see some good in the world, something worth fighting for, without those earnest eyes that speak of stars, of tales that endure, of light persisting, of promises pure? And how is it possible for any man, let alone a Hobbit, to tread to Mordor’s smoking pit, up to Mount Doom where nothing but shadow looms, to bear the unbearable— the One Ring that whispers its seduction, too enticing, too powerful, as to rule creatures and all— without a friend against all enemies, whose loyalty as deep as ancient roots? Impossible. Unimaginable. Yet however unlikely to win against the odds without aid, the Hobbit shall stand and brave the gathering storm, even if the fellowship ceases to exist, for it’s the Masterful Weaver who holds fate’s thread, He crafts a tale where heroes small find victory as He intends No matter the trials, the losses, the cost, the Hobbitses shall not be lost— even in the sorrow of parting’s riposte. Not all tears are evil, some guide to the Undying Lands where peace harks and wounds find complete healing.
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Dec 22, 2023
Dec 22, 2023 at 8:59 PM UTC
A Hobbit's Odyssey
I am a prisoner to the rings magic, As the elves sing a tale so tragic, A fellowship of friends embark from the city of elves, And on the path to a red glowing hell. He gave me this ring with fear in his eyes, A powerful magic that filled our heads with lies, I must throw it into the fires of doom, No matter the cost, Leaving the shire, i must depart soon. For I am a Baggins, And we may wander, But never get lost. Look for me in the sky, Look for me under the ground, Look for me on the back of an eagle, You will find me going westbound.
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Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 7:31 AM UTC
Road To Mordor
Snowing in mountains Howling wind answers to none The lost ruins calls Frozen time collapse Sleeping child rests before Falls Mirror lake commands To see the unseen Promise of first Autumn Moon Shall show you the way But beware, my friend Inside the Mountain's stomach Riches of sickness
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Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 5:48 PM UTC
Ruins
You are precious to me. Much like that fateful ring though, you bring me much pain. How can someone that brings so much joy into my life bring me so much pain? The same way the ring does of course. Being with you is such a high That being without you is worse than death. I would do anything to keep you. Not only that, but the ring desires its true owner, All others are simply a temporary placeholder. The trouble is, I know I'm not the final destination, Which means it is only a matter of time until you will be gone forever, never to return. Still, I would travel through Mordor for you, Although I fear I won't be as fortunate as Frodo. I would risk my life, go through all the pain. All you have to do is ask. The chance of me making it through this journey is probably about the same of Frodo succeeding without Sam's help; It just ain't gonna happen.
0
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 12:45 AM UTC
My Precious
It's my day off even-though so was yesterday I feel I deserve a rest. I cleaned the washroom I did my reading I even exercised in the basement, a little longer than usual. Man am I great! Then comes the lazy hesitance, "this is not the end, begin." Content with what I've done. I can do no more, Well I could but I think I'll just play video games. the lazy hesitance with a silent call a draw to do, "one more thing" Be wise with these urges it could steer me wrong, again! But it says, "go out", not **** your neighbor. The heavy lazy hesitance, coupled with the silent push to do one more, "just go out the door, just out the door that's all honest." "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." I dunno, should I go jogging?
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Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
I don't feel like it,
A friend of mine asks, “Why do you only ever write about romance lately?” Well, the answer is quite simple, really. It is because I have tasted it. I tasted it when my eyes first drank the light from his grace when he stood tall above me His saturnine windows called out to me behind flesh curtains whenever he spoke, ever asking me to join him in his ecstasy He, from a distance, darted towards me and pressed our sides together—letting myself melt in the velveteen touch of fabric skin There was a shower of momentary light that night but only his radiance did I bask in. I tasted it in the heart of the stone city where usurpers of old stood on polished stone The Bulwark’s adobe reach embraced our reverie as memories from sleep stories become reality He, in the confines of that venerable fortress, made me vulnerable for I was secure in his arms His fingers are in between my own like woven mithril unbreakable lest he broke its bond himself It is in this kingdom of carven stone and handmade walls that he sang of ardor with a dragon’s petrifying gaze. I tasted it in yuletide storms where men and women waged war with happiness and grief When the armies of pain and suffering fell at our clasped hands and cheeks red from amorous verve you said you were to journey home But you did not let go of my grasp With me you remained and in your arms I stayed As the bitter winds of bigoted mouths blew, as the fire from damnation is declared by self-righteous souls, we stood fast in the storm. I tasted it when he said our love he could no longer endure There we sat, on a tarnished vehicle, as the last of our love gave into rust What is frightening to me peeked from his saturnine eyes and he closed his curtains shut for the downpour of despondency was to come We flooded our façades and the rivers quaked our emotional integrity He held my hand for one final chance before we ripped our wrappings forever apart and he kissed me tender Our lips made love—like the first they ever met in weathered heat—for the last time. I tasted it when I told him “Just do so, when your appetite roars to love me again,” and until now I am waiting. So, why do I ever only write about romance lately? Well, the reason is quite complicated, really. But–but it is because I’ve tasted it.
0
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 2:00 PM UTC
It Is Quite Simple Really
A friend of mine asks, “Why do you only ever write about romance lately?” Well, the answer is quite simple, really. It is because I have tasted it. I tasted it when my eyes first drank the light from his grace when he stood tall above me His saturnine windows called out to me behind flesh curtains whenever he spoke, ever asking me to join him in his ecstasy He, from a distance, darted towards me and pressed our sides together—letting myself melt in the velveteen touch of fabric skin There was a shower of momentary light that night but only his radiance did I bask in. I tasted it in the heart of the stone city where usurpers of old stood on polished stone The Bulwark’s adobe reach embraced our reverie as memories from sleep stories become reality He, in the confines of that venerable fortress, made me vulnerable for I was secure in his arms His fingers are in between my own like woven mithril unbreakable lest he broke its bond himself It is in this kingdom of carven stone and handmade walls that he sang of ardor with a dragon’s petrifying gaze. I tasted it in yuletide storms where men and women waged war with happiness and grief When the armies of pain and suffering fell at our clasped hands and cheeks red from amorous verve you said you were to journey home But you did not let go of my grasp With me you remained and in your arms I stayed As the bitter winds of bigoted mouths blew, as the fire from damnation is declared by self-righteous souls, we stood fast in the storm. I tasted it when he said our love he could no longer endure There we sat, on a tarnished vehicle, as the last of our love gave into rust What is frightening to me peeked from his saturnine eyes and he closed his curtains shut for the downpour of despondency was to come We flooded our façades and the rivers quaked our emotional integrity He held my hand for one final chance before we ripped our wrappings forever apart and he kissed me tender Our lips made love—like the first they ever met in weathered heat—for the last time. I tasted it when I told him “Just do so, when your appetite roars to love me again,” and until now I am waiting. So, why do I ever only write about romance lately? Well, the reason is quite complicated, really. But–but it is because I’ve tasted it.
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26
and isn't strange that i'm sitting in my car in a parking garage thinking of you and missing your stupid plumb apple face or maybe it's carved from soap or shaved glass fragmented by pieces collected in bindles followed by bundles of the joy i used to have of the sleep i used to get of the energy i used to take and isn't it strange how i have no desire to have you all to myself for you are an automous being that breathes and thinks and acts wholy different than me but i can't help but miss you and your kiwi colored eyes with the seeds cut out dipped in a ring of gold and like smegal i yearn to hold that precious ring of gold in my shriveled hands even though i know it'll corrupt me but i'm drawn to mordor all the same that's what it's like missing you wanting to go there even when I shouldn't and isn't it strange that my world is shifting complicit and complicated a deficit of the senses a pull from the void a shake of the head with such filigree i am sated but blinded by such yearning to touch your hot skin feel it rest against mine again but maybe i'm too addicted to sparks
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Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
sparks from mordor
In a hand Soft and small A deadly band To rule them all My Master calls Please don't let go From hand I fall Must this be so? Down I go Through dark and deep Towards fire And never ending sleep The fire, it melts My soul destroyed My hope is gone Here comes the void For ever and after Thus we remain My Master and I No longer twain
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
No Longer Twain
In mighty kingdoms far away Grew an elven king, stern and wise Whose young daughter grew in the fields with eyes as blue as the clearest skies Elenir, was the daughters name who danced amongst leaves like gold whose laughter rang like a thousand bells whose fair skin would never grow or old There a traveller came from mountains and lost, he wandered beneath the trees he drank from nameless rivers and voyaged across the savage seas They met under the sheets of stars as she saved him from himself he touched her hair, felt her voice and till death, he stayed with the elf His human life frayed away After a mere blink of years She watched and stroked his aging face and wiped away her tears And when he passed, she could not bear the pain that she felt inside the once swaying trees that danced felt empty, old and dried She traveled up to the clifftops Elenir cried her lovers name She threw herself into the raging oceans for her life was never the same The elven king was despaired to see the loss of his cherished daughter He cursed the lands Set fire blazing and froze the wicked waters He hide away his treasured kingdom and watched as the world around him burned His soldiers pleaded, his people begged to not leave the world so spurned But his heartbreak was too great to deal The world fell into darkness and with the once-beautiful Elenirs death the skies grew black and starless
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Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
The Elven Princess
I leave this place. The clouds of humiliation hang heavy, drenching my naked skin. The air damp with shame. Looking back at the town called worry and torment. My naked form ridiculed and put in stocks as the towns folk aimed their best. My time was served for no crime that I committed. And I am now leaving. To wander the hills and woodland once again. To find my peace. My rucksack now packed with my hopes, like Lambas bread. A small cake of it would feed a grown man for a day, even with a hard march ahead. I know there are many in my bag. Enough to last a lifetime. My water skin filled with laughter, drinking deeply to quench my thirst. I know the clear springs I find will fill my bottle to the brim. My dreams are worn about me, as the finest cloth, To give me warmth at night and to hide me from my foe. Their colour indiscernible, neither grey nor green. The soft Hithlain hangs about my shoulders clasped with a broach of comfort. I wear my friendships under my garments, keeping them close to my heart. As strong as Mithril. And just as beautiful. My map shows the way to happiness, just over the horizon. Away from this town. The sun shines through the trees, showing me the way. The only thing I can trust is that it will rise in the east and will set in the west. Everything else will be met with caution. A lesson well learned. My heart is light, my mind clear, I know the way ahead will be led only by my own footsteps. Walking barefoot to the new lands that await me. Running, happy, waving my map... I'M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE!!!! :O)
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
Journey..
I leave this place. The clouds of humiliation hang heavy, drenching my naked skin. The air damp with shame. Looking back at the town called worry and torment. My naked form ridiculed and put in stocks as the towns folk aimed their best. My time was served for no crime that I committed. And I am now leaving. To wander the hills and woodland once again. To find my peace. My rucksack now packed with my hopes, like Lambas bread. A small cake of it would feed a grown man for a day, even with a hard march ahead. I know there are many in my bag. Enough to last a lifetime. My water skin filled with laughter, drinking deeply to quench my thirst. I know the clear springs I find will fill my bottle to the brim. My dreams are worn about me, as the finest cloth, To give me warmth at night and to hide me from my foe. Their colour indiscernible, neither grey nor green. The soft Hithlain hangs about my shoulders clasped with a broach of comfort. I wear my friendships under my garments, keeping them close to my heart. As strong as Mithril. And just as beautiful. My map shows the way to happiness, just over the horizon. Away from this town. The sun shines through the trees, showing me the way. The only thing I can trust is that it will rise in the east and will set in the west. Everything else will be met with caution. A lesson well learned. My heart is light, my mind clear, I know the way ahead will be led only by my own footsteps. Walking barefoot to the new lands that await me. Running, happy, waving my map... I'M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE!!!! :O)
Continue reading...
55
You wasn't there for me In truth I don't make it easy You wasn't there for me In all honesty I didn't expect you to be You wasn't there for me And part of me really wished you woulda been You wasn't there for me But I'm starting to believe that I didn't need you to be Cause when was you there for me? When it suited your needs? When was you there for me? You wasn't
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Where were You? You were Gondor!
Swords flash with a mystical brilliance For enemies, it only means demise Bright blue eyes that look into the distance Deep as the sea and bluer than the skies Skin, like ivory, paler than the moon Hair, that is almost like woven sunbeams From light rose colored lips come Elven tunes Perfect armor over his shoulders gleams His aim is never off--he hits his mark Whether it be enemies or my heart There is no one sweeter--it flees--the dark If ever we should meet, we would not part This is Legolas, of the woodland realm When I see him, my heart, he overwhelms.
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
Legolas
With a sigh you turn away With a deepening heart No more words to say You will find that the world Has changed forever And the trees are now turning From green to gold And the sun is now fading I wish I could hold you closer Time and tide will sweep away.
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May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Arwen's Song
*This thing, all things devours; Birds, beasts, flowers                                                        Gnaws iron, bites steel                                                        Grinds hard stones to meal                                                        Slays kings, ruins towns                                                        And beats high mountains down.*
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Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
There and Back Again; A Hobbit's Tale