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#thrones
That's why it's called betrayal It is made by our truest of friends That's why it's called making peace For we only make peace with our enemies
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Feb 18
Feb 18, 2026 at 10:42 AM UTC
Difficult things
How little we consider the heat of the sun When we boil and there is nothing we've done To the begotten Son who took all of our sin He was clean and blameless, yet he lost so we could win To have your own mother weep, nothing she can do Simon helping him up, even he had no clue How heavy a cross is when the entire world willed it To hate sin so much, yet become it From the sixth hour until the ninth hour You chose to give all power Lashed 39 times, became unrecognizable Yet your love for us all was undeniable To have your father turn his back on you For a promise made to a world that betrayed What was his point of view To take every slash, and be slayed "It is Finished" Tetelestai Gan Eden, Paradise A promise to sinners, they know not what they've done Even as we mocked him, spat on him, made fun 3 days he rose, with no hard feelings Found by Mother Mary, she had faith through the ceiling Little denial her son came back to her Even the guards at his tomb couldn't confer Romans 1:16: "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes". And do not be deceived by the easy life you perceive Our crown of thorns is existing still in this world And thus we spread his word to counteract the disrespect hurled At Christ believers to turn the other cheek, and the pages of his gospel To help the lost, lonely, broken and the Hostile May we spread a love no flag can bring Give a promise made only by the King Jesus Christ of Nazareth The Lamb, The savior, the Way, Gather In His Name
0
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 7:44 PM UTC
Crown of Thornes
How little we consider the heat of the sun When we boil and there is nothing we've done To the begotten Son who took all of our sin He was clean and blameless, yet he lost so we could win To have your own mother weep, nothing she can do Simon helping him up, even he had no clue How heavy a cross is when the entire world willed it To hate sin so much, yet become it From the sixth hour until the ninth hour You chose to give all power Lashed 39 times, became unrecognizable Yet your love for us all was undeniable To have your father turn his back on you For a promise made to a world that betrayed What was his point of view To take every slash, and be slayed "It is Finished" Tetelestai Gan Eden, Paradise A promise to sinners, they know not what they've done Even as we mocked him, spat on him, made fun 3 days he rose, with no hard feelings Found by Mother Mary, she had faith through the ceiling Little denial her son came back to her Even the guards at his tomb couldn't confer Romans 1:16: "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes". And do not be deceived by the easy life you perceive Our crown of thorns is existing still in this world And thus we spread his word to counteract the disrespect hurled At Christ believers to turn the other cheek, and the pages of his gospel To help the lost, lonely, broken and the Hostile May we spread a love no flag can bring Give a promise made only by the King Jesus Christ of Nazareth The Lamb, The savior, the Way, Gather In His Name
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35
The thorns may have cut my hands off but not my will. It's mine whether to take the rose— yes or no!
0
Sep 21, 2024
Sep 21, 2024 at 1:41 AM UTC
Rose
Game Of Thrones, Game Of Thrones, Game Of Thrones, The hero for me was Tyrion Lannister, He always tried to do what was right, The small man with the great noble heart, He knew the dragon queen was insane like her father, So who sits on The Iron Throne? Tyrion Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Tyrion Lannister.
0
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 3:41 PM UTC
Game Of Thrones
Oh, "Game Of Thrones", I miss it so, with all the good looking gents, what's an aging poetess to do, but lament, the sight of Kit Harington's assets, (no, not the **** acting!), made me want to take a trip down memory lane, so I got packing, this gray old hen remembers when- teenage summer nights laying on the sand, then- getting quite sufficiently drunk with delightful young men!
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May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 9:55 PM UTC
Shouldn't Admit I Wrote This
According to a new Conspiracy theory, The last season of Game of Thrones Never happened.
0
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 2:20 PM UTC
Wishful Thinking
The Lion and The Wolf met in the Dark The Lion said that all the wolf could do was bark But the wolf ignored The Lion as he got closer The Lion felt like he would get rammed over by a bulldozer However The Lion said hear me roar It was loud and it scared, the stag, dragon and also the boar The Lion is The King of Creatures Golden pelt is one of its majestic features
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May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 7:49 PM UTC
The Lion
The salt water washes away the sin crashing on the rocks so violently, trickling down tracing my skin the most beautiful symphony. There’s nothing that I detest more than the sand encasing my toes, but still my home sits on the shore I love the depth and adore the lows. Drag me down into the sea where I’ve always been destined to be, The waves strongly embracing my heart stopping yet racing. I’ll be a drowned god, for what is dead may never die, but rises again stronger and harder. Among the bass and the cod I’ll never again see the sky sacrifice my heart to be a martyr. You know sand is a kin to soil for underwater the seaweed will grow, and with passion the bubbles boil we do not reap; we do not sow. Hoarding a seashell collection though I can not craft jewelry, I’d still offer quite a selection a salt crown was never meant for me. Drag me down into the sea where I’ve always been destined to be. The tide will lock on and carry me until I’m listing and sinking. I’ll be a drowned god, for what is dead may never die, but rises again stronger and harder. And I may be very flawed, to that I could never deny I can’t negotiate nor can I barter. Drag me down to the sea where I’ve always been destined to be. An escape where no one can flee, forever cursed to be drowning. I’ll be a drowned god, I’ll rise again but painfully slow. No one will wait to applaud, but we do not reap and we do not sow. For what is dead may never die, but rises instead stronger than I. For what is dead may never die, I never lead and following; I could never try.
0
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC
Drowned God
The salt water washes away the sin crashing on the rocks so violently, trickling down tracing my skin the most beautiful symphony. There’s nothing that I detest more than the sand encasing my toes, but still my home sits on the shore I love the depth and adore the lows. Drag me down into the sea where I’ve always been destined to be, The waves strongly embracing my heart stopping yet racing. I’ll be a drowned god, for what is dead may never die, but rises again stronger and harder. Among the bass and the cod I’ll never again see the sky sacrifice my heart to be a martyr. You know sand is a kin to soil for underwater the seaweed will grow, and with passion the bubbles boil we do not reap; we do not sow. Hoarding a seashell collection though I can not craft jewelry, I’d still offer quite a selection a salt crown was never meant for me. Drag me down into the sea where I’ve always been destined to be. The tide will lock on and carry me until I’m listing and sinking. I’ll be a drowned god, for what is dead may never die, but rises again stronger and harder. And I may be very flawed, to that I could never deny I can’t negotiate nor can I barter. Drag me down to the sea where I’ve always been destined to be. An escape where no one can flee, forever cursed to be drowning. I’ll be a drowned god, I’ll rise again but painfully slow. No one will wait to applaud, but we do not reap and we do not sow. For what is dead may never die, but rises instead stronger than I. For what is dead may never die, I never lead and following; I could never try.
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48
We are not dating and I don't like you. You are one of my friends, and I love you as friend. I saw your brown eyes in many ways: when they're blue, I set your mood to red. Setting fire so we could burn the whole blue horizon. When they're grey, I laughed a lil bit because your idea of everything. Listening to our dream and dancing till the day comes. When they're brown, we went to our own world. You were the king and i was the queen, ruling our kingdom and executing our sadness. man, those were the days we looked at each others and said some ********* then, the day came and we took different paths. soon, I'll see you sit beside me, cheering the moment from our thrones. As friend.
0
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 7:52 AM UTC
I am happy
Marks smudge your face, Your ***** filthy mouth, what do you proclaim? What do you see? When your eyes are blackened out from the dirt of your knees, Slither and snake through your hands decayed bones, We had a crown but now a thousand thrones. Reach out your webs and reel me in, Lend me your ear and fill me in, What it's like to greedy, deceitful, and sturdy, To have such a pretty face and still be so dirty.
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Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
***** Faces
It starts with a sensation of feeling it can't be real This pain, this reality it all seems so fake Living in turmoil yet being awake We've created a fictional story for what we see Lies have become "real" the virtual stains reality Yet we are living in the creative dump Hilary Clinton and Donald trump Opportunists in this world of lies The poet cries But truth is hated more than the lies we perceive and believe cause their sugar makes the medicine go down No need to frown, because life is just for individuals like you We all different but not one of us has a clue Of what's going on Corporations rule the media so what's wrong? Censorship breaks even the strongest of minds Leaves us cold but does anyone mind? They feed us primal fears While we our fed TV box sets of lives we want to lead While soldiers bleed in wars we keep fighting Just because of oil sightings It's all bit pointless as the golden age of austerity kicks in And the rich become fat eating the poor and misery is a acquaintance who is in your house though you didn't answer the door It's all normal check your email and censor your political correctness It's all bull **** tell yourself it won't mean a thing Your King or queen of nothing and there is no God heaven was a bluff It's not real it's tough Because we could have made it heaven on earth But fantasy was more beguiling As we watch game of thrones we are smiling.
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Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
Hyper normalisation
*despite the winds of winter which blow about my insides there's just something about the summer sun which makes me want to fall in love*
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May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 3:26 AM UTC
28.05.
Lets have rough *** in the courtyard of our kingdom while the peasants and jester watch. "Is that the king?" "Yes. Both of them, **** Did he just hit h~?" "Yup. That was a moan." Pan flutes. Lutes. purple green and gold garb. There's a bunch of knights training in archery and somebody in a far corner of some ocean plotting to ride their horses here and declare seige. But right now it's the first of may and we're just throwing each other around on the grass under the flag of our castle that we founded on voyeurism and being good at what we do Which today is rough *** In the grass Of a game of thrones set.
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Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
Ring the Church bells
I spot a drone today; No bombs, But with plenty o’ potential – A will to malice, To malcontent, to ****** I seek it south And at its zenith, Above dissent, And the bastion that’d never know Better, from worse. So too, I spy it over the sands And over cave, Over Manhattan, over perdition, And over “god,” over greed, Over "great," and ********* Guaranteed; A glistening, wrought silver teething, “Dead,” come one wrong, Word, or whatnot, Anything antagonist “corporate,” Our contradictory content, Blessed, this, “Complacency,” – indiscriminate. Unbeknownst and melancholy-ridden, The bombs have dropped, And for some time now, A sooner to be eternity Whilst we’ve managed nothing but The simplest of slumber; We’re lucid but one second And sheep more so the years. The flock afar-critical, As abstained become the hours, The minutes, until, “then,” Atop, “when,” Whilst we learn again to breathe, Maybe even dream, And relieve the nooses continually Knotted by others – It’s an imaginary rebellion. Sure. And I’m sure you’d agree; Yet still, I soak a nightmare’s sweat Whilst we gladly assume our Peasant’s role And as long as we do, “They’ll,” gladly assume their Thrones.
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Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
Empire America
something wicked something wicked this way comes this way comes I feel it in my heart and bones Something in this game of thrones Some how we are not alone something wicked this way comes I can not tell from dark or light I only know it's out tonight I know I will keep from sight Something wicked this way comes Something wicked Something wicked This way comes This way comes Monster maybe, but not sure I know I will lock my door I won't add to the monster's score Something wicked this way comes Drinking from a witches brew Ghosts, and witches, ghoulies too I'm not going out...are you? something wicked this way comes something wicked something wicked this way comes this way comes I'll stay inside alone tonight I'll not go out until daylight Then everything will be alright Something wicked this way comes I don't know if it's fake or real I only know just what I feel I refuse to be a monster's meal Something wicked this way comes
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Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
something wicked
A form of love which lost its boundaries needs to be nurtured from the beginning to have an ending love has boundaries lust has a beginning at every ending now just shut up and bounce cersei ! §§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§ Jamie lannister ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 7:20 AM UTC
******
My father, my father Now he's going to see I've proven myself worth a bother And there's no stopping what I can be Future king of the islands of iron And son to the one who they currently worship Sprung in the hard isles, I was But raised in the frozen north I can only imagine the plans father will put forth Now that I've sailed Though with an unruly crew The iron price shall prevail Because my father says it's true And he is His Holiness And the undisputed head of my native land I can do nothing to quell my hopefulness On these ****** rocks, on this crimson shore I stand Now and again though I've been told That I am Theon of the North And am a part, no longer, of the isles where I was birthed I will show my father just who his son has become ****** it in the face of islanders who don't believe in their rightful heir I've made mistakes, misstepped the side who won But I am a noble, one born into which I will flair I'm off home now, though it is my snowfallen one Where I learned what is right Where there is no such thing as an "iron price" One which is embedded in my heart so tight But I mustn't look back now At all I have gained from these people and lands For it's time to wake this sleeping cow I know it is right when I step foot on the sand March my men straight back "home" Sneak up, like proper thieves, and sack my once-called castle Who would've thought it'd be such a gods-be-damned hassle
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Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
The Ballad of Theon Greyjoy
The story of The Viper and The Mountain, is a sad tale to tell, but it's really quite a story so listen very well. There The Mountain was, armor clad and tall. Before him many men had stood, but every one did fall. But then a Viper came a calling. "revenge" he said "revenge" for the mountain had slew his sister, it was her he meant to avenge. The Viper stabbed the The Mountains sore, right in his mighty chest. and so The Mountain fell like any other wall of flesh. The Viper was a quick man, though not quite that wise,  so blind was he by revenge The Mountain caught him by surprise. The Mountain grabbed The Viper's head, and crushed it like a grape, And so it was The Viper died, never to avenge his sisters **** A sad song to be sure, a gruesome tale indeed, so lets raise our glasses high and forget it over mead.
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Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
The Mountain And The Viper