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"chainmail" poems
I met a woman brutal in her mercy. Her embrace was a clinch to prevent hard blows. She pulled me close to push me away. Seeing my nakedness she leant me a dream of chainmail and shield. Taking love from me she gave a reprieve to a mind resigned to the slow death of feeling. Ignoring my words she heard my faint silent heartbeat and understood that it was music too quiet for the world to hear and turned it up louder than I could stand. I wept in my deafness as she danced.
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Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 10:28 AM UTC
Brutal Mercies
Lost to backdrops scrolling past, She sits knitting in the carriage of a train. The vague needles They scintillate and glimpse With the cadence of the wheels – Upbeating ceaselessly. Strips of tiny loops And eyelets like dewdrops Of condensation Grouped on the superior rim. Once in a while, She gives a heave To loosen more yarn from the skein Of Filipino-made wool, brushed worsted weave. Spun and carded from the richest fleece, Deeper in the wicker basket by her feet. The needles flash, With ancient rhythms and attack Of duellists in their chainmail coats. With little hesitation she can tack From plain to purl to blackberry. Count back by rote or slip a stitch While the fish-eyed gimlets gleam. All gather profusely in her lap, As windfall trove, rich-patterned And warm with peach-fuzz nap, All crafted from a single line of yarn. Marvels fall continuously from wise Spell-binding hands and all is well for now. (9/11/13 @xirlleelang)
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
Mending Queen
Lie, my Queen, tell me lies. Tell me lies so I might Sleep soundly tonight And fend off With your beauty The scarred faces That haunt My nightmares. Lie, tell me that I can fit Inside a knights chainmail. Tell me that I'm okay, That I'm not just another mind Who's gone Just a little bit mad. Who knows Just a little bit too much. Lie, tell me that The love, The hope, The life, I see in my sleep Will never be real, Will never be mine. Of angels and butterflies, You spoke the softest lies. So lie, my Queen, tell me lies.
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Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
Lie, My Queen.
Dangerous dragon eyes burn the stars and scorch the skies as the warrior lets her silver blades fly, Bronze skin battle maiden, ******* in chainmail, spear and shield on her back as she tracks the beasts who attacked random villages. Like a Valkyrie she walked past me with death on her breath. All power and confidence, she passes on to face this monster in the darkness. She moved like a ballet dancer rushing in and striking him in the place where his scale skin was thin. then rolled back before the dragon’s attack. Fire and fury bare skin scorching forcing her to retreat but only for a solitary second. Claws cutting, tail swinging, scales scraping, scratches stinging. The ground running with the blood of both combatants. One arm a ragged mess of jagged flesh. One dragon eye destroyed while sulphur and smoke choked the breath from her parched throat. Long neck charging as she parried in a twirling fashion letting the dragon’s head pass. It moved quick but she was faster and matched that ******** primal fury. Short silver sharp dagger nested itself slightly above the neck as the force of the animals violent movement cut itself making a long sick **** as it lunged past fast and finally fell in defeat.
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Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 10:39 AM UTC
Battle Maiden
I built a Berlin Wall around my heart. Not to keep others out, but to keep myself in. I built the walls higher until no light could get in and I stayed there. I may have been alone but at least I was safe. Safe from you and your sugar coated words and electric touch. Protected from the lies that seeped from between your lips, and god, just your lips. I kept myself away from your impish charm and devilish smile. I had to, I couldn’t let you in Because when you broke me the first time I could hardly manage to pick up the fragments and build them into something that at least resembled the girl I had been before. A shell of what it was. I added armour. Heavy chainmail to keep me away from your beckoning embrace. Was it worth it? I’m not sure. But the over flow of emotions that I swam through every time I saw you was drowning me. So I built a raft and let it take me away. I put myself here but now I’m trapped, stuck in my own mind and stuck in my own heart. It’s a terrible place to be. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to be here with me.
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May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 7:31 PM UTC
Berlin Wall
"Oh, yes. That hurt. That hurt like a thousand slaps from a Thousand teachers each. Like Dragon claws dripping with bile and Venom into male ego exposed. Ego And pride and the nature of the bottles Of labelled **** that you threw back, Chickening out on cold, hard reality. Once again. Friends and lovers lost, some long, Some not. All gone with the wine. You Could have written volumes by now. Recorded legendary albums, created Art like few others. Yet, every millidrop of your Blood screams for someone, or Something rather, to take you Away from all that's everyday. Be it even war." Well, I want peace, now. Battleworn and Empty from facing all the same Demons. Chainmail shredded, Body worn on the inside from Aqua Vitae and ale. It hurts. It hurts like a thousand Freshly sharpened pencils carving Into the exposed areas of my love For bad nostalgic habits and Days after days with drink, laughter And inhaling The air of temporary excitement, Picking at scabs and naming myself Surgeon, letting the hearts of others Pick up my tab when one of us Inevetably leaves;   Those freshly sharpened pencils Carving mantras to keep me alive And wake me the Hell up, like: *"The people I Need do not Need me like This,"* and *"I have Pride."*
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Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
Picking at Scabs and Naming Myself Surgeon
Morning was sudden-made as an onwardness of hills, Meant for donning crusade in chainmail glistenings, The sun visored in misty slats of cold steel, To glimmer fusty through the godded grove, A holy sepulchre, earthly-dim to its rafters of oak, Where the forest-fall of sunlight shed its rosework, And a red-breasted bird, its song-flight of dappled gleam, And in the meadow, where colorful whorled the tale of Saladin, Wayside flowers shook beneath the destriers' cloth caparisons, A sunny fullness of vales for the crusaders' forest-heartened lungs, And when this furthering of sights was sunken from, Still an onwardness of hills to Jaffa like steppingstones.
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Apr 16, 2023
Apr 16, 2023 at 10:11 PM UTC
Lion of the Hills
sound the horn ; The dead are preparing for war, my gut is a forge they cannot find Who hides Hephaestus' phoenix inside chinks of rattling  chainmail ;  feather- beak- claw(ing) up gravestones, RIP(ping) breath from Flesh So when the skies tremble to hear the wailing of a burning sun-set ,,, they will ride in, a silent scream of glowing-iron-hell-fire- Hail ::: Daughter of Echidna will You  lead us to victory?
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Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
Lay another hand on my head again and I'll
I went to my friend almost afraid to expose the need I found as I read the book, not knowing if he would be deaf to it. As I spoke of my father who was not there to show his boy how to be a man I recounted my losses and the load of grief I felt. My sadness clung to me a heavy suit of chainmail on a dark knight. I could feel my face drooping in lamentation unable to be the smiling grinning buddy I normally brought to the room. Seemingly unable to enter into my pain, my friend, a man of great intellect, character and conviction, responded only with a litany of his own. I tried to listen but my burden made it a mighty climb. Now I know my pal is only human and I am wrestling with my self sweating MY deafness.
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Jan 28, 2023
Jan 28, 2023 at 1:50 AM UTC
Limits of Friendship
I see my resolve like wax to fire. I will be the phoenix from the ash. I will not grant them my laboured breath in anxiety, only pleasure. You may have bruises, but only on my skin. I smack I choke. Keep your hands off my heart. Although I know that I would wear it like a black eye, shining, if only I had the belief. Give me a something to chainmail my smile. Only arrows can get in. And only those with the intention to aim true
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Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
Melted
let pure water wash away the remains of the ray let it clear all but my conscience as the moon shines brighter as my shoulders bare, are weighted lighter the chainmail as ***** as I feel covered in blankets of blood I cannot sleep, I cannot rest, I cannot deal I cannot stop I will fight until I drop wash it away wash it away still, invisible scars remain they stain they stain they stain
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Mar 29, 2021
Mar 29, 2021 at 12:22 PM UTC
The Knight
I know you always saw yourself a knight But I did not realize for a long time That I was a page. You were my sparring partner Who taught me to come at the world Gun drawn So no one could out-shoot me. You told me, And I know, That Justice wears a blindfold because She slashes her sword indiscriminately, And looks at that scale Never. You always saw yourself a lawman I always saw you as a fool. I never realized I learned law At your feet. Fallacies and ways of Drawing out argument and diatribe, Loopholes of morality through which We spin. You taught me to be technically correct, The best kind of correct, Always exploiting but Always within my jurisdiction. I only know now I was a deputy To a sheriff of ridiculous stature. You taught me THE ART OF WAR. It was engraved in stone for me Like an all-caps Roman monument. THE ART OF WAR Is sprawled across a stone archway in my mind Where you came, and you saw. It marks your conquest. You made it my way of loving, Of relating to the world and the people around me. You made me a martyr and mercenary, Standing atop a hill in golden armor, Sunlight behind me and wind in my hair, An avatar of Durga, A disciple of Joan of Arc, A four-year-old poses in chainmail You wrought for her. Illusions of grandeur such as your own Come with this territory. You taught me As your mother and father And grandparents Taught you, THE ART OF WAR- That love is just begrudging words of sweetness Issued only after ruins lay all around And both parties are sufficiently vulnerable, Their bricks having been pried away with crowbars. Love is only an apology given to mollify The wounds you have already wrought. The only privilege loved-ones are afforded, Is the bandage that covers up the customary Destruction That is your normal face. You and I only ever knew love as You clipping my wings And I breaking free to spray The shrapnel of those chains Into your face. We added to each others' pile of scars. It was so rare for us to run into battle together, On the same side, Voices as one in a battlecry. I don't even know how long it's been since Us soldiers-for-hire got hired By the same team at once. You cast me out of steel Like a sword. And now I am the legendary blade Destined to clash against you for all eternity. We will only ever know ceasefires Of a day in length. We will run through the flame, And we will practice the art You taught me.
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
Protege
I know you always saw yourself a knight But I did not realize for a long time That I was a page. You were my sparring partner Who taught me to come at the world Gun drawn So no one could out-shoot me. You told me, And I know, That Justice wears a blindfold because She slashes her sword indiscriminately, And looks at that scale Never. You always saw yourself a lawman I always saw you as a fool. I never realized I learned law At your feet. Fallacies and ways of Drawing out argument and diatribe, Loopholes of morality through which We spin. You taught me to be technically correct, The best kind of correct, Always exploiting but Always within my jurisdiction. I only know now I was a deputy To a sheriff of ridiculous stature. You taught me THE ART OF WAR. It was engraved in stone for me Like an all-caps Roman monument. THE ART OF WAR Is sprawled across a stone archway in my mind Where you came, and you saw. It marks your conquest. You made it my way of loving, Of relating to the world and the people around me. You made me a martyr and mercenary, Standing atop a hill in golden armor, Sunlight behind me and wind in my hair, An avatar of Durga, A disciple of Joan of Arc, A four-year-old poses in chainmail You wrought for her. Illusions of grandeur such as your own Come with this territory. You taught me As your mother and father And grandparents Taught you, THE ART OF WAR- That love is just begrudging words of sweetness Issued only after ruins lay all around And both parties are sufficiently vulnerable, Their bricks having been pried away with crowbars. Love is only an apology given to mollify The wounds you have already wrought. The only privilege loved-ones are afforded, Is the bandage that covers up the customary Destruction That is your normal face. You and I only ever knew love as You clipping my wings And I breaking free to spray The shrapnel of those chains Into your face. We added to each others' pile of scars. It was so rare for us to run into battle together, On the same side, Voices as one in a battlecry. I don't even know how long it's been since Us soldiers-for-hire got hired By the same team at once. You cast me out of steel Like a sword. And now I am the legendary blade Destined to clash against you for all eternity. We will only ever know ceasefires Of a day in length. We will run through the flame, And we will practice the art You taught me.
Continue reading...
81
My man-o'-war lies anchored  silent after crossing endless seas as I stand on the gangway bathed in midday heat. The olive trees on the hillsides grown ten times taller  since I left you here to seek my worth in battles with strangers. Heavy coats of chainmail have worn maps into my shoulders those engines of the trickster's axe. Though no man or beast has won me not a queen I have not taken from her king I still fear to stand before you  unarmored and vulnerable before your patient inexorable love. Your pure love  is my greatest adversary yet you carry no sword. You challenge me everywhere yet you sail no ocean. You know I am weary yet you do not mock. You have simply waited for my hard road to end. My heart stops in mute surrender as I lift off the last battered chest plate, undo the sterling braces from my legs steel falling like glass around the pirate's helmet tarnished at my feet. Though a lifetime of war has crippled my gait I run with reckless abandon to that open door  on the welcome street the place I left for no good reason where you have endured all these years holding the only blade  that can sever the lover from the rogue.
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
ROGUE RETURNS
Some fingers have this tendency to crack, snag, and rip themselves to shreds.  A flurry of something like daisy petals cling, infinite single cell threads waiting for the right he loves me not to fall apart. Some fingers shed their tired ridges in fluttering crescent smiles peeling from the edges of soft pink nails. They pull away like feathers ruffled out of place in a sudden updraft, bent at too-sharp angles. Finger skin was always the strongest, never flaking just because, but for the effort of work and teeth.  Those hangnails bleed strength.  They drip patience, hours of work in restaurant sinks, needlepoint and dresses. They bleed music, lullabies. A chorus of little sopranos sing to tiny babies in cribs built by driftwood scratched bone-smooth and tough as chainmail.
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
On Hangnails
this palate is an anvil this tongue a hammer forging the edges of words reversed
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Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
Chainmail
I am shrouded In forced laughter. Chainmail with Weakened links Of bitter tears. A suit of armour Grudgingly, Necessarily, Worn on a straight back. The weight of Expectations born Of a weary soul Will not bow me. The true steel Lies in my heart.
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
Armour
I found out today That I carry around chainmail Similar to the Knights during The Middle Ages But its more unreal It protects me And tells me not to spill my emotions Similar to protecting the knight It holds everything throughout the day And at night Everything within me crumbles. I take off this "chainmail" And i go into those dark alleys of my mind Some with no escape I try escaping with my plentiful books They sometimes work Other times its hell upon myself My friends, and i regret it every time But its a cycle I fail to stop Unlike my real bike which failed me yesterday This chainmail, its good and all But I wish I didnt have to remove it I dont want to make my friends suffer But they still do. I learnt to bottle it up… Like thats going to help. Just, need kevlar or something
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Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
Its an armor.
I used to think I was Thought nothing would ever touch me Could ever Yet once I awoke I found this was not the case Seemingly everything got me I used to think I would always be Thinking that such thought would never plague me Could never Yet I found the more time passed The more those thoughts hit me I liked to think that I was For the sake of me, for us Impervious was a trait I had to hold Without it, I'd be a mess Over time I became Impervious People words couldnt touch me They held no meaning Why do your words hit me? How do they cut me through chainmail will? I am Impervious, I am Imperfect, I am Impure, I am Ignorant Simply I, me Am Impervious to the way of this world All but to you, who solely holds my strings I used to think I was Impervious Now im not so sure...
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Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 7:56 AM UTC
Impervious
A man! From whose Godly image, cometh he, from sand; A mortal engine! Proud son of the earth and the starry heavens; A wandering soul, cursed to rule the seas and land; Lord of beasts that roam and roar, and a sky filled with Ravens; A  sparkling light at tunnel's end, in seasons of strive; Like sunrise, he cometh with hope from the eastern skies; Like darkness, never to be found wanting where evil thrives; A harbinger of doom, the soul behind Gaea's cry; A Viking in chainmail saileth, Oh! I see a damsel in distress; A Knight in shining armor rideth, Oh! I see  Princess feeble; Lean on me, saith the Wolf, while i slay thine enemies with my prowess; A white sheep teareth, into the flesh of our lady of brittle; Me' lady! seeketh not, the man out there in thy dream; For all the gods, all the heavens and, hell, is within him.
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Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 11:50 AM UTC
A MAN OUT THERE
riverrun past eve and adam so fast it tossed up my chainmail vest. For a second it shone my tattered back battle scars. I’m not one to reminisce about bad times but the fish I had wrangled had rattled so fierce I bell fack-boreward into the fox of fishing hooks. Dangling pirate hands shredded sails salty water waves filled my whales -- “ARR ME BACK” The fish cackled and got away. The boat was in the Abiquiu river, a ways away a way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC
Roman 12
I wonder what it takes to be like you So blinded by the lies you think are true In confidence, you strut your ridged plain Unaware that you are walking on a plank Fear Worn like sheer took to wind and away I wonder Are you happy when alone? Do thoughts of Doubt reveal themselves at home? emotions suppressed, do they flood the surface Of the barge you have built to resist Growing large demons form in a cyst You stand and call yourself a man, but Oh Boy, I have met your kind before Stuck in your ways like a kid on a train Riding tracks that have no end in store Oh Boy, you are in for a ride I wonder why it is you choose not to see A world as it is, as you are, Just be free From the armor of ignorance you wear outwardly Grab at the chance to wash rust from The skin underneath Your perception like chainmail, linked with deception, traps truth that is needing to breathe You think you know the lay of the land, but Oh Boy, I have met your kind before Stuck in your ways like a kid on a train Riding tracks that have no end in store Oh Boy, aren't you in for a ride Oh Boy, You walk on a bridge made of sand Hallucinate the belief you've found land But what will you do when your men turn to you, and you realize you're without a plan Oh Boy, where then do you stand? Stuck in your ways like a kid on a train Oh Boy, you are in for a ride
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Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
Oh Boy
A woman kneels on the edge of the cliff She carries a child in her arms Her tears fall to join the black sea She holds the child's tiny palm in her hand The woman looks up as she prays But her prayers cannot reach her god A thick film of smoke obfuscates her wishes A barrier born from the destruction of her village The king's men quickly approach She knows they will not spare her For she does not believe in the same god She will be thrown into the flames with her companions The woman turns to her pursuers The men in chainmail are closing in She knows they will **** her before they **** her For they see her as a pagan savage She sees them as the same. She looks back to the black sea If she is to die, she wishes to die with dignity She clutches the child tightly And she steps backwards.
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Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
"Palmless Prayer"
You may want to take me inside but your mind is a million dripping daggers perpendicular to the infinite edges of my circular paradigms. your cold soul wraps around me like a chainmail suit. I want to love it, as it's supposed to love me, but it's heavy and pinches every fiber of my existence and why should I wear it when I want to run into love completely naked? My name is derived from Tyrant I would say you should have expected it but I am not one to take someone's heart that is the ultimate crime. Can't you see that you've stolen your own? Look in the mirror. Unfurl your ****** fists. Now my fingers are ablaze with hellfire.
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Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
:\
Has my skin turned into chainmail, Or am I just heavy with missing you My hands shake, how could they not without you to hold them steady Has my heart turned into a ghost, Or did it just sneak off to be with you My mind wanders, how could it not without your heart to be my North Star
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Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
Heavy With Missing You
One day you realise you love someone. You just know. That's it, no warning sign, no guide, just BOOM! A feeling that turns your whole world inside out and upside down. Fire from your belly that won't be calmed. Like Mother Earths polarity changing ends. They become your North and South. A friend becomes a lover and in that magical moment the way you see the world has changed. Because you share their vision. Then in a flash they have the keys to your soul and can walk through its corridors as though it is their own home. Use or abuse it as a trespasser. In that moment you have no more armour no chainmail. No mask to hide behind. They hold your secrets and all your vulnerabilities. You gave them away like candy. You place your trust in an asassin that has your very soul to nurture or destroy. For some they will spend a lifetime there and help you grow and heal, love and laugh. Others simply use it as a space to rent then destroy everything that you built together on leaving. They take more than they ever gave. Trust, love, light and more. All they leave is desolation and fear. Damage that often can't be repaired and a hopelessness that builds walls and shuts out love like it is a poison. Why would anyone try love again?
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Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 10:18 PM UTC
Would you?