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"dells" poems
I love you because the Earth turns round the sun because the North wind blows north sometimes because the Pope is Catholic and most Rabbis Jewish because winters flow into spring and the air clears after a storm because only my love for you despite the charms of gravity keeps me from falling off the Earth into another dimension I love you because it is the natural order of things I love you like the habit I picked up in college of sleeping through lectures or saying I’m sorry when I get stopped for speeding because I drink a glass of water in the morning and chain-smoke cigarettes all through the day because I take my coffee Black and my milk with chocolate because you keep my feet warm through my life a mess I love you because I don’t want it any other way I am helpless in m love for you It makes me so happy to hear you call my name I am amazed you can resist locking me in an echo chamber where your voice reverberates through the four walls sending me into spasmatic ecstasy I love you because it’s been so good for so long that if I didn’t love you I’d have to be born again and that is not a theological statement I am pitiful in my love for you The Dells tell me Love is so simple the thought though of you sends indescribably delicious multitudinous thrills throughout and through-in my body I love you because no two snowflakes are alike and it is possible if you stand tippy-toe to walk between the raindrops I love you because I am afraid of the dark and can’t sleep in the light because I rub my eyes when I wake up in the morning and find you there because you with all your magic powers were determined that I should love you because there was nothing for you but that I would love you I love you because you made me want to love you more than I love my privacy my freedom my commitments and responsibilities I love you 'cause I changed my life to love you because you saw me one friday afternoon and decided that I would love you I love you I love you I love you
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:21 AM UTC
RESIGNATION
I love you because the Earth turns round the sun because the North wind blows north sometimes because the Pope is Catholic and most Rabbis Jewish because winters flow into spring and the air clears after a storm because only my love for you despite the charms of gravity keeps me from falling off the Earth into another dimension I love you because it is the natural order of things I love you like the habit I picked up in college of sleeping through lectures or saying I’m sorry when I get stopped for speeding because I drink a glass of water in the morning and chain-smoke cigarettes all through the day because I take my coffee Black and my milk with chocolate because you keep my feet warm through my life a mess I love you because I don’t want it any other way I am helpless in m love for you It makes me so happy to hear you call my name I am amazed you can resist locking me in an echo chamber where your voice reverberates through the four walls sending me into spasmatic ecstasy I love you because it’s been so good for so long that if I didn’t love you I’d have to be born again and that is not a theological statement I am pitiful in my love for you The Dells tell me Love is so simple the thought though of you sends indescribably delicious multitudinous thrills throughout and through-in my body I love you because no two snowflakes are alike and it is possible if you stand tippy-toe to walk between the raindrops I love you because I am afraid of the dark and can’t sleep in the light because I rub my eyes when I wake up in the morning and find you there because you with all your magic powers were determined that I should love you because there was nothing for you but that I would love you I love you because you made me want to love you more than I love my privacy my freedom my commitments and responsibilities I love you 'cause I changed my life to love you because you saw me one friday afternoon and decided that I would love you I love you I love you I love you
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XXVI. TO DIONYSUS (13 lines) (ll. 1-9) I begin to sing of ivy-crowned Dionysus, the loud- crying god, splendid son of Zeus and glorious Semele. The rich- haired Nymphs received him in their bosoms from the lord his father and fostered and nurtured him carefully in the dells of Nysa, where by the will of his father he grew up in a sweet- smelling cave, being reckoned among the immortals. But when the goddesses had brought him up, a god oft hymned, then began he to wander continually through the woody coombes, thickly wreathed with ivy and laurel. And the Nymphs followed in his train with him for their leader; and the boundless forest was filled with their outcry. (ll. 10-13) And so hail to you, Dionysus, god of abundant clusters! Grant that we may come again rejoicing to this season, and from that season onwards for many a year.
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The Homeric Hymns: 26- To Dionysus
The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone When Durin woke and walked alone. He named the nameless hills and dells; He drank from yet untasted wells; He stooped and looked in Mirrormere, And saw a crown of stars appear, As gems upon a silver thread, Above the shadow of his head The world was fair, the mountains tall, In Elder Days before the fall. Of mighty kings of Nargothrond And Gondolin, who now beyond The Western Seas have passed away; The world was fair in Durin's Day. A king he was on carven throne In many-pillared halls of stone With golden roof and silver floor, And runes of power upon the door. The light of sun and star and moon In shining lamps of crystal hewn Undimmed by cloud or shade of night There shone for ever fair and bright. There hammer on the anvil smote, There chisel clove, and graver wrote, There forged was blade, and bound was hilt; The delver mined, the mason built, There beryl, pearl, and opal pale, And metal wrought like fishes' mail, Buckler and corslet, axe and sword, And shining spears were laid in hoard. Unwearied then were Durin's folk; Beneath the mountains music woke: The harpers harped, the minstrels sang And at the gates the trumpets rang. The world is grey, the mountains old, The forge's fire is ashen cold; No harp is wrung, no hammer falls, The darkness dwells in Durin's halls; The shadow lies upon his tomb In Moria, in Khazad-dûm. But still the sunken stars appear In dark and windless Mirrormere; There lies his crown in water deep, Till Durin wakes again from sleep.
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Durin
The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone When Durin woke and walked alone. He named the nameless hills and dells; He drank from yet untasted wells; He stooped and looked in Mirrormere, And saw a crown of stars appear, As gems upon a silver thread, Above the shadow of his head The world was fair, the mountains tall, In Elder Days before the fall. Of mighty kings of Nargothrond And Gondolin, who now beyond The Western Seas have passed away; The world was fair in Durin's Day. A king he was on carven throne In many-pillared halls of stone With golden roof and silver floor, And runes of power upon the door. The light of sun and star and moon In shining lamps of crystal hewn Undimmed by cloud or shade of night There shone for ever fair and bright. There hammer on the anvil smote, There chisel clove, and graver wrote, There forged was blade, and bound was hilt; The delver mined, the mason built, There beryl, pearl, and opal pale, And metal wrought like fishes' mail, Buckler and corslet, axe and sword, And shining spears were laid in hoard. Unwearied then were Durin's folk; Beneath the mountains music woke: The harpers harped, the minstrels sang And at the gates the trumpets rang. The world is grey, the mountains old, The forge's fire is ashen cold; No harp is wrung, no hammer falls, The darkness dwells in Durin's halls; The shadow lies upon his tomb In Moria, in Khazad-dûm. But still the sunken stars appear In dark and windless Mirrormere; There lies his crown in water deep, Till Durin wakes again from sleep.
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I Who would be A mermaid fair, Singing alone, Combing her hair Under the sea, In a golden curl With a comb of pearl, On a throne? II I would be a mermaid fair; I would sing to myself the whole of the day; With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair; And still as I comb'd I would sing and say, 'Who is it loves me? who loves not me?' I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall Low adown, low adown, From under my starry sea-bud crown Low adown and around, And I should look like a fountain of gold Springing alone With a shrill inner sound Over the throne In the midst of the hall; Till that great sea-snake under the sea From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate With his large calm eyes for the love of me. And all the mermen under the sea Would feel their immortality Die in their hearts for the love of me. III But at night I would wander away, away, I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks, And lightly vault from the throne and play With the mermen in and out of the rocks; We would run to and fro, and hide and seek, On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells, Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea. But if any came near I would call and shriek, And adown the steep like a wave I would leap From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells; For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list Of the bold merry mermen under the sea. They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me, In the purple twilights under the sea; But the king of them all would carry me, Woo me, and win me, and marry me, In the branching jaspers under the sea. Then all the dry-pied things that be In the hueless mosses under the sea Would curl round my silver feet silently, All looking up for the love of me. And if I should carol aloud, from aloft All things that are forked, and horned, and soft Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea, All looking down for the love of me.
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The Mermaid
I Who would be A mermaid fair, Singing alone, Combing her hair Under the sea, In a golden curl With a comb of pearl, On a throne? II I would be a mermaid fair; I would sing to myself the whole of the day; With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair; And still as I comb'd I would sing and say, 'Who is it loves me? who loves not me?' I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall Low adown, low adown, From under my starry sea-bud crown Low adown and around, And I should look like a fountain of gold Springing alone With a shrill inner sound Over the throne In the midst of the hall; Till that great sea-snake under the sea From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate With his large calm eyes for the love of me. And all the mermen under the sea Would feel their immortality Die in their hearts for the love of me. III But at night I would wander away, away, I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks, And lightly vault from the throne and play With the mermen in and out of the rocks; We would run to and fro, and hide and seek, On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells, Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea. But if any came near I would call and shriek, And adown the steep like a wave I would leap From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells; For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list Of the bold merry mermen under the sea. They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me, In the purple twilights under the sea; But the king of them all would carry me, Woo me, and win me, and marry me, In the branching jaspers under the sea. Then all the dry-pied things that be In the hueless mosses under the sea Would curl round my silver feet silently, All looking up for the love of me. And if I should carol aloud, from aloft All things that are forked, and horned, and soft Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea, All looking down for the love of me.
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Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells, Of youth and home and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime. Those joyous hours are passed away; And many a heart that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells! ~Thomas Moore: 1779--1852~
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Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 10:46 PM UTC
Those Evening Bells
someone out in cyber-land might just be copying a poem which they'll attribute to their own tee unscrupulous replicators have no qualms on flagrantly stealing the lines from genuine arms when they take a fancy to your brilliance of verse they'll naff off with all or part of it and stow it within their purse piracy is rife around online writing dales and dells it's the pilfering of an authentic author's heart and soul bells they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery but an alternate opinion would say plagiarists are bereft of an original wordage battery
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Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
Original Wordage Battery
247 What would I give to see his face? I’d give—I’d give my life—of course— But that is not enough! Stop just a minute—let me think! I’d give my biggest Bobolink! That makes two—Him—and Life! You know who “June” is— I’d give her— Roses a day from Zanzibar— And Lily tubes—like Wells— Bees—by the furlong— Straits of Blue Navies of Butterflies—sailed thro’— And dappled Cowslip Dells— Then I have “shares” in Primrose “Banks”— Daffodil Dowries—spicy “Stocks”— Dominions—broad as Dew— Bags of Doublons—adventurous Bees Brought me—from firmamental seas— And Purple—from Peru— Now—have I bought it— “Shylock”? Say! Sign me the Bond! “I vow to pay To Her—who pledges this— One hour—of her Sovereign’s face”! Ecstatic Contract! Niggard Grace! My Kingdom’s worth of Bliss!
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What would I give to see his face?
Tell me not here, it needs not saying, What tune the enchantress plays In aftermaths of soft September Or under blanching mays, For she and I were long acquainted And I knew all her ways. On russet floors, by waters idle, The pine lets fall its cone; The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing In leafy dells alone; And traveller's joy beguiles in autumn Hearts that have lost their own. On acres of the seeded grasses The changing burnish heaves; Or marshalled under moons of harvest Stand still all night the sheaves; Or beeches strip in storms for winter And stain the wind with leaves. Posses, as I possessed a season, The countries I resign, Where over elmy plains the highway Would mount the hills and shine, And full of shade the pillared forest Would murmur and be mine. For nature, heartless, witless nature, Will neither care nor know What stranger's feet may find the meadow And trespass there and go, Nor ask amid the dews of morning If they are mine or no.
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Tell me not here, it needs not saying
I Who would be A merman bold, Sitting alone Singing alone Under the sea, With a crown of gold, On a throne? II I would be a merman bold, I would sit and sing the whole of the day; I would fill the sea-halls with a voice of power; But at night I would roam abroad and play With the mermaids in and out of the rocks, Dressing their hair with the white sea-flower; And holding them back by their flowing locks I would kiss them often under the sea, And kiss them again till they kiss'd me Laughingly, laughingly; And then we would wander away, away, To the pale-green sea-groves straight and high, Chasing each other merrily. III There would be neither moon nor star; But the wave would make music above us afar-- Low thunder and light in the magic night-- Neither moon nor star. We would call aloud in the dreamy dells, Call to each other and whoop and cry All night, merrily, merrily. They would pelt me with starry spangles and shells, Laughing and clapping their hands between, All night, merrily, merrily, But I would throw to them back in mine Turkis and agate and almondine; Then leaping out upon them unseen I would kiss them often under the sea, And kiss them again till they kiss'd me Laughingly, laughingly. O, what a happy life where mine Under the hollow-hung ocean green! Soft are the moss-beds under the sea; We would live merrily, merrily.
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The Merman
I hid my love when young till I Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly; I hid my love to my despite Till I could not bear to look at light: I dare not gaze upon her face But left her memory in each place; Where’er I saw a wild flower lie I kissed and bade my love good-bye. I met her in the greenest dells, Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells; The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye, The bee kissed and went singing by, A sunbeam found a passage there, A gold chain round her neck so fair; As secret as the wild bee’s song She lay there all the summer long. I hid my love in field and town Till e’en the breeze would knock me down; The bees seemed singing ballads o’er, The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar; And even silence found a tongue, To haunt me all the summer long; The riddle nature could not prove Was nothing else but secret love.
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I Hid My Love
You asked the color of my dreams. In sleep, my eyes have sought The inky black of raven lashes. Starry nights and sooty ashes. Prussian blue of fading violets Indigo of clouds and silence Beryl skies and turquoise seas Blue-green waters of the deep Peacock feathers of emerald green Mossy dells of faery queens Fields of wheat and brilliant suns Amber gold in mid-autumns Coral reefs and salmon streams Marmalade and tangerines Auburn sunsets, titian lips Hennaed hands and fingertips Blushing brides and rosy cheeks Pink hued walls and white topped peaks Silver moons and crystal nights Downy geese in graceful flight Ask not the color of my dreams The question is not whole; Deep within my rainbow’d sleep Lies the color of my soul.
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
the color of my dreams
he craves online hook-ups. But this isn't me nor am I that intrepid         a torrent trampoline                    on wireless ether engines                    cyber silver surfin' zone on / in  .nets & .coms                    searching fiber-optics for sight browsing rooms of M4M / in-fantasized delights an itch to fix to sit transfixed as if subliminally attached                            umbilically digitally digitized digi-man                             to a electronic felatio soundtrack yet all the while detached                             lurking duplicitly reading pretend profiles  explicitly for *** sexified mind dreaming up new fetishes with misspelled texts                         tandem testimonials as if written                         by a Compaq-machine-head                         Microsoftened lust currents electric now as we turn into dust with iBooks & faraway Dells on our laps scrolling lists for Adams status' with "anything goes"                         remonstrating our vicious cycle alive & blank with un/trust gone viral... this isn't me. where is the warmth        of feelings, emotions, malleable and infallible / love?? I am not as talented as he           to be in two places at once, but he           has the many faces and genius of multiple personalities Cybil facets    of sabotage with Mommy Dearest grace.         Beautiful strangers his acquired               taste... he says it was not him (doing **** my rage has only one trait. two eyes                              (once wide asleep in the lies) and velvet-rope-burned wrists my feet learn to fly my heart un-breaks my wings reanimate... he has too many faces doppleganger hatred none to care for or embrace When did I go blind,          and leave my many strengths? Where do I now again begin?? (The rubble or the sin?) Every night adieu Every day anew                                         once again...
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Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
DOPPeLGANGeR (Spoken Word #6)
he craves online hook-ups. But this isn't me nor am I that intrepid         a torrent trampoline                    on wireless ether engines                    cyber silver surfin' zone on / in  .nets & .coms                    searching fiber-optics for sight browsing rooms of M4M / in-fantasized delights an itch to fix to sit transfixed as if subliminally attached                            umbilically digitally digitized digi-man                             to a electronic felatio soundtrack yet all the while detached                             lurking duplicitly reading pretend profiles  explicitly for *** sexified mind dreaming up new fetishes with misspelled texts                         tandem testimonials as if written                         by a Compaq-machine-head                         Microsoftened lust currents electric now as we turn into dust with iBooks & faraway Dells on our laps scrolling lists for Adams status' with "anything goes"                         remonstrating our vicious cycle alive & blank with un/trust gone viral... this isn't me. where is the warmth        of feelings, emotions, malleable and infallible / love?? I am not as talented as he           to be in two places at once, but he           has the many faces and genius of multiple personalities Cybil facets    of sabotage with Mommy Dearest grace.         Beautiful strangers his acquired               taste... he says it was not him (doing **** my rage has only one trait. two eyes                              (once wide asleep in the lies) and velvet-rope-burned wrists my feet learn to fly my heart un-breaks my wings reanimate... he has too many faces doppleganger hatred none to care for or embrace When did I go blind,          and leave my many strengths? Where do I now again begin?? (The rubble or the sin?) Every night adieu Every day anew                                         once again...
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Sunken sunlight fades, leaking gold, Dappled shadows cast, dips and dells, Greenery wrought grey, primeval, Crisp and still whispers, secrets kept. Within arching sky, cold tears fall, Ponderous clouds glow, high above, Glistening crescent, heralds night, Chaos of umbra, caught ablaze. Shimmer scaled sea, cobalt cold, Encroaching absence, losing bright, Black ascendancy, the end shade, Distant lights ignite, dark flowers bloom.
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Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
Twilight - dark flowers bloom.
I am a paling star to be washed out In the dazzling brightness of the arriving dawn A calendar that ran out of time A broken guitar with strings loose I will soon exit out of life Like a man hardly anyone knew existed And only very few would miss As I look back to the prime days I feel years have flown away in a flurry Like scraps of paper whirling in the gale A dense fog crawls up into my eyes The verdant vistas and smiling faces Have discoloured like weather worn paintings The violet shadows of red rocks Form a dark cave within me Nothing subsists in the dells n’ hollows Of my memory I wilt under Age’s burning breath And wither under its deadly blight Now I drift... a rudderless vessel Through unknown waters Waiting at the Departure Lounge I now have only one prayer; Don’t let me scorn and disdain the young Whose sky is wider and dreams endless Who walk with nimble feet and sure steps To conquer the world that has left me a scrap!
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Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 8:56 AM UTC
An Old man's Prayer
~ windy inversion her gusty diversion from whence is she blowing and where is she going? no need to whistle as she breezes though town; a bit self absorbed she brings one of her own, drawing her chilly breath from higher deserts, hills and dells. no fury like a woman scorned, she laughs at resistance as she rallys the storm. she is her own force, and with wrending power she renders us powerless, toppling the powerful, making boughs beg and bringing trees to their knees. we as her subjects can only follow her bidding, for she goes where she wishes. a woman unfettered, a goddess unleashed; she does whatever she pleases! ~ *post script. an offshore Pacific low, drains high pressure air over the Pacific NW's eastern deserts, east through its major Cascadian arterial for air and water, the Columbia River Gorge.  either way, whichever way she blows, America's windsurfing capital, Hood River, Oregon, wins!  out here where she empties into the Willamette valley... not so much!  many homes dark tonight, though mine is not one of them.*
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Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
inversions
Her hair- black as a raven’s breast Eyes glowing through orbs of green She dances covertly in the dark of night Where not another soul is seen warbling a haunting, enchanted tune Chanting, dancing around the fire under light of a full evening moon Questions lie on lips to desire Is she malevolent or benevolent? Never a soul has been so bold to tell their story, too hesitant! She possesses many powers, many tales Lifting her hands as she chants Red mist swirling, twirling behind her veil Eyes brightening in orbs of green Chilly mist crawling over her skin Under an oak tree dancing unseen Cloaked under her crimson, blood red shawl Strange sounds and names uttered as she boldly dances, chanting out her call Wild, fierce, bold and free Like a chameleon she changes in red blazing firelight so unseen Suddenly, the ground shakes with deafening roar Bursts of electric blue, beam above her head Voltaic forces join, shaking earth’s woodland floor Down the path, robes flowing, blowing in the breeze Many forces about, electrifying ground and air Gathering together, chanting, dancing under the trees Many denizens of this land astound Warlocks and witches cast their magic here as their caldron bubbles over ground They come together from lake and fen Here they meet from darkened lair Ferny dells and rocky dens “Make room”, they call in pitch black night Bringing many potions to mix them well Taking wool, wand, bone and eyes, what a fright! Casting out and about their magic spells Mixing tooth and tongue and nail Under fire, water, earth and dung They mix the caldron, hold the flail Hemlock, henbane, adder’s blood Chanting out “By thee we bound upon this road"! Suddenly the spell’s been cannily brewed Using blood, eyes, tongue of a toad As quickly as they came, they hastily leave Departing forest dark, entering private glades Leaving once again, only to return On another chilly, full October moon eve they’ll chant, they'll brew their magic urns "Merry Meet", they all say, as they make haste to leave
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
THE WITCHE'S DANCE ON CLAWBOROUGH ROAD
Her hair- black as a raven’s breast Eyes glowing through orbs of green She dances covertly in the dark of night Where not another soul is seen warbling a haunting, enchanted tune Chanting, dancing around the fire under light of a full evening moon Questions lie on lips to desire Is she malevolent or benevolent? Never a soul has been so bold to tell their story, too hesitant! She possesses many powers, many tales Lifting her hands as she chants Red mist swirling, twirling behind her veil Eyes brightening in orbs of green Chilly mist crawling over her skin Under an oak tree dancing unseen Cloaked under her crimson, blood red shawl Strange sounds and names uttered as she boldly dances, chanting out her call Wild, fierce, bold and free Like a chameleon she changes in red blazing firelight so unseen Suddenly, the ground shakes with deafening roar Bursts of electric blue, beam above her head Voltaic forces join, shaking earth’s woodland floor Down the path, robes flowing, blowing in the breeze Many forces about, electrifying ground and air Gathering together, chanting, dancing under the trees Many denizens of this land astound Warlocks and witches cast their magic here as their caldron bubbles over ground They come together from lake and fen Here they meet from darkened lair Ferny dells and rocky dens “Make room”, they call in pitch black night Bringing many potions to mix them well Taking wool, wand, bone and eyes, what a fright! Casting out and about their magic spells Mixing tooth and tongue and nail Under fire, water, earth and dung They mix the caldron, hold the flail Hemlock, henbane, adder’s blood Chanting out “By thee we bound upon this road"! Suddenly the spell’s been cannily brewed Using blood, eyes, tongue of a toad As quickly as they came, they hastily leave Departing forest dark, entering private glades Leaving once again, only to return On another chilly, full October moon eve they’ll chant, they'll brew their magic urns "Merry Meet", they all say, as they make haste to leave
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What am I to be when others define who I am?! Foolish mortals! How dare they! Am I realize this "friendship" is a scam?! Friendship is nothing more than a torch to be blown by winds of change! It is utterly meaningless when fools enjoy me for my many rages! What am I?! Am I to be cast to oblivion?! To depths deeper than hell?! Let those who abuse me, let no mercy be done! Let God tell! Allow the strikes of death and plague to be unleashed unto to them! And ensure their coffins sealed, for they shall be devoured by Nephilim! Make peace unto me, their misrepresentations decide who live or dies! Make them pay, their bodies scorched by fire where their bodies lie! Peace and justice will be made to me, because I shall possess the keys! Make of them suffering and eternal torment, and destroy their families! I shall be forever victorious and crush my enemies underneath my feet! And their puny and insignificant presence, ha! They shall face defeat! No longer will my "friends" use me once and dispose of me immediately! I will be ruler of a world where my castle everyone be amazed will see! The majesty of my wonderful rule! When I die, I shall leave a legacy! "He is he who destroyed his foes and casted them to the guillotine." "His past was days when people of his mocked with such keen." "But he rose from his sorrow and by his sword his enemies fell." "His blood of vengeance runs through the rivers to the dells." This will be written that of my tombstone when the time is right. And when my enemies rise again from the shadows, I shall put my light! The light of my truth, my justice, and my ways to live right! Their oppositions crushed thousandfold and my armies unstoppable! Let my revenge from the past fuel the finale that is incomprehensible! Meteorites from heaven of flame become redder by my enemies' blood! Even if they rise the flag of surrender, I refuse! Make them shunned! And so my kingdom is at peace, when war halts and revenge is done! Let their be tranquility in my land at last, now let freedom run! Allow the spirit of freedom to spread across my great land! And where enemies fall, make my virtues and glory stand! Where people of the millionfold descend to see and adore me! And at last, make my revenge and cleanse it. It is now free.
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
To the Fools and to the Misjudged
What am I to be when others define who I am?! Foolish mortals! How dare they! Am I realize this "friendship" is a scam?! Friendship is nothing more than a torch to be blown by winds of change! It is utterly meaningless when fools enjoy me for my many rages! What am I?! Am I to be cast to oblivion?! To depths deeper than hell?! Let those who abuse me, let no mercy be done! Let God tell! Allow the strikes of death and plague to be unleashed unto to them! And ensure their coffins sealed, for they shall be devoured by Nephilim! Make peace unto me, their misrepresentations decide who live or dies! Make them pay, their bodies scorched by fire where their bodies lie! Peace and justice will be made to me, because I shall possess the keys! Make of them suffering and eternal torment, and destroy their families! I shall be forever victorious and crush my enemies underneath my feet! And their puny and insignificant presence, ha! They shall face defeat! No longer will my "friends" use me once and dispose of me immediately! I will be ruler of a world where my castle everyone be amazed will see! The majesty of my wonderful rule! When I die, I shall leave a legacy! "He is he who destroyed his foes and casted them to the guillotine." "His past was days when people of his mocked with such keen." "But he rose from his sorrow and by his sword his enemies fell." "His blood of vengeance runs through the rivers to the dells." This will be written that of my tombstone when the time is right. And when my enemies rise again from the shadows, I shall put my light! The light of my truth, my justice, and my ways to live right! Their oppositions crushed thousandfold and my armies unstoppable! Let my revenge from the past fuel the finale that is incomprehensible! Meteorites from heaven of flame become redder by my enemies' blood! Even if they rise the flag of surrender, I refuse! Make them shunned! And so my kingdom is at peace, when war halts and revenge is done! Let their be tranquility in my land at last, now let freedom run! Allow the spirit of freedom to spread across my great land! And where enemies fall, make my virtues and glory stand! Where people of the millionfold descend to see and adore me! And at last, make my revenge and cleanse it. It is now free.
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34
There will be a journey, a gathering of mixed herbs Great swathes, buttressing mountains grazed with Grassy wigs. Metal structures lining up calculating The swing to left, to right, catching the intermittent gasps The rhythm snakes me away, its rattling chorus marching Ahead, spying on the quality of this paragraph sitting side by side A vacancy on the page still wearing its white robe, alone for now I searched out a chance at freedom on a fast track, borrowing scenes From oiled pallets, hills & dells daubed grandiosely. They deliberately Bait. Once bitten twice shy. I heard it bandied around.....but... I am not shy of the wild dogs, howling is a lullaby.  I have the ticket To be smitten with bitten chances; once, twice...maybe thrice .....does it for me.
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Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
Any Time Soon
fecund and fertile the fields are now the spring time sun cascades and endows sprouting colored blooms on the flower stems and trees who's floral show is made to please dales and dells graced with spring glories birds twittering their pretty stories speechless eyes cannot believe the paintbox of hues they perceive spring is such a stunning time of the year attired in a florid palette so vividly clear
0
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
Spring Time
defined as "existing or being everywhere at the same time; constantly encountered." __________________________________________________ he craves online hook-ups. ...but this isn't me or that intrepid,           torrent trampoline                    on wireless ether engines zone on in  .nets & .coms                    searching fiber-optics for sight browsing rooms of M4M to fantasize delights to itch to fix to sit transfixed as if subliminally attached                            umbilically digitally to a electronic felatio                                   soundtrack yet all the while detached                             lurking reading pretend profiles  explicit with *** sexified, dreaming up new fetishes with misspelled texts                         tandem testimonials as if written by a Compaq-machine-head or Microsoftened lust                         as now we are turning to dust with iBooks & faraway Dells on our laps scrolling lists and Adams with "anything goes" remonstrating our vicious                            cycle - blank with un/trust this isn't me... where is the warmth        of feelings, emotions, love?? I am not that talented           to be in two places at once, but he has the faces and genius of multiple personalities facets    of sabotage with grace. he says it isn't him. my anger has only one trait. two eyes. velvet rope-burned limbs... and he has too many faces doppleganger hatreds where  does  one begin?? (The rubble or the sin?) ____________________________________________ DOPpLEGANGER (2016)--[Rewrite] he craves online hook-ups. But this isn't me nor am I that intrepid         a torrent trampoline                    on wireless ether engines                    cyber silver surfin' zone on / in  .nets & .coms                    searching fiber-optics for sight browsing rooms of M4M / in-fantasized delights an itch to fix to sit transfixed as if subliminally attached                            umbilically digitally digitized digi-man                             to a electronic felatio soundtrack yet all the while detached                             lurking duplicitly reading pretend profiles  explicitly for *** sexified mind dreaming up new fetishes with misspelled texts                         tandem testimonials as if written                         by a Compaq-machine-head                         Microsoftened lust currents electric now as we turn into dust with iBooks & faraway Dells on our laps scrolling lists for Adams status' with "anything goes"                         remonstrating our vicious cycle alive & blank with un/trust gone viral... this isn't me. where is the warmth        of feelings, emotions, malleable and infallible / love?? I am not as talented as he           to be in two places at once, but he           has the many faces and genius of multiple personalities Cybil facets    of sabotage with Mommy Dearest grace.         Beautiful strangers his acquired               taste... he says it was not him (doing **** my rage has only one trait. two eyes                              (once wide asleep in the lies) and velvet-rope-burned wrists my feet learn to fly my heart un-breaks my wings reanimate... he has too many faces doppleganger hatred none to care for or embrace When did I go blind,          and leave my many strengths? Where do I now again begin?? (The rubble or the sin?) Every night adieu Every day anew                                         once again...
0
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
Ubiquitous (2008) / Doppleganger (2016)
defined as "existing or being everywhere at the same time; constantly encountered." __________________________________________________ he craves online hook-ups. ...but this isn't me or that intrepid,           torrent trampoline                    on wireless ether engines zone on in  .nets & .coms                    searching fiber-optics for sight browsing rooms of M4M to fantasize delights to itch to fix to sit transfixed as if subliminally attached                            umbilically digitally to a electronic felatio                                   soundtrack yet all the while detached                             lurking reading pretend profiles  explicit with *** sexified, dreaming up new fetishes with misspelled texts                         tandem testimonials as if written by a Compaq-machine-head or Microsoftened lust                         as now we are turning to dust with iBooks & faraway Dells on our laps scrolling lists and Adams with "anything goes" remonstrating our vicious                            cycle - blank with un/trust this isn't me... where is the warmth        of feelings, emotions, love?? I am not that talented           to be in two places at once, but he has the faces and genius of multiple personalities facets    of sabotage with grace. he says it isn't him. my anger has only one trait. two eyes. velvet rope-burned limbs... and he has too many faces doppleganger hatreds where  does  one begin?? (The rubble or the sin?) ____________________________________________ DOPpLEGANGER (2016)--[Rewrite] he craves online hook-ups. But this isn't me nor am I that intrepid         a torrent trampoline                    on wireless ether engines                    cyber silver surfin' zone on / in  .nets & .coms                    searching fiber-optics for sight browsing rooms of M4M / in-fantasized delights an itch to fix to sit transfixed as if subliminally attached                            umbilically digitally digitized digi-man                             to a electronic felatio soundtrack yet all the while detached                             lurking duplicitly reading pretend profiles  explicitly for *** sexified mind dreaming up new fetishes with misspelled texts                         tandem testimonials as if written                         by a Compaq-machine-head                         Microsoftened lust currents electric now as we turn into dust with iBooks & faraway Dells on our laps scrolling lists for Adams status' with "anything goes"                         remonstrating our vicious cycle alive & blank with un/trust gone viral... this isn't me. where is the warmth        of feelings, emotions, malleable and infallible / love?? I am not as talented as he           to be in two places at once, but he           has the many faces and genius of multiple personalities Cybil facets    of sabotage with Mommy Dearest grace.         Beautiful strangers his acquired               taste... he says it was not him (doing **** my rage has only one trait. two eyes                              (once wide asleep in the lies) and velvet-rope-burned wrists my feet learn to fly my heart un-breaks my wings reanimate... he has too many faces doppleganger hatred none to care for or embrace When did I go blind,          and leave my many strengths? Where do I now again begin?? (The rubble or the sin?) Every night adieu Every day anew                                         once again...
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120
Over the sky and beyond the stars Out past Jupiter, Out past Mars Beyond the grasp of human mind There is a realm, though ill defined No borders between countries lay No paths are there to show the way. In this world there is no time To life here there is no rhyme However wonders do abound In this world suffused with sound The sounds of silence shake the air And music is not half so fair Here there are the glades and dells Where the mighty dragon dwells Here the forest never ends, but deserts lie beyond the bends This world beyond the second star Must seem to you so very far It isn't so, its rather near And all may go there without fear For full of terrors as it seems They can not harm you in your dreams.
0
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 8:03 PM UTC
Dreamscape