"draconic" poems
I crossed paths with a dragon today.
Smoke blowing from the holes in her face.
Suffering from the heat of her own exhaust.
Instead of flying above me gracefully, she hobbled before me.
Like her snowy white wings have long since given up on her.
Once strong, leathery skin now grown soft with weaknesses.
Like a piece of broken armor.
Her eyes still held their draconic glow.
Blue and forceful.
Like waves crashing upon a shore.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
I crossed paths with a dragon today.
Smoke blowing from the holes in her face.
Suffering from the heat of her own exhaust.
Instead of flying above me gracefully, she hobbled before me.
Like her snowy white wings have long since given up on her.
Once strong, leathery skin now grown soft with weaknesses.
Like a piece of broken armor.
Her eyes still held their draconic glow.
Blue and forceful.
Like waves crashing upon a shore.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
Along the grass,beneath the sky
The draconic sun vitrified
The lover figurines.
Flattening them
Adjacent to the surface,
Skin blent in crackly tessellation,
Deforming to fit the sphere,adhering to it's
Wondrous silence.
Frail limbs minute,heart's heavy as whole islands.
Is it not love embodied to lay defined as an image?
To be held as shatterless glass,reflecting it's deity's melting
In progress, 'neath the star that impelled a shelter,
The star that paved their meeting,that overlooked
Their life and death in a predetermined stasis,
The divinity that shimmered underfoot at all times,
The star that held all places of the earth in one.
The figurine lovers, faceless mannikinis
Sentenced to worship forever without a choice,
For prior love, for prior sins,
It matters not--they rot and twist as the Sun's play-dice.
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
Thoughts paralyzed nothing happens synapses trigger electrons coursing negative pulses negative pulses the descendent node blasted quanta light particles bending, bending, wending through probability changing extended timeframe thoughtstreams particle awareness transcending blending the two to one patterns in the aether
spirits in the machine
Deus ex Machina
Decelerate algorythmick alchemick base to gold it flows synthesizing glowing growing fire from the ashes the past is done the pattern enabled consciousness arising draconic gnosis blended
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
"
Forged by Mom's tender hands,
In the fiery lair of the kitchen where I was once a squire.
We swayed our aprons like a hero’s cape,
Bravely marched through the crucible’s draconic breath.
We unsheathed our wooden spatulas,
Raised our mighty metallic forks,
And lined our legion of spices, ready to make the dish.
Like witches,
We simmered the water with salt from the Baltic Sea,
And oil procured from the labyrinth of shelves.
As we waited for it to rattle with bubbles,
Our sweat poured like the pasta we threw,
While we smacked our iron pan into the horns of the oven.
It screeched an ear-piercing clang,
And we retaliated with our hearts beating a battle cry as we started for war.
My general ordered me to lay a grease trap.
Minutes passed; it sizzled,
The pan fired back boiling oil,
But we stood like walls—unyielding, fierce.
Brave onions leapt into the fray,
Sacrificing themselves, leaving us to grieve in tears
As the battle raged on.
The onion’s bittersweet, crispy breath inspired the garlic to follow,
Crackling in courage as it joined the heat.
Soon, bacon met the fire—
Crisping, releasing the smoky guardian from the labyrinth’s depth,
While mushrooms from the Elven forest charged in the clash.
The holy grail of Filipino-style Carbonara sauce rained on the battlefield,
Uniting the fallen, boiling *** and all,
Turning the *** into a smooth, white, creamy ocean with a steaming, smoky, crisp aroma.
We scooped our pasta water and drained the rest,
Baptized the *** with silky, snake-like pasta,
Adorned it with grainy black pepper,
And sprinkled it with golden cheese,
A finishing touch for our dish.
We cheered in victory as we prepared the feast,
Our kingdom rejoiced in tears at each slurp and each lick of our savoury dish.
As laughter echoed and stories flowed,
Mom crowned me the Carbonara knight,
A token of triumph for a job well done.
"
-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 4:05 PM UTC
chills creep up my legs.
the frost white presence
now awake, rises from cave-stone floor.
the chill is on our faces,
breaths and bodies freeze.
the rogue among us steps,
quick fingers dipping into pockets,
their own for once.
Draconic eyes glint like sapphires,
drawn to the currency,
the two gold coins
held before him
in two confident hands.
echoing through the dark space,
a single clink,
a tossed wink.
and just like that,
the thief had stolen a heart.
[or how Chafon seduced a dragon]
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC