"dungeons" poems
I came to liberate lions from dungeons
I came to share and not stare at you
I came to actualize powers within me
I intend to distribute resources equally
I came to reiterate that all beings are beautiful
I came to make an impact like mountains do
I came to create music with my attitude
I intend that symphonies surround me with their melodies
I intend that children feel safe to open up to me
I came to empower dancers in perpetual motion
I intend to be a witness to the miracles of life’s radiance
I came to scream love songs into forests
I came to hear my own voice echoed by hollow caverns
I intend to create portals that we can travel through
I came to bring back the aurora borealis at all latitudes
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
Arise! Oh Heart, from the catacombs of the dead
Shake off the dust, for Life beckons you like a buddy
Peel off the weariness that wraps you like a shroud
And walk to the open to perceive the light.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the dungeons of gloom
The dawn is at your door step, waiting to break
Sing with the koel, merrily warbling in the woods
Dance with the billows, wildly prancing on the deep.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the ghettoes of *******
Break loose the ropes that moor you to the past
Dart through the panorama of the cerulean blue
And fly high into regions, uncharted and new.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the citadels of hate
Listen not to the shrieking and howling behind
Drink from the goblet of conciliating love
And rejoice at the birth of a dawn with promises galore!
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
There’s a scurrying sound of something, burrowing,
Down in the depths of the dungeons, hurrying,
Skittering, pittering-pattering, scattering
When there’s a footstep, hear them chattering:
‘Here come the lords, and here comes the vassal,
Tripping their way through Cockroach Castle.’
Here come the ladies, all in their finery
Tripping and sipping the wine from the winery,
Trailing their silks, their satins and bustling,
Up in the ballroom, while the rustling
Army beneath the sounds of their razzle
Is down in the depths of Cockroach Castle.
Spilling their millions up in the glooming
Out from the flagstones, terror is looming,
Up on the awnings, hung from the ceiling
Under the swish of the skirts they’re stealing,
Dropping in hair, and burrowing faster,
Cockroach Castle is set for disaster.
Suddenly all of the room is screaming
Flapping of hands, the roaches are teeming,
Myriad hordes in the Carbonara,
Candles are tipped from the candelabra,
Choking smoke from the candles guttered,
Flames leap up from the ones that stuttered.
Clothing and flags and the awnings razing
Silks and satins flare up, and blazing,
Roaches in eyes and ears, they’re rasping
Clogging their throats, to leave them gasping,
There isn’t a lady or lord, or vassal
To come out alive from Cockroach Castle!
David Lewis Paget
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Now tell me such a tale sir
while I am tightly bound
of captive maidens held sir
where evil knights abound.
Then taken to be used sir
in their castles of renown
of tortured girls so sweet sir
who are forced so to kneel down.
Then tell me of the dungeons sir
within the fortress drear
with chains upon the walls sir
where I might be held in fear.
Then show me what it means sir
to be such a prisoner
where nothing else is real sir
but myself as a damsel fair.
Then make me live the thought sir
that I might so lie within
and tortured all day long sir
for each imagined sin.
Then secretly find pleasure sir
in all that’s done to me
while my knightly captor sir
has me on my knees.
Then eventually confess sir,
to all my worldly sins
while my sadistic lord sir
is making me more commit .
Then tie me even tighter sir
with every knot aware
rough ****** I now need sir
to think myself as there.
Then make me taste your whip sir
to force me to submit
of the marks you leave sir
you care not a single whit.
Then take me as you will sir
and drive me really wild
make sure I’m deeply kissed sir
where I feel it burn inside.
Then hold me in your keep sir
and bend me to your will
and use my body more sir
for my needs are never still.
Then stand me on the brink sir
and show me just the edge
of where I shall be pushed sir
with just the slightest nudge.
Then tie me up and leave sir
to dream and squirm at will
of the ways I might be used sir
in your castle on the hill.
********
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2016
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
Dear diabolic debutante / Spawn of the unfathomable abyss of blackness / Daughter of dreadful dead desire / Black-shrouded sinister sister of celestial gloom before whose imperious gaze the heavens fall silent / Whip-lash girl-child of the graves whose pallid visage kindles the myriad infernal fires / Autocratic vampiress of lunar doom whose winding-cloth enfolds the thousand horrors of blood-drenched nightmare / Thou that wanderest the cypress-crested hills of funereal necropolises / Whose icy glance cracks the ungraven tombstones of utter desolation / Empress of night and madness / Who stalks the locked and shadowed hallways of unhallowed thought / Whose burial-boat glides the still waters over Lethe’s silent depths to the unglimpsed isle of eternal mourning / Whose parapets tower above the fiefdoms of quotidian banality / Whose flying buttresses overlook the Stygian waters of the forgotten drowned denizens of damnation / Whose unshackled dungeons open to worlds of regal splendor / Whose spires pierce dark skies where oblivion buries the ruined cities of revelry under the drifting clouds of leaden time / Oh maiden of melancholic alchemy whose petrified passions transmute base metal into pure gold…
May the gibbous moon of equinox shine its baleful eye upon you; may you tread in sacramental calm the winding starlit paths of somnolent cemeteries; may my unmixed metaphors unveil in delirium their parabolic mysteries before the smoldering altar of your uninterpretable allegory; may the favor of your scorn forever lay me out, embalmed, undead, on the cold stone of merciless reality. Behold: in cryptic script of spectral apparition, in tracery of coded illumination, amidst the dawning rays of torment I write thine unknown name on the threshold of daylight. And from within the mortared wall of self I speak forth from my sepulcher the Sibylline utterance,
unsought, unheard, undreamt:
JUST WANTED TO SAY ‘HI’ !
☻
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
Paper cuts make my knees shake.
World goes fuzzy
land swimming
Where are the ****** band-aids?
But gore makes my heart sing.
Wrists all slit
stomachs split wide
viscera falling
Where are the flayed faces?
Blood drives scare me.
White vans all out
hiding away
Can’t they go elsewhere?
But dungeons cheer me.
Tables and crosses
and rusty chains on ceiling
our tools all spread out
Can’t we go play?
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 11:39 AM UTC
474
They put Us far apart—
As separate as Sea
And Her unsown Peninsula—
We signified “These see”—
They took away our Eyes—
They thwarted Us with Guns—
“I see Thee” each responded straight
Through Telegraphic Signs—
With Dungeons—They devised—
But through their thickest skill—
And their opaquest Adamant—
Our Souls saw—just as well—
They summoned Us to die—
With sweet alacrity
We stood upon our stapled feet—
Condemned—but just—to see—
Permission to recant—
Permission to forget—
We turned our backs upon the Sun
For perjury of that—
Not Either—noticed Death—
Of Paradise—aware—
Each other’s Face—was all the Disc
Each other’s setting—saw—
5.5k
Vanquish or Vanish ,
That’s what they said,
Before I embraced the valour,
Of the dead,
Silence since reigns,
These dungeons deep,
For,
I was a Gladiator,
Who chose to weep.
The Arena that chanted ,
My mighty name,
The mellow maiden,
Who whispered the same;
They are but fractions,
Of an empire lost,
For passion sparked,
At honour's cost.
Gladiators will come,
And gladiators will go,
And yet,
None will dare embrace
His fallen foe.
The crowd will cheer,
As the Cowards will roar,
While I will weep,
At my dungeon door.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
728
Let Us play Yesterday—
I—the Girl at school—
You—and Eternity—the
Untold Tale—
Easing my famine
At my Lexicon—
Logarithm—had I—for Drink—
’Twas a dry Wine—
Somewhat different—must be—
Dreams tint the Sleep—
Cunning Reds of Morning
Make the Blind—leap—
Still at the Egg-life—
Chafing the Shell—
When you troubled the Ellipse—
And the Bird fell—
Manacles be dim—they say—
To the new Free—
Liberty—Commoner—
Never could—to me—
’Twas my last gratitude
When I slept—at night—
’Twas the first Miracle
Let in—with Light—
Can the Lark resume the Shell—
Easier—for the Sky—
Wouldn’t Bonds hurt more
Than Yesterday?
Wouldn’t Dungeons sorer frate
On the Man—free—
Just long enough to taste—
Then—doomed new—
God of the Manacle
As of the Free—
Take not my Liberty
Away from Me—
5.1k
661
Could I but ride indefinite
As doth the Meadow Bee
And visit only where I liked
And No one visit me
And flirt all Day with Buttercups
And marry whom I may
And dwell a little everywhere
Or better, run away
With no Police to follow
Or chase Him if He do
Till He should jump Peninsulas
To get away from me—
I said “But just to be a Bee”
Upon a Raft of Air
And row in Nowhere all Day long
And anchor “off the Bar”
What Liberty! So Captives deem
Who tight in Dungeons are.
4.3k
when i told you
i was a queen
you knelt before me
sword out
and pledged your allegiance
to the ruler of your heart
you called me your highness
and dared ask for a crown
i'll now burn your bridges
send knights chase you down
chain you in my dungeons
and dissect you one slice at a time
i'll feed you to my dragons
treason is a deadly crime
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 6:56 AM UTC
I spent years of my life in a fantasy world.
waters inhabited with murlocs
Forests with centuars and unicorns
I had badass armor
Spellbooks, Abilities, Charisma modifiers!
When you live in Dungeons and dragons you finish quests, unlock gods,
Slay Monsters
When my DnD group broke up
I didn't lose a group of friends.
I lost a party of adventurers
Their eulogies pronounced at the end of that final nat one
Will never be forgotten.
Portaits carved like improv comedy routines.
Characatures of our ideal selves
Bound, sealed, stuck on a book shelf
We deserved another sequel.
When the party healer crumpled her car against a Concrete wall at 70 miles an hour
It made sense nobody else knew how to cast raise dead.
In a world that is supposed to play out our ideal realities
it was no question her charecter lived eternal. the way she would have wanted.
The way we wanted so badly to be true.
Nobody felt right taking over her charecter.
And nobody wanted to **** her off.
So we wrote her story.
Every die she had tossed this whole adventure. Each murloc she ran from, each unicorn she rode, etched into a leather bound tome.
Placed Right on the same shelve we kept our pathfinder books.
Her headstone.
We never played after that.
But she did.
When we placed the novel next to the flowers her mother left.
We felt her cast healing song
one last time
And that night
We got a full rest
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
thank god, above all
me, born in age of female equality evolution
in any other age
me, a slave
confined by financial, educational and social inequality
fueled by power deluded women-peons
leaving mountains and dungeons in passing
tears of blood
shed by disillusioned soul
instinctively knowing,
i can create my own destiny
life time spend achieving
smoothing the road for future daughters
BUT
satans has intervened once more
present daughters do not value
their priceless inheritance
many squander it, willingly
but few remain
with noble footing
instinctively calling out, to higher power
uneducated, still knowing
god exist, he is watching
and my inner strength comes from my creator
who created for a purpose
hail the king of kings
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Oh, i'am dragonborn
The slayer of dragons
The wanderer in the dark.
I travel from quest to quest
To seek for a purpose in this world.
Oh, i'am dragonborn
Lost in the dungeons
Freezing in the cold winter winds.
Oh, i'm dragonborn.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
Homelessness can strike anyone at any given time
It could be due to any situation that is combined
No one wants to live on the streets
It is often written about within tweets
Mental illness a sickness that most homeless have
It was not some gift
Don’t look down on homeless like they are a drift
We are not far away
There are many words I could say
Homelessness from city to city that has spread all around
We are all just seconds from being homeless bound
One day noises being unknown, but continuous echoes not having any sounds
Scenery being nothing more than subway rides
Walking and talking to one’s self being strides
Having no place with a home to eat
Movement after continuous movement being a retreat
Homeless living in cardboard boxes being home
Having no family, but feeling alone
Homeless are citizens too
Solutions to homeless problems is what is truly due
Forcing homeless into shelters is not the action to take
No one has an answer because they can’t relate
A more marketable approach would be the motivation needed
It’s the only way to proceed
Homelessness is dark ages of dungeons of the unknown
An open heart that needs to be shown
Remember homeless didn’t put this act on themselves
They were rejected by means of somebody else
Society has labeled them having no social place
My thoughts this needs to be erased
Also added that homeless are a waste
But society must have compassion and not be haste
A homeless town being still around
What would it take to hear the homeless voices justice sounds?
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 2:48 PM UTC
They say
you only know
what you're made of
when you're broken.
I found out
I am made of Lego blocks -
capable
of being destroyed
rebuilt
restructured
from one form to the next.
I have been
a dark fortress
with dungeons and dragons
and creatures
that crawl out from the night
But I have been broken down
I have been taken down,
piece by piece by little piece,
lost a couple of parts,
and now
is slowly being rebuilt
into a treehouse
full of rainbows, fairies
and happy thoughts
Ahh Neverland, that's what they call it
And I will fly
My one and only Wendy
to this new home.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
I'm so stricken, and I don't know what to do.
Like a sickness is killing me,
I'll blame it all on you.
There's a feeling deep inside of me,
That's clawing its way out,
and the pain I can't handle it,
this monsters name is doubt.
He's a beast who stays caged,
with his brothers down below,
within recess of my mind,
and the dungeons of my soul,
jealousy and anger and pride to say a few,
if their free in your mind,
their whispers will consume.
and they come as their called,
by their name they break free,
running rampid like a truth,
it's the truth thats killing me.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 2:26 PM UTC
I lit a candle in an empty concrete room
the floor is concrete
the walls are concrete
the ceiling is concrete
the candle is wax and wick
and I am skin and blood and cartilage and bone and hair and nail and water and guts and sad
I lit a candle in an empty concrete room
the yellow light of the fire makes things look tenebrous and cryptic
there are tiny cracks in the skin on my hand like a million piece puzzle of the ocean
tiny cracks between tiny triangles and diamonds
they make my hand
my hand holds a match
the match lights a candle
the candle burns
in an empty concrete room
concrete reminds me of falling off my bicycle and scraping my knees
and dungeons
and the weeds that grow in the cracks of every sidewalk
candles remind me of Christmas
and yoga in the dark
and my step-mother hoping her house smells like home
and calming down
I lit a candle in an empty concrete room,
crying bitterly at seclusion
my heart pounded to the flame’s flicker and a heavy thought tumbled into mud,
thickening it
it dried and I couldn’t cry
I don’t mean anything to this candle or this concrete
but there is something about a fire in a room built so rough and quiet
that makes me feel like
my voice is heard
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
Lady, weeping at the crossroads
Would you meet your love
In the twilight with his greyhounds,
And the hawk on his glove?
Bribe the birds then on the branches
Bribe them to be dumb,
Stare the hot sun out of heaven
That the night may come.
Starless are the night of travel,
Bleak the winter wind;
Run with terror all before you
And regret behind.
Run until you hear the ocean's
Everlasting cry;
Deep though it may be and bitter
You must drink it dry.
Wear out patience in the lowest
Dungeons of the sea,
Searching through the stranded shipwrecks
For the golden key.
Push on to the world's end, pay the
Dread guard with a kiss;
Cross the rotten bridge that totters
Over the abyss.
There stands the deserted castle
Ready to explore;
Enter, climb the marble staircase
Open the locked door.
Cross the silent ballroom,
Doubt and danger past;
Blow the cobwebs from the mirror
See yourself at last.
Put your hand behind the wainscot,
You have done your part;
Find the penknife there and plunge it
Into your false heart.
2.9k
I've danced with the devil
Spoken to him in tongue,
Fought him and won.
But he rose again
Threw me down and held me
Arms pinned above my head
Legs risen onto his shoulders.
He slowly pressed himself into me
Touched my lips
with the slightest touch of his
Gave me his disease
I have the devil in me.
He whispered to me,
"You want it Young One,
Yet you cannot have it…"
I clenched and bent my back.
The Devil still had me in his grasp.
He touched me.
I felt the shiver engulf me,
The touch of sin,
The touch of pain.
Hands fought with each other
As he tried to make his way
Into my most precious,
Most precious…private secrets.
I refused to let him.
I tried to stop him.
But he is gifted at this cruel game,
He enjoys so much to play.
He danced with me,
In a trance of spins and dips,
I fall all over again.
His powers are wondrous,
My power is weak.
For I am just a helpless child
This beast wants to draw in
One that it can intertwine with itself
And destroy
bit by bit.
Secrets shared and lies told,
Honesty surrounds us...
My words were bold.
"I love you"
The devil was silent.
He knew all along…
The path he has driven me on
Has led me into insanity
Hold me Satan
Please me Satan
Satan...
Tell me you love me.
Wrap me in your arms
and kiss me.
Hold my hand and whisper to me
That you were once small and weak,
That I remind you of yourself
You felt that pain,
You have those scars,
Yet you stopped...
Satan, you miss it don't you?
He is the devil in disguise.
He is beautiful to the eye,
Yet to the human soul
He is torturous.
Devours you…
Leaving you frozen and stuck.
What to do now my dear devil?
Come with me.
Massage my sore limbs.
Touch me everywhere
As I lay here wearing nothing but my underwear.
I feel your breath by my ear
As you tell me
Goodnight stories
About a brave knight who loves his ale
Sing me that Spanish lullaby.
"Mujer,"
You speak my language.
You know my tongue.
As I do yours.
Play that role of the hero,
Take me away
Down into the loud subways
Tell me I am yours.
Tell me I am beautiful.
I'm a fool for you
And a fool for lust.
Satan dear Satan...
Release me from your dungeons
They are tearing me apart.
The pain you left behind
Has instilled in me now.
You say your smile is fake...
My tears are not.
My kingdom is a place of bliss.
Your kingdom is a place of tragedy.
Satan dear Satan...
Take me away.
May your devilish Charm,
Allow us to fly away.
We will dream of happiness
Wake up next to each other
And look at what we've become.
Satan
You are my Savior.
In the name of
the Devil,
Il Diavolo,
y el Diablo...
Amen.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
Halls
Kids come roaring out of dark and light dungeons named “classroom;”
Kids scream and push each other out of fun or out of the fear of being late to class.
The halls go from a peaceful forest made of cement and carpet to the war zone of World War Two.
Teachers
They watch with the eye of a hawk never missing students face.
They become walls when running or going rebel from the dark side.
There is one chosen one, he keeps the hall safe his sword made with the dark wood of oak.
Lockers
The slam shut or burst open.
The student has to keep them clean, but some look like a hoarders closet;
Filled with trash and binders that have never seen the light of a florist LED school light.
School
The place where dreams are made and were tears are born;
A place where we come to have fun and come to suffer torture.
School the place we can never escape.
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
119
Talk with prudence to a Beggar
Of “Potose,” and the mines!
Reverently, to the Hungry
Of your viands, and your wines!
Cautious, hint to any Captive
You have passed enfranchised feet!
Anecdotes of air in Dungeons
Have sometimes proved deadly sweet!
2.7k
Our inner demons hide behind
The cracks that face forward
Seasoned by dungeons and darkness
They fill in the holes and cover up the crevices
Soon, my soul will be completely shattered
As your powerful glare becomes the last water drop
This ocean can take
And when the vessel of emotion breaks, it breaks
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 3:09 PM UTC
She says that I'm overthinking small
situations and turning them into complex
equations, a mountain of igniting dungeons
beyond infinities, a labyrinth of swelling
light flickering without energy.
I gaze at the unfiltered alliteration in her
one-dimensional shape, the split derivatives
diverging towards a square of stained
subtractions.
My mind is the light source that transcends
destiny, a wall of mirrored depictions
aligning with my soul. I am a critical thinker,
and I shall live in this realm forever.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
The paradise of darkness is like a climactic and physiological déjà vu, where souls have been swallowed by ancient daemons amidst an **** of oral sacrifice.
Aren’t you tantalised by such forbidden seductions?
Although I am somewhat acquainted with the blackness of unfathomable depths of the ancient abyss, I sincerely call upon your superior wisdom to beckon me across craggy chasms of mathematical perplexity, where eternal ghosts wail with agonising obscurity from the turrets of architectural stronghold.
If you light a candle toward the incarnation of depravity and reveal the sacred circle, then I will ensure safe passage down those historical and spiral staircases where dungeons hold innumerable fetishistic secrets.
I am captivated by co-existing opposites.
Let us talk with the goat, and arrive at a mutually agreeable pact.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC