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Blissful Nobody Aug 2018
I lay under the sheets,
Undressed and yearning,
Famished and waiting,
For a taste of ambrosia.

Knock knock knock!
Come now and come in,
Embrace your desire,
And ravish my senses.

Don’t tease me,
I am at my peak,
Mortally enraptured,
By my physical form.

Come lay beside me,
Put your hands on me,
Take me whole,
I surrender in flesh.

Caress my *******,
Moisten my urges down,
Hold me tight,
And feel me now.

Hold me down now,
Watch me sizzle,
With fierce intensity,
Burn my passion out.

I need your body,
When mine takes over,
Come in and take it all,
Out ; when I simmer down.

Come again when I desire,
Hear my carnal call,
I want you in me,
A taste of ecstasy.

I lay here now,
Bare on the bed,
Ceased by desire,
Free me now.

Restless feet bother,
Kiss them and in between,
Soften the bridges,
So you may pass.

Forward and backward,
All leads to ecstasy,
Touch me whole,
Touch me now .
Experimenting with erotica;)
J Christmas Aug 2011
I shall love diners after Death
                 Famished from a million mile trek
                           Soft dances, whimsical, flowing
                                    All in time and in step
                                             Effervescent  in its antiquity
          Light penetrates the vociferate soul
                    A blinding silhouette Reveals the true physique
                             casting no shadows
                                  back, at last, back to the harmony &
                                 surrealism of our sacrarium, our home
                                   no more hours to waste away
                            nothing to signifying  
                                            night from day
                 no need to search for words to convey
                  As we began we return just as we should
                   our recrudescence revivifies our sainthood
                                            with No judgment charged upon us
                                         with no reward for the good
                                     neither condemned are the noxious
                                 immoral nor the many many absurd
               For those deleterious malignant calamities
                    must remain incarcerated on Earth
                              from whence it came
                               As we Return once again
                                         soul cleansed in beatific death
                                                The physical abandoned with sin
                        The dead left unknown,
un birthed
Shut in
John Deryck Christmas copyright 2011
L B Apr 2017
They would have given a lot
those paste-skinned kids
with straw for hair
and knobby knees
Not that frail— it seems

Beneath grayish strings
through black rims
one cracked lens screams—
Gets nothing!
Changes nothing!
Ritual words fall—
a rusted refrigerator
shoved over a railing from the second floor

Barking dogs tied to the radiator of misery
fed on rough-house excuses for kindness

Why do people keep children?

Larger than average eyes
huge foreheads of genetic wrong
******* childhood downstairs
while mother is sleeping
I can get used to the smell of cats
Human ***** is not so—
and if I didn’t change my clothes for a week

What do children know?

Jenny cuddles a starving kitten
then releases it to where
they disappear...
one generation after another
Famished eyes
devour anything offered***...God

Screams from the mats of string and gray
Scald the frantic instant badly
I watch her bolt beyond explanation
Night gives no reason to let her live....

My faith went the way the kittens go
Hope and a small girl
blend beyond blackness
Kristaps Oct 2018
As the deafening begins,
     slowly my cells struck by Cupid
start to devour themselves and each other. Like famished bodies with only teeth, they mutilate and feast; A morbid pulsating blood tinted slime starts to form where my body used to lay.
A tingle and then sleep from my toes to my ears. The last vision
for my eyes,  shows how everything
    melts and slowly starts to glow, then they are gone too.
A speck of my consciousness screams, as in the hellish heat it evaporates, but
      oh, how warm it feels for everything else.
     how warm.
My heart, so horridly engulfed in flesh at first yearns to peel off, but then
in not even a  breath,
some last whisper soothes it to bed, and so it
floats in the embryonic lake

You wish for me to put in words
What I have to say
Like the answers that I've given
On their own
Could never relay
They come and go
Touch on fate
Dissipate and replicate
The disingenuous nature
That you frequently necessitate

Extend your olive branch
Then act like you feed me
When the branches are famished
Needy, condescending and deceiving Conceiving that I'm the villain
When I don't respond to how you react
Like you could perpetuate in me
The supposition for your tact

The fact that you lack any original clarity
Is the reason I'd never reach to you
Like I was Seraphim
The simple reason
That I'm writing all of this
Is simply just to prove to you
That I don't have to convince
I don't have to persist
Rehash, then reminisce
Like treading through faded memories with you
Will satiate my daily fix

I resist
Because I know exactly where I'm headed And you insist because that truth
Is what keeps us separate

Every second
You playcate on a pretense
When your intentions are crystal clear
And I can't provide that service
Or serve that purpose
While I'm standing here

To be perfectly honest
I never promised you anything
All I did was sigh and reply
To how your heart would so readily sing
Then you project your insecurities
Directly to my face
As if I was the one who gave them rise
Within the first place

Protecting your manipulations
While contemplating your motives
Are exactly the reasons we're done
Before we even started
I'm sick of being a punching bag
For someone acting devoted

And now it's been denoted
I've written you off, this story is done
This time you're in the subject line
Because you are truly NOT the one
You wanted me to write you something. There you go.
Onoma Dec 2018
somehow during an

overgrowth of years,

you became frozen


right where you spiked.

with what's beyond you--

yet you.

quoting the heart...

most memorably.

to the famished forgetfulness,

of a changing landscape.
Levi Sharpe Jul 23
You’d think us all farmers who toil
At this vast fertile soil
Tapping each network of roots
For the system that bears the best fruits

Though this is how we communicate
There are better ways to tend
Than seeing trees as disposable saplings
From which to ****** a date

With this smorgasbord of choice, I find
We all suffer a tell tale fate
Of being plucked from the stem
Half-heartedly nibbled upon the rind

Then silently thrown upon the rest
A wave unable to crest
Why not show some purpose on the ranch
Consider the date that was once on the branch

Instead we hear the same sad song
About the forgotten fruit of the palm
Condemned without a word
Left to their thoughts inferred

So maybe farmer’s the wrong term
They care for each flower, seedling, and worm
Creating darkness and dead air
Only leaves one famished and impaired

That said, I never hold delusions of hope
Thinking thumbs are stiff or broke
I’d rather pour myself a glass and toast
To all of the liches, nymphs, and ghosts
Amanda Noel Jul 10
Once when I was walking,
down a long and winding road,
I heard a word like croak,
from a strange and **** toad.

“Follow me,”
he said,
hopping towards a field,
I pursued,
hoping he would yield.

The grass was growing taller,
way above my head,
I couldn’t find the toad,
surely he had fled.

Just as I felt hopeless,
famished, and alone,
I saw a glowing flower,
growing near a stone.
The seeds were tiny cakes
like my mother use to bake,
I thought I’d try just one
to see how it would taste.

Up and up I went,
rising faster than the sun,
when I finally finished growing,
I must have weighed ten tons

High above the trees,
for miles I could see,
And there upon a mountain top,
sat a city smaller than a water drop.

I moved in closer to see inside,
but when the creatures saw me
they ran to hide,
One of them jumped onto my eye,
I felt a pinch and decreased in size.
At first they looked like fleas,
now they resembled me.

It was peaceful there,
no war, no hate, no crime.
They didn’t even seem to worry about time.
They all worked together
to keep their land lush and green,
It was like being inside
the most wonderful dream.

I would have stayed forever,
if not for running into that toad.
I saw him croaking
on their gleaming golden road.
“Follow me,”
he said,
hopping towards a creek,
I pursued,
there was no tall grass this time
for hide and seek.

He led me to a waterfall,
running down the mountain's side,
Then he pushed me in,
sending me on a ride,
As I floated down the waters course,
I grew to the size I was at first.

I spent all of my younger days
Searching for a way back to that throne,
I couldn’t even find the flower
growing near the stone.
So, now I sit by this tree,
on this road, that’s so long,
Waiting for that strange and **** toad
to hop along.
Inspiration passes quickly by, a hidden world not governed by time.
This love/hate relationship
Human races is
Making me crazier
Than the creationist
Over and over
Repeating the verses
Conversing with ghosts
Who immerse them
In worthlessness
When in response
Only silence reverberates
And the faint something
Of nothing is heard
By the good word
By the spirited leaders
Atop bottom-feeders
Still feeding their people
The crumbs of deceivers
Though stale it prevails
To curtail what the famished
In their desperation
Need filling
When vanished
Their saviors abandoned their
Faith itself banished
To turn to
And yearn through
The darkest night dim
Light's delusional hope
They'll be welcomed back in
A kingdom
Of the Perfect One's
Lording over their souls
Like a dragon does gold
Ryan Joseph Apr 16
What will become of our Society?
Poor people die in hunger and thirstiness,
Corruption, Rally, Political Issues, etc. are always there,
Our world is full of miseries and nightmare.

Our world in its 21st century is quickly-evolving,
High-precise technologies, lots of concrete, improved skywalks and tall buildings,
But homeless people are dying of hunger,
They famished already yet government just don't care.

Poor people received hunger, diseases, illnesses and unforgivable yet unacceptable deaths of every year,
But we don't know what others there might can't bear,
Of what this country-- the world government gave,
Improper allocation of resources, corruption, unequal distribution of income that we can't evade.

Wishing yet continuously suffering,
Of this kind of nightmare we are having,
But hoping someday this will be cured,
So none of the poor people will suffer anymore.
kk Jul 2018
I hurt with the pleasure of carving knives
plunged into blood-lusting hands.
Standing in the storm of stab wounds
and searching for Gods dressed in human
to give me mental medicine
for wounds that they must trust me to see.
I am the glass-tongued mediator.
I am the vortex that turns worlds to ink-soaked scenery
and words to black noise.
They gurgle out blandishments like they're true! And to them,
I'm a glass door to better days;
they put their famished hands
onto my handle and tug for good luck.
I open and warble out what they want to hear;
a fortune teller who cries courtesies and fills her glass ball
with a concoction of
tears and liquid caution.
I don't want to lose them.
But I choke on their
distorted, glazed looks,
I stuff my throat with gauze,
my chest fills with blood
as they throw their clocks into the garbage
and raise me on glass pedestals
and drool praises as I cry for me
and for them and
for us
and for-
Useless. I am useless.
Wasteful. I am wasteful.
Broken. I am and should be broken.
Did anyone ever realize? How would they
when I am so selfishly unselfish?
sorry if this doesn't make a lot of sense. it was very stream of consciousness.
edit: adjusted enjambment, minor changes to phrasing
Oh hollow Thirst!  

How it drowns out life's liquid scenes,

All treacherous memory now

It dries the tongue;

          When recollection swims with dire aches

          In the stomach lingering


          once oasis-providence:

the ease of us

sifting with the sand

Minutes limpid between caress.

Creation our chalice overflows

Quenching and in each other

Love for water

As the hours go touching vastnesses

To open us / one heavenly sky :

Illuminating you

Both assuage and succor...

But I am drought and man

          Flesh heavy / crawling through

         War's searing hills

         Chafed of what made me fearless . . .

         Once a Traveler discarding haste,

Still Thirsts for those palm trees’ shading moments

Still-pictures of bodies we felt

Still continuously feeling.

It is as though an affliction’s game

To wait

Between search and weaning

No swift elixir

I am just a bare tree leaning.

(praying for love's rain...)

This Thirst is deeper than remembering

The drink that once was Us.

.  .  .  .


I’m bathing in your adoration,

Nothing so sinful, or minuscule, as to need

Redemptive rinses of the spirit

When we were

As what we only knew how to be,

Ourselves yet together sharing feasts...

Which we lay out for each other

Ceremonious only through the unveiling,

Knowing how to trust in this (which is between us).

Oh How to feed that old hunger, I longed for you,

Love soft mornings dew on skin,

Like when we had the outdoors with our mischief, bodies

Attentive as the grass when we look within…

Those bright eyes that pierce me deeper now

Understanding / how my breath always quivers

With the slight tips of your tender fingers.

Wish makes the body famished and weakened,


The food from in between kiss and spark

Lovely of smiles that shares heaven’s glee,

In each other’s sensations, feeling the answer

Rather than being told to eat…

The Reveries of wines tasted, the lifting of all things

To a memory, yet not having the full course

Of dining with serenity, finding that destiny

Has yet to begin

When love was the race I was questioning,

Kindnesses were supposedly human,

While dreams came true with happy endings..?

Hunger can make the world seem cruel

When we give up on searching for meaning,

We ourselves make

The feast of All meals

with our believing …
Revised repost
Naomi Sa'Rai Feb 2
For I was made not created
Carved from the very bone of you
Therefore you were deep inside me
Before I even knew
Your blood flows like a river through mine
As I'm sipped like wine at dinner time
Languid, slow
Breathe me in
Let lust take control
Famished and starved
Take my bread and eat ye all of it
Holy sacrament
Because we were made in his image
And HE died for our sins
I've bathed in your iniquities
Time and time again
For I was shaped in innocence
But my ***** contained original sin
You had me for three days
Felt like I'd died and arose 'gin
My worlds been in a drought
But the Father sent the rains
That brought a sensual flood about
Because we were made in his divinity
Fingers grasping, breath hitches as the world spins
Blurred visions of you
More than the trinity
I me and him
You he and we
Born flesh and infinity
Divine and humanity

Naomi Sa'Rai and Nova St.Paul
zebra 2d
i'm unwinding my head
honey moon belly
******* carnivorous losanges
falling in love with glazed
eye ball devils
hypnotic stare

a tunnel of fiendish odysseys

blood drooling eel
vomits gush white
daddy long leg threads
in honeys wet cage
to wither
writhing spit hot
in fat muscle and bone
head first
like a mindless falcon
after scattered mice

i feel her teeth tearing
syringes of ecstasy
ransacking swollen motion spirals
and ***** like bronz buckaroos
at a fancy pool party
crimson *** macabre
****** roast bon bon fire

licking her lump of desire
a rousing bogyman sermon
speaks in incinerating tongues
swallowing a hideous parfait

**** growl
girl squat
**** ****
mint julip throat
choke symphony
abducting lascivious pollinated gulps

take me in like reckless bull sap
through your red
dada warp land
pit of the brain
undulant flesh landscape
of shapeless ovule spume
mouthing night blows
and incised flagellation's
devour buffet spread maiden derelict
arched and trembling
drunk and drugged
like a buttermilk sky
groaning hysterical
in feral muck stained beds 
of puce and slime ochre pigments 

stunned umbra
a famished
deep veined jutting peninsula
longing for princess ***** dynasties
while vast thighs radiate inferno hearths
and rolling hill **** hieroglyphics
decipher rug pugilist lap songs

my goddess i long for your flavor
of bruised fruit bend over
crawling like the dead of night
on pitch vanta shadows
where love becomes a savage
**** manga anime
Afia Aug 2018
Little famished people left after they were born
A tiny old place can no longer be their home
Little acquisitive people travel to the cities
Soon their greed seize their courtesy
Little naive people disguise so well.
“Let us add a white shade to our scarlet blood.”
Little grey people complain about the world
A tear or two should ‘justify' their ‘love'
Little learned people fight for human rights
Dazzling crystal goblets clink on every ‘I'
Little erudite people cherish old tombs
But they forget the life spent in the womb
Little fading people live no life
Hence they regret as they retire
Little us. Little world. Little life.
lX0st Nov 2018
When my body and soul
No longer entwine
What will become of my spine?

Does it sigh solaced croon
A hymn-silken harpoon
Propelling me
Threshold everlasting?

Or will it crumble by piece
Like moldy blue cheese
Marrow vinaigrette feeds
Famished nerve roots
And dirt
Absorbing lost life,
Fueling the Earth?

Perhaps a doctor
Will pass it along
Loaded syringe,
Silver and mauve
Into flesh as fresh
As death’s final breath
Enervated vertebrae
A-positive strong

Or maybe it retreats
Into shadows sea-deep
Steel-tipped discs
Flash of shimmer
As they sink
Footholds for lost souls
Sin-dark landmarks
Untouched by warmth
Unseen by stars
Riley Cartwright Dec 2018
i know its been a while
since we've
and i don't really
if we're still
close or
but i
need you back in my life
cause i'm in a fight
with myself
and i don't know
which one of me is
i need some
to get over these memories
i need you to help me to my feet
and if you could
kindly manage
to help a friend who's  really famished
well that old friend would be pretty
you see i'm starving
i'm hungry for adventure
but i'm also stuffed
from thinking about the future
and if there's one thing
i know
its that you have helped me grow
and on a side note, you'll reap what you
this will give you time in the light
in my life
to give you time
to set things right
with everything that's ever caused you

dear Dafydd,
i need you to come back
just for a little while
Descovia Feb 27
Refusing to accept defeat! Another challenging day , brings the strength for a upcoming battle! Waking up from a restless and tearful slumber. Slowly pulling myself out of the hole. My mind is cloudy, the fog remains but the secrets in hidden elements, become the tools for my advantage!

Recovering from effects of reoccurring events.

It will all settle....
Reminders to myself
just a bit more adjusting...
Just a bit more rewiring...

Slowly coming alive!!
Channeling energy from nature!
To bring back resting
ancient souls to life!
It's futile. To ignore this.
When order must be sustained.
What of you will remain?
When there is nothing left to gain?
When there is no other way to maintain....

Where was the help I needed before?
No, longer wanting to run anymore.
The monsters that await in the void
Are famished for my metaphysical.

I am tangled in the webs of a lucid dream that's within a repetitive nightmare. The visions where I've witnessed people and realities of alternate timelines, shift to change for the better and worse. Hand to the grit. This as good as it gets. My next move, better be the best hit! Swing don't miss, I can't afford another lost, there's much to lose within these risks! It's hard to rest, with so many questions kicking me when I am


Is this my worth?
Will the chance ever come for me
To have that most needed break?
How much more can a soul take?
"What am I doing here?"
Working until the end draws near.
This is for everything
Valued that is on the line!
in high hopes of getting back
What left our hearts
In midst of lost time!

So I ask AGAIN...
All of this matters or not?
Until the end of everyday
We slave and slay

Two wrongs don't make a right
For a betta' tomorrow

Just like three broke men
Don't make a dolla
Best believe it befo
You have to go
and ask somebody!
Can save the day!

We traveled many roads!
With Long journeys that
left deep scars and
Heart felt wounds
in search of Destiny.
My fears do not hender me.
You hold no power in
"White desperate lies"
I stand to testify
While I breathe
My choice for rest can come
when angels decide to close my eyes!!!
Let us be free at last!!
From the clutches of sorrow!!
To hold freedom that we
deserve for ourselves!
Freedom from the darkness!
Freedom from the pain!
That eats away internally
Until we become hollow!
Please answer me world!
Which God listens to prayers?!?!
Who is there to lead??
When there are no
leaders left to follow?!!!

Lost toward the tomb for goals!
Lawed to more subjected tolls
Impurity rests lonely
That's all I got for that soul
Copper less for a penny that's any
Stand for a reason
Stand for a flag
Penniless for the Polish season
Culture lost in between stimulants
Peanuts save the mind
What would you give enough for a nut?
How hard would you push a nut for a penny?

Mikaila Aug 2018
Blue stage lights on skin
The curve of a jaw
Eyes glittering in the dark,
Raw and human.
Something swells with the silence
A truth never spoken
Like a ****** of music only half heard,
Barely remembered but achingly lovely.
Some marriage of sweetness and savagery
Courses beneath the shadows of this place,
An intimate wound
It scrapes at the hollow parts of hearts and lungs
Demanding breath-
Famished in its brevity.
It is made here and it dies here,
Witnessed, at least, if not inhabited.
Every other face- white as bone and as hard-
Stares, blank,
And they do not understand
But sometimes,
They feel.

Fairy lights
The trees glow and fade
Shadows stretch long, reaching for feet that scuttle back
Afraid to let light soak them
Because here it has substance.
Others bathe in it
Faces bared to the blue and the red
Upturned as to rain after a long and bitter drought.
They know it as water
Hold it as water- it slides away from them,
A thought half formed, a memory half loved
A step toward
That falls into a stumble.

I am always afraid that nobody treasures this place.
Always sad, somehow, to suspect that many don’t.
They say the magic will fade with time.
They do not know magic.

Hands, gentle,
The hands of a stranger
But known, known as water
As light.
Contained within one fragile touch, the idea that hands are not weapons
The cautious testing of fingers against flesh
Innocent, a connection between beings
Who were born of blood and will turn to dust within seconds
And who only just now have become aware
That their palms are miracles.

Safety- a contract,
A careful consent  
To reveal,
To be vulnerable for a moment-
If the moment is scripted and choreographed,
The bow and curtsy of a dance both partners know,
The permission a mask gives
To tell the truth.

It is eyes which cut deep, not hands
Wounds that last for years
Resurfacing as prayer.
Silent in the mirror of another's eyes,
A vision of what we could be
If we shed our disguises as Ordinary People and rose to our forgotten grace,
If we let others in not as lovers or as owners but as fragments of the soul we all share.

That loneliness- the grief of contact- crescendos in the corners of this place.
It is loud
Louder than music,
Louder than shouts and screams.
It grows by the moment, reaching its fingers along the walls behind footsteps, digging its heels into the fragile fabric of whispers, wrapping its ghostly arms around shoulders and tracing collarbones with cold tenderness.
It is the grief of closeness, and the grief of isolation.
It breathes here, unsmothered by the roar of subway cars, the murmur of smalltalk, or the burn of a liquor that tastes like forgetting.
This is the feeling of remembering, of being, of a truth long lost but not quite gone-
Something far away enough to be painful
But close enough to be

That is why people laugh here
Why they grab what is not theirs
Why they run.
That is why they shut the door and don’t return, content to float above the surface,
Desperate to,
Terrified that if they sink even an inch
They will fall forever into themselves
And, groping for an edge
Find none.
(Terrified to realize
In becoming endless
That they always have been.)
They turn away, and call it nonsense,
Begging to remain small inside.

Not me.
I could sew my heart into the shadows of this place and not be close enough to the world it holds.
Instead I press my palms against the walls, hoping to take some of it with me each day when I leave.

They say the magic will fade with time.

They do not know magic.
DEW Mar 2018
The waves undulated as if
they were the backs of 100 wriggling worms
The sky shed tears as if
a 1000 angels wept for the death of hope
black clouds roiled, sparking with fury
casting lightning down upon the mire
but below, upon the sea,
a miracle was set to transpire.

A boat rushed down and over the waves...
Back and forth,
a juggler's ball tossed and turned it appeared to be.
Yet, despite the malice,
and the seething spite of the sea,
the boat was safe
snug as can be.

And in this boat was a silent baby
his eyes stared out into the turmoil
he did not understand the frustrations of the elements
how they wished to smite him where he lay.
Despite the twisting of the boat
he did not roll, nor did water coat
his soft cheeks, his baby blanket
he passed on into sleep,
into dream he

He awoke to battles raging about him
the crashing of thunder
was the desolation of a mountain
the world knew war for the first time
deaths in the billions, no pasture without crime.

He stood as a man
with bearded face
skin like the earth
armor embraced.
He realized he held a mighty weapon
it gleamed in his hands
power coursed through his veins
down to his soul
up to the heavens!
A beacon of light he seemed to be
but heir to destruction he truly was.
He did not know what power does
to the feint of heart
to the well-intentioned...
He struck the ground amidst the battle
the whole Earth shook, oh, the chattering teeth!
The mountains lumbered to form again
as if by the shovels of skyward giants!
The battle paused for the barest of moments
the awe was palpable
like a kingly feast
but the people's hearts hadn't forgotten the pain
their hate surged up, like volcanic bile
despite their peace present for a while
the massacres began again in earnest
perhaps more so than before his deed.
No one knew the power he wielded.

He still had hope, he could do something!
But what greater act was there than mending mountains?
His heart was up to good,
but his mind couldn't ground him.

"I must stop their wanton annihilation!"
He roared within himself,
"Are they not my people? Am I not their savior?"
He went to the most heated battle
struck the air with his weapon
and every person's foe was replaced by their loved ones.
The battle ceased in an instant.
Each person stared in utter disbelief.
By what power had this happened?
It was said that mountains climbed back into place,
but what could summon loved ones,
even from the grave!
The fighting ceased despite their hatred,
and the stories magnified in flavor.
Many who were hungry
for peace from the storm of violence
fed upon the hearts of those in doubt
they claimed they knew who stopped the battle
they hoped to mobilize a peace effort.
He gathered these hopeful souls
banded them together so their efforts became tenfold!
Soon enough, the stories crept across the lands
across the seas
and underground.
For once, hope had purchased ground,
but hate, when cloistered, beaten back, starved,
becomes ever more malevolent,
ever more conniving.

He did not call his people an army,
he called them the Samaritan Initiative.
They did not fight their war with weapons of battle,
they fought with hands that mend and bind,
they saved the sick and the dying,
they uplifted the oppressed and those denying.

As time passed, his efforts grew,
but someone used his deeds as currency,
mobilized the scandalous, the warmongering,
someone hated he who mended the broken...
Someone plotted his demise.

He led his Samaritans across the world
each place they touched was left whole again
and though war still did reign, rotting and true,
he did not tire to end the end.

A new beginning he hoped to create,
but whispers that he was a fraud began to sate
the ears of those whose purpose it is to doubt peace,
they sowed the malice back into the healing wounds
soon enough, his power began to abate,
therefore, rumors seemed to be true.

He grew restless when he was barred from homesteads
barred from cities,
even countries!
Somehow these echoes of forgotten civilization rose
only to defy him
and he smelled someone's stench in the air.
His weapon yearned for someone's death.
For once, it did not wish to mend, but break,
and he felt spiteful all the more.
All the adoration he had garnered
had blinded him from his true purpose.
He sought out the taint that spread its tendrils.
He said,
"Is ruining my... empire..."

One day, while regrowing a desolated forest with his weapon,
someone came to see him.
She smiled at him, marvelled at his work.
"Who are you?"
He wondered, suddenly charmed.
"Someone you know..."
She grinned.
He spent weeks distracted and curious about her,
what was her riddle all about
and why did he feel her in his heart?
She did not seem to threaten or scheme
in fact her presence was a dream
and he yearned after her like nothing he knew
his mission delayed
his plans askew.
Many around him questioned him saying,
"Who exactly is it with whom you're playing?"
He would blush,
"Oh, someone..."

One day,
she did not meet him at their lover's spot.
She did not appear for a week, then another.
His mind began to churn about the months.
Since when had he last sent forth his healers,
or mended cities and silenced weapons dealers?
He began to be suspicious of her
he could have summoned her with a flick of his weapon,
but he dared not discover if she really were foe,
for if he should break, what can he grow?

Eventually, she appeared again,
smiling broadly, like an old friend.
He then knew the anger that so many harbored...
Oh, the twisted things he felt by her abandon,
the sheer weight of his turmoil felt too much to bear....
So he ****** it upon her without any care.
His voice was louder than a church bell,
flashing out across the forest where they would meet.
She cried out in fear
she ran from him swift
he chased after with guilt he couldn't lift.
He found her weeping by a well
on his knees he apologized incessantly.
"How could there be darkness in you,
the mender?"
Her question struck him in all places tender.
Doubt crept into his addled mind.
His weapon's glow flickered
his conscience was blind.
Surely not now should he have such trouble?
Could it really be so simple to pop his bubble?
"I love you more than I can bear!
When you leave me,
I begin to tear."
She nodded and held him close to her.

Someone watched from shadows not far,
they saw his frailty,
like a door ajar...

The months passed and he went back to work
new cities to grow and malice to mend
people saw him more for the savior he was
even though the rumors of fallacy were abuzz.

A special time became the moment of his life worthy of note,
a marriage to the woman whose life he knew by rote.
They consummated in the night and in the day.
Time seemed to stretch on and shrink all at once.
His happiness was a thing of infectious charm,
but all that glittered soon became alarm.

Upon returning home from time spent mending the broken world,
he returned to find his home
covered in blood.
He knew whose blood coated the walls.
Bones, ground into paste, smothered pictured frames.
Flesh reduced to pulp covered the floor.
His mind fractured in no way subtle.
The light of his weapon winked out with no rebuttal.
He wept uncontrollably in fits of despair.
The world seemed cold, frozen over,
desolate of love or laughter.
"I can't bear to live."

Someone crept in through the doorway.
"It's a shame, isn't it?
No man is greater than any other,
yet no man is born equal.
No man lives without love,
but every man dies alone.
Maybe you can understand now,
why we deserve our own genocide...
Maybe now you'll let us fight to the death,
and have our peace that way!"

He looked up and,
despite the pure evil that stood before him,
he did not see that.
He saw someone lost,
someone abused,
someone desperate for truth,
any truth.
He saw someone fighting to love something,
He saw someone forgotten by loved ones
after committing acts that person was unable to avoid.
He saw a frightened being
lashing out at the world
in the hopes that the suffering would end.
He felt boundless compassion.

"I have no power left."
He said.
"No power to mend or bind.
No power worth your scorn."

"I'm going to **** you now."

"If I'm to die,
I hope my blood is enough for all who suffer."

"You're no messiah! You're just a lie we all want to believe!"

"If I was just a man...
I would have died when you killed her.
I would have hungered for torturous retribution.
But you have broken no one.
You're someone who needs to see your own suffering
out in the world
to justify the injustice dealt upon you.
But for every drop of effort you put into destroying her,
I wish you never experience my pain.
I wish to mend what drove you to break me,
so no one else may be harmed by you,
or anyone you inspire to deal death."

"No, I defeated you..."

"You tried..."

The weapon flickered.

"No, no, you can't feel love for me...
You don't have the *****."

"I have very big *****."

"You think you can love me?
After how I destroyed you!"

"If I could be destroyed,
I would already be dead!"

The weapon burst forth with light!

The killer realized they were someone foolish
Someone lost
Someone in need of healing.
For if "he" could not be broken,
surely there was hope.
If he could mend mountains
bring back loved ones and unite lost families
grow cities from the earth itself
grow forests from twigs
and deny a cold-hearted killer
the satisfaction
the honor
of seeing the fractures of a shattered soul
in blood-red, swollen, tearful eyes,
perhaps this man,
this one man,
could reveal what love is
to the killer's own famished soul.

He saw something shift in the eyes of that tortured someone.

That's when he realized...
That's when he understood.
He had the thirst for solving puzzles,
but humanity is not a machine,
it is a collection of gears
each just as vital as the whole,
for the whole does not exist without the worth
of every individual.
And to ignore an individual like this...
Someone who stood at the center of all the woe,
the evil,
and the tragedy in the world.
To ignore them would be to throw out the puzzle completely.

"May I mend you?"

Realizing they were someone facing an open door,
that person nodded.

He struck that person with his weapon.
Light flooded out as if by the sun itself.
Time seemed to stop.
People looked up in wonder of the light.
The very winds halted,
seas stilled,
nature perked up in unison.

When the light faded, he saw himself staring in a mirror.
The man in the mirror had blood-stained hands.

He stepped across the threshold and hugged himself.
His darkness hugged him back and the blood seemed to vanish.

"I forgive myself for killing her."

His darkness melted into a bulbous, gooey form and sank into him,
as if he were some kind of sponge,
leaving no trace of the darkness visibly.
He accepted within himself that he was capable of
unimaginable evil.
He accepted that he had control
and that he was responsible for the health and sickness
of the world.

Around him, the world began to shift.
In fact, it appeared to melt into liquid
and splash around him.
The liquid became clear, like the ocean.
It splashed and slid,
rocking him about.

Light flashed!

The baby awoke, curious about the world around him.
His boat had touched some distant shore.
Flecks of water spotted his cheeks and he laughed.

A couple crept up to the boat.
"I swear I heard a baby," a man said.
"You're crazy," a woman said, "Out here?"
The couple looked within the boat
and found the baby smiling at them with his
toothless, innocent smile.
The woman held a hand to her chest in awe.
She tenderly carried the baby out of the boat
and rocked it in her arms.
The baby laughed.
The man reached out.
"Not that hand!" The woman said, "You just cut yourself!"
"It's okay, no blood anymore, see?"
He pinched the baby's cheeks.
The baby touched his hand.
His **** healed in an instant!
"Woah!" The woman yelled.
Feeling for a scar where there were none,
the man stared in wonder at the child.
"Honey," he said, "This kid's got potential..."
This poem sort of came out of nowhere.
It does sit on the border between a poem and a story.
I've been fascinated by the Poetic Edda and the Iliad, how a poem could be hundreds of thousands of words long.

So here's my little poetic narrative.


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