"hoarde" poems
A Wizard trapped her reflection.
To be within the mirror forever,
She had spurned him with rejection.
Two keys to a mystery box hidden forever.
A brave young Prince wanted to set her free,
Solve that secret of the mystery box.
So he began the search for the first key,
To open the first of the two locks.
He braved a dragon high on its' nest,
But he did not find the key hidden there.
He battled Ice Warriors with his best,
They had no knowledge of the secret to share.
Then he would save a Witch from a Demon Banshee,
She told him all he had to do was ask for his reward.
So the Prince was given the first key,
He searches on, battling a Demon Hoarde.
Years pass him by, until that Wizard he faced,
The Prince was an old man, he still would fight.
The battle was long, the Wizard was disgraced,
Gaining that second key was a victory sight.
The Prince travelled back to the mirror and mystery box,
He was tired and very old, but he would set her free.
So he took out both keys, and he opened the locks,
A light surrounded him from the beautiful sight he could see.
He is young again, he has his life given brand new,
From out of the box, he took out a diamond heart.
Now the girl starts before him with a heart that is true,
The Prince lifted her up in his arms, for they shall never be apart.
Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 11:35 AM UTC
spit fire
swallowed swords
perspire six
bullets shot
arrows at the hoarde
cherub cut the cord
to this cloud nine
contorted to coincide
with the cliche story we
created in our minds
it's only
dragging us behind
the rest of the star dust
and eruptions in the sky
still I can't deny that you & I
seem to be aligned
& perfectly alive
but blinded
by this
blissful chemical
connection blurring boundaries,
any and all direction
I had built up to believe in
I don't see it
anymore.
well don't you believe in ghosts?
I've heard that you can't see those
but they still make the most
of their state watching us
throw ours away
for rage and payback,
for show.
now you didn't
hear me say that,
it's just a theory
not a proven fact,
but boy,
do those theories hold fast.
alas I am ****** & sanguine,
a paper-hearted substance
& foam lip logic but
you may call me nonsense.
don't ask if
I know when
I'm gunna stop,
cause I'm not.
nope, I'm not.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 3:04 AM UTC
High upon the tower
of your ego-mania bliss
i am setting bombs and launching rockets
at you: CHRIS.
Christopher McDaniel of Oildale:
**** You in the face!
I cannot believe you disgraced
the sacred of my world for your fake needy weakness
like this, and now I do hate!
Now I do hate!
Apprehend yourself for the impact,
I promise you will not enjoy the ride.
For all the lies and falsity,
Whatever did you say to make this arise?
I care not, luxerious one.
Like fly paper so full at Jack's.
I shall go beachward - alone -
since you mean nothing to me,
as I do you.
As I do to you:
mean nothing.
You are really something else.
False pretender of things lovely, demon of boring apathetic hell.
You smell, too so brush the teeth, fool.
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 12:14 AM UTC
Click
Watching
progress load
the home movies of strangers
I will never meet
Click
Listening
to high school ghosts
sing the same six songs
till my earbuds sproud
Click
Fortifying
castle walls
invisible mortar against
a vast and empty hoarde
Click
Checking
how you are
who you're with
holding your shortand
Click
Whispering
how I am
screening my life
when the phone won't ring
Click
Searching
flickers of signs
that you are there
reading this
and one day you
(we?)
will
Click.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC