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"lores" poems
# The room in starlight bathed My body unscathed Swimming indoors sheets are shores Wash over me like the tide for I don't sleep at night Swimming indoors where it always pours Moon reflection on my cushion Swimming indoors following ancient lores Diving deep to find an Atlantis on my mind Swimming indoors til reaching the dream's source #
0
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 9:18 PM UTC
Nightswimming
One in the know drops a line, there was no A B C to spell, yet it keeps spreading. An animated lingua wraps round the eyeline. All those that get wind of it arise and keep counting. Without a beginning or an end, For it has no 1 or 9, not a mark nor a sign. Speechless, breathless me, turn to mine, the one, superior turned-on mind. And it appeared true, true to that credible nature that identifies indeed the 'name' of the composer! Meanwhile, a bird of time. A giant spell takes no time, eases off in a blink of eye. I start to breathe, begin to revive, again in my native countryside:   some clay-bumps on the river. I can cry, smile, now I can shed tears. Rhyme on the river. What's in a river? 'Lores of time immemorial, an open heart on the move!' Is there anyone out there 'tapped into the running cycle of water, following the rhyme on the river'? One in the know drops a line, there was no A B C to spell, yet it keeps spreading. An animated lingua wraps round the eyeline. All those that get wind of it arise and keep counting. Without a beginning or an end, For it has no 1 or 9, not a mark nor a sign. Speechless, breathless me, turn to mine, the one, superior turned-on mind. And it appeared true, true to that credible nature that identifies indeed the 'name' of the composer! Meanwhile, a bird of time. A giant spell takes no time, eases off in a blink of eye. I start to breathe, begin to revive, again in my native countryside:   some clay-bumps on the river. I can cry, smile, now I can shed tears. Rhyme on the river. What's in a river? 'Lores of time immemorial, an open heart on the move!' Is there anyone out there 'tapped into the running cycle of water, following the rhyme on the river'? One in the know drops a line, there was no A B C to spell, yet it keeps spreading. An animated lingua wraps round the eyeline. All those that get wind of it arise and keep counting. Without a beginning or an end, For it has no 1 or 9, not a mark nor a sign. Speechless, breathless me, turn to mine, the one, superior turned-on mind. And it appeared true, true to that credible nature that identifies indeed the 'name' of the composer! Meanwhile, a bird of time. A giant spell takes no time, eases off in a blink of eye. I start to breathe, begin to revive, again in my native countryside:   some clay-bumps on the river. I can cry, smile, now I can shed tears. Rhyme on the river. What's in a river? 'Lores of time immemorial, an open heart on the move!' Is there anyone out there 'tapped into the running cycle of water, following the rhyme on the river'?
0
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC
Rhyme on the River
One in the know drops a line, there was no A B C to spell, yet it keeps spreading. An animated lingua wraps round the eyeline. All those that get wind of it arise and keep counting. Without a beginning or an end, For it has no 1 or 9, not a mark nor a sign. Speechless, breathless me, turn to mine, the one, superior turned-on mind. And it appeared true, true to that credible nature that identifies indeed the 'name' of the composer! Meanwhile, a bird of time. A giant spell takes no time, eases off in a blink of eye. I start to breathe, begin to revive, again in my native countryside:   some clay-bumps on the river. I can cry, smile, now I can shed tears. Rhyme on the river. What's in a river? 'Lores of time immemorial, an open heart on the move!' Is there anyone out there 'tapped into the running cycle of water, following the rhyme on the river'? One in the know drops a line, there was no A B C to spell, yet it keeps spreading. An animated lingua wraps round the eyeline. All those that get wind of it arise and keep counting. Without a beginning or an end, For it has no 1 or 9, not a mark nor a sign. Speechless, breathless me, turn to mine, the one, superior turned-on mind. And it appeared true, true to that credible nature that identifies indeed the 'name' of the composer! Meanwhile, a bird of time. A giant spell takes no time, eases off in a blink of eye. I start to breathe, begin to revive, again in my native countryside:   some clay-bumps on the river. I can cry, smile, now I can shed tears. Rhyme on the river. What's in a river? 'Lores of time immemorial, an open heart on the move!' Is there anyone out there 'tapped into the running cycle of water, following the rhyme on the river'? One in the know drops a line, there was no A B C to spell, yet it keeps spreading. An animated lingua wraps round the eyeline. All those that get wind of it arise and keep counting. Without a beginning or an end, For it has no 1 or 9, not a mark nor a sign. Speechless, breathless me, turn to mine, the one, superior turned-on mind. And it appeared true, true to that credible nature that identifies indeed the 'name' of the composer! Meanwhile, a bird of time. A giant spell takes no time, eases off in a blink of eye. I start to breathe, begin to revive, again in my native countryside:   some clay-bumps on the river. I can cry, smile, now I can shed tears. Rhyme on the river. What's in a river? 'Lores of time immemorial, an open heart on the move!' Is there anyone out there 'tapped into the running cycle of water, following the rhyme on the river'?
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99
It all starts with an idea, that you can Feelings come between now and then Thoughts come running through your head All the time is ripened for what could be said Then it takes what was yours It just breaks all your core And you'll never know why You gave in just for more All the sights and the sores Painful cries as they court And you'll never know why You take in, lust yet torn Sometimes I fear the feeling of contentment Of completion and accomplishment Because afterwards I'll never know If the passion dies, or if I'll still grow Then it stops what you start It just drops from the heart And you'll never take back What you gave just for art All the lies and the lores Faithful eyes now they tore And you'll never know why As you come back for more And it starts as it the ends The idea that you can't As you say one goodnight The last of all goodbyes To the brush, to your pen To all books that you've read To the lovers that come To the letters you've read As you'll never come back To create, you just can't One last time, one last sigh Close your eyes, one last breath All the doors closing in Right where we all begin Our dreams come pure with uncertainty When all doors are closed as answers can be When everyone has turned their back on you While the chance is null and you have no clue That dream you have is yours alone It only comes once, yet with you it's grown It all starts with an idea, that you can You were passionate once, embrace dreams once again
0
Jul 9, 2022
Jul 9, 2022 at 4:28 PM UTC
The Passionate Once
Defying the consensus of complacency, And the enantiomorphic political practicality, Candidates embrace their vacillating indexicality. Spouting thrift store self reliance sapientiality, Telling lores of cultural compatibility. Hope filled promises of economic suitability, Aligned with institutional feasibility. Packaged in over-inclusive catchall empty signifiers Strewn across all media screens, communal utilitarian plan flyers. Requesting no need for responsiveness, For a vote no longer dictates precedence, In the age of social media endemic presence relevance. PFL
0
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 3:40 AM UTC
Matters Not
Little monster couldn’t walk quite right Her legs ached and burned at times The healer didn’t have a cure And the ones at “home” said it’s nothing more Than monster’s own creation because She’s a wretched creature displaying loss, Always a burden for the ones who care And no more did they want to bear. “Little monster, you filthy girl, Leave the house and find some work. You leech at our money, our love and care, And then complain of pain everywhere. You despicable monster, weak of mind, what will you gain from studying time? I wish you’d leave right now, but wait, You’ll only ruin your family’s name. We came together for your happiness, You hateful thing, why do you make a mess? “I’m in pain, I’m in pain” it’s nothing but a ploy You little worm, with emotions you toy. Leave, you ***** get off my mind, You know no love, so how can you find Pain in my words, you’re just a rock, I wish you’d die, you ruinous block.” Monster girl fled from those words ‘I’m alright’ she said till she was numb. In this vast world she felt alone, With trees she talked of finding more. Her body ached as she fell to the ground Watched the stars till it was cold around. A piece of glass was what she could own Without being a weight on other souls. This jagged piece reflected the light From the moon and thousand fireflies, Little girl thought the world was so nice, But alas, she was just a monster in night. She heard from the house her father’s voice As he talked about her as a screeching noise, She rarely spoke and yet she was The pain in the ears of the ones she loved. I won’t cry anymore, she pledged, Her room alone knew that she wept, So often times she thought of hanging herself But she wasn’t sure she could bear being out of breath. And so it was she held a piece of glass, Shimmering, it seemed like her freedom at last, If only she was a human girl, Pretty and lovable, she wouldn’t hurt. Little monster girl smiled to herself She wouldn’t cause pain to other selves, The stars would remember that she had tried, The sun would know she had no respite. The glass glided over her soft dark skin, Where only bruises marked her wrist thin, Little drops of blood became more, Little monster thought of happy lores. “And they lived happily after” she mumbled quiet, Her dark eyes closed to moonlight, A firefly sat on her cold forehead Thinking her to be a creature dead. As the mist rose, she fell asleep, The moon watched over her peaceful dreams. As the moon’s lover rose So did she, To the worst nightmare that could ever be.
0
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
Little Monster
Little monster couldn’t walk quite right Her legs ached and burned at times The healer didn’t have a cure And the ones at “home” said it’s nothing more Than monster’s own creation because She’s a wretched creature displaying loss, Always a burden for the ones who care And no more did they want to bear. “Little monster, you filthy girl, Leave the house and find some work. You leech at our money, our love and care, And then complain of pain everywhere. You despicable monster, weak of mind, what will you gain from studying time? I wish you’d leave right now, but wait, You’ll only ruin your family’s name. We came together for your happiness, You hateful thing, why do you make a mess? “I’m in pain, I’m in pain” it’s nothing but a ploy You little worm, with emotions you toy. Leave, you ***** get off my mind, You know no love, so how can you find Pain in my words, you’re just a rock, I wish you’d die, you ruinous block.” Monster girl fled from those words ‘I’m alright’ she said till she was numb. In this vast world she felt alone, With trees she talked of finding more. Her body ached as she fell to the ground Watched the stars till it was cold around. A piece of glass was what she could own Without being a weight on other souls. This jagged piece reflected the light From the moon and thousand fireflies, Little girl thought the world was so nice, But alas, she was just a monster in night. She heard from the house her father’s voice As he talked about her as a screeching noise, She rarely spoke and yet she was The pain in the ears of the ones she loved. I won’t cry anymore, she pledged, Her room alone knew that she wept, So often times she thought of hanging herself But she wasn’t sure she could bear being out of breath. And so it was she held a piece of glass, Shimmering, it seemed like her freedom at last, If only she was a human girl, Pretty and lovable, she wouldn’t hurt. Little monster girl smiled to herself She wouldn’t cause pain to other selves, The stars would remember that she had tried, The sun would know she had no respite. The glass glided over her soft dark skin, Where only bruises marked her wrist thin, Little drops of blood became more, Little monster thought of happy lores. “And they lived happily after” she mumbled quiet, Her dark eyes closed to moonlight, A firefly sat on her cold forehead Thinking her to be a creature dead. As the mist rose, she fell asleep, The moon watched over her peaceful dreams. As the moon’s lover rose So did she, To the worst nightmare that could ever be.
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65
The old woodland was a canvass mess Shadows and light of a verdant dress Branches tangled with leaves of the day Flowers sprouted from the dark gray The birds flew about, chirping in chorus The blurry wings beat off soft focus And enthrall the forest in glitters and dust Of wispy air that the breeze would cast Poppies and daisies alongside tall grasses Butterflies fluttering in various ill sizes Furry friends burrowed and climbed Grace and beauty, perfectly timed In the forest of old, ancient lores shroud Like the mist of the north, a thick dark cloud The sun would shine and hide at night The forest in splendor- a glorious sight!
0
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Forest
Viendo a Garrik -actor de la Inglaterra- el pueblo al aplaudirlo le decía: «Eres el más gracioso de la tierra y el más feliz...»                                  Y el cómico reía. Víctimas del spleen, los altos lores, en sus noches más negras y pesadas, iban a ver al rey de los actores y cambiaban su spleen en carcajadas. Una vez, ante un médico famoso, llegóse un hombre de mirar sombrío: «Sufro -le dijo-, un mal tan espantoso como esta palidez del rostro mío.»Nada me causa encanto ni atractivo; no me importan mi nombre ni mi suerte en un eterno spleen muriendo vivo, y es mi única ilusión, la de la muerte».-Viajad y os distraeréis.                                               - ¡Tanto he viajado! -Las lecturas buscad.                                           -¡Tanto he leído! -Que os ame una mujer.                                                 -¡Si soy amado! -¡Un título adquirid!                                       -¡Noble he nacido! -¿Pobre seréis quizá?                                           -Tengo riquezas -¿De lisonjas gustáis?                                           -¡Tantas escucho! -¿Que tenéis de familia?                                               -Mis tristezas -¿Vais a los cementerios?                                                 -Mucho... mucho... -¿De vuestra vida actual, tenéis testigos? -Sí, mas no dejo que me impongan yugos; yo les llamo a los muertos mis amigos; y les llamo a los vivos mis verdugos.-Me deja -agrega el médico- perplejo vuestro mal y no debo acobardaros; Tomad hoy por receta este consejo: sólo viendo a Garrik, podréis curaros. -¿A Garrik?                         -Sí, a Garrik... La más remisa y austera sociedad le busca ansiosa; todo aquél que lo ve, muere de risa: tiene una gracia artística asombrosa.-¿Y a mí, me hará reír?                                               -¡Ah!, sí, os lo juro, él sí y nadie más que él; mas... ¿qué os inquieta? -Así -dijo el enfermo- no me curo; ¡Yo soy Garrik!... Cambiadme la receta.¡Cuántos hay que, cansados de la vida, enfermos de pesar, muertos de tedio, hacen reír como el actor suicida, sin encontrar para su mal remedio!¡Ay! ¡Cuántas veces al reír se llora! ¡Nadie en lo alegre de la risa fíe, porque en los seres que el dolor devora, el alma gime cuando el rostro ríe!Si se muere la fe, si huye la calma, si sólo abrojos nuestra planta pisa, lanza a la faz la tempestad del alma, un relámpago triste: la sonrisa.El carnaval del mundo engaña tanto, que las vidas son breves mascaradas; aquí aprendemos a reír con llanto y también a llorar con carcajadas.
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1.9k
Reír llorando
Viendo a Garrik -actor de la Inglaterra- el pueblo al aplaudirlo le decía: «Eres el más gracioso de la tierra y el más feliz...»                                  Y el cómico reía. Víctimas del spleen, los altos lores, en sus noches más negras y pesadas, iban a ver al rey de los actores y cambiaban su spleen en carcajadas. Una vez, ante un médico famoso, llegóse un hombre de mirar sombrío: «Sufro -le dijo-, un mal tan espantoso como esta palidez del rostro mío.»Nada me causa encanto ni atractivo; no me importan mi nombre ni mi suerte en un eterno spleen muriendo vivo, y es mi única ilusión, la de la muerte».-Viajad y os distraeréis.                                               - ¡Tanto he viajado! -Las lecturas buscad.                                           -¡Tanto he leído! -Que os ame una mujer.                                                 -¡Si soy amado! -¡Un título adquirid!                                       -¡Noble he nacido! -¿Pobre seréis quizá?                                           -Tengo riquezas -¿De lisonjas gustáis?                                           -¡Tantas escucho! -¿Que tenéis de familia?                                               -Mis tristezas -¿Vais a los cementerios?                                                 -Mucho... mucho... -¿De vuestra vida actual, tenéis testigos? -Sí, mas no dejo que me impongan yugos; yo les llamo a los muertos mis amigos; y les llamo a los vivos mis verdugos.-Me deja -agrega el médico- perplejo vuestro mal y no debo acobardaros; Tomad hoy por receta este consejo: sólo viendo a Garrik, podréis curaros. -¿A Garrik?                         -Sí, a Garrik... La más remisa y austera sociedad le busca ansiosa; todo aquél que lo ve, muere de risa: tiene una gracia artística asombrosa.-¿Y a mí, me hará reír?                                               -¡Ah!, sí, os lo juro, él sí y nadie más que él; mas... ¿qué os inquieta? -Así -dijo el enfermo- no me curo; ¡Yo soy Garrik!... Cambiadme la receta.¡Cuántos hay que, cansados de la vida, enfermos de pesar, muertos de tedio, hacen reír como el actor suicida, sin encontrar para su mal remedio!¡Ay! ¡Cuántas veces al reír se llora! ¡Nadie en lo alegre de la risa fíe, porque en los seres que el dolor devora, el alma gime cuando el rostro ríe!Si se muere la fe, si huye la calma, si sólo abrojos nuestra planta pisa, lanza a la faz la tempestad del alma, un relámpago triste: la sonrisa.El carnaval del mundo engaña tanto, que las vidas son breves mascaradas; aquí aprendemos a reír con llanto y también a llorar con carcajadas.
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60
These clouds up in the sky today Again just look like sheep to me, No more of dragons, frogs or birds Can I, in odd shapes, make or see These stars up in the sky tonight Again just look like specks so small, No more Greek gods or ancient lores Am I much able to recall These superheroes and comic books Again just seem like childish plots, No more their dark and twisted tales Which long ago have been forgot No more her smile No more her cries No more her clasp No more her sighs I let it all slip through my mind These memories I leave behind No more of all the things that she For years had struggled to teach to me
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Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 1:18 AM UTC
No more
The unrelenting surge of emotions was incessant Sleep evading the poor lad was all but inevitable Even though the body wanted sleep, the brain had an influx of thoughts in his head Tried hard to sleep, but as always he met a dead end(to sleep) Attempts to pacify his own self often ended in intricate lores of mysteries Talking to himself, he asked What's the problem, man? And at once ten thousand of them swarm in his head Outnumbered by the thoughts, off went he into the temporary shroud of his utopian world To certain problems, his fecund imagination was the only diluted solution As the reality was all but acid rain Always challenging the reason for his very existence The futile search for the script of his presence continued Time was never on his side, To be able to do things, he had to compromise Slipping into reverie was something out of his control But the reality brought him down! Down to the vacuous and stolid life Does it take a hard-bitten thorny journey to being not empty? Why couldn't everything boil down something as simple as 2+2=4? Maybe he'd have to sing Carolina Liar's Show me what i'm looking for to come to the solution And he could have all the answers he has been yearning to discover. The levels of catastrophe in his mind could never come to light Maybe the denouement will tell.
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Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
Just another turbulent night
dead men don't sing to the world no one can hear them against the winds Their is the land of ash and dust nobody is awake at the gates to take them in dead people don't knock on no doors they don't have our walls to keep them from being freed it is not true what they say in old lores they have no souls so that their heart could bleed silence is not peace, I know you have never wondered 'tis but a disease, old and rotten not breathing anymore there are places where when one shall go will always wander even the deceased, who once had ones worth living for upon the night darkness weaves an hideous potrait showing a face and keeping stars from fading away all who are lost can be more than just be in a cage you wouldn't know how many dead men you've seen today, take a look in the mirror.
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Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Dead people don't sing
Abiding in tidy quarters In which space I will confine But my life is full of hoarders, Pack things rashly in my mind Some more obvious, some more subtle Seems likely I'll never See through the rubble. Rational thought can be transferred Transplaced Deterred Through the nostalgia of a *** once stirred Finding divets of respect For those who expect me To level at their self inflicted debt Is beyond words that come to be Break the dams down of succession Find my daily dosed oppression Is within the people I reside I can't run, cause they know where I hide. Move with me; I've moved with you Contorted into mentalities by body couldn't do Just to watch you stay untrue I can't reflex anymore, I'm deadened to your dramatic lores. Done waiting for the progress For reciprocation past due Cause I'm waiting to wane this fever, And the antidote's not you.
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Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
Puppeted
These here, these great seas, All the poets have come to you; and stood in awe before vast pleasing views, Of tempests wrought great sorrow, Of skies filled with ore and silver light, Of deep unknown and questioning existence, Of gods, and heavens more vast than you, Of who sails beyond the horizon, Of the winds and scents of your shores, Of endless sands to set foot upon, Of all the arcane myths and lores! How may I greet these great seas any differently? So that I may cause a shift in the tides? Alas, dreams far grander than I, these are; The tides will shift as they may, And every soul will be swept away.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
The Tides Will Shift As They May
To have that terrible urge That horrible, grotesque thing That feeling we wish to purge, But we do not push, we cling. It's that wonderful squeeze Of his hands in yours That tiny viral disease We hear of in legends and lores. Whispers of little white lies We tell ourselves at night One half loves, one denies Warm in joy, cold in fright. His wicked love devours All your morals, all your cares His crooked smile empowers Warmth like poison, it ensnares. Here, it whips you from clear eyes And it blinds you of the truth All decisions, it decides Made of confidence, of uncouth. You fall victim, you fall ill Endless falling here and there. Still you tumble down that hill, You are taken, love beware!
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Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
Love Beware
If We keep on Expanding forever Then I Fear just how Lonely We'll get Like the Stars, We All Burn out Together ...become the Ember that Cradles Itself Well~Come on Up I've not much Time, but I've brought the Love ReCreate This Right And Move Us Through to the OtherSide Alas! Know We Show, Our Heart is Real no matter Where We Go ...Null is Right to let the Breath of God just pass Us by... That's Why Why I Try and We Try ReCreate This Right ...I did not Want to Know, now but I See What's been going on..... If We keep on Expanding forever Then I Fear just how Lonely We'll get Like the Stars, We All Burn out Together ...become the Ember that Cradles Itself So Above still We Hover so... In Dead of Night, from Above, Below ReCreate Our Light Reflect it back for the rest to Shine Alas! We show, our Heart is Real no matter where we go ReCreate this Right And Move Us through to the Other Side The Wildest Write To leave Their Legends and Lores behind With Words they Show For those with Mystic Minds to Know We all want to believe and All can Conceive what's going on!!!! If We keep on Expanding forever Then I Fear just how Lonely We'll get Like the Stars, We All Burn out Together ...become the Ember that Cradles Itself
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Chorus (fromtheVoidwheremoreis)
my eyes are falling asleep somewhere drowning deep in an endless summer I hear myself dream standing by a river hearing lores and thunder winds howl of winter in that silence I hear her scream and whisper, as she withers lingering with all I have been i have known nothing without her and now I believe what can't be seen they say I am a fool but I know better, for I have loved and I still dream
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Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
a fools tale
savage men with army of teeth mowing down the ancient life in all of the curses god has preached he's the one most wicked and vile mangled veins chocking a mothers breath Killing another child in wombs darkness men eating trees, in lores of plants and death walking on an old yellow road to nothingness eating radioactive bites and pieces in bits and diseases, poisoned veins pouring an acid on time that bleaches and reaches, where he's no more again all those naked skeletons seem the same only buried hand in hand in cold depths now who's rich, what weight has a name after all who died have wept and left sane don't blow a head off, do they angles don't cut themselves at birth generations upon generations lost away in strangers burning all across the world
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Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
men eating trees
Stop holding me back for once, see the fire burning in every ounce of scribbles and words of mine. Stop making me guilty for my flight, and look into the horizon so bright. Stop making me resent your roof, while all this time you stay aloof. Stop shaming me for someone's fault, and let them go into the devil's vault of sins, see the virtues in me that I lock from the fear that you might tear and block. Stop thinking my life for your honour, and save this human in me from this horror. Stop it, with your words that shatter my esteem and do make me drift away from your team. Stop the assumptions from the lores of the devil, and look into my dreams arranged in levels. Stop it , Stop it, Stop it, When will you feel words I write and stop linking insanity with my fight.   Stop it
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Sep 21, 2020
Sep 21, 2020 at 11:37 AM UTC
stop it at least now
may the corpses rest in peace killed by them scars and disease cutting a smile in half awaiting the sweet relief tears spilling in grief breathing the ever lasting pain until it's too late to leave I don't know what I became and ran through those doors out in the ocean climbing up the walls that are now old and broken swam with the sharks and I danced with the clouds as a symphony of thunder played beyond the reach and loud lightning up the fiery stars as they fell down from the sky exploding in a thousand pieces and no one could hear me cry that was a rather lonely time there was not much to find in dark that consumed me whole i lost all that was ever mine i turned to see but it was gone nothing but empty space all around i screamed and wept for the names but there was never to be no sound then a shiver ran through my bones and I felt a stranger in my own skin thunder was raging up and high I thought that would be my coffin and then I saw the dead crawling in numbers on the shore a sea of rotten meat like they sang in the old lores winds blew me to the herd as they grazed beyond a red sea the sky was full of birds more than it was supposed to be there I stood in the shadows mesmerized by what I had seen memories spent in mourning how long could it have been I'm forgetting all that matters time has never felt so wrong in the ages that have been withered have I been dead for so long ? i remember dreaming of a ghost in whispers I heard him sing he told me that I shall too be swept away by the northern winds
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
Northern winds
may the corpses rest in peace killed by them scars and disease cutting a smile in half awaiting the sweet relief tears spilling in grief breathing the ever lasting pain until it's too late to leave I don't know what I became and ran through those doors out in the ocean climbing up the walls that are now old and broken swam with the sharks and I danced with the clouds as a symphony of thunder played beyond the reach and loud lightning up the fiery stars as they fell down from the sky exploding in a thousand pieces and no one could hear me cry that was a rather lonely time there was not much to find in dark that consumed me whole i lost all that was ever mine i turned to see but it was gone nothing but empty space all around i screamed and wept for the names but there was never to be no sound then a shiver ran through my bones and I felt a stranger in my own skin thunder was raging up and high I thought that would be my coffin and then I saw the dead crawling in numbers on the shore a sea of rotten meat like they sang in the old lores winds blew me to the herd as they grazed beyond a red sea the sky was full of birds more than it was supposed to be there I stood in the shadows mesmerized by what I had seen memories spent in mourning how long could it have been I'm forgetting all that matters time has never felt so wrong in the ages that have been withered have I been dead for so long ? i remember dreaming of a ghost in whispers I heard him sing he told me that I shall too be swept away by the northern winds
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Heart of shattered dreams, Illusions on all screens: Possibilities screams! Heart of mine, broken, blue,                                                cry for the love lost. For the pride of your greatest, the mightiest,                              your beloved. Admiring your strength, your truth,                                                              in times of loneliness, no despair, Heart of darkness, heart of wishes, desires and hopes.                              Melting away, Giving life to a soldier,                                       worthy. What to do for you, dear? Do deserve your kingdom, of broken hearts, loose, lovely! Fake happiness, turning into a real miracle, Your soul says it all, there's no need of cruelty call. Life to create out of nothing, out of shame, out of something... Examples to take. "Did I expect anything else from you? How dared I?" (to know, to care, to hope) Believing was probably my greatest mistake, Not "Problem causing distress                                           more agony .(?). Sure!" Bring it on, ready for one more fight? Yes, I was trained right! Do I care?! Heart of shattered hopes, Illusions, dreams and lores, Realities for people to live. Humans to love... Did I expect anything better from you? (For my own sake)                                  I hope I did not!
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Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 7:53 AM UTC
Stain of Dark Blue
Heart of shattered dreams, Illusions on all screens: Possibilities screams! Heart of mine, broken, blue,                                                cry for the love lost. For the pride of your greatest, the mightiest,                              your beloved. Admiring your strength, your truth,                                                              in times of loneliness, no despair, Heart of darkness, heart of wishes, desires and hopes.                              Melting away, Giving life to a soldier,                                       worthy. What to do for you, dear? Do deserve your kingdom, of broken hearts, loose, lovely! Fake happiness, turning into a real miracle, Your soul says it all, there's no need of cruelty call. Life to create out of nothing, out of shame, out of something... Examples to take. "Did I expect anything else from you? How dared I?" (to know, to care, to hope) Believing was probably my greatest mistake, Not "Problem causing distress                                           more agony .(?). Sure!" Bring it on, ready for one more fight? Yes, I was trained right! Do I care?! Heart of shattered hopes, Illusions, dreams and lores, Realities for people to live. Humans to love... Did I expect anything better from you? (For my own sake)                                  I hope I did not!
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36
the old king saw him young and now he saw no child what he bore with all his love gave him a fruit rotten and wild in songs of him, in lores of them he heard not a sound and now when he could see more clear, He saw only the dark all around. and where is my crown, the old king asked- Should I bow my head so low ? You stand there with one mocking smile, What truth I don't know ? in a sky so blue, in a sky so dark we stand strong behind our walls and if you dare to bleed my love You'll taste the sharp of my claws. not on my head, not on my throne but them eyes know no lies and in here with all that is mine you dare to look in my eyes ? and so he whispered and so he spoke, of the gods young and old- the little man with red in his eyes- and the words so cold and so he screamed and so he spoke of the lores young and old the little man with red in his eyes- and a sorrow to behold. so the king won't see the stars those change, in the glow of his throne ? them colours do change, oh my lord but every moment a new morrow is born what is mine and what is yours that is not for us to weep and when you're gone, oh my king what you leave will be mine to keep beyond the pines I see what we can claim, Is that not how the world goes by ? In the stones when they engrave our names, they would sing not about the moment we died. If you seek the glory you abide, hear- the gods won't hear your call so what if you have age by your side, you haven't seen the scattered dolls and where is your kingdom ? to rule them all, is that how you will cause them stars to fall ? you are mine and i am your king you know nothing what lies beyond those walls In a sky so blue, in a sky so dark the stars have a place to hide and what will you do when you have them claws- Open your heart far and wide ? and so he cursed and so he wrote every tear down on a page and so he purged and so he wrote Every scar from the rage and so he cursed and so he wrote every drop on the page and so he purged and so he wrote behind the curtains of the stage I will find my own fate, said the little man my father knows nothing of the ills I've seen we're mocked all about from beyond the walls I've always wanted what we must have once been In the name of the gods I must seek the justice my blood will seep in the ground and mark my claim I will uproot the graves and make the dead speak for they knows about the people beyond the walls, small and strange
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
CHAPTER - 1: the graveyards of roseland
the old king saw him young and now he saw no child what he bore with all his love gave him a fruit rotten and wild in songs of him, in lores of them he heard not a sound and now when he could see more clear, He saw only the dark all around. and where is my crown, the old king asked- Should I bow my head so low ? You stand there with one mocking smile, What truth I don't know ? in a sky so blue, in a sky so dark we stand strong behind our walls and if you dare to bleed my love You'll taste the sharp of my claws. not on my head, not on my throne but them eyes know no lies and in here with all that is mine you dare to look in my eyes ? and so he whispered and so he spoke, of the gods young and old- the little man with red in his eyes- and the words so cold and so he screamed and so he spoke of the lores young and old the little man with red in his eyes- and a sorrow to behold. so the king won't see the stars those change, in the glow of his throne ? them colours do change, oh my lord but every moment a new morrow is born what is mine and what is yours that is not for us to weep and when you're gone, oh my king what you leave will be mine to keep beyond the pines I see what we can claim, Is that not how the world goes by ? In the stones when they engrave our names, they would sing not about the moment we died. If you seek the glory you abide, hear- the gods won't hear your call so what if you have age by your side, you haven't seen the scattered dolls and where is your kingdom ? to rule them all, is that how you will cause them stars to fall ? you are mine and i am your king you know nothing what lies beyond those walls In a sky so blue, in a sky so dark the stars have a place to hide and what will you do when you have them claws- Open your heart far and wide ? and so he cursed and so he wrote every tear down on a page and so he purged and so he wrote Every scar from the rage and so he cursed and so he wrote every drop on the page and so he purged and so he wrote behind the curtains of the stage I will find my own fate, said the little man my father knows nothing of the ills I've seen we're mocked all about from beyond the walls I've always wanted what we must have once been In the name of the gods I must seek the justice my blood will seep in the ground and mark my claim I will uproot the graves and make the dead speak for they knows about the people beyond the walls, small and strange
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Her genital_the big "WHY" Oh! She's born of a ****** Her ******* a call to say"HI" Her voice_a well to exploit from. And her physique_just to have fun. Her gender role, no one questions Even the feminists call for attention. She keeps these, term uncultured. She unseals these, term a **** Obviously, kissing is amazing. Foreplay, Hnnnnn! So appealing. Undoubtedly, *** is fascinating. With pain, how often she tries to fake the moan. She enjoys it much, now a curse. He walks up to her and says "I love you." She believes him, he sounds so true. He lores her to bed_ already in her loo. When the stomach starts to push through, He says to hell with you. Fifteen minutes of pleasure. Nine solid months in seizure. Some days in the hospital. A child without a paternal name. Isn't that fatal? Such of a child a ******* And the mother, a ***** who deserves not a ballad.
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Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 3:11 PM UTC
THE WEAK GENDER
How long till your tongues stop spitting arrows of assumptions of delusional malice against me? Does it feel good, to stoop so low for your apparent ego, that you deceive yourself into spewing lores of lies? These arrows will miss me, as I sway to my nature of mind. And you will go on for, how long?
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Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC
How Long?
Dingy white rabbit ears ***** from sweat and the dark world Sat upon a pale boys black hair The air that flows in colors, drifts His hazy eyes don't see the light around Within those colors so abound The light avoids his eyes as the darkness hovers just above Milky greens flows into earthy browns And shining smiles are marring frowns He spins in anticipation clearly searching Though the solid ground is far lurching The crags create a sarcophagus And in this valley comforting He is shapes from in the drops of color He dances with black eyes upward The light is not there for him It cannot permeate his shroud But melodies exist with him Always so, and ever within The sounds provide a reverence And arms upreach to heavens blind The seraphs reach to fingertips bruised And lack of feeling denies him sight So cludging in that mire faded He becomes aptly sedated Gone the lores he so created Pondering the sounds before Gripping on him within such havens He casts out the sounds belated As if a feeling to be purged And here stood bereft and sated Clinging to the darkness there Spinning in the darkness there Eyes as lightless as his darkened hair White rabbit ears upon his matted hair
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Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
angles radiated
Her hands told me everything More than her piercing eyes More than her articulate words Ever could They sang Of realms crisscrossing This ancient earth Every crease And there were many Whispering forgotten lores She is a portal To different worlds Strange dimensions Where the fae dwell And demons lurk I don't know how To dispel the legion Shadowing her Or how To drive off her demons But to be there To listen To love To hold As she searches For answers For meaning To the colossal questions That slipped through the Cold balance sheet of life Too deep to fit Into its little cubicles And neat labels Torn between desire and fear Do I advance? Do I flee? If I stay And she tires of me What then? If I run And wound her What then? You're stupid They told me For hesitating. Go They said. You're a fool They told me For making the wrong choice. Turn back They said. You're crazy They told me *She's a free spirit. You need to tame her* They said. One does not harness a star One does not subjugate a heavenly body I may have grown roots And she, wings Nevertheless I wait for her To make her nest in me. For even birds seek a perch And foxes seek refuge Now As normalcy resumes And our time slowly unreels Inside my head Crowding out all else All that occupies me Are her hands Rough, calloused, and scalding And beautiful with an unspoken tenderness And millennial wisdom Locked with mine.
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Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
Hands
When pushed or tested I do get rather vexed that is the unfortunate time for those that stand before me as it is those times I use my dark craft I did learn all dark lores so many years ago and my casting is well it's second to none watch me make another effigy and watch my enemies fall I spill a little of my blood just to make my spells complete I spit onto a black candle a cut deep into their minds and there I leave my curses this is mine, mine alone, my dark craft By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
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Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
My Dark Craft