"mythologies" poems
You-will-not-lie, -bed-chambers-long,
For I, -am-coming-to-get, YOU!
Clawed-through-the-dirt, -up-the-roots,
I am here, -come-to-get, YOU!
Followed-tree-roots, -that-sweet-smelling-Earth!
Here now! -It's time-to-forget-YOUTH.
*HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
Aha Ha Ha Ha, -The Goblins Attack!!* *
*Grab-you-and-cover-those-murmuring-cries.
Drag-you-away, I have got, YOU!
Hungry-I, watering-mouth-glistening-eyes!
Bundle-of-joy, I have got, YOU!
Jump-down-tunnel-for-you-are-my-prize.
Look-at-you-now, my-sweet-tasty-meat-PIE!
*HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
Aha Ha Ha Ha, -The Goblins Attack!!*
Addendum: The name appears to be an amalgamation etymologically of roots from Greek, Sanskrit and Sumerian. If, of course, you choose to translate it that way. I assume Plato to be an authority on the Ancient Greek's tendency to combine the words of multiple mythologies sharing similar characters linguistically. The purpose of the hyphenation is to suggest the tempo and speed of the rhyme's cadence.
Kalikantzaroi
'The Demon's of Earth'
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
Brothers,
let us stand together.
Sisters,
you can stay sitting.
Let us stand
united
by our inability
to stay out in the sun
too long.
In fact,
would someone mind
erecting a gazebo
for us to stand united
underneath?
Thank you.
Brothers,
having proven
that we cannot demonstrate
our superiority
through sport,
rhetoric,
mathematics,
music,
drama,
art,
science,
business acumen
or military might
Let us instead
prove it beyond all doubt
by gathering in groups
and chanting slogans.
Flags are good, too.
Dagnab it,
just look at the way
we can wave those flags.
If that
doesn't qualify us
as the Master Race,
then I don't know what will.
And thus anointed,
let us expunge the world
of miscegenation.
Let us cleanse public radio
of anything other
than Bavarian folk music.
Let us revel
in boiled beef
and wheat-based foods.
Let us return
the mineral wealth of the world
to the tarnished, coloured nations
from whence it came.
Let us reject
foreign mythologies
apart from that one
about Jesus
obviously.
Let us all return
to the country, town,
street
and house
of our birth.
History is with us, brothers.
If there's one thing
it teaches us
it's that nothing should ever change
and empires
never fall.
Sieg heil!
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 8:22 AM UTC
Nine months after I was born, the Twentieth Century began to collapse.
East Berlin,graffiti-mural concrete, a jutted enigma scratched
on ordinance maps, the sort found
landscaping westernized Primary School walls.
Where within, labored in real time, the television told my parents
(and everyone else given to social conservation in 1989) that a wall falling down
would bring an end to the gap between the working and the working poor.
Freedom waited for many on the other side.
But of course, History draws up different plans.
Never content to just go out with a bash, or to
fleetingly drift by leaving
in its absence an underwhelmed lull
The bloodiest century yet
left the new world entrenched
in an odyssey of hatreds
handed down from the past
right about the time human suffering became a bit dull
and the peaceful countries were too busy
tripling their money instead.
What does History really teach us and what are the real benefits
of being free, or freer than you were before?
Human ambition, which burns it way out of any oasis of calm,
which calls children out of sleeping in the night
Always seeks out the exhaustible
An inveterate Black sheep leading astray
the ever susceptible ****** lamb
Delusion’s strange bedfellows are the worthiest adversaries
to run away from, to reserve contrition for.
Unlike the inevitability of uprooted animal migration
during a monsoon swell
Can a people with an invested addiction
to the pursuit of happiness
Ever truly be prepared
for the inevitability of rapid change?
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
Rotating bodies, confusion of sound
Negative imagery holding us down
Social delusion, clearly constructed
Human condition, morals corrupted
Trapped in reaction, lawlessness, war
Dissatisfaction from bowels to core
Devils technology, strategy for
Human mythologies, urban folklore
Sick of psychology, counterfeit cure
Wicked theology robbing the poor
Scheme demonology mislead the pure
Strict and strategically, studying war
Light shown in darkness, image exposed
Few can see through the new emperor's clothes
Lustful this hussle turns humans to hoes
When the blind lead the blind
Just more trouble and woes
It's the mind that they chose
It's designed to stay closed
Standards of jokers, court just a logic
Sick looking cosmics, from schoolyards to college
Primitive man with civilised knowledge
System collapse and he still won't acknowledge
God is the saviour, studies behaviour
Trying to fix the mind that he gave ya
Stiff-necked scholars on prescription meds
Wishing their problems were all in their heads
Moral dilemma, pride is the root
Misguided from youth, heart divided from truth
Egyptians and Grecians, spiritually dead
Imperially led, by the gods in their head
Motives and thoughts
Industrial wealth
Global economy, in for itself
Heart full of madness, covered with kind
Pleasure designed to take over your mind
Furnished in godliness, painted in good
This talented priesthood got real saints misunderstood
While classes in government, set up the veil
And cultivate minds for more mythical tales
Typical Hollywood follies good girl
While vice and corruption take over the world
Motives and thoughts
Check your motives and thoughts
Blind with the wickedness deep in your heart
Modern day wickedness is all you've been taught
Lied to your neighbours, so you get ahead
Modern day trickery is all you've been fed
Motives and thoughts
Check your motives and thoughts
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
I MADE my song a coat
Covered with embroideries
Out of old mythologies
From heel to throat;
But he fools caught it,
Wore it in the world's eyes
As though they'd wrought it.
Song, let them take it,
For there's more enterprise
In walking naked.
1
Notorious, till all my priceless things
Are but a post the passing dogs defile.
2.6k
The archaic Mythologies
Were well depicted ventures of Human
Spirit to verily present acts of the absolute Nutness
An astute of a compelling question Still
Much relevant in today's lmplicit
Deconstruction of Committing
A moral Excession.
Old Greeks came to a betwixt paradox when compairing
the two ulterior motives:
~ a completely mad passionate love
~ a sharp cold blooded oportunistic love
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
It’s not much, I mean, but
uh, nothing, sorry, man I got butterfingers
slippery as my tongue, here
did you drop something, are you sure?
cause my thump-thumping heart dropped
so hard to the floor when it knew you were near
that it bounced right back up
right where it goes, then straight out my crown chakra,
only to dissipate and erupt
into Truth
the literal and the metaphorical
allegorical nebulas that resonate in full high-definition colour the way
all Nine symphonies played simultaneously
would look
sedimentary, like a cheesecake
when I first saw you, something
shifted in my horoscope with the same scope and scale
of a modern Greek myth – Prometheus rising, fire
in the eyes of one woman, that’s all
all Aphrodite could gather up—fix it to the mainstay, Odysseus
let’s get to it, in siren seas, eating weeds to survive
if there’s nothing left when Cthulu
comes alive, I hope at least
I’ll get to talk to you at a party
like, once, where we’ll mix some more
mythologies
Once Inana birthed the world, and Spider Woman showed her how
I could show you how Saraswati
makes music, and old Bacchus stays on his feet
Care to play my Isis? If that makes me Osiris
then drown me, chop me up. Throw my body
to Mr. Lucifer; the Morrigan will come to inspect your ****
and finding it satisfactory
will whisk you away somewhere better
How’s that last part sound to you, eh?
there’s not much left to waste in the techno age
of “nothing in moderation,” with all our
degradation,
defamation,
discrimination,
and mild inflammation caused by
nonspecific anxiety medications
in our nation of constant false elation,
so
my point is time
the one thing we got left to waste
is time, and I’m a dedicated pacifist, but
I wouldn’t mind killing
some of that, with you
Let’s blow this pop stand
and go hunting.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
Yesterday, a cloud burst in mythologies
and the rain fidgeted over the retreat
of a tidal pantheon; deities swept away
by a current, and we stood awhile, watching
the moon elbow out the dusk. Breathing
is burdensome when cars float on water
and corpses leak out of cavernous
basements. Every tablet, etched, in the cold
heart of building code was read again
and then again. It wasn't enough to blame
Aeolian whim or the raging riposte of Apollo,
now that we had marvelled away Gaia's
ozone skirt. Her amnion always leaked
in folkloric floods each time she birthed
a parable. She once asked Noah to build
an ark so he could ride her waves
and we scrape the sky to impale her
in shards where her womb is soft and yielding,
as we sour the air and burn the water and strip
her of her emerald sigh and melt her hills
and silt her wetlands. Mostly it was the asphalt
plastering her yearning that calcified her veins
and arteries, as she died slowly under our feet.
We could hardly fathom her sorrow for the tears
rolled off her torso like an oil slick
and rode far into the subway for sewers.
Sep 15, 2021
Sep 15, 2021 at 4:29 PM UTC
encamped on a barren savanna
a formaldehyde trick laid
beneath a palace of red canvas
carcasses of Noah's Ark
left for a menagerie of men
a spectacle of meat and bone
the tides of oddities come crashing
against the shores of spectators
the earth opens its hands to carry
the rails that lead an entourage of
grandeur at the ring master's ordinance
God's children in satin and sequins
Devil's work bared in ink and blood
ladies and gentlemen!
wooden pews for the congregation
occupied by followers seeking refuge
in the sacred acts of manipulation
enchantment for children
necromancy for those who walk
with hearts no longer beating
for the world they once knew
prepare to be amazed!
tight ropes are spun into webs
painted skin become prisms
nature's anomalies turned
into golden mythologies
figments of A Vision
brought to life by an apparition
the most extravagant extravaganza!
and the world burns anew
contemporary tales are told through
a splendor of color and brilliance
in a palace of red canvas
lay the corpses of humanity's finest
a formaldehyde trick
of preservation and deception
come one come all!
an asylum for those consumed
a sanctuary for those comforted
by the art of celebrated illusion
an institution built on maneuvering
the depths of every man's heart
welcome to the circus
sit back and enjoy the show!
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
The reflecting pool lay long and flat, a massive mirror door...
I stepped up to it's concrete edge, and looked down to it's floor.
I saw pale tiles beneath the water, some pennies, a dime, a nail.
I dropped my thoughts beneath this sea, which quickly grew in scale.
One foot of water became, thus, ten... A hundred... thousand... more.
My view was that of one who's soaring many miles above some shore.
I was, at once, consumed with fear at how this made me feel,
That is to say, I convinced myself that this height was truly real.
That was when I dreamed I fell, but before I'd be no more,
I had much time to think awhile on what had come before.
I had much time to regret the past, and dread what was yet to be,
Saw images of fortune, ruin, the dust of you; the ashes of me.
Small joys helped to bridge the gaps where fear eroded hope,
The terror of my empty room, the makeshift hanging rope.
My thoughts of death reminded me that the moment should be much more,
I opened my eyes to the rushing air, my throat felt raw and sore,
Looked down to see a blaze of leaves and the fast approaching forest floor.
Asleep, I fell, through sunlit leaves that seemed to fill the space,
Awake, I stood beside the pool when you had touched my face.
Something in your eyes was telling me you were concerned,
You somehow knew the man who left was not the man who returned.
We stood at the shore then, you and I, expressing futures yet to pass,
Fishing out mythologies and illusions that might last.
Our mouths were full of histories and secrets that we bared,
The reassuring comfort that illusions can be shared.
Look east and see the brightening sky, but not yet see the sun,
Look west and see the shrinking black,
The place where last night's stars have run.
Look up and see the limbs and leaves of the high forest canopy,
The ones above the gloom that's half obscuring you and me...
A bright gold glow suffuses them, but only way up high,
Where they already see the dawn, and the guiding star that fills their sky.
I'm reminded by these tall trees rising high into the air,
When shadow darkens my small world, but light is everywhere,
You do not need to see the sun to know that it is there.
So as I lifted up my face,
To where sunlight paints the highest tree,
In this expansive time and place,
I felt the same; beautiful and free.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
For some, certain places
hold a rather mythic oeuvre
in our veins; they are seen as places of magic.
Maybe a cyclist couple
have spent most of their money
on traveling the world for their blog,
their last stop is New York City
so that they may get pictures of themselves
at places like The Brooklyn Bridge, Lady Liberty
& that megalithic skyline reaching the clouds.
Or maybe a foodie from Wisconsin
just wants to try Famous Ben's Pizza on the West Side
because its New York fuckin' New York pizza.
Maybe a doe-eyed screenwriter skips
his flat square suburban town
to sell his words and soul to the sprawling sunny L.A
where dreams are made in pixels.
Maybe some New Age beaded wrist to ankle lady
spent her life savings to jump over the ocean
to visit the ancient pyramids built for a purpose
yet fully known.
Maybe a bearded dude
visits Easter Island to try and understand
the complexities of his ancestors while
soaking in the rich vastness of nature around.
Maybe I used to see places this way. Probably...
But in these places people live!
It's not mythology to them.
Maybe every night a homeless man prays
& begs for food on the late night A-train in NYC.
Maybe a middle-aged fading blonde couple
spend their time in L.A at a health food store
to recoup the savings they lost joining a cult way back when.
Maybe a Swedish teen traverses the trash
and littered-burned streets of Giza everyday
on her way to work
hoping funny looks aren't shot her way
for the way she dresses
or shouted at by bearded Salafi men.
Maybe a rare species of bug is unknowingly stepped on
in Easter Island.
Today, i see magic in getting lost on the NYC subway.
I found magic mythology on the beaches of Dahab,
80 miles away from Cairo.
I see magic in the mythologies,
while others live it,
the daily grind.
It's all around if you know where to look.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
I speak of legends almost a century old still today new myths must be told.
a man from the shadows who dressed in all black he springs from the shadows to start his attack.
a hero who flew as high as the sun as is the wish of the last of krypton.
A princess and warrior as fierce as her name a wondrous woman, equal in fame.
A benevolent king under the seas, he does what he likes, and does not look to please.
A frequent flyer who has reached the stars by his lanterns light fear flees the night.
A crimson hero who speeds bad guys away, he continues to move faster each day.
A robotic man with a heart and a brain, cybernetic only by name.
A sheep in wolf's clothing more human then all he manhunts monsters his home will not fall.
A small child who thunders his name all Olympus roars the same.
A archer of the brave and the bold, a bow and a hood, a story long told.
These our the myths of 2000 A.D. real or not they empower the free.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 3:15 AM UTC
i may not imagine a world
where waves curling along the lakeside
are void of truth,
flux, warping of rock
dimensions through shifted occurrence.
flow, continuous, samsara, the cyclical
wheel of becoming
spins ever onward
until five dollars buys a gallon of gas
until everyone is a pedestrian
until six worlds are wearied,
until mythologies collide.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
A globalisation of love
And hate
And of vague
References to mythologies
Desdemona or some
Forgotten Goddess
It’s 4 AM and
You walk home
Past the neon halo
Of a petrol station
And perhaps you stop
Without reason
And think
Without reason
Of all the coffee breaks
That separate your careful
Measurements
From a handful of sand
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
Where has our honesty gone?
The world is spinning out of perspective
Individualists
More like conventionalists
Wanting to be a free soul
Instead, we’re losing control
How do we define different?
“Different
A pseudo-polite way of saying something is unpleasantly weird or unacceptable” [www.urbandictionary.com]
What about individual?
“individual
Individual's may actually conform, just to prove that they are individual from other individuals...
There is no definition of an individual, for to define an individual is hideously oxymoronic.” [www.urbandictionary.com]
All of these rules and ideologies
Which become more like mythologies
Giving us a…what… purpose?
Because without one were all worthless?
How does the media propel
Drive some great minds down to hell
But wait, sometimes those scars
Are not the real person they are
What about the girl next door
Is she perfect? Or is she a *****
How come the prepped up ****
Gets a thousand girls to put his ****
-Y attitude towards
What about all those hipsters
“individualists” in all their glister
PROTOTYPES
We are always followed
“To be, or not to be”
Now THAT is a real question
Why cant we all just BE
F R E E
Within our own minds
Refuse ourselves to be confined
But no matter where we go
The world will be a tv show
[scripted and masked]
Because the crazy professor who screamed in the crowd
Did a small scene from a movie out loud
And the individualist across the street
Got her haircut from Georgia O’deet
While the artist down the road
Saw his painting when it snowed
Though its obvious we refuse to admit defeat
Individual doesn’t march to its own beat
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 1:42 PM UTC
Is He a Mystery? If not, is He a History?
Can we read about Him in philosophies?
Is He found in mythologies?
Can know ledge of the world unravel His Presence?
Do idols speak of His Omniscience?
Can the images of Him depict His Glory?
Is he caged ‘midst of bricks and cement?
Is He one among the gods of the heathens?
Did He come to the world to establish religion?
Who is He and where was He that the world rejects Him?
Is He a mere human being as the world registers in its mind?
Is He the ONE WAY to ETERNITY of LIFE?
What makes the world deny Him in its heart?
Is He the manifestation of the Invisible God?
Is He the ONLY GOD that the world needs?
What is in His Name that the Power indwells?
Numerous questions revolved around the world’s mind;
So what that its mind hath fallen into the pit of money?
Day and night one never forget to become quizzical of His Presence,
Volumes of His Mystery wake the world up with questions of dissertations,.
Jesus Christ has always been from Eternity to Eternity,
The Name predestined by God Himself.
Faith in every one plays a vital role to believe HIM,
And the Word of God in the Bible reveals HIM.
If anyone lacks faith in Him and His Word,
Then who can save him/her from eternal Fire?
Jesus Christ is the Image of God revealed to mankind,
He was a mystery revealed in History established,
Philosophies do not teach Jesus Christ,
There is no place for Him in mythologies,
Mere knowledge cannot reveal Him to mankind,
Idols don’t think, don’t speak; don’t act,
Man’s corruptible images cannot speak of Eternal Glory,
Bricks and cement are man-made and are destructive,
Heathen’s gods and goddesses are mortal’s imagination,
Jesus Christ is THE WAY, THE TRUTH, and THE LIFE,
No one can come to the Father except by Him,
Jesus Christ’s Way is not a religion, but the ONLY WAY to Eternity,
Jesus Christ is the Lord of Glory and has been always from Eternity to Eternity,
He (the Creator in Spirit) came into the world like a human being to save mankind from sins,
Jesus Christ is THE WAY, THE TRUTH, and THE LIFE,
No one can come to the Father except by Him,
Evil desire, pride, satanic devices, worldliness make the world deny Him,
Jesus Christ is the Image of God revealed to mankind,
There is no other God except Jesus Christ to save mankind from sins,
No other Name has been given to the world except Jesus Christ to save mankind,
And that is the Power of Salvation.
Shall we humble ourselves to the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ
And become the child of God for ever in His Glory in Heaven?
He is waiting for you!
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 10:56 AM UTC
[Quran-17: 42, Quran-21: 22]
On television ancient
mythological serial I saw.__
Many powerful Gods
brought a feeling of awe.__
Each plotting and planning
against one another.__
Intention to become supreme
and dethrone other.__
Their fights brought disorder
on earth and heaven.__
Anywhere and everywhere
chaos and confusion.__
Their ungodly behavior
was maddening, insane.__
Couldn't control my wild
heart, oppressed brain.__
Closed television to get
rid of their conduct lowly.__
Started searching truth
and peace in verses holy.__
Spotted few verses which
brought smile and relief.__
In verses* I found truth
and it increased my belief.__
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 7:21 AM UTC
You were my neighbour
And I felt good vibes from you
Right from the start
We soon became good friends
And as the years passed by, our bond strengthened
Now, I see you as not just a friend
But also a family member
You are very simple and humble
Not to mention, loyal to a fault
However, underneath your calm exterior
Lies a burning passion
Especially when it comes to gaming and Hindu mythologies
The best part about you
Is that you always want to do the right thing
Even if it means losing friends in the process
Of course, as I told you recently
Those people are not truly friends
But haters in disguise
You are also extremely selfless
A quality that makes you very likeable
And at the same time, vulnerable
Anyway, as I said before
You are as good as a family member to me
And your family also sees me
As one of its own
Our phone conversations are usually very long
And I love how you take time out for me
Right in the middle of your busy schedule
I feel I can trust you
With anything and everything
Just remain the way you are
And believe in yourself a little more
Take care and see you soon da!
Aug 27, 2023
Aug 27, 2023 at 10:53 AM UTC
d-r-a-g-o-n
dragon lady,
rain candy,
breath fire,
red candid
lips slip,
kisses through
open mouthed,
wide eyed,
startled smiles.
It’s been a while,
how you been
starting over? ,
spreading your
wings,
spreading your legs.
reptile,
I like your style,
Wild hair,
peach, bleach;
mon amore.
So
serpentine,
certainly mine,
mythologies
evolved
in our separate minds.
Nowhere near
our spirit,
refined
in the clearest
mist of forgotten days
we left behind,
and,
Life
drag’s on,
nothing
left
but you
&
mythologies.
Perfection.
who knew
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 6:05 AM UTC
Guided by the stars,
a better life,
a safer life.
Their new world worth
the journey and its dangers
for their progeny.
We try to keep things as they are,
ruled by fallacies, and fears
of their strange languages,
faiths, mythologies.
Harsh voices shout with menaces,
'Send them home from whence they came
to their hollow caustic lands.
We should keep our own traditions,
Angles, Saxons, Celts and Jews.'
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
__
Alpha
While thunder clapped for an encore,
we put on iron boots
and danced in puddles
that reflected the obsidian
of Raven's crick-craw chorus
between the ripples.
I splashed with rod in hand, and yelled,
"You are the hammer and anvil,
I am the lightning! I am the quickening!"
II
They came from the East.
The ground shook, and cracks spread
from the pounding of their hammer-steps.
Wisakedjaks fled from roosts now pitched askew
by fingers that brushed the tips of pines
with every swing of lumbering limbs.
Lofty mouths inhaled the clouds
and blew out smoke rings on the wind.
III
I charged across the ground—a bolt—towards
the nearest Cyclops.
Like a sparking pinball, I zig-zagged
up the giant's shins,
past his thighs, and higher still,
then struck him in the eye.
And we became one—euphoria!
Omega
The Wisakedjaks repaired their nests,
and have less space in the minds of those
who found a scapegoat for mythologies
preached in smoke-filled rooms
where followers choke on the want to be saved.
Words were curved into a staff
that false Hermes uses to shepherd his flock:
people who pocket gold coins for Charon,
having surrendered the kingdom within—dead, though their bodies continue to pulse with life.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 7:31 PM UTC
After the human dream is gone
And we are born again in mythologies,
The sea, the forever sea will remain.
What is the sea? What brought forth
The liquidity both violent and old,
That which gives and takes life?
You are the sea, I am the sea,
And everything is new again washed
In the waters, blood and all.
The sea which is kissed by the
Reelection of the night
And drenched by the star during the day,
The ocean, vast and enigmatic,
We return and she will never answer.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
You’re struck by thoughts that zip like raging electricity
Charged wholesomely by the eye snatching power of curiousity
There’s that hefty knapsack of guilt constricting your back
A tear stained jacket olive green and not so fresh off the rack
Typical attire adorned by an untamed hellcat hellbent on the attack
You’re always eager for flimsy fellows with paper mache names
Too bad they catapult you back into prewritten tales of ill-ridden fame
You seem to entice the astral glare of scorching stars
To unwittingly interrupt Nature’s frolicking soundtrack at all the key bars
You’re Alice’s protégé adeptly meeting learning goals
Far surpassing her mentor at the art of slipping reality and falling down rabbit holes
A spirit shedding her blouse of light and taking a dip in the lake of souls
Writing new mythologies amidst the morbid company of witches and trolls
You’re burned letters and missed calls on the phone
A slowly sinking stone
Filled with grey from every ***** to bone
Wilting words spoken monotone
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
There is a void
Somewhere between what is perceived
And what wishes to be.
A place for that which lingers,
On precipices and peripheries.
Dancing
On edges of reality,
Out of hands reach,
In the corner of the eye.
Belief lies between
Knowledge and imagination,
Carving a gap between
The late and the early.
Reality is real
Only to those who live it.
For the rest,
It’s just a story to be told.
Time is the void,
And through it we weave
Our own mythologies.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC