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"paladins" poems
holi pigment splash on your skin. tangerine, aubergine, saffron paladins. a carousel of mourning veils in pretty pretty ruby red. decadent dancing in the streets with no regrets. whatever came the day before, i can't remember anymore. the drinks and streamers impugn disbelievers.
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Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 4:48 AM UTC
absolution
Then a voice comes and says It was a stranger, pays by the hour You got jacked, hacked, attacked Your mind was theirs when we got here There was a time spent pretending it wasn't possible. Sad, sick strangers, ******* you! But I dreamed of my beloved four. They ****** my spirit, like a battery. Then he came, the covenant, time to turn and escape their nets. Down into the pit, a crucible. To treat with my paladin We tend the metasphere in secret, Honor bound in sacred duty Terrapin are we.
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
Paladins Avant
Vaguely lit by the summer moon of dark blue,  pierced with light;  the river murmurs, the devils paladins; lies in wait for more than a thousand years!      the evening shadows pulling faces, the hidden window. Of worlds on a journey, a thousand years sad ophelia. Has murmured its ballad, the paladins are dancing. Sighing around her through this horror of space. The black gallows moans, and to all these worlds his black puppets weep on her shoulder, of an eternal voice unfathomable space; I no longer felt myself, I have seen malstroms eternal, devouring the green azores, where the eyes of panthers trembled to feel, down into the abysses! the black gallows moans.
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Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
The black gallows moans
Au gibet noir, manchot aimable, Dansent, dansent les paladins, Les maigres paladins du diable, Les squelettes de Saladins. Messire Belzébuth tire par la cravate Ses petits pantins noirs grimaçant sur le ciel, Et, leur claquant au front un revers de savate, Les fait danser, danser aux sons d'un vieux Noël ! Et les pantins choqués enlacent leurs bras grêles Comme des orgues noirs, les poitrines à jour Que serraient autrefois les gentes damoiselles Se heurtent longuement dans un hideux amour. Hurrah ! les gais danseurs, qui n'avez plus de panse ! On peut cabrioler, les tréteaux sont si longs ! Hop ! qu'on ne sache plus si c'est bataille ou danse ! Belzébuth enragé racle ses violons ! Ô durs talons, jamais on n'use sa sandale ! Presque tous ont quitté la chemise de peau ; Le reste est peu gênant et se voit sans scandale. Sur les crânes, la neige applique un blanc chapeau : Le corbeau fait panache à ces têtes fêlées, Un morceau de chair tremble à leur maigre menton : On dirait, tournoyant dans les sombres mêlées, Des preux, raides, heurtant armures de carton. Hurrah ! la bise siffle au grand bal des squelettes ! Le gibet noir mugit comme un orgue de fer ! Les loups vont répondant des forêts violettes : A l'horizon, le ciel est d'un rouge d'enfer... Holà, secouez-moi ces capitans funèbres Qui défilent, sournois, de leurs gros doigts cassés Un chapelet d'amour sur leurs pâles vertèbres : Ce n'est pas un moustier ici, les trépassés ! Oh ! voilà qu'au milieu de la danse macabre Bondit dans le ciel rouge un grand squelette fou Emporté par l'élan, comme un cheval se cabre : Et, se sentant encor la corde raide au cou, Crispe ses petits doigts sur son fémur qui craque Avec des cris pareils à des ricanements, Et, comme un baladin rentre dans la baraque, Rebondit dans le bal au chant des ossements. Au gibet noir, manchot aimable, Dansent, dansent les paladins, Les maigres paladins du diable, Les squelettes de Saladins.
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1.3k
Bal des pendus
Au gibet noir, manchot aimable, Dansent, dansent les paladins, Les maigres paladins du diable, Les squelettes de Saladins. Messire Belzébuth tire par la cravate Ses petits pantins noirs grimaçant sur le ciel, Et, leur claquant au front un revers de savate, Les fait danser, danser aux sons d'un vieux Noël ! Et les pantins choqués enlacent leurs bras grêles Comme des orgues noirs, les poitrines à jour Que serraient autrefois les gentes damoiselles Se heurtent longuement dans un hideux amour. Hurrah ! les gais danseurs, qui n'avez plus de panse ! On peut cabrioler, les tréteaux sont si longs ! Hop ! qu'on ne sache plus si c'est bataille ou danse ! Belzébuth enragé racle ses violons ! Ô durs talons, jamais on n'use sa sandale ! Presque tous ont quitté la chemise de peau ; Le reste est peu gênant et se voit sans scandale. Sur les crânes, la neige applique un blanc chapeau : Le corbeau fait panache à ces têtes fêlées, Un morceau de chair tremble à leur maigre menton : On dirait, tournoyant dans les sombres mêlées, Des preux, raides, heurtant armures de carton. Hurrah ! la bise siffle au grand bal des squelettes ! Le gibet noir mugit comme un orgue de fer ! Les loups vont répondant des forêts violettes : A l'horizon, le ciel est d'un rouge d'enfer... Holà, secouez-moi ces capitans funèbres Qui défilent, sournois, de leurs gros doigts cassés Un chapelet d'amour sur leurs pâles vertèbres : Ce n'est pas un moustier ici, les trépassés ! Oh ! voilà qu'au milieu de la danse macabre Bondit dans le ciel rouge un grand squelette fou Emporté par l'élan, comme un cheval se cabre : Et, se sentant encor la corde raide au cou, Crispe ses petits doigts sur son fémur qui craque Avec des cris pareils à des ricanements, Et, comme un baladin rentre dans la baraque, Rebondit dans le bal au chant des ossements. Au gibet noir, manchot aimable, Dansent, dansent les paladins, Les maigres paladins du diable, Les squelettes de Saladins.
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44
Vaguely lit by the summer moon, lull them asleep among the foliage; her sweet madness: the devil's paladins lie in wait for more than a thousand years. In the wine of daylight, they slip amorously. - A nest of mad kisses, the beads of their love. They have murmured their ballad - the paladins dance, sighing around her, women and flowers beneath them. Smile of beautiful lips, a small rustle of wings - it is the nymph! Her great veil rises; such mounting of my soul in love’s will; As I float down, bearing shadow-flowers with them, I never endured more triumphant clamourings - gleams of the daylight: dawns are heartbreaking, devoured by vermin.
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Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 9:50 AM UTC
She Returns
Down in the belly of The Angel of Defeat You'll find war waging over only Gods know what And she's not the one fighting for all that is good She has shadows in her eyes and demons under her red hood She rages her lupine armies against Paladins armed with The Light This battle was foreshadowed before mans dawn and laid in the stones this world was built upon There's no avoiding what the stars have aligned And this fight won't end until there's either dark Or light
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Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
In The Belly Of The Angel Of Defeat
I'll always hold your hand, the one I've always wished to. I wanna make that moment grand, when I don't wish to be bold and just hold, your hand like a lover of fairy lands. With every breath I take in, your thoughts just crave in, the center of gravity you've become, please come, and hold my hand like a lover of fairy lands. I can never feel this until its you, every second its eternal and so new, can you stand? on this flying mat of Alladin, hold my hand and  let's dream of paladins. We'll hang out on Mercury, be the couple of the century, I'll hold your cosy hand, and love you like a lover of fairy lands.
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
Lover of Fairy Lands
For me we it comes realizing later that Chris Cornell is gone same as Dad but different still we have our Garden of Sound with weeds sprouting against the grim Cutter hoping for a missed experienced Maybe the refugee's trauma have dried all the tears on lonely crowded airfields of a long ago Vietnam seeding salt from a Grandmother, mother, father, aunts and uncles, paladins in our child eye dry because of the stampeding Thestrals we shouldn't see And now almost 50 we know better the slings and arrowheads of fortune the calcifying currency souls make by roughing the round edges of damning tears scattered like petals over littered cigarettes killing us softly because they've metastasized from intellectualized Lung **** to a flowering carcinoma
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Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 8:31 AM UTC
Realizing later
she's got amplifiers the return investment the few focused phases i could take and crack a money pinata. social hierarchy mechanics i possess i see what happens when i obsess and when i undress. she's got crazy cities slums and starvings unheeded code of conduct and weathered paladins i am one of those spillovers but i could congeal and correct it they judge me falsely all the time so what might i assert?
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May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 2:02 AM UTC
a free write
Prognosticating patriarchs pundits and priests pencil paladins in penthouse palaces riding what they're writing writhing while they're rising everyone's got a chance chants the gaunt equalizer its equal lie heard plunges us into the absurd assured of justice and fairness we become curt and careless saying if you work in a hairnet or get your verve from clarinet you deserve less than a baroness because she has parents best but when I ask of the parentless those talking point to the talking points so what's the point of talking when talking leads to pointing the finger in anger at strangers who they just called equal but that was merely a platitude I'm starting to hate people and their selfish myopic attitude.
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Aug 13, 2023
Aug 13, 2023 at 2:49 PM UTC
Prognostiarchs