"summoner" poems
Every time I think you're sick
I look in the mirror and see
That I've got the same disease
I loathe my thoughts so much
They make me freeze
And then I remember where they came from
You bred them into me
I learned them from you
If this makes me sound like a ****
Remember who is just as sick
That's right it's you
Now listen to this track
Be back in a few
It's never my fault
We have to stop the symptoms
But never the disease
It's always their fault
We have to stop the enemy in our bed
Rather than make the demons in our hearts stay dead
Is it a surprise I'm a demon summoner onstage
Calling forth the self-hatred in their hearts
Culling them away from their rage
Exercising exorcism like I do with words
You are the monsters
Pens are my swords
I only learned from the best
The best teachers in town
I'm so successful I dedicate this crown
To the ******* that made a blood pact
A deal that put me to a test
I don't want to ******* take
This portrait of us isn't real
It's ******* fake
It's never my fault
We have to stop the symptoms
But never the disease
It's always their fault
We have to stop the enemy in our bed
Rather than make the demons in our hearts stay dead
How does it feel
That I profit from our ozzfest
Our screamo shows
Our nu metal fest fodder
How does it feel that this drama
Makes me rich without trauma
I'm no Johnny Davis or Chino Moreno
Solo soy tu coseno
Adjacent to a hypotenuse of hate
An underlying burn I'm used too
I can't ever feel nothing
Because I always feel your burn
It's never my fault
We have to stop the symptoms
But never the disease
It's always their fault
We have to stop the enemy in our bed
Rather than make the demons in our hearts stay dead
It doesn't have to be this way
We can put our swords away
And face our demons together
We don't have to divide a house to fall
I don't have to come home appalled at the blood
The very blood in my veins boiling
We can live instead of toiling
**** the symptoms
Cure the disease
Don't make me freeze
When you never claim fault
So you can go to sleep in peace
And make me lay in pieces
I want to finish this song
But most of all
I want you to finish it too
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Think I'll make it.
Sub ways out
for direction or cause
I have no idea
why I started
but I'm aware of why I paused.
And don't you know I'm
out there
Like an underdog fan.
Walkin' through the snow with
out hair.
Call me the Summoner Man.
Come on, you're banned from this wonder filled land.
Ask why, you can't.
I'm the summoner, man.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 2:19 PM UTC
Queen of the kingdom
The heart of Sàngó,
Giving Sàngó courage.
Sàngó's betrothed
Oya,
Goddess of wind, tornado,
Yet the owner of the marketplace.
Queen of all seas
Creator of lakes and rivers
The waters knows your name
Goddess of storms
Orisa of death and rebirth
Oya,
The mother of nine
Oya,
The undergoddess of Odo-Oya
Oya,
The unbeatable warrior
Oya,
The summoner of rain
Oya,
Sàngó's princess consort
Oya,
Thou who walketh through fire with no burns
Oya,
Queen of courage
Oya,
Goddess of speed and energy
Symbol of faithfulness
Goddess of devotion and perfection
Oya,
Goddess of war
Oya, our fiercely warrior of old
Written Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 11:44 AM UTC
Some call me a prophet
Others see me as a derelict
These stories I’ve stored in my head
Can easily be twisted to fantasy
Am I reliable?
You have no choice
But to take what I say and believe
At least for a little while
I believe the listener
Is as naïve as I seem
Sitting on every detail
Every word
While visiting Southwark
I met a variety of characters
From different means of life
With different perspectives on the world
Looking innocent has its advantages
It gives me a leeway
To invade other’s privacy
And extend the truth to the edge of fabrication
Have you ever questioned a storyteller?
We all seem friendly
We talk highly of everyone we meet
Until we dive deeper into their secrets
The Squire
Composing music is his forte
I say it sounds beautiful
And he seems fresh as the month of May
The Friar
A gossiper full of language
I hope to understand
To grasp
A Sailor
Having bad joints
From extensive labor.
He must work substantially to acquire those injuries
The Summoner
Full of white pimples
Yet drinks red wine
As red as blood
I create a story
Yet can end it all the same
I tell you what you want to hear
Not what reality presents in front of me
For life is not exciting
Without a bit of imagination.
And with my mastered poker face
It may be impossible to seek out my lies
The darkness inside us all
Can peek its head at any time
Consuming us into a downward spiral
Of lie after endless lie
So am I reliable?
We’ll just have to see.
So here comes a story
Told by me.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
It was a cold night with no light
Sitting alone in my home
I heard three little knocks on my door
Shivers ran through my spine
Who could that be at this time?
I checked the window to see who it was. But there was nobody out.
Returning to sleep feeling drained i heard the three little knocks again.
I rushed and opened the door.
A faceless man was standing alone.
And he said hello my friend im happy to visit you again.
Your time ended in this life
Im here to take u to the after-life.
Suddenly his eyes appeared to me and i felt so light and free.
Those eyes were death why was i so attracted to them?
I was flowting in the air and watching my body lying on the ground downthere.
I realised i had just died but yet i felt so alive
I was a spirit ready to break on through the other side.
But somehow i couldnt forget those eyes.
Words of harfouchism.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
come and find me,
wayfaring soul
chase the heat of my smoldering coal.
the embers of an eternal fire
spread wild as dogs, mad with desire
and i will walk upon a sea
the tides forever carry me
as flames gently lick at my feet;
i will not bleed, my heart will never cease.
the dream from which all life is taught
the realm from which all love is sought
i walk that line, the rope is taut.
there are beings in the wind
they whisper to me to pretend that i am one of them
a fluent river in my head,
a flowing coordinated thoroughfare of dead
these spirits cary me away
carry me to the grave
to awaken them.
and so they sing with me,
they breathe with me,
they live with me.
inside of me there is a seed;
the roots of every tree
intertwining with my dreams.
shaping reality
i am the awakening.
they live in my breath
they allow me to see
the realm of passing death
softly brushing the reeds.
finally free
eternally
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
As promised, he’ll make a good piece
To make your heart and mind at ease
A girl who’s annoyingly cute
And stubbornly, he salute
He met you in Summoner’s Rift
You’re so kind and nice, it’s your gift
You play these lovely healing songs
And you support with grace, we won
You open a boy’s wounded heart
He adore you right from the start
He never tells cause his afraid
Maybe you’ll laugh, cry and evade
He never told this until now
That he loves you, this is his vow
Remember this, you make him smile
You make him speechless with style
In his dream suddenly you change
He can’t reach you at all, that’s strange
Maybe he did something, a scheme
He realize it’s not a dream
Every beginning comes an end
Everyday changes, we can’t bend
The other will be so happy
The other will be unhappy
He feels how this story ends
It’s from the song they both knew
“You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone”
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
Listening to Sting’s best:
Ten Summoner’s Tales.
Sting: there’s a lesson in arrogance.
Leaves his band, The Police,
Throws the blokes—
The blokes who carried him,
Put him on the map,
Made him rich--
Throws those same blokes
Off the back of the boat,
Jetsam & flotsam in his wake.
Then starts hallucinating that he's
Geoffrey Chaucer reborn, &
Self-finances a Broadway musical,
Itself a saccharine homage to
Newcastle upon Tyne, land of the
Genetic zygote he once was.
Needless to say: “The Last Ship”
Sank shortly after leaving dry dock.
Hey, Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner:
Who was your financial advisor?
Bernie Madoff?
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
Rise, Rise. The summoner sounds his morning song.
With a move of the hand, my life he conducts,
And I, like a wind-up dancer, obey all day long,
Never dancing to my song, which he obstructs.
Rise, Rise. Join the daily, degenerating strum,
Which occupies our bodies, but leaves our minds to wander
Where we could have gone? Or perhaps become?
While we drone on in labor, and true life squander.
O Time, you ensnare us in the pursuit for profit,
But allot us no room, none at all, to spend it.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
Blaise said "the heart has
its order". That's true.
Mine travels on a map in
progress. There are no
borders. Sometimes it faces
gigantic stairs and I have
to throw it up above to
prevent it from being
drained. Sometimes it
joyfully takes a ride high
and low between the
spaces of your thoughts.
I whisper "don't give up"
and it doesn't, because
you are its deity and it
is your summoner.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 10:06 AM UTC
Games are used for many things.
some use them for fun, some like to "ding".
I use them to escape, to get away.
so long into the night, I'll play play play.
I'd rather be with friends online than deal with life.
the little things like work, bills, and all that strife
I just want to stay in my perfect little game
where I can have fun and enjoy my victorious reign.
yes, back there on summoner's rift.
where all my friends, they can uplift-
my spirit and make me feel great.
it's just so fun when I'm with these good chums.
with Arkaking and a Renaissance Undying.
I log in to league just to believe
my life is complete, not dull or bleak.
I want you to stay with me and we'll play
we'll have a blast, and I hope it will last.
because i'm so empty, until it says "victory"
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
"I wish," are the two words spoken under one’s breath. These two words are all it takes to summon me.
Some call me a monster, while some only call me reality. I am the monster living not under your bed, but in your head and in your heart. When my name is called out, no one cowers away, for they all know that in some way, shape, or form, they harbor me inside of themselves.
Out of a mouth etched in pain I hear the soft whisper of two words. "I wish," the voice thick with misery and pain. With those two words, I find myself behind the hunched shoulder of my summoner, assessing her situation.
She looks just like any other from the outside. A petite , and young female, only a girl. Her stance makes it obvious that she is, drowning in her own despair, wishing that she wasn't as she is. Wishing she was smaller or taller or cuter.
In the back of my mind, something tells me that she is different from the rest. For some reason, I know that this girl will have a lasting impact on me. For some reason, I forget not to care, and this betrays my evil character.
My head tells me to comfort her. To tell her that her body only gives her more for her soulmate to love. That her height only makes her the perfect height for him to hold. Tell her that she is beautiful no matter her flaws, because they make her unique.
Still no matter my strong will for her to believe, she screams out, howls. "WHY AM I ME? WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME?" the end of her question coming out wobbling and begging, her genuine question seems to break off a layer of my heart.
As she takes the razor blade across her criss-crossed arm yet again, a river of blood runs down the length of her arm in a bumpy trail. This river being not smooth or clear, but filled with not only the things that make up blood, but also all of her anger, her pain, her defeatedness.
After years of doing this job, this one girl is able to make me empathize with her with just the slight of her wrist. Immediately, I try to help her.
"Stop Caroline," I cry out to her, hoping it will be enough to stop her destruction. As if she doesn't hear me, she continues to carve yet again. This time, her breathing becoming more shallow.
"STOP," I yell loud enough to make my vocal cords hurt. Yet, she doesn't hear me, and that is evident by her slowly closing eyes and her non-existent breathing.
Noting that she's dead, I break down. I'm left thinking only two words. Ones I never thought I'd think. I wish...
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 7:09 AM UTC