A hall of mirrored glass, where each pane shows a possibility - each a reflection of a different place and a different time. Enter freely, but tread softly - not all reflections are places of peace.
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 My crappy poems.

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Join date : 2011-08-23

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PostSubject: My crappy poems.   My crappy poems. I_icon_minitimeFri Aug 26, 2011 7:24 pm

Lead my example, as they say. I WILL DROWN YOU IN MEDIOCRE POETRY.


In a moment of mercy, I stumbled.
The words on my tongue, oh how they fumbled.
You lay before me, twisted, body-wrong.
What had I done? I hurt you, now no song
Would pour from those lips, honeyed verses, love
In the guise of words. I fall, my tears of
Agony falling like saltwater rain.
Your eyes dim. My heart stutters. This is pain.
A hand 'pon your face, my broken dream,
And another over heart...and I scream.
The keening wail of a true love now lost,
My hands turn to fists, my soul now enconsed
Within grief's steely bars.

I stumbled, in that moment's mercy.
Had I finished without remorse...
A pity.

Your Judge and Your Jury

Your judge and your jury,
I laugh at your fury.
My gavel rings fairly,
You hang on just barely.
Your words come inanely,
Can't you speak sanely?
You argue so dearly -
My verdict rings clearly.
Your breath comes so heav'ly
My lips smile brev'ly.
You're taken 'way quickly.
You cry 'til you're sickly.
You waste away sadly.
You do end quite badly.

I'm your judge.
I'm your jury.
I laugh at your fury - my gavel rings fairly.

From Whom the Blood Flows

Listen to them.
Listen to them beg and plead,
Whimper and cry.

They are weak. You are better.
Rule them. Crush them.
Destroy them and rule them.
Show them your strength and your might.

Your arm, it aches, spill their blood.
Cut them, smash them. Hurt them.
Kill them.
Grind them beneath your boot.
You are better. Show them.

I will give you the strength you need.
Your sword arm will never tire, your thirst for battle never slack.
Maim them and burn them, hurt them, annihilate them.
They mocked you, they spurned you.
Now you are mighty, now you are strong.
Give me their skulls, add their blood to the Great River Red.

And someday, too, your time will come.
You know this, now - and now you yearn.
You strive to meet them that will beat you.
Cast you down and rip you, tear you, beat you and slay you.
And then, my throne will have one more skull, a champion prized now brought
This is how the cycle turns, the endless slaughter that I will.
I care not from whom the blood flows.

Only War

Behind dead stars
the Gods,
they wait.

Their eyes that watch
are full
of hate.

'twixt the space an'
dark worlds,

their voices call,
great spells
are swirled.

In the dark Void
are made

of thought and of
feel, and
plans laid.

They wait, they watch,
they feel
and think.

And so, our great
on th'brink

of falling so
far, rises
once more.

In far futures,
there is
only war.

The Four

"By my mighty axe doth the Red River flow,
And by my singing blade does the madness grow!
By my Will alone can Death be prevented,
And by my Thoughts apart are your Empires ended...

Do my bidding, and you'll be rewarded.
Heed my words for all things sordid!
I can protect you from the ravage of rot,
And I can give to you all that you sought.

By axe or sword or fist or bone,
There is not a thing I do not condone!
Disease and death, all with a smile,
And simply destroy all you revile.

We are the Four, the Great, the Strong,
Serve us well, heed our song!
Our powers are many, we've followers galore,
And by your word we shall have one more..."

The Words in the Beginning, Book of Creation, Chapter III, Verses 12-24

The Dark Prince

I am desire's heart, vanity's soul,
Gluttony's hole, depravity's start.

Dreams made me, start with me,
Dance with me, end with me.

I am the muse of your most beautiful creation,
As you muse on your deepest temptation.

I shall raise you up on spanners of gold,
And all around shall yearn to behold

Your perfect face and flawless form,
But none shall know that like a worm

A tendril of darkness now wriggles about,
Evil and wicked without a doubt.

For now you know I am one and all,
Your highest cloud and deepest fall.

But it is far too late, you now realize,
You cannot turn back, told too many lies.

You are mine, body and soul,
And never again will you be whole.

For I am the Prince, the Lord, and more,
The Decadent King, the Baron Galore.

I am Slaanesh, you poor little fool,
And you are now under MY rule!


Restraining affliction.
Elements that burn and keep his attention.

And might.
With a hatred of light.
Eyes of fire and soul dark as night.

The undead.
They quake with their dread.
The mad one's true strength is so far ahead.

And rage.
His hate knows no age.
The passing of aeons the turn of a page.

Such sorrow.
And there is no tomorrow.
He bursts from his cage with the crack of earth's marrow.

His wings are stretched.
And his powers are freed.
The world it doth tremble at such terrible greed.

Ancient powers waken.
But such stead they do give him.
Terrible revenge, lay the world to its ruin.


Field of Dreams

A field is before me,
And without looking back,
I take the first step into eternity.
This is all familiar, I realize, because
So long, long ago,
I've dreamed of this.

A field is before me,
An expanse without horizon,
Infinite in its simple complexity.
So beautiful...
So timeless...
I've dreamed of this.

A field is before me,
A nameless place
Beyond time and beyond space.
If only I could stop to rest...
And lay my head a while.
I've dreamed of this.

A field is around me,
I stand within it,
Safe and at peace.
I am calm, here, in its serenity,
In its comforting arms.
I've dreamed of this.

A field is around me,
And once more, I take a step
Into the unknown, into an adventure.
I should be afraid, I think,
I should feel nervous, but I don't, for
I've dreamed of this.

A field is around me,
I am almost loath to leave
This place of my inner self.
But it is almost, for I know
That wherever I go,
I've dreamed of this.

A field is behind me,
And the wind at my back pushes me forward.
I shall not stop, I will not stop,
And I will not look back.
For there is a field before me, and
I've dreamed of this.

Dark Doctor Kriss

Come, little fleshling, and let me tell you a tale.
A tale of cogs and bones,
And skin gone pale.

The night was dark,
The air was cold.
...Young Isabella ran through th' fold.

He breathing was quick.
Her feet, they were fast.
But sadly for her, she couldn't outlast

The figure that stalked her,
Followed through night.
Its fingers were as knives made of dark alacite.

Its eyes whirred, focused,
as it caught sight of her.
Its piston-driven legs began to blur.

She would never make it,
She was but meat.
Her last thoughts as she was dragged from her feet.

With a surgical slice,
And a dramatic flair,
Poor Isabella no longer drew air.

Next morn, 'pon the step
Of the church she attended.
Her body was discovered, quite exsanguinated.

No word was given,
No warning said.
But for a small note, in ink blood-red.

"Hello, little mortals.
I told you she'd pay,
For breaking and entering, she died last day.

Take this lesson to heart,
I hope you all remember this.
Sincerely, your friend, the Dark Doctor Kriss."


Dragons keep
While demons weep
About the colored bends.

While angels' deep
And unseen sleep
Are met with painful ends.

A lonely thing,
They shall sing,
Caused us all this pain.

And while they all ring
About reasoning,
We go to drink the rain.

To what cause
Makes us pause
Amidst our wondrous mirth?

'tis the clause,
And the laws,
Of this, the most odd birth.

Cry for me,
Yet dreamily,
For sorrow is not worth the wait.

But pridefully,
I go out to close the gate.

You are out
You lazy lout,
Hurry and come inside.

For that sick,
Demented dick,
Locked you on th'outside.

What is love
But a dove
With oddly-clipped wings?

And above,
They must shove,
To comprehend such things.

Dragons weep
While demons keep
About the colored bends.

While angels' deep
And unseen sleep
Are met with painless ends.

You Will Be Mine

I am the voice,
The eternal doubt,
The cacophonous lie in your head.

I am the soul,
The heart of your pain,
The mind of your suffering.

I am Architect,
The Fateweaver,
The Lord of your world and all its sisters.

You believe in your Gods,
You believe in your Emperors.

You are wrong.

I am the beginning tied to its endless end.
Eons of passing have made me,
And the passing of eons shall see me still remaining.

My seat of your souls,
My hall of your hearts,
I am the keeper of your hopes and your dreams.

It is I who whispers in the night,
The insidious whispers and
promises of power that bring you to your knees.

I am the God of Lies,
The Lord of Die.
Fate, chance, and change.

All are me,
And I am all.

I am the contemplator of the infinite,
And the tempter of those that are finite.
The endless paradox, the eternal conundrum.
The logical end that justifies the illogical means.

From my many mouthes spout a thousand truths hidden
in a million lies.

From my seat in the Maze of Many Things pour forth
The injustices of a cruel universe.

I am the Lying God.
I am the Architect of Fate.
I am the Changing One,
The Lord of Change.
The Master of Space.
The Tyrant of Time.

I am Tzeentch, and in the end, you will be MINE.

"Of course this is in your head. But what makes you think that means it isn't real?"
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Join date : 2011-08-23
Age : 28
Location : Zenith, and falling!

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PostSubject: Re: My crappy poems.   My crappy poems. I_icon_minitimeFri Aug 26, 2011 8:39 pm

Tsk, Keeper! Your poems are fantabulous, and you know it. I love the flow of your verses, and when I read them, I can almost hear the voices of those speaking.

Mad skills, bro'. I'd totally buy a book of your poems. Or your book!

My crappy poems. Alistair_is_no_sissy_crusade_by_yuhime-d3fozrj


^- Anders, REAL ANDERS.

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster."
-Friedrich Nietzsche

'A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night,
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright.'
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