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Post by themirrorthief on Apr 9, 2016 4:17:01 GMT -5
when dreamers dream of dreaming late at night quietly entering sounds and sights sighs soft and delights somber times and sensuous visions dancing girls twirling there by the light of passing cars through the curtains they come and they go like whispers in a loud place and dreamers keep dreaming sometimes dreaming of dreams that happened long ago in other times and involving lonely sad cases buckets of teardrops soothing music somewhere eases us along pictures full of color colors full of life lives full of up and downs rains and spring blossoms spinning soulful wishes that come during slumber they come without number and bleed their melodies of days past and things lost long ago in that other world of a thirteen or thirty year old boy who walked through a mysterious yet sweet world that has changed but they say there is no return but one can float and sleep long long into nights that still bring stillness and delights from a world hidden by day cloaked from sight and thus the dreamer dreams and even day dreams about his memories and the path that brought him here
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Post by buxom9sorceress on Apr 11, 2016 5:20:40 GMT -5
Thanks for your new poem. ==== and your own new poems are welcome in our PIT OF SET [ poetry topic ] [ read post #1 ] swordsofreh.proboards.com/thread/135/pit-set-new-poetry==== ==== BTW --- still hoping to read your new 'nsfw' more spicey fan tales at Waldgeists forum? [ you said you had several ready to post ]
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Post by themirrorthief on Apr 11, 2016 8:53:05 GMT -5
yes, I have been a bit overworked and depressed lately...Im having a hard time outrunning all those rats in the rat race...but hopefully?
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Post by themirrorthief on Apr 19, 2016 16:49:29 GMT -5
bleeding softly into the next day feeling a little trapped locked up forced away haunted by dreams some nightmares some hopeful the maze is so complex cant seem to wade thorough all the mess and messy people want to shout and flex and scream I'm alive want to live my dreams but the air is like a heavy stone always pushing me pushing me down perhaps there is a solution an escape from all this confusion better times await push harder on the gate cant make the vision small or grand or even tall just got to get through this quicksand crush this damned programming and self oppression free myself and my self expression
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Post by themirrorthief on May 9, 2016 12:05:36 GMT -5
the mirrorthief is mad tossing caution to the wind running up an down and naturally, all around his head is spinning his vision is dimming his beard needs trimming clinging to some notion there may yet be a magical potion to clean heads and hearts put an end to false starts but now he struggles wipes his brow and grins plugging holes in sinking ships taking far to many short trips any escape is far better than a pious nun for whom only God is the answer or perhaps baseball at least its fancy er and so he dreams and avoids his enemies and their wives on his downward flight into a beautiful sort of malady the same as the bard yes he is mad and smiles at the world from his trembling house of cards with a mind so vague and marred
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Post by buxom9sorceress on May 12, 2016 0:55:32 GMT -5
very good insight into the moon-filled minds of poets. Thanks for inspiring me. ==== ~~~ half a moon away ~~~ ...most poets are about half-mad for about half the time? i should know... i have been a 'were-poet' myself for about half a moon, each tortured month... .... >[ please see rest of my new poem in our PIT OF SET ] ====
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Post by themirrorthief on May 12, 2016 12:44:47 GMT -5
who can I believe in who can I trust when Im tired and defeated where do I turn the nights are long and Im so weary who is there to hold the world is gnashing its teeth breathing flames of destruction wolves outside the door and faith wavers so who is there that I can call that needs me as much as I need them let us not pretend we are out on a limb and its a rotten one at that I will go down with the ship willingly but it would be so nice to have someone to hold my hand to make me a man and simply understand
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Post by themirrorthief on May 24, 2016 18:00:42 GMT -5
Help me Im drowning in a sea of blood red emotion chains on my soul thorn in the flesh all staring to mesh turning me into a misery salad wish I could tell you something positive lift you up cure your sickness take away your blindness God help us all to beat down to stand tall we are all in this together and its the titanic listing badly singing sadly like that just broke withered fried like a sun baked dead fish wanna be happy feast on this life this world wrap my fingers in pretty curls that smell like cheap shampoo got to move away from this funk tired of the punks gotta find that place that shelter that peace maybe its the next life that frees you like a kite bore away on fall winds never to be seen again
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Post by themirrorthief on Jun 3, 2016 18:44:34 GMT -5
silent is the night with a sprinkling of stars some dim, some bright those faraway lights and misty darkness whispering things to those that listen those OTHERS that place their hands over the land, waters and stars and caress ancient powers mystic hymns carried on eternal winds and the dreams of the faithful who touch all things softly amen
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Post by themirrorthief on Jun 4, 2016 0:44:21 GMT -5
Modern living is such a pain in the grasp its stupid, depressing, stressful and just downright boring Hopefully I will die young and in my next life come back in an alternate universe Like I want to be an evil villain in a hardcore setting Warhammer would work I could serve a dastardly wizard or tyrant riding and raping plundering and pillaging drinking and farting just living the good life then when I finally grow old and tired I want to be thrown in a dungeon to feast on plump cockroaches tasty lizards and rancid rodents (heads or tails anyone?) then in one final blast of glory I would escape in an escapade most gory slaying and being rude then one final confrontation with an awesome bounty hunter a great battle ensures where I'd more than hold my own only to have at last, my head separated from my old body then it could ride triumphantly on the end of a pike hither and yon as Brunner collects his huge bounty and I finally get my due respect as all my pals point and gasp at how cool I'd be remembered
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Post by themirrorthief on Jun 9, 2016 2:47:43 GMT -5
Ok I will confess I sold my soul to the lowest bidder in the midst of my awesome insanity I still dreamed of love but it was always so far away so damned far away Pain is like a dream it comes during the quiet dark and stays like a dart inside my deepest places cold and cruel sometimes it just seems all is wasted sold out pitched to the sun and burned away like they say when you watch pretty maids in lace under a great oak and then the storm gathers and you are so alone so alone and screaming on the inside because of all the mistakes misunderstandings doubts and shallow triumphs thus I sold it all to those that bid low cause there is where I could go and hide for a little while and enjoy this tiny wet dream that is my life
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Post by themirrorthief on Jun 17, 2016 0:30:10 GMT -5
Maven Lords ravens feast in darkness and sleep in fog seeping and weeping like a dream after midnight when all is quiet except inside the soul where all festers insane court jesters jeer and laugh dance and prance their leering eyes and poison verse and bottomless pools of despairing tears flush another day into night I wander blindly no sight of anything but more dreams and restless nights ghosts that haunt on their pre dawn flights around the earth and moon while witches knit on silver looms and cackle at the sounds of demon's and ghouls that burn in torment where no one rests just pack it all away inside a chest and pretend that everything is alright
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Post by buxom9sorceress on Jun 18, 2016 5:15:47 GMT -5
Maven Lords ravens feast in darkness and sleep in fog seeping and weeping like a dream after midnight when all is quiet except inside the soul where all festers insane court jesters jeer and laugh dance and prance their leering eyes and poison verse and bottomless pools of despairing tears flush another day into night I wander blindly no sight of anything but more dreams and restless nights ghosts that haunt on their pre dawn flights around the earth and moon while witches knit on silver looms and cackle at the sounds of demon's and ghouls that burn in torment where no one rests just pack it all away inside a chest and pretend that everything is alright hi. i enjoyed that dark and playful poem: with plenty of rhyming to keep me more interested. -- thanks for sharing your works with us all.
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Post by themirrorthief on Jun 25, 2016 8:31:20 GMT -5
I put on a new life this morning I'm a bird soaring so high above it all above the anxiety the hurt the mad jokers and their painted faces so scant the traces of humanity poisoned minds twisted, digital times inorganic orgasms' muscle spasms open chasms inside weeping hearts and the howling dogs of despair all there but far below me and I'm climbing still into the air where I can breathe and allow a drop of refreshing rain or maybe a splinter of love to penetrate my hardened heart and give my mind a simpler way of seeing beauty and the clear visions of God
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Post by themirrorthief on Jul 14, 2016 23:29:38 GMT -5
I loved her she was love anytime anywhere Paris or Venice or chilly New York or even by the bay watching flowers spin then float in waters deep and deadly and lovely like her in her face was joy and things remembered but everyday has its night and we turned away from each other and love became loss an old story really despite the leaves and falling things under a sky bright or grey kisses sweet cannot last as years pass and we fade to survive is pain legends we become and gently we sway from dawn to later days sadness and dreams of those times when the flowers would spin and the dreams were real and the faces could be touched and hate was left behind in the dust of a hot summer day and its warm comforting breeze back when I had love and still believed
ode to a yesterday's flower
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