when dreamers slumber

[themirrorthief]

take that John Keats you wimp

[buxom9sorceress]

Hey thanks, Mirror-t
your fun conan poem made me LOL.

the reason he tells the best jokes in the world of fantasy
is because he has now become the biggest joke himself?

...and you can tell him I said that...
i have put his big sword to sleep before... and i can do it again...

====
coolie-hatted poets rock !

[themirrorthief]

found this oldie, hope you like



Kirby O'Donnell

pungent alleyway
much to late and cloaked
in the blackness of night
a scattering of stars
provide scarce light
then the flash of a sword
a scream of stark fright
a pistol shot shatters
the frailness of quiet
and he sets to flight
one Kirby O'Donnell
seeker of ancient
treasures, forbidden sights
with gun or deadly knife
he fights for his right
to creep through mysterious
Afghan villages
and foreboding cold hills
he wants the riches of old
or the red thrills promised
to the clever and bold
strong is the arm
and quick is the eye
the feared fear him
while lithe women sigh
for his touch
or his coin
they pray and they cry
but he leaves all to soon
for gold or gems
off he rides
Turks hunt in vain
because its a game
played in the east
and the shadows
everyday pushing harder
straining forward
in their saddles
fallen ruins are his stage
where the glimmer
of old coin can be found
he gathers it all
and escapes without sound
no stranger to death
bloodletting or strife
in one hand is a sword
and in the other
the knife
he dreams like a warrior
and loves like a thief
very broad in the shoulder
his promises he keeps
but mostly to himself
adventure in his call
and fighting his fame
let Satan pay the piper
and those fool enough
to chase him
may they all
come down lame

[buxom9sorceress]

Thanks fer your kirby odonell poem.
Very good.

"he dreams like a warrior
and loves like a thief"

[ yeah, i've met quite a few guys like that...]

[themirrorthief]

we cant help ourselves...we are all part wolf

[themirrorthief]

Shaky are the days
and the nights are filled
with odd images
and faces from
long ago
am I half mad
or half sane
so odd is my brain
pushing through the days
old pains
and new things
that drain me
I want to find a place
somewhere safe
thats not a grave
or a lie
flush me out
with joy
bring back the smiling
boy
I swear I won't
make all those mistakes
again
but now
life is such a mess
to much to think about
to much stress
whatever that is
put me in a boat
to utopia
and by that
I dont mean death
you learn by living
you die by crying
so the dawn brings
something new
a chance to make a stand
to finalize a plan
to gain wisdom
and hopefully
make a tiny bit of sense
of all this confusion

[themirrorthief]

The year 2049
The Tornado Hawks roared down the darkened street much faster than any rational man
would deem safe. They didn't care. They were drunk, stoned, cocky. Despite the blackness
of 3 am, they wore shades...standard gear along with their black leather jackets and
cowboy boots. There were four of them, the entire gang minus one who had a bad case of
the flu. There had been six but one was dead, no not dead, in prison.

At a particular intersection one veered away from the rest. He gave a quick but rather
slight wave of his gloved hand and went his own way. This one was called Roger Brace. He
was a bit older than the others and by far the handsomest. He drove into the trailer park
and came to a screeching halt just before running over a stone angel. The concrete deity
glared at him as he shut the machine down, stretched and walked onto the creaky front
porch of the blue mobile home. He pounded on the door for several minutes before a girl
answered. "God damn, what the fuck are you doing waking me up this time of night"

"You wanted to see me, why wait?"

She frowned but let him in. She pulled the cheap gown tighter about her slender shoulders
and pushed a wisp of light brown hair away from her forehead. "I did want to see you but
damn Roger, its a little early don't you think?"

"How bout some coffee?" He asked. She shook her head and shrugged before going into the
tiny kitchen and turning on the light. "I guess you want to get laid?"

"You called me," he answered and took off the sunglasses. He went into the living room
and turned on the tv...he found a movie and made himself comfortable. She brought a cup
of steaming hot coffee. He fished a bottle out of his jacket and poured a little in the
cup before sipping the hot liquid. "Good stuff, just like I like it."

Angie lay down on the couch and stared into space. She was a hooker part time and a
waitress full time. Rog was one of her Johns. But he never paid anymore and she didn't
mind all that much. He got up and started out of the room..."I need a shower, give me
a couple of minutes." When he returned he was naked and still toweling himself. "You
don't have the hottest water around Ang."

"I don't stay in there twenty minutes either," she replied. He sat down by her on the
couch and took her in his arms. The kiss lasted a long time and his hands worked over
her breasts and stomach. "Damn, you're soft..." He always made her feel like somebody
although she knew he was nobody...just a damned biker punk with no future. However, when
he said he was ready to settle down she believed him. I was crazy but something told
her it was the stone truth. She lay back on the couch and let him fuck her for a long
time. Finally she felt his warm sperm flowing into her and he collapsed into her arms.
She kissed his hair and ran her fingers over the hard muscles of his arms and back. He
groaned before she pushed him off and got up. It was her time to shower...work wasn't so
far away and she wanted breakfast.

When Angie returned from a brutal ten hour shift he was still there asleep on the couch,
still naked. Three empty beer cans stood on the end table. That was all she'd had. For
a moment she allowed herself to admire his smooth male form. Then she went back into
her bedroom and dropped on the bed with a sigh. In minutes she was asleep. Somewhere
she heard the roaring of his bike as it crashed into the stillness of late evening. She
rolled over, set the alarm on her phone and went back to sleep.

Angies broken down old car needed gas and there wasn't a lot of groceries in the house.
It didn't matter cause she was broke. Luckily she did have enough gas to make it to work
and back the next day. That evening she spent a few minutes straightening out the trailer.
She picked up some magazines to put them away and then she saw it. Two shiny new hundred
dollar bills lying there, half hidden by a worn old People magazine. She picked them
up and smiled. Rog must have left the cash...damn, who would have thunk it. Angie
went out shopping. She was off the next day so she called her friend Beth and they made
a night of it. They went to a movie and out to eat at a restaurant that wasn't so bad
or expensive. "Beth, you look great, have you had some work done?"

"I wish I could...hey, I want you to meet someone. He's right over there."

Beth scampered away and returned with a tall blond dude in tow. "This is my cousin
and isn't he the shit?" The man smiled and offered Angie his hand. Before anything
more introductions could be had the three of them were off to do some dancing and bar
hopping. It was a night to remember and she wished she could. She did recall his name..
Lee Berg.

Angie heard Rog was in jail. Not a shocker there. It looked like he was really up
against it this time. He had beaten some guy half to death while high on some fucked
up dope. When Lee called she said yes. Why not, he was a decent guy and very good
looking and he even had a job. What more could a girl want? She felt a little guilty
about not going down to the jail to see Roger...she had feelings for the guy but he
was his own worse enemy. She thought about him a lot....if only he hadn't been such
a loser. Five months later she married Lee.

Two years after that she divorced Lee. He had beaten her, stolen money from her...lied
to her, fucked other women. It had been a nightmare. She did get the house, she sold it
and went to college. After college she went into finance and real estate. Find a talent
she never knew she had she did well and became a millionaire by the time she was 33.

Angie started hanging out with a higher class of friends. The did stuff like go to
museums, take cruises, and even read books. In fact, she and her new friend Shelia were
at a bookstore when they discovered some author was doing a book signing in the back.
Angie could have fallen over dead when she saw the author was none other than her old
flame Roger! He was autographing copies of his new book, THE LAST OF THE TORNADO HAWKS.
She remembered that was the name of his old biker gang. She picked up a copy and got
in line. She felt terribly nervous for some reason. She just couldn't believe it.
When it was her time she handed him the book and he smiled and signed. He gave it back to
her, "Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy it."

"Do you remember me Roger?"

He stared at her for a moment..."Angie?"

"Yes, looks like you got it going on here."

"Well, who knows, its my first...I wouldn't look for it on the New York Times best
seller list." Then she realized someone behind her was nudging her out of the way.
She took her book and looked for Shelia. When she glanced back Roger was busy talking
to the next person in line. It was all so strange. He was different, clean cut and
even talked different. People could sure change a lot in nine years she mused. When
she got back home she could not stop reading his book. It was fascinating...and so much
of it seemed to be a story of her life too. Yes, it was fiction but the writing was
superb and a chapter about one particular woman made Angie read it over twice. She could
swear the character was based on her!

It was about this time that Angie realized she might never see Roger again. She recalled
him saying something to the person ahead of her in line about his "nice visit" to his
hometown. For no reason she could fathom, she broke down and cried for a very long time.
She was glad that he had straightened himself out and was trying to make something
out of himself. She had money, perhaps she could help him. No, he was doing fine all on
his on.

THE LAST OF THE TORNADO HAWKS did hit the bestseller lists. And Roger's next book did
too. Angie never saw him again, except for his picture In the book stores. She read his
books and sometimes dreamed about him but when it came to touching, there were only
memories to squeeze and long nights lying awake in the dark.

The Last of the Tornado Hawks

[themirrorthief]

The Return of Gatesville Bob(all around bad ash)

Gatesville Bob hated vampires. He hated the way they looked, he hated their hollow
stares, he especially hated their breath. It stank, like rotten offal, and that's truly
horrible. They smelled like bloated corpses. Like the fiends they were however, they
knew how to cloak the odors. It was one of their powers. Luckily for Bob they could not
maintain this cloak when angry and Gatesville Bob made them plenty angry. As Bob searched
the old ruined castle he smelled them...and they were close.

"You damned fool mortal!" A deep yet hollow voice rang out. A monstrous vision appeared
seemingly from nowhere. Another man would have been frozen by the chill chasing down his
spine but another man would not have once been an understudy to Solomon Kane!

"At last you show yourself foul creature of despair and darkness. Your time has come,
best hold still and I'll make it quick and at last you shall be at peace."

The thing snarled like a wild animal and then it charged the gaunt avenger. Moving much
faster than a mortal the thing was upon him in less than a second. Its foul breath
scorched the Avenger's dark features and its horrible fangs sought soft flesh. Then
an expression of shock swept over the loathsome monster's features and it seemed
momentarily frozen. It backed away and glanced down at its chest where the wooden stake
was planted a good foot inside. "Satan curse you..." it growled before screaming with
a shriek that would do any banshee proud. Then it crumbled in a haze of smoke an steam
until nothing was left save crumbling bones and rags. Gatesville Bob nodded in
satisfaction and his hand went to his belt to draw forth another stake. He knew
instinctively that his night was likely far from done. He paused momentarily to urinate
on the scant remains of the vampire. He had drank heavily that night. He needed the
liquor to keep his mind clear and his limbs supple and warm. He withdrew a bottle of
good brandy and half emptied the container. Then the Avenger grunted and put the bottle
away. After a few moments pause to enjoy the effects of the potion he drained the rest
of the burning fluid and tossed the bottle away. The sound of breaking glass rang hollow
and angrily amindst the somber cold stones of the decayed castle.

Bob took another bottle and uncorked it with his teeth. He stared at it for a long
moment as if contemplating the wisdom of another drink. "What is wrong you foolish
man, is your courage flagging. That will not aid you now, only make you sluggish and
easy prey for the evil ones that lurk in the night." Bob was surprised to see what he
thought was the vague outline of a female figure half hidden in the nearby undergrowth.

Then she or it giggled in a very girlish
way, as though playing a little joke on Bob. Her voice was enchanting as she continued.

"I used to be afraid of the dark too...but that passed. Now it is a comfort to me...like
a strange friend that visits every day...or night I should say."

Gatesville Bob's frozen blue eyes narrowed to fine slits and then widened as a new
emotion seized his fevered brain. There, illuminated by the pale light of a full moon,
stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was tall and dressed in a lovely
white gown. Her hair was long, dark and wavy. Her lips were full and red like the color
of a rose in full bloom. Her figure was slender but abundant in the most pleasing
areas. Her bosom rose high and heaved as fiercely excited by some passion that lay
just below the surface of this spectacular vision. "In God's name and by all that is
holy...what bring you to this forsaken place at such a late hour?" Gatesville Bob
spoke in a voice that was tinged with astonishment and inquiry.

"I wandered away from my home which is nearby. I often walk at night due to my many
worries. It sooths me, the stillness and quiet. I was curious about these old ruins and
wanted to view them in moonlight. I heard a disturbance and drew near. What was the
meaning of the strange commotion I overheard at a distance?" Her voice was like a soft
melody, innocent and a little shy...yet deep and wholly female. Bob marveled at her and
her courage to stroll about in these desolate parts...alone.

She moved gracefully and her beautiful dark eyes flittered about. Her fingers worried
at her long hair and her full breasts lay partially exposed due to a plunging neckline.
Bob's eyes were drawn there like a magnet. "I did not expect to find a man, and a very
handsome one, during my little nocturnal sojourn. I so long for company out here in the
country. Its very lonely and my husband is often away, as he is tonight."

Her word seemed almost like an invitation. Bob felt an odd sensation run through his
limbs and he suddenly seemed incredibly relaxed...or was it fatigued? His mind seemed
foggy and he struggled to concentrate on her words. The rang hypnotic and oddly distant
and he wondered if the brandy might have been drugged. Gatesville Bob had many
enemies. He glanced at the second bottle open in his hand. It seemed a curious thing
as the moonlight shot odd rays through the glass and the fluid within. His attention
had focused on the object for only a moment but when he turned back to view the woman
she was closer, much closer. In truth, she was standing directly in front of him and
his usually very excellent hearing had hear not one footfall. "You are very strong and
a handsome man indeed..." her voice was husky now she seemed to have trouble composing
the words correctly. Her long, beautiful arms reached out for him. "I am so lonely
here, so sad and lonely and my husband has been away for so long. I...I think I need
someone to hold me...to love me!"

Suddenly her face was very close but her breath was not sweet like that of a beautiful
young woman's. There was the smallest, a very faint you understand...Stench! The
stench of the vampire!

Gatesville Bob raised the bottle high overhead even as the girl took him in her
warm embrace. For a second it appeared he might bring it down upon her head but instead
it was upturned and the liquid splattered the woman's dark hair and ran down over her
turbulent bosom and the beautiful gown. Instantly she released him and screamed in
horror and rage. "What did you do to me!" She shouted at Bob.

"Only a bit of holy water my dear...nothing to worry oneself about, Unless you are one
of the foul undead." The woman screamed and screamed and screamed as smoke rose from her
hair and bits of flesh began to peel from her face and arms. She stared at him
with an expression of hate and incredulous amazement. Then the pain took her wholly and
the shrieked and writhed and the smoke about her increased and the agony set upon her
unmercifully. Bob grasped a handful of the thick dark hair and yanked her near. Then
the stake plunged deeply between those proud breasts and the woman sank to the ground,
her eyes glazed and peaceful of a sudden. She did not crumble away like the previous
fiend but soon took the aspect of a beautiful woman, deep in sleep. Bob could not stop
himself from staring. "What a shame," he half whispered. "Yet she was one of the great
and powerful ones...her appearance now proves it to be so."

He knelt near the body and raised the head. To his utter horror the dark eyes flashed
open and a expression of pure hate spread instantly across the beautiful features until
he looked into the face of a rage filled witch, a hag demon spawned straight from hell
itself!

Gatesville Bob was a quick man, both of wit and body. His sword flashed down and
severed the head with one fell stroke. He hurled the loathsome head as far as he could
and stood up, much aroused. He thought he heard a scream but it was very faint. He looked
down at the body and now it was nothing but bones and ash. Bob shivered in disgust and
with a sliver of fear. His work was not easy. The night had grown very cold. He pulled his
dark cloak about himself and glanced up at the moon. "A curse on all dark things that
thrive under such a light as you provide." He mumbled. He was half sickened and did not
tarry longer in that sad dreadful place, beneath that malevolent moon and its mocking
face. He sheathed his sword, no need to wipe away blood for he knew there was none.
Then he stalked away, his mind swiftly shifting to desire for warm light, strong drink,
and a week long drunk.

[themirrorthief]

the sparkle
on the flowers
was brilliant
like diamonds
bold and speaking
words
in a language
ancient and all knowing
her hair was light
and felt so fine
on my finger tips
and when we kissed
the softness there
left me stunned
and all alone
in my joy
hand in hand
we walked
beside water
they flowed forever
not stopping
and eternity
in a second
that was what the term
perfection
was meant to be
leaves swaying
in rhythm
to timeless nature
and sun making
everything yellow
and bold
just a few
tiny droplets
of life
frozen in time
and they soothe me
pour freshness
into my mind
and let me drift
free
as I dream
of kindness
beauty
and more perfect
days

[buxom9sorceress]

Aug 2, 2017 0:35:45 GMT -5 themirrorthief said:

the sparkle
on the flowers...
...as I dream
of kindness
beauty
and more perfect
days

aww... that is so nice.

so what happened to you?
did you get kissed by a gentle spectral fairy?
get a new religion?
or just get a new female therapist?

if you can dream about love and peacefulness for more than 5 mins...then you are doing very well in this sick dark modern world?

[themirrorthief]

I have a new job and its a real killer...and the hours area real beatch...and I agree the world we live in a a disease, so much hate and selfishness that its downright scary

[themirrorthief]

make the world new
and why not?
Spin it just for you
and never ever stop
blinding yourself is bad
take it all in
through the eyes
of one amazed
the people and places
the plants and traces
of all this culture
and construction
has to make an impression
clear away some
of your depression
and maybe make you smile
awaken your inner child
forget all that bile
there is a lot to
see out there
a lot to taste
and touch
so go for it
get off your butt

[themirrorthief]

I watched
with great interest
as she walked into the deep
water
her dress became wet
it was a long white dress
her laugh
was addictive
if man can love
a woman
I loved her
then
the sun was bright
and the sky blue
her lips were red
and her eyes
were silver
they shown
liked metal
very polished metal
everything is strange today
she has gone far away
I will never see her
again
that means forever
but what of it
I can dream
long and deep
like that woman
that covered her
so moist and cool
and clear
and damp
on that day

[themirrorthief]

the mirror thief is mad
he has to many reflections
everywhere he turns
his image mocks and burns
down deep into his soul
which once was so damn bold
the ladies loved
his bludgeon
now he is a carmudgeon
his life is almost over
but he hasnt yet
paid the piper
and he still lusts
for that hot little
candy stripper
frankly this poem
is a heaping pile
of doo
but it helps
chase away
those blues
that come in the night
so its all good
unless my words
take flight like birds
and bombard with turds
those who would deceive
whose heads would cleave
and those that non believe
in the power
of the soul
and ancient stories
told

[themirrorthief]

I wish I loved myself more...I would be soaring off like an eagle then