What he would say to you. | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75558153 United States 07/25/2019 03:57 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | What makes you think you can? Unless....you’re he is you and my she is me. Yes, we could speak for ourselves Where exactly did I do that? But you claimed to speak for someone else so.. Because she is me and not me. But maybe that would go over your head slightly Ahh, makes sense.. Carry on.. |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75822891 United States 07/25/2019 03:57 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Music is great, but a lot of people project their soul songs onto others assuming their vibe will be similar to their own. But the songs here are ego based and imply somebody with a superiority complex. To be honest I have...no interest in listening to that same old story. Tell me a new one Quoting: Light of my Little Left Eye You sound like quite an egoistical brat yourself.. And you sound...needlessly defensive Who and how am I defending anyone? Just speaking my mind? Or is that not allowed in here? Yes, and your mind reveals a lot about who you are. De facto |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75822891 United States 07/25/2019 03:58 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Her Mother was a Monster, Her Father was a Lion They painted her like a fawn in the moonlight, but she struck out of her skin like a werewolf leaving nothing but bones in the waking world. She can speak to snakes; they are binary logicians. Pure determinists - faith means nothing to the Tau-impaled. In the sun, she wields a bow, and her marksmanship channels the arrow. In the moonlight, she wields the sword, a sword made of glowing heat, a sword with no metal, but only light. She only wields weapons while wearing a blindfold. Her mother was a monster, and she suckled upon the breast of a beast. Her father was a Lion, and he gave her a sheathe to club the sharp upon. In several lifetimes, she was torn apart limb from limb and her name lived in ashes. In several lifetimes she cast curses, becoming a tyrant witch. In several lifetimes she sought revenge, and in half of those she found it. In several lifetimes she forgave the faceless men, and departed her body. In several lifetimes she transcended her mentors, an heiress of the Anakim. ***************** There was unspoken, the beating heart... Whispered, the dream of the mind - and then, another place, Ntyr - a new sun rises, not one in the east or west. The tribe of the painted skull, they ride wild horses, and their chariots wheels glazed in ice could pass over any plain, or plane. upon their beloved, theirs gifts were imparted. chosen men and woman, to hear their secret whispers to see with the aleph - eye the language before babel, when words rang unspoken, pure thoughts as aether, impressions of possibility mixed into earth's splendor, blending like watercolors shades of meaning communicated many layers and they saw geometry and they smelled algebra and letters were utensils by which they pieced apart their meals a feast that would sustain for many nights... *********************** in "their" world, you would see dragons but they are in truth the manifestation of what shines In the darkness the eyes rest, and vision glows - the luminary aftermath of heated fusion. They cannot speak to you the way you learned to talk, but their spoken word is the dance and the turn of an arc passing under a spiral, a sphere, the grid-layers of microscopic blocs - and the ratio between the lines becomes a snail and a sea shell and you can only say the empty words in the mother tongue because babel is burned and gone you know not of the wisdom layered between the poems and fables not of the mystery of painters or their runic books concealing stories of aeons, concealing powers hidden by forgotten gods.... to rule among the stars above to implore the dusty world below the multitudes scream and shout and scratch and paw at the endless envy that seems to touch the clouds hoping to knock off a droplet, to quench the thirst of desire the fire is the drink itself hell is no more than the self-deceiver no thing moves at the last yet most of them they thrash and spasm in tear goblet containers, illusions of intersecting experience and when death has claimed them they will laugh ultimately seeing the unseen scene all along in dreams the wakers find the egregor, among them you are, hidden and glowing only the archetypes beyond man know of ye but they know of ye by more than name or face or even soul, they know of ye beyond what you are they beckon for the kneeling and the limbless levitate and the blind are rapt by paintings purely for themselves do reap, the bounty of Golgotha ******************************** crashing upon the sea shoals the barnacles tethered to the belly of the pier the songs the tide weather, the sails of the seafarers unfurled upon the winded gust arcane are the creatures that dwell in the deep brave is the diver, tentative are the submarines below the waves, the ruins weep the long and resigned sigh sent to the surface in bubbled telegrams of weathered artifacts sliding back into the craters of sand dissolving, down below the bosom ocean underneath underneath ... they say that bricks and mortar are made in the context of centuries, the breathspan of man but other eyes watch millennia pass in the span of boiling blanched, a teabag pulled into a watery glass and several cycles of history passed... upon their fingers, whole universes whirr like clockwork, spinning the arrow of time to and fro but the brain , like the blueprint of factory belts, can only construct one thing, albeit masterfully, and with superior skill - it can only create a clockwise apparition and while the driver inside the carriage whips the reins sometimes the chariot gallops, or else it slogs the hros changes lanes but the rails remain the same this is the riddle of the benben bird the torn watchtower of ziggurats past now only the stairs and the alter remain... and saturn's rings snicker and the bell tolls on the hour ************************************** se'lah vie her ankles are chained and his tempers flare too soon for her salted wound he wants everything seared black and toasted he is beyond anger now it's neither righteous nor monstrous can you hear the wailing? that's desperation. there's no quelling it now the Red's claw reaps its rewards its been fed the heartfelt wish of many dreamers but she wants no part of this she leaves a doll in her place slips out through the back window gone with the hiss of the coming storm towards the valley of the vale southward bound in another quadrant of earth there is hope for respite love? Reunion? forgiveness? the witch is wary of the beast's bloodlust... and the nobody is stuck in a bomb shelter screaming about the end of the world... and the birds chatter frequently, comparing the climate of Antarctica to France and the hive mind is zombified, and the watchers bet on roaches and the tower's prisoner is dead as a doll and that girl seeks the boy before the painful transmutation undergone by the man she seeks him below the equator belt and beneath the pillars of the earthen salt and plunges with a mask and a torch into dark caves and ignores crystal plumes and sulfur pits she searches for what lies beneath the callous buried deep she walks in rags through the desert, barefoot on the blistering sand. only bones are preserved here, under the thickets of dunes. ignoring the oasis, ignoring the fruit and the water, she trudges on there is something off in the distance which is not a mirage. it's unclear when or where this promise might be found whether the whispers in her ear can be trusted as sound whether hope is a trickster and love is a fool but in any case to one direction she is bound to see her quest through to the end to leave her pursuers with their puppets to enact their ritual ends... the veil shortens, calling the chosen to find el dorado and she seeks a new answer, a path unwritten a new ending to the story beyond vengeance a sort of justice one without the stain of blood. ************************* Her mother was the Lady of the Lake. Her gift was Arthur's sword. And to her his sword was returned. Her father was a smithy of a certain sort. In that sense, he helped fashion the sword. Too bright to look at squarely, her father spoke in celestial tenor and tongue; imparting lullabies to her in the day, he sung sweetly in her ear so that she would not be lonely as she searched for her home. Her sword drinks the water and the moonlight. It emits both emits and detains the rays of the sun and glistens like diamond dust. It is never empty, nor heavy. But rarely is it swung. |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75558153 United States 07/25/2019 03:59 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Who and how am I defending anyone? Just speaking my mind? Or is that not allowed in here? Yes, and your mind reveals a lot about who you are. De facto Who am I? :D |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 77822362 Slovakia 07/25/2019 04:26 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75558153 United States 07/25/2019 04:29 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Who and how am I defending anyone? Just speaking my mind? Or is that not allowed in here? Yes, and your mind reveals a lot about who you are. De facto Never realized you had such a shitty personality, Gaylus. |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75558153 United States 07/25/2019 04:30 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75822891 United States 07/25/2019 04:30 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Who and how am I defending anyone? Just speaking my mind? Or is that not allowed in here? Yes, and your mind reveals a lot about who you are. De facto Never realized you had such a shitty personality, Gaylus. So you ignore the substance in favor of an insult...a bland one. Why? to see her quest through to the end to leave her pursuers with their puppets to enact their ritual ends... the veil shortens, calling the chosen to find el dorado and she seeks a new answer, a path unwritten a new ending to the story beyond vengeance a sort of justice one without the stain of blood. Nothing to say? |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75558153 United States 07/25/2019 04:32 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75822891 United States 07/25/2019 04:33 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75558153 United States 07/25/2019 04:33 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | ... Quoting: Anonymous Coward 75558153 Who and how am I defending anyone? Just speaking my mind? Or is that not allowed in here? Yes, and your mind reveals a lot about who you are. De facto Never realized you had such a shitty personality, Gaylus. So you ignore the substance in favor of an insult...a bland one. Why? to see her quest through to the end to leave her pursuers with their puppets to enact their ritual ends... the veil shortens, calling the chosen to find el dorado and she seeks a new answer, a path unwritten a new ending to the story beyond vengeance a sort of justice one without the stain of blood. Nothing to say? Nothing you say has any substance, but carry on.. |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75558153 United States 07/25/2019 04:34 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75822891 United States 07/25/2019 04:36 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | I guess all the time spent in the crazyhouse couldnt fix your fucked up head.. Quoting: Anonymous Coward 75558153 What part is fucked up? Like all of it? But I guess thats what makes you so special. You are essentially saying, "nothing". "nothing worth noting". "Nothing worth negating". "Nothing worth commenting upon...." That's what shows a lack of substance from you. But, it is in your inclination to throw poop in the form of crazy personal insults. Pretty much the bottom of the barrel to take poetry and respond with uninspired insults. Especially when asked, "What parts are crazy?" you say, "all the parts". and when I say "why?" you say, "because they are". Do you think for yourself? |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 75558153 United States 07/25/2019 04:41 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | I guess all the time spent in the crazyhouse couldnt fix your fucked up head.. Quoting: Anonymous Coward 75558153 What part is fucked up? Like all of it? But I guess thats what makes you so special. You are essentially saying, "nothing". "nothing worth noting". "Nothing worth negating". "Nothing worth commenting upon...." That's what shows a lack of substance from you. But, it is in your inclination to throw poop in the form of crazy personal insults. Pretty much the bottom of the barrel to take poetry and respond with uninspired insults. Especially when asked, "What parts are crazy?" you say, "all the parts". and when I say "why?" you say, "because they are". Do you think for yourself? Wow, at one point I actually felt sorry for you, but I guess you deserved everything that happened and some more. |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 77827786 Australia 07/25/2019 04:41 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | I guess all the time spent in the crazyhouse couldnt fix your fucked up head.. Quoting: Anonymous Coward 75558153 What part is fucked up? Like all of it? But I guess thats what makes you so special. You are essentially saying, "nothing". "nothing worth noting". "Nothing worth negating". "Nothing worth commenting upon...." That's what shows a lack of substance from you. But, it is in your inclination to throw poop in the form of crazy personal insults. Pretty much the bottom of the barrel to take poetry and respond with uninspired insults. Especially when asked, "What parts are crazy?" you say, "all the parts". and when I say "why?" you say, "because they are". Do you think for yourself? You raise a good point here. From what I just read, you have annihilated the poster, it is not even fair to watch this continue to be honest. But... |
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