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Posts posted by Xaious, Master of Time
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And this is my first poem for the class:
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Rencontre or Inevitability
Through setting sun and bloodstained sky
we move among our dead.
Slow, methodically with mournful eyes
we ever bowed our heads.
We buried them beneath the trees
within the hills and plain.
With love for them we bent our knees
and for their souls we prayed.
In the morning had they risen
hungry from their beds.
And by the noon they strove for us
‘till we smote them in their heads.
One by one they drug us down
slayed upon the lawn.
And on our entrails feasted they
through this bloodstained dawn.
The suffered shambling figures
blotting out the land.
The inevitable doom will be
handed by the damned.
We moan our pain into the night
seeking out salvation.
Yet as we eat these final meals
we guarantee damnation.
The suffered shambling figures
blotting out the land.
The inevitable doom we’ll be
as we are the damned.
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Ah ha ha, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave
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I check in every so often... I'd like to say that I've been busy, but honestly, I think someone shot my Muse, cause the inspiration to write and whatnot's been gone for a while v.v
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Nothing
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Absolut
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Trogdor
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*cough hackingupalung cough*
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The Thing
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Galactus
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Freakazoid
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Conspiracy
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Fast-Food-Gas
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Dr. McNinja
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Quebecestan
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Deicide
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Galagher
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Nirvana
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Well done.
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Roadrage.
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River Tam
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Salacious.
Rencontre or Inevitability
in Banquet Room Archives
Posted
Second poem. Really wish I'd remembered to write this sooner... ( I feel it reeks of being worked on too late for its due date. Opinions?)
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Join me
On a journey through the nightmarescapes of a daydream. From this seat within this room, to fly out in contempt of the laws of sanity, morality. Gravity. Physics.
The sky bleeds red, a mighty furnace above the grass so green and lively -- fed and fattened on the corpses of our past. Corpses who once reached for the flames of Sol.
The burning sky's oppressive clouds ooze black blood: nourishment for the trees who writhe in agony, tearing at one another and moaning the diseased heartwood within.
On wings of pestilence and plague we shall fly. In search of that which soothes.
We will never find.
When the trees strike and through closed eyes you see: sinew and bone, they strike for thee. Muscles ripple and bark splinters as your innards they seek.
Your wings they shall break.
And down will you fall, striking sharply the charnel ground, and sinking within.
Sinking.
Sinking.
Until Death takes us.