Post by The ChumpLump on Jan 29, 2007 6:14:52 GMT 1
Playing on Icy River to Feel it Break.
~An unattempt at free verse.
T'was lost in a sea of fire
Un-flaming fire. Chaos lines.
Dull red streaks, black scribbles.
Madness here, here is there.
All around nothing, it begins to clear
The parchment paste-color spreads.
There, in the grove from madness:
In the clearing of all things,
she there stood; tall as day,
and dark as cruel night.
Though not her, I knew it to be.
Hair now black and dress a-tatter.
Nothing of it was her, save the face.
The gaze was cold, and unfeeling
Though welcoming and unnerving
She made no gesture of body,
but drew me to her.
I know this calling.
She is yet fermented whine,
and locked in the cellar .
The cellar of forgotten kinship
There she, the tall banshee, screams
laying on the ground. Broken bottle.
See there where her heart once was?
It lights up for me!
God, how I fear what I see.
She's elsewhere now, cruel dream!
No more is there logic, not of mind.
Her hand ensares mine, and not at all.
Here we stand in the strange room,
Hall of desperation and want.
No worries, no cares, no heart
but heat there, and rest you.
The fight, O! Luxuria tumbles.
To nibble such sweet fruit,
forbidden, sweet, unripe nectar
I am no worthy of such things,
but I stole them away anyhow.
Here in my grove, away,
away from the madness.
Away from O'l Droogless dogs
Away from it all
I bathe in Incubus sin
==============
Shoddy as all hell, but I want to take this raw sort of unattempt at free verse and work it into something good. It's based off of a vivid dream I had of a particular sharp who has got the buttery-flys in the tummy sorta feel on me. So have at it, tear into it, and please keep it constructive. (( A few snipes, though, are well deserved of such rot.))
~An unattempt at free verse.
T'was lost in a sea of fire
Un-flaming fire. Chaos lines.
Dull red streaks, black scribbles.
Madness here, here is there.
All around nothing, it begins to clear
The parchment paste-color spreads.
There, in the grove from madness:
In the clearing of all things,
she there stood; tall as day,
and dark as cruel night.
Though not her, I knew it to be.
Hair now black and dress a-tatter.
Nothing of it was her, save the face.
The gaze was cold, and unfeeling
Though welcoming and unnerving
She made no gesture of body,
but drew me to her.
I know this calling.
She is yet fermented whine,
and locked in the cellar .
The cellar of forgotten kinship
There she, the tall banshee, screams
laying on the ground. Broken bottle.
See there where her heart once was?
It lights up for me!
God, how I fear what I see.
She's elsewhere now, cruel dream!
No more is there logic, not of mind.
Her hand ensares mine, and not at all.
Here we stand in the strange room,
Hall of desperation and want.
No worries, no cares, no heart
but heat there, and rest you.
The fight, O! Luxuria tumbles.
To nibble such sweet fruit,
forbidden, sweet, unripe nectar
I am no worthy of such things,
but I stole them away anyhow.
Here in my grove, away,
away from the madness.
Away from O'l Droogless dogs
Away from it all
I bathe in Incubus sin
==============
Shoddy as all hell, but I want to take this raw sort of unattempt at free verse and work it into something good. It's based off of a vivid dream I had of a particular sharp who has got the buttery-flys in the tummy sorta feel on me. So have at it, tear into it, and please keep it constructive. (( A few snipes, though, are well deserved of such rot.))