Riddles, Riddles 2Spiky brown coneas in off of a treeSeeding the earthin a planting spreeOpen and closeto the seasons it respondsGhost of the futurea natural despot
Riddles, RiddlesReflective, yet clearHolds yer best beer(sorry for the bad rhymes)Made from coarse sand yet smooth as babies hands.
Bleeding BlueA rift in they sky,pouring its life.Up with the clouds,misting their strife.Like a sickness,the sky takes a dreary hue.Spilling sadness, raining hatred,spraying madness, bleeding blue.
Sourceless RiverAlighted from where?All I can do is stare,at the sourceless river above.Its shining water plays tricks on the eyes,flitting about like a seraphic dove.Like a shapeless dreamscape,it goes neither left or right,Bleeding,pouring blue, the water has taken flight.Upon ending its watery descent,it splashes upon the ground,and creates a spectrum of light."Oh where, Sourceless river, from where did you come?"I called to the sky."I come from the world, way up high.""Can you not tell me, where is your source?""My source is irrelevant, but what of my course?"With that the Sourceless River stopped its rapid flowing,and the last trickles of the sky fountain,and the splashes stopped their crackly crowing,and the Sourceless River was not sourceless anymore,for the mist lifted and it came from a mountain.
Shapeless DreamscapeShapeless mist in an endless cloudStartling shapes and frights aboundEndless sky and shifting groundShapeless dreamscape all around
Leather-BoundBound in leatherSewn in tightFull of wordsSilent as nightKnowledge containedHeard with EyesSounds refrainedOh soundless bookWhat are theeBut a Leather-Bound tool to me
Random QuestionsI wonder what pigs think of cows?When did santa come into the christmas tradition?How many flavors of pie are there?Why wasnt Abrasoka given full state-hood?Why dont we still use runes as our primary form of language?Why doesnt anybody know about Mad Cow disease? (Bovine Spongiform Encephelapothy)How many deviantART users are there exactly?Why doesnt anyone say 'Happy Harvest!" on Halloween?
Shaded LightFiltered through the darkShaded light is not so brightThough we can still see
Scarlet LifeScarlet life of allFound in everything that movesSignals death to come
CultistOne day, we’ll worship rustand marvel how it claimedthe world of industrious metal,leaving nothing but slowingreddening struts, half-heartedangles reaching outward.We’ll dive into the wreckslooking for half-sparking wondersthat, when properly restored, gleaminto sputtering song or splittingpictures of different worldsand the faces of old Gods.
Who will perform the autopsy?There is a forest painted inscorching red, fire bloomingbeneath its dirt-caked skin,smoke skimming leavesas plumes of flame snickerbehind the tail of a doe.Coals coating tree-trunks,hungry for life, it devoursthe same way they ravaged herwhen she said 'no'.Bright eyes morph into murkinessas the inferno marches.When rust washed downher throat, she did not scream,only begged for them to stop.They do.Beneath the ash,they find her body.
Wasted FleshFlesh, flesh,Such wasted flesh...This able-bodied meat.Defiled by drugs and impurities.A mind born with clarity,Yet so blatantly abused.No harm did you suffer;Other than harm self inflicted.Disregarding the hopeless gazes,Of those who were born without.No good, no good;This I cannot abide...I shall take this flesh from you,And it shall be tended and made anew.A gift to those who are deserving,Of the very gifts you cast aside...Now then, my dear,Do stop your screaming.It will only be painful,Until your heart stops beating.- Word of Chen, 1/6/2016
Is It Love?If I hugged you,would you never let go?If I kissed you,would you cherish that moment?If I reached for your hand,would you take mine gently?If I needed a shoulder,would you let me cry on yours?If I needed to talk,would you really listen?If I needed to scream,would you do it with me?If I needed to go,would you come with me?If I fell for you,would you catch me?or just let me hit the pavement?
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flameAnd eagles, turning, turn to fireAsh cold, alone I lieAnd think of you.
my grand piano the winds are howling but I'll stay here and play my grand piano; the frost gathers on the panes and the cold edges into my marrow but I will stay here and continue to play my grand piano - and when the sheet music is done and the snow has drifted against my door
No EyesI want to feel but I have no handsI want to smell but I have no noseI want to Taste but I have no tongueI want to speak but I have no mouthI want to live but I have no lifeI want to see but i have no eyes