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The darkness wrapped tightly around him like a blanket, concealing him from the eyes of guards and creatures alike. The full moon seemed to burn down… no… to soothe those it shined down upon, belying the imminent danger that was posed to them. This was the time, Kerrick thought. This was the time when he was strongest. And when he was strong, kingdoms fell, and their kings shivered in fear, wishing for the deeper darkness of a moonless night.

He hopped into the courtyard, his padded feet making little noise. Moonlight shot through him, making his body a mere shimmer to their eyes. He could feel the magic beating down on his flesh, like ten suns. Eyes of cold grey swept the courtyard, observing the movements of the guards with trained efficiency. They were on edge. As they should be. Tonight their king was sentenced to die. The Elders had spoken, and declared his demise. It had been as good as finished as soon as it left their lips.

He slithered like a serpent to the face of the castle wall. Fingers dug into the crumbling mortar, his well-conditioned muscles bringing him steadily higher. The ground grew small beneath him and the clanking, obnoxious sound of armor grew faint as the winds picked up in proportion to his altitude. Climbing was second nature to him. It had always made him feel free. There was something about exploring that third dimension that so many wrongfully assumed was out of humankinds reach. No barrier was immune to his reach. At least, that’s what he felt at this moment. No tyrant was safe. The fourth dimension… human cruelty. No, they could never conquer that limitation. There would always be work for men like him, always corrupted men for the Order to hunt. Every full moon, they swept the nations of their refuse.

Leaving one hand entrenched in the wall, he leaned back, taking in the balcony that extended from the King’s room. It was situated across from him, about fifteen feet from his perch. Kerrick let his eyes close, and let the moonlight bear down upon him… He felt his veins grow thick with the magic of it. His transparency faded as he redirected its power for other uses.

He willed an explosion of power, his muscles straining as he launched himself from the wall, hurtling the distance that separated them. He landed softly, betwixt his two sentries. The king was wise to place them there, but it would not be enough.

One of them turned.. “What…” Kerrick’s fingers flashed forward, his expression grim as he crushed the man’s windpipe. The other’s eyes widened… Kerrick watched as he sucked in a gasp, preparing to call for aid. His eyes struggled to focus on the assassins’ obscure form. He must work quickly.

Allocating more strength to his body, he darted around behind him with inhuman speed, clasping a hand over his mouth as he endeavored to break his neck. The man managed to bite painfully down on his palm. Kerrick grimaced, but finished the job with a sickening crack. He had only emitted a muffled bellow.

Gently, Kerrick let him slip to the floor. All of this killing seemed almost slow motion to him, now, after so many years. He was one of the best. There were those that would have frowned on his technique however. Conservative windbags. They always forgot that it was the threat of force that allowed them to maintain order, that their Order was a sword. Deathly silent it was, but a sword nonetheless.

Allowing Luna’s essence to return to his transparency, he once more faded from sight, flexing his slightly injured hand. He could feel the blood dripping from his pointer finger, forming visible drops on the cold granite. His instructors would have called it sloppy. He himself was still undetected, and would clean it before he had gone.

Sharp ears picked up the even breath of the king. Kerrick walked in, silent as the night, watching the fat despot slumber. He had waited so long for this moment. The Elders had insisted on political pressure for far too long, in his opinion. They had known Fiona’s son before he took the throne. It surprised no one that he was immoral and paranoid. His paranoia is justifiable, but it would not be necessary, but for his crimes.

Without a scrap of guilt or hesitance, Kerrick picked up a pillow, and covered the man's face. In death, no one had money, no one had power, or titles. He was just another man.
 

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The Leviathan

Hellbound is I
The sea storm rages
The rain drops down
In my crew mate's faces
A semblance of bravery

Hellbound are they
A elephantine tail lashed forth
The boat hewed in half
The monster's grotesque face
Blasts out of the water

The storm rages
Thunder roars
The Leviathan devours us all
 

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I have known Great Love.
the Collective Love - Universal through you,
brown eyed boy whom I call home.
Saturated in the essence of truth
and nothingness that consumes.
There is only everything.
I touch you. I touch the Universe.
I kiss you and kiss in sweet absence of nothing
less than that which is.
I am lost by what I have found
and through this shall I see.
Here I am. But here is not.
So, I am.

My friend, love is an artform
slightly removed from its element.
One may ask - well what does this mean?
I've made it up,
but it shall be
from now on.

My friends laugh at me
and speak cruel of my Great Love.
they say it has changed me
and
I am.
I am passion never to be resolved.
I am a survivor drenched with God.
I am known.
I am presence.
I only exist here. completely.
Never has already been.
tomorrow was reviewed
and yesterday might hurt like hell.
but I welcome you
to join me in forever. to disappear
as though we ever existed.

I thought I knew fear.
I met myself.
I said, "Do not fear me sweet child,
for I am all consuming Love, and
duality has no presence here."
and fear no longer knew existence.
I hurt because I thought I had lost
something of Value.
Speculation.
I fell into the Earth.
Whole.
hurt found fear in obliteration.
It's funny, remembering something
that does not exist.​
 

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I was awake in my bed, in an impossible sleep position (facing the door but with my left part of my body, my set up does not allow left side and door). Suddenly, I feel a strong sharp pain in my left cheek/jaw (the impact felt like a pillow, with the force of a go kart). My dream logic had thought that someone has broken into the house. With my messed up jaw I managed to mumble out a “what’s going on, what’s happening?”.

The pain was was actual, long after waking, I would rub my cheek to make sure there was no lump.


I feel someone looking over my jaw/cheek, and they appear to be applying stitches to the inside of my mouth. I mumbled a “what’s going on” to the “Doctor”. The doctor replied to me in a whsipering tone with a “there aren’t humans here”. I grew frightened at that point, but reassured myself that at least I had the Dr. with me.

The doctors presence was known, but I did not see him visually. I could feel the rope and even the friction of the stitches in my cheek.

I realized something with my dream logic, (if humans aren’t here, why is there a doctor?). So I ask him: “”wait, why are you here?” The doctor then coldly replies: “I’m not human”, at that point my left arm is seized by many hands. I feel many, many mouths biting on my arm, but no pain.

They looked like white faced children, red beady eyes, and a very smooth nose. Again, I couldn’t “see” them in the visual sense, but I saw them in my minds eye. I knew their presence.

I looked up at the window while my arm was being gnawed, I saw a silvery/gray object in the sky, lit like a moon. I managed to muster the strength, I brought my arm to my face and pried my eyelids open to wake up.

The silver object was interesting, rather than a UFO, or any object. It was an idea, a subjective and intangible thought. The physical manifestation of a thought/feeling/idea.
Not really a story, but I figure why not contribute something. It's a nightmare.
 

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Hm well it's not my best but eh :

I have seen all types of emotion
come and go but,the one that stays by my side is
anger, it was there when my dad wasn’t,
it came to comfort me when I lost a dear friend
to stupidity and it’s there now always holdin my
hand and luckily God has his hand over my mouth
most of the time, cause this tongue of mine is sharp
and has been known to draw blood​

:blushed::wink::happy:
 

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16,329 Posts
Discussion Starter #32
Serial Killer sonneT(LoVe Monkey No.78)


Her Bones Dance in the Pot
The CarroTs Nearly Done
The Onions Jealous
They Have noT Caused His Tears
The Killer Picks His Ass
Its Hairs DieTers Evil Tails
Dark Muses Who Never BaThe
The Evil Pig Musses
The Serial Killers Choice
Susans LiTTle Girl Eyes bob and weave the Wooden Spoon
DieTer in His Scorpian Rage
Pours The Chili Peppers unTil She Blinks
The Valkyries Wail Their Lonely Schrill
Medusa sTares
 

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754 Posts
What happened?

I took a walk through the forest today. It was hardly a forest anyway
- the trees were few, the animals were-none!
What happened? Where did the creations go?

I took a walk by the beach today. I wondered if i were in the right place
" Was this the same beach i walked on as a child"?.......
Sink, littered and bare?
What happened? what initiated such grotesque changes?

I took a walk by the River today.
I dare not drink from it this time! The water flowing with waste.
And the noise from the factory nullified my chance of having a
tranquil time hanging by there.

Oh boy, where else can i go?......
I wonder if that's what the birds and animals thought, when their
homes were destroyed. I wonder if that's what the fishes, plankton.....
and the rest of nature's blessings thought....
when pollution was the unwelcome guest in their homes, their place.


Nature seems to be swallowed up in ignorant
progression of technological advancement.
Oh, but woe unto us, for we will pay the price and to think again.....
We are paying the price for destroying nature.
For there exist in this time no pure water, no fresh air.
 

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Life is living all you Learn

Listen to learn. learn to listen.
The wise thinks, so think and you'll be wise.

Reflect before you act.
Act before it's too late.
Don't follow every philosophy you hear. they are of two types;
Fallacies: Carefully worded to hypnotize your common sense.
Truth: Ones that you would have known if you were paying more attention to life.

Thinking outside the box first requires thinking about what's inside the box-How can you think about what's outside the box if you don't know what's already inside the box??

The optimist never says " The glass is Half full or half empty, only halved!- because that way it's always full.
Picture a glass half full or half empty. Now cut off that unoccupied part , isn't the glass now full??
There is no difference between the half empty or half full glass- commensalism!

Paranoia isn't always bad- it builds lots of people's self esteem:wink:
Trouble is, it builds it up too much!
 

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Discussion Starter #35 (Edited)
The sTraiTs of Gemini


The Knot of eTerniTy
Alexander The Great
You could noT unTie
You CuT iT To Pieces wiTh Your Sword
The Jeweled Silver SerpenT
He biTes The Roped Riddle
The monsTer siTs and sTares
QuieTly It sweaTs and Bleeds
The Hairs no longer omniscienT
They Become ancienT
Alexanders Kiss is Cruel
The King sweaTs on the Silver Mamba
His sTrokes...Sexual
 

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I feel like a performance artist on a street corner. Forgive me the pretention that whatever I do here is art. It’s a pretention I embrace, and which no one has the power to take from me. I suspect you would be the last of those who would try. I can see that you value the art of these things that we read, the culmination of the evolution of language. We form abstractions of ideas out of words that, by themselves, lose something of the totality of the object they describe in translation. When we string the words together, hopefully they regain that which they have lost. So please, toss a quarter in my hat.

I wrote some of this when I was stoned. You have been warned.

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-Extend your thoughts to a trancendant thought-structure. Neuron communication is staccato. This thought-structure is analog.

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-I just got home from work. I’m sitting here idly, on the couch smoking weed. I am beginning to wonder about the intensity of my emotion. How can we be certain ours is as intense as another’s. Even if we analyze the quantity of released neurotransmitters, is their not also a different brain process that controls perception? By this I mean, we all view the world differently, and in the same way, we may feel the effects of neurotransmitters differently. This confirms the validity of questioning our so called ‘equal emotional capacity’ with a particular person. And truly, we cannot know without some element of telepathy, for we are all alone in our minds. Company is an illusion. And in this way our only connections with others are the mutual recognition of the lonely state of our consciousness.

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-Sweat drips into my eyes and I begin to blink rapidly to avoid the comparatively minor annoyance. The mosquitos buzz in my ear, drowned out only by my deep, heaving breaths. Muscles ache and burn, arms stiffly locked in front of me to balance the canoe perched on my weary shoulders. Even so, my conditioning has served me well. My eyes are steeled with cold determination. The blood pounding in my ears, curiously in time with my heavy footfalls, deafens my wandering mind into a singular focus of will. I stumble clumsily over a boulder in my path, and struggle to recover.

The shore of the lake reveals itself, and I smile breathlessly. Never in all my fifteen years had I seen such a welcome sight! As my hiking boots break the shallow surface, I heave the aluminum burden from my shoulders with a sigh and watch it smack the surface with all the pent up violence of my previous journey. The release of my shoulders sets off an aching, satisfying pain in my back. As I let my sweat-drenched body fall into the surf, I smile to myself. I remember that legendary coaches famous words to his players. ‘But I believe that any mans finest hour, his greatest fulfillment to all he holds dear, is that moment when he works his heart out for a good cause, and he lies exhausted on the field of battle; victorious.’

As the cold rapidly seeped through my clothes and washed away my exhaustion, the presence of heaven and hell in nature became apparent. I waited for my comrades to arrive, content in the satisfaction of my accomplishment. I bathed not in water. No, I was baptized in victory.

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- Meresankh stood against the wall, motionless, eyes of vibrant blue closed in feigned sleep. Wires lined her scalp, transmitting currents, manipulating her brainwaves. The Archon spoke in his ethereal voice. “She cannot touch, or see, or hear. But, she is… conscious. Her sensual faculties cannot be allowed to interfere with the integration.” Alexander faced her but a few feet away, in a similar position, about to go under as she had. “I will wait for you to enter the same state of mind before I join your spinal chords.” A plastic tube snaked along the floor between them. Synthesized neurons, and a transfer of certain vital proteins. “You are both type O, thank the fates.” The sage tapped studiously away at a lighted panel. The red glow illuminated his grizzled features in the eerily dim enclosure. “The proteins will unlock the modification that has occurred in you, I think. Anyway, it must be done.”

His eyes flickered back to her, studying the slackened frown upon her tanned visage. She was lovely. What is she thinking, if she is conscious? What can go through a mind, in the midst of impenetrable blackness… My blackness was filled with a dream. She has not the mercy of her fantasies. How does she handle the stark reality of having no escape, caught with the undeniable reality of her existence alone. There are no distractions of the world for her now. “What will happen… in our minds. You say that we will be… connected.”

“Yes, there is no other way. Now, be quiet. There is no more time.” Suddenly he was plunged into the silence. And there was only his mind, then he knew how she felt. He did not feel him tapping into his nerves. He did not feel the proteins flowing from his body and into hers. But then, at once, he felt her.

Her memories poured into him, and his into hers. Their minds were violently thrown together in a mash up of dream and memory and idea. They were not one, no… but they experienced directly each of the memories from the others perspective, soaking in the totality of the others emotion in the action. There were distinctly two points of awareness, but they shared the framework within which that point wandered. The network-housing of their brain matter had converged into one. Had they eyes, they would have stared in wonder, at the sum total of the others personality.
 
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