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Old 08-26-2013, 04:00 PM   #1
Eccer
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The Thespian Oars

Yes this was intentional. Be it ye olde butchere of englishe, I had lot's of fun doing this lol. Bad, pretentious, cliche. I don't know "it's just a phase" they say. Well hey, I'm enjoying it! Sry for the lack of punctuation

Lo


The Thespian Oars


I. A pale folklore

O'er the aghast and sickened
Pharmacies and bed nights prolongens
As fire therein, seared whispers of the longests
Waywards traversed
A benthic of unborn thoughts whence
Riddles, domain sneering’s from its depths
Remnants kept, bred on dermersal
Yet, o'er abashed years created silence
None would hear oft again
But sought the night prowl
He that dared, to thread without the know
And sought to its wealth he glanced upon its panes
Dreary from the roads, but wary at the drop
A post side mansion abandoned, grand of sight
Perpetual, in its existence none
Would lay waste oft
If wouldst seem its wreath would bind thee
If so, in its wisher halls to be moor



II. The banished one unheard

Demeaned of nothing naked and bereft
O'er the aghast and sickened, yet
The riversider's speak of them
Still wandering in its den
"Canst get them outh! I say!
Its harrows swells, but nothing if madness struck upon!"
Steer ahead I must not do, lest they call upon thee
Time to set foot on this grave
Time to rewind in its past if I shall dare
Pray, for wealth?
Alas! Steered the doors were, barricaded walls
Rears protection and a sign "Enter at great risk!"
Nor, did I ever think of that
Nor, would I have entered thought of this
If not the course I must persist
Pray, for me?
A strong scent bewilders..
And a trapdoor of perhaps sits tightly neath old rubble's!
Cats fled past me in the terror of its wake!
Did they ever think of food and was left to be found?
No...guess they were saved...
The stories matched...
Horror, as swept upon head
Endless corridors absent ends..
Sounds, as musketeers marching echoes
Like clangs and cogs ticking in an eerie symphony!
I am amidst hell, nor would I ever wish what’s like it!
Yet here I am naught; I'd heard could it ever be matched?
This ours, a life beyond this silenced dorm?
A scream deafens me
This calm serenity, pushing me
Further, from reality and itself!
Save me for what the mind, absent light
The fear and the intertwined trips and wears me off
An ignition roars...
Rippled storms! A stark damnation covets of a breath in
Still they roam, each the inmates the keepers oars
But an dead silhouette still, upon brimstone's
Now guardians of these walls, whispers
Madness neath and baying of the cells
Roses wild the thorns of piece and mind!
But as struck upon a gruesome, yet
As of an deserved faith to
Those afflicted, defied of morality and itself....
What's been presented I've taken a few sets of valuable goods already?
Yet there's this feel, not of this dread before
A ricochet of what could it be...but a mourn?
A gloom leers midst the floor
Carpet layeth fold as thousands
Gathers there's dust balls, thought whispers of untold release!
As of any story which wonders truly demands this?
A shade, appears before me in the low
Swirls the remains of air, as it rises from the mists!


"Didst have a key? Dost bear nothing but doors?
Or perhaps a moors from whence he came? Why art thou here?"

"Frightened me, your presence!
Spiraled from the undertow!
Here, I've searched as nothing found!
Naught for the same reason why
Am I here? As you and then?
Crossing these borders from whence to once, to
Why I keep repeating this wonder? For wealth for me?"
"Hmm, seems this at loss of something sought
These echoes passage perceived, what any wish foreseen
Eyes dost see upon a theatre had lived, yes?"

"Something of that, something of past
Time and another world it feels, like I miss
Sometimes and sometimes not, you are correct"
"Would've not begone if what sought for, therefore just and granted?"
"Granted, depends on what’s dependable and yours begone?
I recall, having contact with many of your likes
Such as compared to yourself!
But not of this, nor would I have imagined this
...what is it you want of me...specter?"
"Revelations, answers, or the quarter past ticking away
Corroding, upon an asylum rotting of its gruesome ways!
Why was there an uproar, the fire, the inmates which set?
A keeper's perversity emerged, as foul sanctity for the purest satisfaction felt?
Wouldst doth seen? Theirs ripping each of others because of it?
Would naught, if I where ripped as seen aparts!
But amidst those storms, the pits would swell
Unfettered beasts ever barking towards hell...
The end, ere drafts the core of breath'e
As shadows pulse thick spews, looming o'er darker years
Still, corners of there's who's existence upon a child
A fear inside of them grew, who's pity
O'er aghast they cast, gale'd and sickened
Every early morn, mists upon their gaze met...
Locked inside their grace of
Ever! Was I cautious from
But raised upon their questions
Of replays am I, a wardens pursuit in what I need ask of
Why a single human, from no ends of an thespian greateth
Spared for any dareth these steps before, to not expect a disappearance
As of any for disrupting our peace of mourn?"

"Great Haunt!
I only came here as an act upon this victim
You see, I am you, yet living
Banished
My king, he hath no longer my worthy deemed of his theatres a presence...
As I've come to these ends now, what neither would've done before!
You see! I am you, for as much as you reflect!"
"Thou didst fumble and hell
Left the thespian to gain
If so in its wisher halls to be sought
Doth yearns to be oft
Left it here, upon this grave
See thou spared if..."

"Come then fear
Thy face
Quarters, past or present!
And grant me thus earth and sky!
For where, would I end ere?
If so, was I naught this act of anymore?
But for honesty I ruled to live, see
Why didst I dwell?
Whence opened before me!
So what's
Your resolution shall be defined?
A part of me?"
"A part of this, a part of I will consume
Or, let go and forget
These walls are now and then
And thus, the thespian oars across the Styx if he shall he and
Evermore..."








III. Am I, where?

Cold, touch, inhumane
Vague memories remain
Feel myself and far away
The shaking stills, but a slice of bread
I found in my satchel for the roads
A parchment... left of hidden sight!
And a little poetry.. within;

O'er the aghast and sickened
The act or his gain
For wealth, for him?
No
Not for he
But for them
Awakened where he yonder
A thespian in our halls

Where dost thou hide now
In life?

Last edited by Eccer : 09-22-2013 at 03:28 AM.
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Old 09-02-2013, 10:59 PM   #2
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with the effort obviously put into this, it is a shame it does not have more comments/views
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Old 09-04-2013, 08:13 PM   #3
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^Agreed.

You should try to get this published on an e-zine or something. Perhaps Strange Horizons would be interested.
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Old 09-05-2013, 12:44 AM   #4
Eccer
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Thanks for the consideration guys, yeah. I guess I kinda bled out a little bit too much on this. People will either think it's too long or messy. And I still don't think it's good enough, or even for publishing in that matter lol (never crossed my mind). I've kinda hated it alot, but that's all a part of the learning process, I GUESS.
So Jmb14 I will try to get around yours too. Busy day ahead!
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Old 09-06-2013, 11:25 PM   #5
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after reading it twice, i still don't quite know what to think of it. the story and the emotions of this are lost in wordiness and strange grammar and line breaks, which made it a bit painful to follow. the flow and some of the words and phrases you used were great though, especially in the longest stanza. the stanzas after that were amazing; they blew me away. i just think the rest of it could use some revisions to make it more focused and clear.
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