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Slain's Journal


Slain's Journal

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5 entries this month
 

23:50 Oct 31 2021
Times Read: 69



♫How very special are we
For just a moment to be
Part of life's eternal rhyme...
How very special are we
To have on our family tree
Mother Earth and Father Time...

He turns the seasons around
And so she changes her gown...
But they always look in their prime
They go on dancing their dance
Of everlasting romance...
Mother Earth and Father Time ♫

COMMENTS

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EstrangedOne
EstrangedOne
17:12 Nov 04 2021

I would actually like to HEAR this one, one of these days. Sadly, I've been spending all my time possible at work, so I currently have no idea what the Hell to look for (my brain is currently a fried ostrich)..





 

It was expected of me, because it's what I do.

05:48 Oct 30 2021
Times Read: 100


Here it is. I wrote something about it.

COMMENTS

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20:12 Oct 25 2021
Times Read: 160


I mean... You're posting about it ain't cha?

You can't not care about something then put energy into in, unironically.

I mean... one CAN. As you've just aptly displayed, but you negate the whole point in the process.

Then again... irony.

And the grasping of that concept.

Funny thing that...


COMMENTS

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EstrangedOne
EstrangedOne
22:35 Oct 25 2021

Life really is full of ironies, my friend. But then again, life (existence, for that matter) is also one massive contradiction.



Slain
Slain
23:25 Oct 25 2021

Agreed. lol





xxTittySprinklesxx
xxTittySprinklesxx
13:27 Oct 28 2021

Welcome to the madness of those who think they are sane. ;)





EstrangedOne
EstrangedOne
03:41 Oct 31 2021

Hey, one big thing to remember is that in the fullest of reality, "SANITY" does not even exist. Those who claim to be "sane" or anything near it are often those most out-of-their-fucking-minds.

One reason for which I actually have to admit I enjoy being "mad/insane".




 

05:52 Oct 25 2021
Times Read: 197


Been years since I've written.
Perhaps my ability
to color with words
I'd use has dwindled.

That is... Even now I would
write you a poem to paint you
into the world in
which I already see you.

That what I see and value,
still hold meaning to me despite our silence.

I very rarely close doors.
That you've known.
Insult me no further if your
Silence you'll own.

Should mine be the slight,
Then allow me, my might
To settle up distance
and grant me the spine of the tome.

From the largest of libraries,
that you'll ever perceive.
Under dustiest mites, between
Brittlest sheets.

Hidden my words are.
Its true, they may be
Olden and trite. Misused
And laid free.

An ocean of paper,
A cartographer needs.
And bottomless inkwells
my heart does it bleed.

And you a creature, no more Than your name. The angelic demon, that i need'nt tame.

Woeful your silence, but presence still bared. Bitterless sweet, whatever moments were there'd.
And there lies the agony
The very moments I feared.

So ill draw you your world as my eyes would it see...

And maybe... just maybe..
your memory, might merely...
paint me.


COMMENTS

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MorningStarAldan
MorningStarAldan
06:29 Oct 25 2021

As always, your soul brushes are fricken amazing!





Slain
Slain
06:37 Oct 25 2021

Thanks. Hmm hmm... I didn't think too many read my poems anymore.





MorningStarAldan
MorningStarAldan
09:10 Oct 25 2021

I have read your work thru the years. The way you infuse the very core of your being into your writing, transcends time. You are one of the few artists that when read, one can feel the emotions as your words come to life. It is indeed a lost art. Don't ever stop writing, as your poetry is extraordinary. Thank you for gifting us with them through the years:)





Slain
Slain
09:51 Oct 25 2021

I deeply thank you. I'm glad you're able to enjoy what I try to illustrate with my emotions. Oftentimes, this is the only outlet, rare as I may ever use it. Really thank you.





 

22:14 Oct 17 2021
Times Read: 233


Someone once said to me they were unsure if i was a bad person or not.

I told them, that if they didn't know, then they needed to remove me from their life.

That person, proceeded to exit and reenter my life in increasing bouts of absence. Reaching up to years between interactions. To tell me, they were still unsure about me at the end of each of those interactions. This past May, was the last... Using both a dream, and the death of a mutual close friend as the broach...

And here I am now. Licking my wounds still.

I don't even know why I wrote this.


COMMENTS

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EstrangedOne
EstrangedOne
01:04 Oct 18 2021

I know all too well how that goes, my friend.








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