.
for each
mine 4wivez
next
yep
tuh them
help
keep theirn vow
"in
si sikikikickness
si
and health"
whut
:)
Dangling in the dungeon,
Rigid as a rod;
Hovering above are pigeons,
To feast before I rot.
A wail rises from the dead —
Yet from the dead, I wake,
To walk once more among the living,
And ponder what the graves forsake.
The controversy is ended,
The chase for praise is done;
For excellence, though defended,
Is but a shadow of the sun.
Oh, a punctured life —
Drained of all its light,
Defeated in the fight,
Swinging between day and night.
What vanity is this —
To perish in proud deceit?
For excellence is vanity,
And dust shall be my seat.
My heart is like an open book
That only she can write in it
A journal difficult to open
More like a lock with no key
Yet she opened it easily
My heart never gathered courage
To tell her how I feel inside
Yet I have been in love with her
Before she knew me
My heart is like a dungeon
Holding my feelings hostage
Waiting to be discovered
Goodbye again dungeon of memories
where youngster self has bloomed
In no time I'll be back again
Like an echo in a song
Bless the one who toiled for you
Whose sweat and blood laid your foundation
May her sunshine rise again
In golden shades, her silver moon
January 8, 2024, PST, BC
My mind is a slippery slope
Once in, it’s hard to get out,
Set in layers of intricate meshes
You’ll get entangled in my evil ways…
Beware, stay away!
~Contest: Premier Choice#1190
~Sponsor: Brian strand
Over square miles a unique surgeon
In the West African sub-region:
Clearly,the tower in their region;
Names of the other knives in dungeon...
"Daddy,will I ever be like John
Now and again in Germany's Bonn ?"
But surgeon is facing religion
And religion: "I'll defeat you, John:
For you,surely,coming with legion,
Which shall never fail to you bludgeon"
It's surgery for delivery
To The Church's Christ's needless mockery.
If I had a doggie dungeon I could put Buddy down there.
He eats shoes, tuna cans, cat food cans, belts, pajamas and other things.
We are going through forty dollars of dog toys a week; it is not enough.
But he is just a baby. A big adorable amber eyed baby who loves me.
He loves my husband too; my husband thinks his parents sent him
from heaven.
If I had a doggie jail, would I use it?
Absolutely not.
He is our pal, our buddy, my boyfriend. He loves me.
No matter what he does, he gets to sleep, watch tv and eat
with us.
I would hit him with that shoe, my sister said. I will not let her near him.
I would squirt him with a water bottle grandpa said.
The next time he passes gas at supper, I am going to squirt him.
Where can we go to find the creepiest scariest dungeon? She asked.
I had to get out my travel books and research; it was quite a task.
We finally agreed to go to London to see an evil looking gargoyle.
He will twist your stomach into knots and make your blue blood boil.
My friend was almost too frightened, but at the last minute went.
We boarded a plane after every bit of my savings was spent.
The gargoyle was frightening, but the dungeon was even worse.
When we got inside an aggressive poltergeist ran away with my purse.
We had to call my parents collect and ask them for some money.
Sorry, my dad said, but I have to use tough love on you honey.
So here we are, standing in the worst dungeon in London town.
Hello kind stranger. Do you have a nice place to lay down?
I professed my love, you flayed my skin
With a rusted blunt razor, so cruel and mean
You tried grabbing my soul, but I floated away
To a giant heaven's gate, and back to Earth's bay
Back in a new body, so fleshy and plumpy
For the ninth time, in less than a century
If fate claims to be fair, I seem to be cheated
And robbed of love, so not how I want to be treated
Starlight shining on us everywhere filled with butterflies
That's my imagination, not being stuck in dungeon eating fries
I want to watch our kids swing, while we stroll in the park
Not abandoned in a dungeon, lighted by a star-dark
© Dynamou
Trapped in a dungeon
With chains drunken
Tipping a glass of wine
Thought’s intriguing
then wondering
If time will ever pass by
Hanging over a cliff
Balancing my time
With handcuffs on
And bars now closed
Drunken am I
Trapped in this dungeon
from drinking wine
Have we rebuilt the tower of Babel
With weary words of wireless babble?
Do somnolent thoughts surf synapses
On tidal waves of vacuous verbs?
So tasteless, as baseless, and faceless
Secret voices clamor, “I am here”
In clusters of blabbing barnacles
Encrusted, agape, to the Internet.
Watchers, spectators doing little,
Chasing minutia ever fresh.
Turned into products; privacy shed
In a passive world of dungeon dead.
Endlessly griping over offense!
A cacophony of words intense.
If brevity is the soul of wit
How many tweets will create a twit?
In an ancient castle, in a terrible, sorrowful dungeon,
The guide showed the tourists a skeletons scatter.
Tourists whispered in horror: - Who dumps them?
The guide gloomily dropped: - It is already not matter,
Irrelevant who they are, but ask yourself:- Why?
People attempted to save money on guide?
Burnley had a conjugal date after getting a vision
Was warned you may want to listen
To the canary finishing his mission
Relocating to a lower level
Feeling a wee bit better not needing a shovel
Getting experience from the higher league
Canary play should increase and be at a winning degree
Venturing to the dungeon
After buying snacks for the munching
Seeing it in sight
Wanting diplomacy not a fight
Pouring some Claret wine
Two sat down for a dine
While each other picked each other’s mind
Everything proceeded in calm fashion
No scoring just a lot of passing
Until plenty of ticks were put on the clock
When wood was a chip off the old block
Spirits were high
A break they did try
Canary pondered “‘A’ rated exposure could be a lie”
Come back more refreshed
Burnley waited watched wanting a drunken confess
Near the conclusion
Canary made a goal that added to the losing
It was the knockout punch
Closing the weekend late late lunch
Parting their ways
Canary had nothing to say
Green and yellow
Quietly mellow
Letting go
Moving on to another show
Pay Citizens one last visit
Their high profile property sold, no longer listed
Lord I’m tied up
Crying from this dungeon
Oh! I need anything now but your redemption
Hold my hands Lord, pull me from this frustration
I’m on my kneels
Lord, Crying in this dungeon
Look down on me and hear my supplication
I’m suffocating, send in your ventilation
Truly Lord,
I’m crying from the dungeon
My plans with the devil has reached it’s termination
My bible, my rosary, my kneels are ammunition
With these, he will meet his beautiful destruction.
Lord
I’m crying from this lonely dungeon
Look not only on me but save too my nation
All of my friends, my love and relations
Lord I’m ready
crying from this dungeon
Accept my plead, my humble supplication
Leave me not, but grant me thy salvation
Blood Dungeon
bruce Wayne let me explain with feelings the mature
saturated feelings in the course of fulfilled journey
carry me through each Sultan breeze come apart with the whisk
think of the moments we used to share cause the unique pillars of the century fox
salesman encounter right next the office desk
look in...
caverns with dark basking;
light up the sky with the faint comples no it all
belly of the beast to travel the distance...
Distance to wallow up the breeze
apture me bellow the breeze
the dstance of the make believe
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