Author Topic: Poetry and other writing  (Read 2026 times)

Offline Don't make me beg

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Poetry and other writing
« on: April 22, 2015, 02:46:19 AM »
In which Insani commits #edginess. I'll post some of my good stuff here.

The Puppet King

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Whispers
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Live a lie (NSFW, censored swearing)
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And here's some stuff from a novel I started working on. Probably won't actually go in since I've scrapped the chapters they appeared in.

There was a time, an ancient day...
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Initiation
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Prayers
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« Last Edit: May 30, 2015, 08:51:26 PM by 1nsan1 »
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Offline RafalRib

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #1 on: April 22, 2015, 11:11:55 AM »
WOW I really love these! I love reading poems online like these! But these ones are the best :D I'd love if you posted more of these

Offline Don't make me beg

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #2 on: April 22, 2015, 02:06:46 PM »
Ha, thanks. I have some more I can post.

A Product of an Evil World
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A Star is Borne
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Freedom
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Corruption
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Aaaaaand here's a random pokemon poem I did.
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Lyrics
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Wrinkled Sea (one of my first poems)
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Offline RafalRib

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #3 on: April 22, 2015, 02:25:42 PM »
The Puppet King and Curruption are my favorites :P

Offline Don't make me beg

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Re: Poetry and other writing
« Reply #4 on: May 30, 2015, 08:55:53 PM »
Bumping. Didn't want to make a new thread for fiction. So putting some of my old fiction here. And I guess some poetry.

Here's the first chapter of a novel I was / am working on. Heavily improved the setting, though, so this version of the first chapter is meh.

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Some random writing I did based on a sentence that came into my head.

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Aaand an experiment in train of consciousness.

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AAAAAAAND a poem. I think this one turned out really well.
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Offline Don't make me beg

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Re: Poetry and other writing
« Reply #5 on: June 25, 2015, 02:49:10 AM »
worldbuilding

The sands of Flaanar were harsh, and unforgiving. Dune-spiders, blind and deaf, waited, only feet below the surface of the sun-scorched sands. They were weak, easily fought off, but there were thousands - no, tens of thousands - and they all waited. A step too heavy or a stumble could mean the death of any unwary traveller.

This is why they were careful. This is why they didn't walk at all. Neik was not a magician, himself, and as with all of untainted blood, he held a fear of magic. Yet he had travelled with Ran for a long time. Or, no, not a long time - a few weeks. For him, it was long. In his line of work, he made few friends, and kept less. They walked, or so it appeared, but the spell (which Ran had dubbed 'featherfoot', much easily pronounceable than it's arcane name) kept their steps inches above the ground. It was useful. No spider would awaken from it's sleep - for they slept long hours - and were one to surface, it would sense nothing to alarm it.

They were travelling together. Neik, career thief, and Ran, magician by curse. Neither was particularly fond of the other's occupation, but they both were vile enough to enjoy the company of the other. Ran was no seeker, though he mirrored a seeker's ruthlessness and knowledge. Yet he was no magician by choice - no grim reaper - and the thief recognized this. He was an immoral man, of an immoral trade, but he would partner with no seeker! They were vile, and somehow, he felt better than them. It was an obvious conclusion to make - they murdered, and he stole, - but there was something deeper. An obvious something. A lack of empathy for the betrodden, for the poor, with all their misery and death. Their lono and their sweetleaf, their eye-rot and their sand plague... He wasn't much better than the seekers. He was self-restrained.

He liked to think there was more to it, though.  He liked to think he did what he had to do, and that he was a common man, enemy to the noble. These were lies, of course. He was friend to himself. And, maybe, to Ran, by virtue of shared vices. But they couldn't travel indefinitely. Cursed or seeker, he was a magician, sorcerer, patron of death. His art was cancerous, and it would, inevitably, afflict his surroundings. It had to. The danger of sorcery was well known - the 'root and fruit of death' was an aptly given title. Shadowbrights or selfishness, his art was the same, and Neik worried for his own safety.

But they were almost there, and he was sure his departure could wait. They were travelling to Highguard, footstool of the great mountain. It was the closest city from Sandcreek, and the thief hoped to find some safety there. He knew not of Ran's motivation for travelling there. He knew magicians travelled often, unwilling to dwell in their own blight, but Highguard was hardly an obvious choice. Many sorcerers would take to the plains, entering villages only for harvests. Accumulated souls were problematic, building up misfortune and eventually forming wisps. This alone would be enough to deter magicians - that they could hear the voices of the dead was only the icing on the cake.

For these reasons, Neik didn't understand Ran travelling to Highguard. It was a den of chaos, wellspring of poverty, where the smell of urine was almost as strong as the smell of death. An entire city addicted - be it to sweetleaf or lono, dune-fang or drakescale. The guild made sure of that. Lono in the water, dune-fang in the air. Breathe too hard and you'd get a quarter-high. No freebies, of course - that would be bad for business. But just enough. And then they had you, and you'd be hooked, and you'd pay 50 stones a day - and that for an ounce. An ounce! Any other city, and you'd get two for a stone, but Highguard was special. And it was insulated. Few could get in, and few could get out - the dune-spiders made sure of that. Add to this misery rumors of magicians and the occasional wisp - sometimes a great wisp - and you had Highguard, city of hell, guard of the mountain.

So why did Ran want in?

Neik didn't know.
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Offline Don't make me beg

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Re: Poetry and other writing
« Reply #6 on: July 25, 2015, 04:23:03 PM »
this one was fun

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