Another dream poem where I'm on a boat. I think the next few after this are going to be silly, nonsensical poems simply because I want to do something else, ha.
Forever out of reach,
White sands covered in green.
Strangely enough on these seas,
Tropical though they be to these eyes of mine,
Every single one holds nothing but pine.
So I marvel at impossible trees,
And waters that hold a perfect sheen,
and set sail for the beach.
The veil lifts away from my mind as the countryside beneath me shifts, flowing from ground and trees to massive rifts filled with the towers of my kind. I sail now where once I ran, on clear seas set o'er silent steel. Above the greatest...
Water flows o'er the winding stair, though lo and behold 'tis not but air. The walls speak falsely of their type, the glass ripples and jumps to the wind's pipe. Endless towers bright and bold, What stories do you tell beneath the waves,...
**Will of Chrome** _A story series by Sylvia\_the\_Wanton\_Poet, aka Diavora_ "Well one of these nights bout 12 o'clock, this old world is gonna rock... Well old Mr. Satan he got mad, missed that soul that he thought he had... God gave Noah the...