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[Dark Lilith]

Black roses on
a casket,
Black roses on
the ground

Has your soul
rebelled from you,
has it all
but gone?

Black roses smell
oh so sweet,
but what do
they convey?

Misery and loss
of life,
or so the
lonely say.

Black roses in
the sunlight,
petals all unfurled,
sweet aroma of
decay
spread all across
the world

Black roses given
in mourning,
laid down at
your feet

Black roses held
in high esteem'
as your heart
skips a beat.

Black roses set
upon my new
grave,
and tattooed across
my back.

Were they given
for loves gone
by,
or given for
emotions that I
lack?

Black roses drip
a nectar of
blood red,
Black roses given
to my love,
from a heart
so dead.


Black roses bloom
in the full
moons glare,
Black roses given
to the one.


Black roses do
give my soul
comfort,
and am I
the only one?

[Dark Lilith]

so all can enjoy.

I sit and
Watch the bird
That flies,
The feathered wings
For which I’d
Die

I cut myself

Time is all
Time is naught
I look back at
The battles I’ve
Fought

I cut myself

Loves and lovers
Both supple and
Strong
I’d strain their
Talents all night
Long

I cut myself

Friends are we
One and all
Pictures askew upon
A dirty wall

I cut myself

What is real?
What is false?
Am I crazy?
I’m at a
Loss

I cut myself

Filled with need
A heart dies
Out
A soul is
Shaken
A life so
Undevout

I cut myself

Skin so fragile
Veins all of
Blue
Times together with
Others
But thinking of
You

I cut myself

Mirror, mirror on
The floor, shattered
When you walked
Out the front
Door

And I cut myself!
© Dezdimona 2009

Modifié par Dark Lilith, 22 janvier 2010 - 06:35 .

[Dewnis]

Meh, i only have stuff written in swedish.

[andybuiadh]

social.bioware.com/forum/1/topic/13/index/566454

Modifié par andybuiadh, 22 janvier 2010 - 09:31 .

[Ponce de Leon]

Oh, I'd wish to post something, but it doesn't make any sense if translated. It's a small thing, no rhymes or anything, it's just a sad reality of my country. I can of course post it in original tongue :
AHEM!
Gradim.
Cigla po cigli, beton mešam...
Gradim... radnik sem.

Meaning : it was just a homework for my mothertongue in High School. We had to write something "realistic". So I took up the fact of the mixed cultures living in my comunity. The so called "radniki" are what we call the people that build things. Roads, houses and these people. However, they aren't those of our country (Slovenia), but are people that left their country to seek better life up here. Bosnians, Albanians. So they search for work, and one of these become "Radnik"s. So basically, this short poem is about how they build a house, brick by brick. What I meant by this however is that they try to build up a life here in the new country. By repeating the "Gradim" line, I wanted to emphasize how hard their life can be, sometimes being refused by the country and its society and they have to restart from the first brick.

Modifié par dark-lauron, 22 janvier 2010 - 09:38 .

[Dark Lilith]

andybuiadh wrote...

social.bioware.com/forum/1/topic/13/index/566454

thanks!


The adventurer followed the path further up into the mountains. If the information he had gotten from the towns folk were true, then he should comes across the dragon’s lair any time now.

He thought about the last dragon he had fought and killed and it made him smile. They were pitifully puny creatures and once they exhausted their breath weapons were easy to kill
.
His boots and jerkin were made of dragon hide and his shield also had hide inserts.
He hoped he would find much treasure. There were a couple of lovely’s back in that town that he wanted to get to know better and gold was the surest way to do that.

It was pure luck that he had come across that town, and even greater luck that he walked into that tavern. The barkeep had noticed his gear right away and commenced to talk about the two dragons that lived up in the mountains nearby as he brought him a mug of ale.

The barkeeper told of how the two dragons fought often and how the townspeople lived in fear of them. He spoke of the fact that the dragons never bothered the town nor the town’s livestock, which to him seemed very strange. As he drank his ale, other townsman entered and they too added to the story about the dragons. The part he found most interesting was that neither dragon had been seen for quite some time. They asked him about his hide boots and jerkin, and of course he embellished on how he had killed off the mighty dragons in the east and now was on the hunt here as well.
The townsmen were impressed and so they bought him jack after jack of the local brew. As he drank he vowed he would go up and see for himself about the dragons and if they were up there, he would bring back their heads.

On the morrow they gave him water and food to last him up and back and so he had started off.

He rounded an outcropping, found a place and sat down. He drank of the cool water and ate a bit of jerked beef. Not seen in a while he thought to himself that could again be luck on his side. With any chance the two dragons had probably killed each other in battle and all the riches would be his. He gazed down into the valley. This might not be a bad place to settle down he thought. The valley was big with a river and protected from the harsh winds. He watched the pampas grass swaying back and forth in the gentle breeze. The next closest towns were four days from here. Aye he mused, this may be home. With plenty of gold he could build an estate, get a wife and run the valley and the town. Ha, he thought now that’s not a bad idea at all.

He walked on for a few more hours; the sun now passed its zenith. Ahead he caught the gleam of something on the rocks. Running forward he came upon the bones of a dragon, not overly big, but big enough. This what the townspeople feared. Bah they were farmers and shopkeepers, afraid of their own shadows. Well he thought, looks like at least one of them is dead, and then he laughed. One to go he thought. He would of course have to think up a good tale to weave about his fight with this one. Ha, they would buy him food and drink all night long, and who knows, that little bar maid might even warm his bed too.

He trudged on for another hour when he heard the noise. It was faint but no mistaking the sound of a dragon. He loosed his sword in the scabbard and proceeded warily.

As he came around a boulder in the path he saw it, and then laughed. Twas a baby dragon, black as night and about four foot tall. He approached it and it blew out smoke and a foul smelling gas. He raised his shield and pulled the scarf he wore up over his mouth. Drawing his sword he ran forward coughing as the gas and stench assailed his lungs. The young dragon turned to flee and with a sword stroke, separated its head from the body. Well, one less and easy pickings too. He sheathed his weapon, drew a knife and then removed the skin from the body. This will make a fine pair of gloves and anew purse for his soon to be fortune. He picked up the head and stuffed it and the skin in his pack.

He advance slowly and soon came across the entrance to a cave, the stink of dragon was everywhere. Once again he drew his sword and entered the cave. He walked deeper into the cave, old bones and pieces of animal hides were everywhere. He moved ever so slow now as he could hear the rustling of scales on stone. He walked into a huge opening, like a vast inner world unto itself. Strange lichen emitted a green glow which cast an eerie look upon everything in the cavern. And then he saw movement and he advanced.

He approached a nest and stopped. Inside were four small red dragons, each about three feet high. They puffed smoke at him and scurried around unsure of what to do about the intruder. He smiled. What luck more heads.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash in the green glow, turning he approached it. He stopped dead in his tracks. More gold than he had ever imagined lay piled under the growing lichen like plants. He knelt and ran his hands thru it; coins, ore and jewelry ran thru his fingers. Not only would the valley and town be his, but the people as well. He would make himself a Baron, and rule them as he saw fit. The Gods had truly smiled upon him.

Yes, he was in luck, kill the little ones ,load up his pack and head down, periodic trips up here would keep him rich beyond his dreams.

He again drew his sword. Time for a little fun he thought and moved toward the nest. He barely had time to raise his shield as a wall of flame engulfed it. He fell to his knees and waited for the flames to subside, the wood on the back of the shield beginning to smoke.

He looked over the shield and his jaw dropped. There stood a creature unlike any he had ever seen.

Huge it was and fiery red, with a massive head and teeth like sabers. “So human, what would you do here?” He couldn’t believe his ears …it spoke to him! With a loud hiss it repeated itself.” Speak man, or I’ll fry you to ashes where you stand.”

“I, I,I” he stammered. “I came seeking to see if the tales were true” he spat the words out.

The huge creature moved towards him, and he unconsciously took a step back. This thing was huge beyond belief, as tall as many a tree and fierce looking.

“You lie” it bellowed. ”I found the carcass of moog’s little one. You come to kill and steal my shinnies”
“No, no” again he stammered.” It’s not what you think”

The huge creature raised itself to its full height and great wings unfolded off its back.

My God, he thought, this is a dragon, but not one like he’d ever seen in the east.

“Again you lie” The slit like eyes seemed to penetrate his very soul. “I was old when Atlantis rose from the sea. I watched as man grew and learned. My kind and the humans lived in peace and we shared our ancient knowledge with them. Our young let them ride upon their backs, spreading mankind across this floating orb. All was peace and harmony. Then my kind fell to warring amongst ourselves and our numbers dwindled. Then man soon followed suit and then they turned on us, hunting us down and killing us. We retreated as we were unable to unite and our in fighting proved to be a disaster to us. Those of us that were smart flew into the far lands where no man had set foot, each of us carving out a territory, and slowly our numbers increased, but still we fought and killed one another. Foolish we were and still are, and now man has once again come to kill our kind and to plunder our trinkets.

“Wait “uttered the adventurer.” Let me leave and I promise I’ll keep others from finding you”
Again his shield just barely made it up in time.

“You lie….after the fall of Atlantis your kind forgot, kindness and pity and lives only for to collect shiny things like us and to reap havoc on the weak of your own kind. You bring death and disease to all corners of this earth. Your kind has become barbarians like before Atlantis, but now you are cunning and the drive to kill has buried your emotions beyond retrieval.

The adventurer took a step forward, his shield blocking his sword arm as he laid his hand upon the hilt. As he began to draw his sword, the dragon reared up and the adventurer hesitated.

“I know what you think” the red giant screamed the words at him and he tried to block the sound which pained his ears.

“Die” and a blast of fire again engulfed him. The shield began to smolder and the heat became unbearable. He couldn’t breathe as the oxygen in the air around him was depleted. He screamed as his shield burned the flesh on his hand and then flames found his body as the shield turned to ash.

The smoldering body lay there. With chirps and whistles she summoned the four young to eat.

Then she heard the roar of Moog. She had found her slain young one .It would smell of human and her anger would be turned toward the town. Her retribution would be swift and final. Men, women, children and livestock would die.

And then it came to her. What if she helped Moog, what if they united as they once were centuries ago and destroyed every town, village and city they could find. She knew where the other elder dragons were. If they saw her and Moog at peace, then they too would forget the old conflict and then man would suffer. They would scour the earth removing every last vestige of man and then peace would return. She spoke again to her young and then with surprising speed was out the cave and launched herself into the air.

She caught up to Moog who thought that she meant to fight, but Kleffa gave her the olden symbol of truce and then conveyed her idea to Moog.

Moog contemplated what she had heard, and a wicked grin spread across her huge black head.
With a loud roaring that shook the skies and echoed off the mountains the two dragons dove on the town and the hapless victims in it!
© Dezdimona 2009

Modifié par Dark Lilith, 23 janvier 2010 - 02:17 .

[darkshadow136]

I cut myself......... no just kidding. Nice emo poem.

[Dark Lilith]

darkshadow136 wrote...

I cut myself......... no just kidding. Nice emo poem.

indeed.I love writing about many aspects of life and it's darker or controversial sides

[Skyintheeye]

dancing on a field of war

so peaceful and clean before

with blood and guts spread around

steel boots go plodding on the ground

a quick jab, a flex of the wrist

another life, lost to the mist

upon the field so many fell

a king's board game, a soldiers hell

[Godak]

I wrote a story once. It ended before it began. It was quite heartbreaking, to tell you the truth. There were people, in corners, crying, and the toilets were clogged. It was pretty much like the apocalypse, but there was sh!t everywhere. We had no plungers, you see. The smell eventually eroded my nasal cavity. I now roam the world with a hole in my face, a constant reminder of what my writing has done to the world.

So, I no longer write. Instead, I type. It's far more economical, and no toilets have gotten clogged (yet). It's better for everyone this way. Well, better for everyone except the corpses. They're suffering from a severe case of dead. I went to the doctor, but he told me that there was nothing he could do for them. Also, he gave me a rectal exam. I still haven't heard back from him. I think he's stuck in there (he mentioned something about it taking a while).

Oh well, I didn't like him much anyway. The glove-wielding bastard never gave me lolipops. He gave everyone else lolipops, but me? No, no, no! No lolipops for the noseless! Only heartbreak and colon cancer.

...And AIDs.

Modifié par Godak, 24 janvier 2010 - 04:35 .

[Dark Lilith]

Godak wrote...

I wrote a story once. It ended before it began. It was quite heartbreak, to tell you the truth. There were people, in corners, crying, and the toilets were clogged. It was pretty much like the apocalypse, but there was sh!t everywhere. We had no plungers, you see. The smell eventually eroded my nasal cavity. I now roam the world with a hole in my face, a constant reminder of what my writing has done to the world.

So, I no longer write. Instead, I type. It's far more economical, and no toilets have gotten clogged (yet). It's better for everyone this way. Well, better for everyone except the corpses. They're suffering from a severe case of dead. I went to the doctor, but he told me that there was nothing he could do for them. Also, he gave me a rectal exam. I still haven't heard back from him. I think he's stuck in there (he mentioned something about it taking a while).

Oh well, I didn't like him much anyway. The glove-wielding bastard never gave me lolipops. He gave everyone else lolipops, but me? No, no, no! No lolipops for the noseless! Only heartbreak and colon cancer.

...And AIDs.

LMFAO

[Jae Onasi]

OK, not exactly DA related, but I'm having a crap weekend (found out my younger sister has cancer all over the place), and I needed to post something humorous, because I badly needed a laugh.  Now, this started in the perpetual "Revan vs. x" threads that pop up on any forum discussing Kotor, and for those of you familiar with such threads, it always ends up in an argument over what's higher in Star Wars canon, as if we're talking Major Theological Doctrine that Could Save the Universe, If Not Our Souls.  So, I decided to create some "Jae-Canon" in an attempt to inject humor into what was rapidly becoming a flame war over who had better canon. 

Statement on the new 6 degrees of Star Wars Canon



We, at WookieWikiWarrickWicketpedia, wish to clear up the confusion of
‘Canon’ in Star Wars by instituting a new classification system on how
to rank the different Star Wars and Star Wars EU materials. This will
replace the Canon-a, b, c and g system (along with other letters and
symbols), which was becoming just too confusing, resulting in many
emails from forum administrators and moderators who were ‘having to
deal with too damn many threads on arguments over Canon’.



1st degree Canon shall be The Movies. Radio adaptations, so long as
they include voices from the Original Actors (and Actresses) shall also
be 1st degree Canon. The Screenplays are also 1st degree Canon, but
only if George Lucas put a ‘GL’ on every page. The official soundtracks
are 1st degree Canon, because John Williams has included the use of
both the bassoon and the triangle in his music, and quite possibly the
krummhorn. Anything spoken by George Lucas is first degree Canon,
including those more mundane statements like ‘I want to order a pizza’
and ‘I have to find the nearest restroom.’



2nd degree Canon shall include those radio adaptations that deviate
from the script slightly but still maintain the ‘True Spirit’ of the
movies. Those radio adaptations that include the voices of Harrison
Ford or Liam Neeson shall automatically be changed to 1st degree Canon,
because their voices are really sexy. Those adaptations that include
excess amounts of Jar-Jar Binks or Ewok cuteness shall automatically be
reduced to 6th degree Canon or less.



3rd degree Canon shall include any books that George Lucas decides
shall be 3rd degree, which is pretty much everything else not in the
1st and 2nd degrees. It’s his world—if he wants to say a book is 1st
degree or 6th degree, we shall bow to his greater wisdom. The exception
are the Vong books, which shall be reduced to 6th degree or the 9th
circle of Dante’s Inferno, whichever comes last. All Star Wars games
are 3rd degree Canon. The Knights of the Old Republic games, because
they are Really Righteous, are 2nd degree Canon. We hereby declare all
permutations of Revan and Exile to be Canon, because trying to pick
just one is really p!$$ing off the fans. The Star Wars Lego games would
be 4th degree Canon because of the ‘cutesy factor’, except for the fact
that my son really likes the games, so they stay at 3rd degree.



4th degree Canon includes any comic books. Graphic novels remain at 3rd
degree because ‘graphic novel’ sounds more cool than ‘comic book.’ The
exception is the Knights of the Old Republic comic book series, which
is destined to become a Graphic Novel when bound together, and because
they’ve drawn Zayne Carrick really cute. It’s at least 3rd degree, and
we might even make that series 2nd degree if sales continue to be good.



5th degree Canon includes all fan-fiction, unless they are “Really
Good,” which, by our definition, is anything with over 1,000 views on
LucasForums or over 15 thumbs-ups on kotorfanmedia. If they’re “Really
Good”, then they can, at the option of the administrators, moderators,
machievelli, or the author, move to 4th degree. The exception is if the
spam-per-view ratio approaches 1:82, in which case the fanfic shall be
declared ‘spammy’ and the fic drops to 6th degree. Action figures are
5th degree Canon, unless they involve Yoda, Han Solo, or Luke
Skywalker. These are 1st degree Canon because I like them and because
Frank Oz rules.



6th degree Canon includes any speculative posts on any forums. It also
includes any non-speculative posts, comments, jokes, pictures, and
other written, visual, or aural media. Anything else not already
specified shall be 6th degree Canon, unless the author finds something
she really likes, in which case the Degree of Canon may be altered
accordingly. Forum posts that are written by administrators or
moderators shall be whatever Degree of Canon they desire, because the
author feels the need to suck up, unless George Lucas declares
otherwise, because his 1st degree is more equal than everyone else’s
1st degree.



We hope this clears up any confusion about Canon. If you have any
further questions, please send an email to our help center at ‘we won’t
answer it anyway.idiocy'. We will do our best to make sure that the
answer to your questions are answered with as much obfuscation as
possible, preferably by someone who does not even speak your language.



Thank you for your kind attention to this matter.

[Dark Lilith]

lol, I like this!

[Avalanche guy]

I have written a tale already,but I dont know if you know Warhammer world.



Anyway.....



Pain. The first thing he felt was pain.

He slowly opened his eyes,still feeling the painful rain of Chaotic spells,that almost torn him apart. After that,he remembered nothing. Only the mocking face of a Chaoitc mage,laughing at his screaming body, wich could not resist the magic torturing anymore.



He tried to stand up,for he known that he was lying on some ground. When he was on his knees,he fell again,the same pain that struck him in the battelfield paralyzed him back on the ground. He tried to keep his mouth shut,trying to avoid the unnesecary attention. The pain was horrible,like invisible flames were roasting his body,trying to breach into his vital organs. His eyes were blinded by the pain, and as he tried to stand up,he again was stricken back to the ground.



He tried to remember, what happened. In his mind,the picture were made. A battlefield in the gates of Talabhaiem. Screaming soldiers of Ostermark,desperately trying to hold Thorgar´s hordes outside of the city. He has seen himself,casting huge fireballs and flame walls onto his enemies, desperately trying to get them out of his reach. As he casted numerous spells,he was weakning. He has seen his hero,Stefan von Kessel, slashing with his sword the corrupted skulls of their enemies,on his horse. The elven witch Aurelion,casting beautiful,but deadly arrows of light,torning the Chaos champions to pieces. Brother Gunther, a priest of Sigmar, destroying his enemies with his hammer. And then,he remembered the final hour...



In the area,were the gate of Talabhaeim stood, could be seen a shadow,a silhouete of some creature,it growled and snarled, making loud noises with his hoofs, stomping on the ground,and corrputing it. It walked closer and closer to him, and he could seen the silhouetes wings,silhouetes axe in its hand. So big axe,that it could tore a house into pieces. When the sun emerged,a bloody one,it revealed the silhoutes real picture.



It wases noone else then Thorgar the Boodied, the new demonic prince of chaos. He seen his body, huge and muscular, with wings that could carry him long miles away,with a hand holding an axe, bloodied by numerous slain enemies. On the other hand, he hold Captain Stern´s torned body, torned by the demons hand. His face had an expression of a victor, an expression of a powerful confident beast,seeking blood and war. Thorgar looked on the battelfield, screaming the name of a blood god, Khorne, and praying for him for the bloodshed. Ostermark soldiers lost all of their morale,or its remains. They fled like a hoard of sheep, screaming for Sigmars mercy. Thorgar laughed, and his minions as well.



The mage known what happened. Talabhaeim was ruined, heroes of Ostermark slain, but what killed him? What caused such pain?



He tried to remeber. On Thorgars left side stood a mage of chaos, a mage of a powerful being,slaying his enemies by draining their soulf into his. He was an abomination,tentacles were growing from his decaed body, his mouth, or mouths by mutation, mumbled the mystic words of Chaos,as he tried to summon demons to his side. He looked at the evil being and started to cast the powers of Aqshy. The chaotic magical minion easily ruined his spells,driving them off ,and even,controlling them and sending them back to the caster. The mage fought and fought,casted and casted, but he knew,that the battle was lost. Finally,the chaotic mmage casted a purple skull,wrapped in shadow, in a screaming gesture, piercing the mage of light like an arrow. The mage of light screamed,as he fell down, and, uncounsious. The chaotic mage laughed at him,calling him swine,who dared the gods themselves. And then...



He tried to stand up. Miraculously,he could finally. He tried to clean his eyes by some of the healing magic. Somehow,he could cast again. He healed his wounded mind, and he could see again.

He seen his greatest enemy,Sudobaal,lord of Chaos. He was the one who destroyed his powers. He was the one,who led Thorgar to victory in Talabahiem. He stood before the mage of light, smiling, victoriously. He walked, slowly, to the weakened mage, and before he could try to defend himself, Sudobaal already casted,with the same smile. The mage of light, was screaming again,and paralyzed back to the ground. He couldn´t move again. His eyes were blackened by the same pain, and he could only hear Sudobaal whispering : "You shouldn´t dare to offend my gods. By their will, I´ll play with you untill you´ll pray even to them for mercy."



And thus, Max Schreiber, defender of Talabhaiem,friend of Stefan von Kessel, was tortured ofr 200 years by Sudobaal. His soul was sacrificed to Slaanesh, good of pervertion.





Its only amateurinc tale, and Im from czech republic,not from america, so,if you feel that I have written something wrong,dont worry and write tome, I´ll try to rewrite it to a better shape.

-Avalanche guy,pleased to entertain you...e