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#1 Godsatan



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Отправлено 15 июля 2003 - 00:26

Был уверен, что такая тема уже имелась в наличии, но не нашёл. Если есть - не обессудьте и помогите в пополнении моей коллекции. С сайта www.mimir.net не надо, сами знаем. Впрочем, если кто-то захочет вычленить оттуда что-нибудь приличное - дерзайте. А теперь - то, что есть у меня.

Sixteen Secrets
A tiefling lullaby by Chris Nichols
Who in Sigil runs the show?
Sixteen secrets that we know.
Athar spit in the preacher's eye,
While false powers bleed and die.
Godsmen tumble end o'er end,
Seeking something to ascend.
Bleakers laugh and go insane,
There's no point and life is pain.
Sinkers revel in decay,
By entropy we'll pass away.
The Dead are nought but cold hard death,
Life is so much wasted breath.
Fated count the jinx they make,
Never give if you can take.
Guvners order realms of dreams,
Making rules and counting beans.
Indeps are a motley crew,
Bloods and berks and shouters too.
Hardheads are an ordered lot,
March left, march right, no time for thought.
Red Death saw your dirty deed,
They'll make you pay until you bleed.
Anarchists love fire and blade,
They pull down those who've got it made.
Signers think we're in their head,
But we'll remain when they're all dead.
Sensates reach to feel it all,
True bloods stand, while bubbers fall.
Ciphers act on whim and hunch,
Weird and mystic are that bunch.
Xaosmen embrace discord,
Random chaos is their word. *
Sigil is guarded by She Who Flays,
The Lady rules, now and always.
* Alternatively, "Bow-wow you puce wombat running Bob fence."
Chance of a Life Time
by Grada the Intelligible Chaosman
Flip of a coin, toss of the dice;
They will decide where I'm sleeping tonight.
The deal of a card, the queer twists of chance,
Are all to determine the path of my life.
Randomness and randomness,
And Chaos and Strife,
I cannot make decisions
On the purpose of my life
And while the Cage keeps on spinning,
As the Wheel keeps on turning,
I forsake all life's choosing
And my soul continues burning.
Xaos and Bleakness
by Tellery the Undecided
I dreamt a dream of innocence
Until by cruelty was dispelled.
I lived a life of nothingness
When by kindness it was felled.
And now my dreams and lives combine,
Through steps and jumps I do progress,
Foolish wisdom and knowledgeable ignorance,
My mind grows stale, yet always fresh.
I wander purposefully through trackless paths,
My mind is away in the same place,
Following a chart of unmappable ground,
Leaving a trail without any trace.
Reality is empty and illusion is real,
Emotions of zero are all I can feel.
Nothing is played while I'm always playing,
Without any sound can you hear what I'm saying?

Sensate Recruiting
by Armain DarkEdge
You can't believe what you feel ?
So many colors, even teal.
Take a deep breath sod,
Take it all in
I'm sorry to say
This isn't Krynn.
See it all,
Feel it all,
Smell it all,
Taste it all,
And hear it all
At the Great Civic Festhall!
The Planetouched
by Armain DarkEdge
Outcasts in this chaotic world,
The planetouched we are
Memories of parents are afar
Where are we really from
From birth we are shunned,
By everyone.
Bloods know best,
If they try to nink us
They face true Death.
We are chidren of the planes,
Different from another
Same race, but we don't
Stick together.
But one day,
We"ll see
If any berk
Is stronger than WE!!
The Planewalkers' Creed
by Kiri the Forgotten (Alec Fleschner)
I know the absolute value of multiple infinities.
I know the differences between each, and have memorized
the roadmap of Reality.
I know the paths fo Celestia
As well as the eddies of the Styx.
I remember the conformed sense of security the modron mind holds dear
And cherish the protean caress of sladdi thought.
I've inhaled the fog of the Etheral
And soared the Silver Void
And I know that belief, no matter how grand or vile
Holds power in the very sanctity of that act.
I am a Planewalker.
And I know.
Insanity's Tendrils
by Xib the Bleaker
Crushed 'neath the weight of the whole sodding thing
I carry my burden 'round the whole damn Ring
Nobody knows, but I don't really care.
'Cause madness is the one thing that we all share.
You think not? Is it just me?
C'mere, berk, I'll show you how easily.
I can shatter your mind with my primal scream
That echoes the wails of the Howling Plane
The endless caverns, the twisting tunnels
Blackened expanses, wind-whipped funnels
The whistling destroys the strongest of sanities
Erasing all of your preconceived vanities
Most of your ilk are left gibbering monkeys
Don't worry, 'cause the pain has already sunk me
Deep in the swirling morass of anguish.
But I choose not to struggle, I rather enjoy it
I laugh insanely at your attempts to destroy it
The Insanity beckons! Give in to its call!
You've wanted to before, sod - it's not hard at all...
Give up on the Multiverse 'cause it don't mean a thing
Just sit in your padded cell and quietly sing
Sweet thoughts to yourself, if it makes you feel better
It'd be dangerous for a barmy to be unfettered.
Who me? I ain't barmy, but I'd like you to think so
For I know what you know which is more than you thought so
And I ain't dangerous, by any stretch o' thought
But I'll surprise ya and scare ya more often than not.
Beware of the Bleakers, we ain't just all apathy
'Cause in a heartbeat we switch feet and then we gots sympathy
For the poor and the destitute, whom we shelter and help
Which is more than you others do, so you can all go to Hell!
But wait! There's more inside this Madman's head
And you'll never really know if I was right 'bout what I said.
Just go on with your life,
Your meaningless strife
Pretend it all matters
We're all mad as hatters...
All Hail to the King
Soot, an Ash Genasi recently committed to the Gatehouse
by Phill Howard
Why have they all become cardboard shapes?
Two dimensional beings of air and paper.
They have built around me their cardboard kingdom
and I wear a paper crown on my bleeding head.
I am the corrugated cardboard king.
And I scream and I scream and I scream and I scream and I scream.
The brown dust settles in the bottom of my lungs,
Mechanical bellows fuelled by the faint glow of paper lanterns.
To cleanse myself of these papercuts.
I dive into a sea of staples
That reflect the dead paper moon.
The staples are cold and hard and unforgiving
And they whisper to each other
As I glide silently by.
They know who I am
But they don't give a damn.
In one world I rule
But in the other I'm nobody.
In neither am I my own man.
Back in my kingdom
I sit dully on my cardboard box throne.
One singular spark and then it's all gone,
Washed away in a wave of purifying fire
Burned and purged and cleansed by fire.
The paper is licked away by the rough tongue of fire.
The cardboard is all gone now,
And I am now the King of ash.
Charcoal skin and silty eyes
Blackened expanses and barren wastes.
And I am home.
Anarchist's Delight
by Phill Howard
Without truth, without meaning,
Without struggle, without screaming,
Submission to the Institution
Homogeneous solution
They're all against you!
They're eating your soul!
They're shoving you down
A bottomless hole.
Fight back! Fight back!
Surprise them and attack!
Tear down their nonexistent rules
Show the high-ups they're all fools
Don't give in to subjugation.
Free the oppressed of every nation!
Start it fast or start it slow
Revolution is the key, you know.
The Factols want your loyalty
To the Abyss with them! Join with me!
Together as brothers we'll push 'em back
By hammering at every crack
It won't be long, I know it's true,
Freedom will ring for me and you.
by Dal'jat Storm's-Source,
a Chameleon "acting in" as a Dispossessed.
Four-Fold Furnace, answer our prayer!
We only seek your knowledge.
For it is you who teaches,
Your pain that breaches,
And your touch that sears us aware.
Red Prison, preserve our souls!
We wish solely to live forever...
Our gifts to you,
Our opponents askew,
And hundred-pence nightmare foals.
Stinking Pit, tyrant's domain,
To power, the road is harsh.
For the tanar'ri attack,
And the baatezu fall back,
Thus the Blood War so came.
Three Glooms, Answer our call!
Your hopelessness is inevitable.
We shall make our kip,
Before Dandy Will's whip,
The Dark monoliths stand so tall.
Iron cubes, Destroy our will!
Make us envision your light and woe.
We shall crush our foe,
With Orders from General Xo,
Much goblin blood we will spill...
Howling land, why do you yell?
What secrets are you hiding?
From the pits of Hruggek's home,
To the bubbling Styx's foam,
There is much to learn in Hell.
Ah, my lair. The Great Abyss,
Whose triumphs scar the Multiverse.
We will soon be freed
From under Graz'zt's creed
And reign with eternal bliss.

Xaositect's Advice
by Dan Winston
death out and out dying Bring bring
life your Live and music the pay
that Bar berk rattling box stop bone your
and Bubbers Clueless blinds the in up end
careful if not
Abyss to the Go bring bodak's tail a back and
what not who are you you It's berk know it's

The Sinker's Song
by Chris Nichols
Decaying child, don't you see
You are the avatar of...
Feel the sweat upon your skin
grit and grease fuelled from...
Clothes in tatters, torn and frayed
rags and bits that fall...
Flesh is worn by dirt and grime
then is ravaged by uncaring...
Organs leak, bones rub against skin
causes bodies to wear...
In the end, all life will be
a testament to unending...
Death #174
Morvun, the Fensir poet (see Uncaged p.68)
by Chris Nichols
Liquid darkness calls
She stalks
Madness laughs in between
Pieces of my shattered soul.
Who's the berk,
the sane shadow dancing
or the soulless mad?
The Death of a Sensate
by Ruin deKaye
Can you hear it? Listen gently,
As it whispers so intently,
Murmuring of darkened lore.
Do you see it? Watch it closely,
As it tiptoes so precisely
And moves to close and bar the door.
Can you touch it? Feel its texture,
As it pours the acid mixture,
A toast to you, and so much more.
Do you taste it? Drink it down,
A bitter draught, without a frown,
As it burns you to the core.
Can you smell it? Vile decay,
As Death's fingers gently play,
Upon the rudder to Styx's shore.
The Dustmen's Dirge
by Chris Nichols
Dustman, Dustman, why do you wonder?
Is it True Death that you ponder?
Tiefling child, I go where I will,
To the crypt in the valley or the grave on the hill.
Dustman, Dustman, who is your god?
Who bears the scythe, the sword, and the rod?
Tiefling child, my god is Death,
The reaper of the flock, the stealer of your breath.
Dustman, Dustman, I am ill, I fear.
When I die, who will bring me here?
Tiefling child, should your spirit flee,
On that day, I will come for thee.
Dustman, Dustman, bless me with a kiss,
Before I flee, grant this one wish.
Tiefling child, this wish I grant for you.
Peace my little one, escape the life untrue.
Tiefling child, now so cold and pale,
Rest, your soul has passed beyond the veil.
Hope Sings Eternal
by Dai'Lyn the Clueless Prime
In clear light of morning,
Before the worst comes to light,
Hope sings in our hearts,
Among Sigil's shadowed streets.
Hope sings eternal.
Within me she has found home.
Hope sings forever.
And she will lead me home.
Dare we think that our soul
Could earn its freedom here?
Dare we think that happiness
Lies beyond some hidden gate?
Hope sings eternal.
Within me she has found home.
Hope sings forever.
And she will lead me home.
My Multiverse
(a poem by a Signer)
by Phill Howard
Infinite rings which I design,
A Great long Road entirely mine
The Center is Me with all my thoughts,
I imagined you, so sod off!

The Bleaker's Anguish
by Phill Howard
And I reached into the void
That was my chest
And I plucked out
The shriveled black organ
That had been my heart
And I watched it dissolve
With hollow eyes
Into black ash
That was carried off by the wind.
I looked for meaning
But it destroyed me
And now I am empty.
And I am content
For without meaning
I have found
The real Truth,
The real Strength -

#2 Alya


    Lady Сonscience

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Отправлено 15 июля 2003 - 11:13

Да, была такая тема, но при очередной чистке форума я ее удалила. Точно не скажу, но кажется, автор стихов выкладывала их еще где-то на форумах ag.ru. Даже почти наверняка выкладывала. Можно порыться в тамошних архивах и найти их, если не лень. Можно и сюда вторично поместить, я не буду возражать.

Честно говоря, меня подобное творчество как-то не шибко вдохновляет. Это уже второй раз, что стихотворения по PS:T напоминают мне бессмертное "Вышел месяц из тумана, вынул ножик из кармана". Это по форме, а по содержанию... Так можно писать километрами.
"16 тайн" вдобавок еще ужасно напоминают те стишки из "Властелина Колец", в которых даются перечни зверей и народов, населяющих Средиземье.

Но это мое личное мнение. У меня вообще вкус довольно взыскательный, уж не обессудьте.

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