I’m not waiting For a knight in shining armor. I saved myself a long time ago. I do not need someone to “complete me”. I am whole alone.

But sometimes I just want A weirdo who will go on adventures with me Someone who will twirl me around the kitchen Who will run the mundane errands with me And kiss me passionately When I least expect them to Someone who can gaze deep into my eyes Before making me dissolve in a fit of giggles

That’s all.

What being does not behold their creation and not thought they were God?

We hear of the tales and stories Of humans who wish to become creatures Women who swim the deep Be turned by a vampire Have everlasting power Anything that differs from the life of a mortal We feel insignificant or weak Want to be loved, obsessed over Yet we have our place We fill this world, make it our own So don’t long to be a fantasy Long to be who you are in reality

oftentimes, i dream that i am icarus

sinking through the sea pained cries echoing from my father mother

there is peace though, in the fall in the pain,

the white hot of the sun burned into my mind

this is how i imagined i would die

He is there in the hint of the wild forest, Though in penumbra, his wonder rests. His whispered notes- a dulcet cascade- ‘thrall, While his delicate fingers nimbly such rich abandon -lithely- caress; Though his intense sacred breath -cool and firm- Is always tempered and in full control.

How his fragile melody opens muscles to slowly spread the nymphs beguiling limbs; For in his calling surges from the rich depths, In an old tongue now lost to mortal man where this hubris ridden blinded bleating flock Whom are spiritually absent: razored dreams.

In the soft glade where the wild rustlings glow, where the bells bellow and the loose lions rip-a-roar; In this -peaceful- never-lost sacred space The Nymphs -in sweet abandon- slowly sigh. They awake with the golden apple of the sun And the charms of Pan fragile flute unfurling.

Between the leaves of the dew weighted trees, Whose high honey bounty, slow reveals a truth, They, with soft steps, follow him from alcoves
Where the old black-veined -white stone- pools do dwell Their bare calls: Innocent whispering sighs Stirring wood henges: opening faraway eyes.

Here they tuck; writhing his romance, Their lustrous eyes, a half-hidden appeal; Their faces full of mirth’s innocent indolence. How the rich the scent of the old wood echoes, with the delicate murmur of the evermore; to this: his wild secret, sacred, sweet delight.

mermaids and sirens The myths you here are true They are real creatures You can hear the music From there songs

King Midas was willing to do anything for gold, And billionares today are the same too. Icarus died by not listening and learning, Which is what happens to most of us every year. So don’t ever say greek myths don’t matter, Because they’re just reflections of our lives.

Peace is a myth. When people get angry And fight over ridiculous things What to expect About serious matters? Everybody talks about it Everybody says they want it Yet we’re all ready to criticise and judge. Finger-pointing on social media Everyone’s feeling entitled It’s all Me, Myself and I.

(Tough day, this was the best I could come up with to keep my streak 😔 thank you for reading anyway)

Motor-craft, is making parts the technology behind the brains and being positive, successful, mythos in the development of great parts

                                Written By:
                                Ghostrider 
                                 07-06-2021

Long ago, or was it yesterday The Kingsmen joisted and sword-played Laughing and drinking at the end of the day Agreed all their purpose to slay

The mighty King protected his land His Queen spent days happy and glad There was no time to be often mad Too mulch had happened no longer sad

The Queen bore her King many a heirs What she desired was her sweet mare Her love of riding with wind in her hair Leaves her satisfied but worse for ware

The King bides his time counting his coin Desiring solitude adding one pice at a time Gold sickness they say ruins the mind A sad life, lost in his finds

The Prince and Princesses, children still Raised by a Governess, stronger will Being told to sit quietly and very still Daydreaming, looking out the window seal

All the King’s money can’t by happiness The Queen spends her time riding, haphazardness The children are raised by a strict Governess While the King suffers from money lustfulness

That is the story of the Royals Happiness shows the sadness and turmoil Caused by greed and schemes foiled Go back to the land and the fertile soil

Tessa🦋