《grass whistle ~ poetry》Woven over time
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I found a sleeveless sweater today
Hidden away in a rusty trunk,
It was knit by my late grandfather
(Grandmas don't have a monopoly
Over knitting sweaters and mufflers)
Let me dissect the ingredients-
Spools of wool- thirty rupees a piece,
Long needles bought in wholesale bundles,
Ability to thread the needle
Cost a seven K cataract op
And love and time ( What do they cost?)
As naked and pure as my body-
When I first wore that bright brown sweater
In tandem with the trash-lit bon fire
And a warmth warmer than the sweater.
I wore it proudly over nude skin,
I'll wear it over my tuxedo,
On sherwanis and Nehru jackets,
Raymond whites or local t-shirts,
I'll wear it over my skin-lid heart...
~Ajay
7/10/17
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I'm a Kitsune?
Waking up as a starving infant was terrible, but finding out I'm a fuzzball was probably the highlight of my day.Fox ears and a tail? This is crazy, but at least I get to do nothing but relax in a crib for days and weeks at a time! There are just a few problems...
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The Paths of Magick
Credits: Story by Xcaliburnt. Cover Art by @Bervolart. Magick, the power to bend the laws of reality. All because of a mystical substance known as mana. Mages follow the Paths to achieve power, for there is no more addictive chase. Each Path winds and twists, forcing mages through the flames of adversity and challenge. Though the operative word is "path", the reality is far less straightforward. Instead of a road, Paths are like the branches of world trees, erupting into the heavens, intertwining, and ending in sharp snaps. Only the strongest reach the sky. There are several Paths, and many Ways to walk them—variations of the same Path, and like the stars, they are endless. Magick is the sacred flame that scours the fat, rendering the truest self. Superfluous flesh melting away to show the skeleton of one's being. A chance for ascension—apotheosis. Though not every mage works to godhood, if they survive long enough, It is inescapable. Witness the lives of those that tread the knife's edge of self-destruction. Each one intertwined in their search for answers, revenge, and, most of all: power. These individuals have all lost something precious—irreplaceable—and In search of filling the void left behind, they have taken up the mantle of a mage. Per aspera ad astra. Ad mortem vel divinitatis. (Through adversity to the stars. To death or divinity.) There is no consistent release schedule except my consistent inconsistency. Besides, there’s like a thousand pages worth of content, how can—you already read it? Goddamn. Oh, and there is a very long hiatus between volumes as I intend to edit and rewrite a lot. What to Expect: This story is progression fantasy, so expect a healthy dose of training. It's also heavy on slice of life, and it isn't entirely overarching-plot-driven. Expect characters to live their lives, and not always be on some quest to save the world. There's a lot of magic theory and discussion about it in the story. So, if you don't like impromptu lessons on sorcerous theory by traveling monster slayers, this might not be for you. But if you do like it, rejoice! For there is a lot of it. This is also heavy on prose, purple as a bruised eye. I use outdated, uneccesarily collegiate-level terms and play around with the writing style just for the heck of it. I find it fun to wax and wane poetic, and that might grate on you—I don’t plan to change this aspect of the Paths much if at all. Onto the viewer discretion is advised parts: This is grim-dark/ grim-heart. Take the tags seriously. There will be combat scenes that are brutal and horrifying. Fights to the death tend to be. This is a tale about medieval mercenaries (quite literal killers for hire), man-eating monsters, and eldritch gods beyond the material plane. Beside that, there will be traumatic events that are best left unread. I do not detail certain acts I find heinous enough, instead leaving some parts unwritten but still alludded to if not outright stated; there is simply no graphic narration thereof. This is not for the faint of heart.
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The Third Princess Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself is one of the treasures of Re-Estize; The Golden Princess herself. She is also a calculating psychopath, tactful manipulator, and rotten to the core. Follow her, her lover and obsession Climb, and the scheming nobles of the Kingdom as she plots a secure and quiet life for her future. This is an Overlord / オーバーロード fanfiction.
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pears for breakfast
living proof that art is fluid in form___________________________________________a poetry anthology written in fruit juice and cheap ink -----------------------------in loving memory of the past @timespieces copyright 2018
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How The Weak Live
This was a rough draft. Quite a meh one. The newer version is These Games of Ours. ---------- Lucious is deserter among many, living by dagger and beggary. Argento’s thirst for knowledge is endless, as is his belly. Kora is the perfect soldier, yet her sword grows dull in monotony. Formally known as the Empire's legend, the Captain is now stuck in stagnation. The Gods, grown weary of human deeds, have decided to indulge themselves in a different way. -------------- THE 7 REALLY IMPORTANT STUFF Clichés shall be avoided like the cancerous tumors they are. The world shall not spread its pink butt cheeks for the main character’s convenience. No character shall be thinner than one slice of white American cheese. No female character shall serve to highlight how overpowered and fabulous the main character is. No villain shall serve to highlight how overpowered and fabulous the main characters are. Grammar laws shall be upheld sometimes. I, the author, swear not to be a prick. I, the author, swear not to go away without warning. If other LitRPGs are like Skyrim, then this is going to be a combination of Dark Souls and Total War. Don't expect action for the sake of action. Be warned, this is a slow novel. Read the reviews to see if this novel is a decent fit for you. Disclaimer: I do not own that gorgeous cover art.
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CRYPTOGRAPHIA
blah blah blah....... -_____-
8 170
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