Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 240265 times)

LooNEY_DAC

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #105 on: February 13, 2015, 12:17:00 AM »
From Pg 265
For @slim kittens

“The Cat-Tank Went Down to Kastrup”

The Cat-Tank went down to Kastrup
They were lookin’ for some books to loot
So they sent a scout
To try to suss ‘em out
And the grosslings wouldn’t give a hoot

The Captain picked their target
Once the scout was safely back
They lit out
And Mikkel big and stout
Popped the door for ’em with a crack

And there wouldn’t you know it
Was a cold and dark Death Room
Got Emil scared
But Sigrun shared,
“It’s just a big ol’ tomb”

They pressed on down the hallway and
They found books in a room
Emil & Sigrun took
Each a stack of books
But Lalli only one volume

Tuuri asked, “Can I see?”
But mighty Mikkel shook his head
“Go by the protocol
Or not at all
Less’en you want to be dead.”

Lalli curled up to take a nap
When they came back for more
And Emil wanted Mikkel
So it wouldn’t be a chore

But then ol’ Lalli
Heard the little
Skitter from the hole
And Emil said to Sigrun,
“There’s a troll!”

The Captain looked at Emil and
She said, “Let’s KILL IT DEAD,
But use your knife
To take its life
So there’s no others up ahead.”

And she sprinted to the Death Room
And Lalli sneaked off on his own
And Emil cussed him out
With a muffled shout
Cause now he was all alone

So after fifteen minutes Emil
Heard a little scratch
But when his hair got slimed
His eyeline climbed
To spot the troll ready to snatch

Emil
Hit it with the lantern
In the face
Then he tried to run
Out of this place
Spider-Lizard jumped him
From the side
Emil fought it off and
For Sigrun cried?
Sigrun took the grossling’s head
And got Emil to his feet
She told him, “Run!”
But Emil’s fun
Was not nearly complete

Emil poured his flask out
And he grabbed his four grenades
He threw them true
And then they blew
Like a great big cannonade

The boom
Broke out every window
On the block
Mikkel turned, his face
Just full of shock
“Tuuri, get her started!
It’s time to go!
Sigrun, Emil--Hey
Where’s Lalli though?”

LooNEY_DAC

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #106 on: February 13, 2015, 12:55:25 PM »
Just posted on Pg 173:
“On the Fly”

It was a giant
That Lalli took note of
On the train
The Dalahasten crew
Leapt into action

Emil grabbed Lalli
To do what he could to
Save his friend
Tried to keep him
Safe from harm
The giant’s finger advanced

But the tunnel freed them
Chopping the finger free
And Miss Hearty Undead
Said to Emil, “Help me!”
And he screamed like a girl
Popped Mis Hearty’s frail skull
With a punch he let loose
On the fly

It started so simply
They were in Mora, “Rainy Town”
Torbjorn Siv and Taru all
Went with them

And Lalli was stubborn
And prayed to the Goddess
Kuutar first
As the moon shone
Down on us
They were so happy, our crew

“With the Moon our risk has
Dropped to seven tonight
So to all our riders we
Shall bid a good night
Don’t forget your bed belts
Or you may be getting welts
As the grosslings attack
On the fly”

Even the trainsaws
Just couldn’t keep out the
Giant’s hand
Breaking through the
Armored steel
To kill them

But then the tunnel
Ripped off the giant
From the train
Leaving only minor wounds
And one compound fractured arm

And the train kept going
Through the night and the storm
And Agneta told them
All, “This isn’t the norm!”
And poor Tuuri missed the “fun”
But the Vasterstroms were done
From the giant that struck
On the fly

And they took out the heads
On the fly
They fought the giant and won
On the fly
They did fantastic and all
On the fly
All thanks to Lalli’s warning
On the fly
And they got through it all right
On the fly

On the fly
On the fly

slim kittens

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #107 on: February 14, 2015, 12:28:23 AM »
page 269

"You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse.  You don't see them screwing each other over
for a ******* percentage."

Night.  The cattank is far from the city, dark and quiet.  Emil is suddenly awake, shaking and sweating, gasping for breath.
No faster than this
, with all the instrumental breaks, jaggedness and dissonance.
Mood oscillates between calm and near-hysteria.

Emil, courtesy of Elton John and ReturnofDaveBro who said, "Always steal from the best", so I did.

MADMEN TO THE SLAUGHTER

I can see very well
Our captain's dead in a pool of slime
And I can see it very well

On my feet, in the street, I just stare
The cattank's torn and the crew is gone
I wonder, do you even care?

Once I thought of a part I could play,
Helping to burn the scourge away.
Was it foolishness to ever think that way?
Things look so very different today.

"I hope this crew is better than it looks,
Or we lose our one chance to get some books."

When the cleansers come, they should come to stay,
Not just grab some books and run away
Is it really knowledge that you're after?
Are we the price to be paid for this disaster?

[Take deep breaths.  Slow down.  Carry on.]

I can hear very well
It's the same old song playing eons long,
And I can hear it very well

Flesh and bone, on our own, we're so few
We're the future face of the human race
Is this really what you meant to do?

The ground is spinning round and I can't feel my face...

"There's no word at all.  It's hard to take it.
Are the weirdos back yet?  Did they really make it?"

It just seems so wrong to walk away
If I make it home, what can I say?
...or was it just the money you were after?
Were we the means to retrieve the things that matter?

This is WAY darker than I think Minna intends to take it.  Just chalk it up to Emil's PTSD.

LooNEY_DAC

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #108 on: February 14, 2015, 01:56:15 AM »
Pg 269

“Kastrup”
(from Marty Robbins’ “El Paso”)

Out in the old Danish
Suburb of Kastrup
There roved a Cat-Tank
With looters all filled
Daytime would find them
Exploring the buildings
Trying to find books
But not to be killed

Black were the nights when they
Sent Lalli scouting
Running so fleet he
Would never be caught
Emil was worried
For his skinny Finn friend
Tuuri regretful
But Sigrun was not

Day one a wild foray the three made
Dreaming of all they’d be paid
But in the building
Some trolls there were lairing
The library acted
As excellent bait

So when Emil was
Stalked by a troll as it
Hung from the ceiling
Lured on by scratching
Sounds from further on
Emil struck out and struck
True with his lantern
The troll cried out loud and
Away Emil ran

Another troll jumped out
Six-legged and huge-mouthed
The front pair fell prey
To Emil’s swift blade
But it kept coming
Though Emil stabbed its neck
His only chance was
For help from Sigrun

And Sigrun decapitated the troll
Pulled Emil up from the floor
Sigrun was running
But Emil had one thing
Set in his mind
For the fate of the troll

Emptied his hip flask
Emil grabbed four “lights” and
Truly he threw them
They filled the hall with
Bright fiery death

Anything left in that
Building was worthless
Flames would consume it
‘Til nothing was left
Only one load made
It out to the Cat-Tank
And Lalli got out
But just by a breath

As Mikkel gaping said, “Tuuri, let’s go!”
Sigrun brought Emil outside
Lalli jumped out from
A window above them
His fall stopping Emil from
Rushing back in

Mikkel caught Lalli
Who jumped from his arms and
Gave Emil a glare
“You were the one who
Ditched me,” Emil said
They all piled into
The Cat-Tank as it left
Tuuri drove solo
So they could clean off

Emil was coming down
Hard from the action
When Sigrun grabbed him
By both of his cheeks
“That was the AWESOMEST!”
Sigrun yelled at him
“We’ll loot this whole town
And burn out what’s left!”

“Are you with me, Viking Emil?” she said
And Emil smiled weakly and hurled
Mikkel took Sigrun
Put her in the corner
While Lalli looked like
He wanted to hide

They moved on to
Old Kastrup Fort where they
Washed off their clothing
Mikkel and Sigrun
Sat chewing the fat
“Do tell me, Sigrun
Did you sort what you found?”
“A book is a book
They’re all of great worth.”

“I guessed as much from the
Titles you brought me.”
“Why waste our time when
There’s danger about?”
“It might have been worth the
Trouble,” quoth Mikkel
“Who in their right mind
Wants a book on Golf?”

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #109 on: February 14, 2015, 09:54:20 AM »
"Golf is not Gold"

All washed and cleaned and winding down,
Mikkel looks at Sigrun with a frown.
"Did you ever stop to look
At the titles of your looted books?"

"Naah. All of them are worth the same."
"Nope. Golf is such a silly game.
It's probably worth diddly squat."
And their trip may be for naught.

The team would be pretty mad.
If sports books were all they had.
Best take a look at the rest of them,
And find maybe a hidden gem.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

Aprillen

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #110 on: February 14, 2015, 06:07:34 PM »
Here are two recent ones of mine:

Page 266:

Lalli gets out of his pickle
Landing in the arms of Mikkel,
Turns around and shoots a glare
At the boy with sparkly hair.
Emil, both ashamed and jealous,
Passes blame onto his fellows.

And a filk, posted on page 268 but written for page 267:

Trolls Are Burning
(Based on London's Burning by the Clash)

Trolls are burning! Trolls are burning!

All across the town, all across the night
Tuuri's driving with full headlights
Troll or Beast turn it on, face the situation
Everybody's going to join the conflagration!

Trolls are turning to cinders now!
Trolls are burning, goin' down-down-down-down-down!

I'm up and down the Vestergade, in an' out the lights
The flames are roaring - it's so bright
I can't think of a better way to spend the night
Then running 'round Copenhagen setting trolls alight

Trolls are turning to cinders now!
Trolls are burning, goin' down-down-down-down-down!

Now I'm in the building and I'm looking for the swag
This door leads to this room, this one leads to that
Don't leave me all alone with the giants and the trolls
I'm blowing up the place because that's how I roll

Trolls are turning to cinders now!
Trolls are burning, goin' down-down-down-down-down!

(Reference)

(Also, I know they are still on Amager, but Vestergade fit so nicely with the original lyrics...)
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Greenwood Goat

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #111 on: February 14, 2015, 07:14:54 PM »
Posted on page 269, based on events from pages 264-268, it's a parody of the already much-parodied Casabianca AKA "The boy stood on the burning deck". Enjoy!


Cleanserbianca

The Swede ran 'cross the burning floor,
As he and Sigrun fled,
The flames licked up the corridor,
And o'er the monstrous dead.

Still beautiful and bright he spark'ed,
Lord of this firestorm,
His hair still twinkled in the dark,
Atop his handsome form.

The flames rolled on; on did they go,
Without, to safety where,
The CatTank, in the square below,
Could take them out of there.

He yelled, 'Hey Sigrun, you know that's,
The best I could have done!?'
His boss said naught, they sped like bats,
She gripped her knife and gun.

'Hey, Sigrun,' Emil yelled again,
'You must agree it's so!'
But Sigrun essayed no reply,
And onward did they go.

Sweat on his brow, and partly spent,
Blood in his sparkling hair,
He sought to get acknowledgement,
He hadn't fouled up there.

He shouted out aloud once more,
'Oh boss, what can I say?'
And then they bolted out the door,
And past the Dane made way.

Then, as the flames in rampant flare,
Licked up the roof on high,
They saw they'd left, all unaware,
Their mage inside to fry!

Then came a burst of window glass,
The mage- oh! There was he!
The Dane, below him, caught his ass,
As nicely as can be!

And fast from there, in CatTank fair,
Departed the whole bunch,
And Sigrun cheered, and Lalli glared,
And Emil... lost his lunch.


- the Greenwood Goat

(...Well, strictly speaking, he lost his breakfast, but you know what I mean. >:=)

slim kittens

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #112 on: February 15, 2015, 04:38:35 PM »
page 269

After Emil's PTSD episode, I think I should post something about someone who's full of life in the midst of death.
Thanks to Mark Knofler and Dire Straits
/>Ol' time Rock and Troll...

SONG OF LIFE

Here comes Sigrun, Captain Striking Viking
Be-Bop-A-Lula baby, what she say?
Here comes Sigrun singing battle glory
Fighting in the tunnels, gonna make 'em pay
She got reactions, she got the motions
Oh yeah, the girl can slay
Dedication, devotion
Firing up the night time into day

She sing about the world before the grosslings
She sing about the glory and the strife
She sing the song, she sing the song of life,
She sing the song of life

Here comes Sigrun, gonna sing you stories
Tales about the Norsemen of long ago
She sing about the former and the future glories
She sing about the will to make it so
She got the vision, and emotion
Oh yeah, we've come to stay
Dedication, devotion
Lookin' to the coming of a better day

She sing about the world without the grosslings
She sing about the uses of the knife
She sing the song, she sing the song of life,
She sing the song of life

Here comes Sigrun, Captain Armed and Smiling
"Come on, people, it's the break of day.
Waitin' for the grosslings to come surrender?
I'm afraid it don't work that way."
She got the fire, the motivation
Oh yeah, we've come to stay
Dedication, inspiration
Lookin' to the coming of a better day

And after all the horror and destruction
There's a song above the trouble and the strife
We sing the song, we sing the song of life,
Yeah, we sing the song of life

LooNEY_DAC

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #113 on: February 15, 2015, 11:58:28 PM »
Pg 269
“The Grossling & the Cat-Tank’s Crew”
Part I

The grossling rested patiently
Waiting for its prey
It nested in a building fair
Far from the light of day
And so it went across the years
It knew no other way

The Cat-Tank rambled merrily
Its crew more than content
An errand of great import was
The reason they’d been sent
To find the Elder Knowledge lost
On Silent Continent

The Captain a great fighter was
The Medic big and strong
The Cleanser a huge firebug
Who often got things wrong
Their Scout a cat in human form
And Tuuri tagged along

Her job was the important one
So I’ll describe it here
She translated and organized
And made everything clear
The mission skald she was, but not
Immune to Rash, I fear

They drove along the Kastrup streets
Until they reached their goal
A building with a library
Which they could plunder whole
But whether tomes in it were sound
Was quite past their control

The grossling looked out on the street
As they went driving by
And only Emil thought to meet
Its single dangling eye
“WeLL hOw pOLiTe oF HiM,” it thought
“He’S sUCh a NiCe yOUng GuY.”

It kept a weather eye on them
As they pulled up at last
The building looked small from outside
But inside it was vast
A monument to all the ones
Who lived there in years past

Already Emil’s nerves did twitch
As they approached the door
When Sigrun laid her rules out he
Just nodded, nothing more
Her recon hadn’t found a nest
So they would probe this floor

When Emil’s light picked up a book
He grabbed it with a cheer
But then it crumbled into dust
Confirming his worst fears
“Our mission’s lost,” he cried out then,
“There’s nothing for us here!”

TO BE CONTINUED...

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #114 on: February 16, 2015, 04:22:20 AM »
From yesterday:

Ode to Minna.

This comic and the last are such,
I love them both so very much.
I eagerly await each page,
Weekends seem to take an age.

The faces, expression filled,
I feel joyous glee, and deeply thrilled.
Colours splendid, beauteous,
Laughs and fear simultaneous.

Your work, majesty to behold,
My attention you have long controlled.
Your comics are golden treasure.
My days you fill with such pleasure,

Weekdays bring such joy to me.
Each panel a delight you see.
Minna Sundberg I love you,
And every single thing you do.

----------------------------------------

Today:

Tuuri isn't thrilled to cede,
This book her job it is to read.
Indeed this one book has a raft
Of notes on rashes, photographed.

Its true worth remains unknown.
Or even if they'll get it home.
Fortunate, that their scout did act,
To bring these records out intact.

Woeful be their trip and dire,
If other such books were on fire.
But for right now let's relax,
And give the cat-man cookie snacks.
« Last Edit: February 17, 2015, 02:20:16 AM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

Sunflower

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #115 on: February 16, 2015, 03:08:12 PM »
Ode to Minna.

This comic and the last are such,
I love them both so very much.
I eagerly await each page,
Weekends seem to take an age. ...

Weekdays bring such joy to me.
Each panel a delight you see.
Minna Sundberg I love you,
And every single thing you do.

I'm waiting for the day somebody does a Minna-centric version of "We Love You Conrad" from Bye Bye Birdie.
"The music of what happens," said great Fionn, "that is the finest music in the world."
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Speak some:  :france:  :mexico:  :vaticancity:  Ein bisschen: :germany:

LooNEY_DAC

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #116 on: February 17, 2015, 12:11:29 AM »
From Pg 270
“The Grossling & the Cat-Tank’s Crew”
Part II

As Emil cried out in despair
Unmoved was our Sigrun
She told him, “Don’t be silly, man!
We’ve scarcely just begun!
There’s treasures vast out there to find,
So come along, young one!”

They found a hidden library
After the big Death Room
Now Emil wanted nothing more
Than to escape the gloom
“I really don’t like this,” quoth he
“It’s too much like a tomb!”

They quickly fetched a single load
And brought it to Mikkel
And Emil thought the big Dane should
Help with the next as well
But Lalli sensed a grossling spy
“It’s in the vents? Do tell!”

As Mikkel kept his weary watch
The grossling spied on him
And Tuuri in the Cat-Tank stayed
Her hopes once high now dim
Two very tasty morsels these
But not at risk of limb

The others had split up inside
Despite Emil’s protest
His instincts jangled but he thought
The Captain knows what’s best
When Sigrun looked in the Death Hall
She quickly found a nest

“The noob was right,” she knew at once
And slipped back through the maze
But Emil all alone faced two
The Six-Legs and Toothface
She took the head of one and he
Went back to Cleansers’ ways

A great explosion rocked the street
The grossling shrieked in fear
And Mikkel called out to Tuuri
The time to go was near
He then asked Emil and Sigrun
“Why isn’t Lalli here?”

When Emil shouted for Lalli
And tried to go back in
The cat-boy through a window leapt
Wherever had he been?
He landed in the Dane’s broad grasp
And glared at Emil then

The grossling watched the Cat-Tank go
So things were looking up
The house across was all in flames
Thanks to that Emil pup
It thought, ‘I’d rATheR MiSs A mEaL
ThaN HaVe iT BurN mE uP!’

LooNEY_DAC

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #117 on: February 17, 2015, 12:31:59 AM »
From Pg 127
“Mora”
from “Mary”, by G.M. Cohan

They went to
Mora
Mora
Because it was
On the way

But they took
Emil’s kit
Yes all of it
What could
He say?

For it was
Mora
Mora
Capital of
Sweden’s land

A loyal
Swede was he
A Cleanser, see?
But his kit
Was
Banned

And so in
Mora
Mora
Emil fixed up
Lalli’s hair

And they walked
As it’s free
“Bye, horsies!”
Said
Tuuri Fair

They were in
Mora
Mora
Window shopping
All the way

But Torbjorn
Would complain
To be a pain
On this so
Nice
Day

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #118 on: February 17, 2015, 02:00:02 AM »
Pg. 271

Sleep Not So Easy

The Cat and the Hair tucked up in bed,
Potential they have for neither are dead.
Juicier spots, what do you mean Sigrun?
Is this your idea of having fun?

The sparkles are back for the lucky Swede.
Much sleeping and dreaming and sparkling indeed.
Disorganised and impulsive our youngest two,
But nevertheless valuable members of crew.

Lalli has a much determined face.
Perhaps a certain red-head he intends to trace.
After all that has happened to our merry band.
No rest for the tired cat. Onward to dream land...

----------------------------------------------------

Hair glorious hair, with apologies to Oliver the musical

Is it worth the waiting for,
If we live till eighty-four
All we ever get is mud,
Every day we say our prayers
Will they change the whole affair?
Still we get the same troll blood
There's not a spot of gel
Can we find can we loot can we borrow or sell,
But there's nothing to stop us from getting a thrill,
When we all close our eyes and imagine,

Hair, glorious hair!
Hot sparkles and showers!
While it’s in the air
Cold stylistic powers!
Combs, brushes and shampoo
What next is the notion?
Cat gentlemen have it, boys
Dreams in motion!

Hair glorious hair
What is there more handsome
Combed, puffy or waved
Still worth a king’s ransom
What is it we dream about?
What brings on a sigh?
Sparking Swedish hair three feet high
Hair glorious hair
We’re anxious to get clean
3 stylings a day
Our favourite routine

Just picture a great big quiff, glimmering and bare
Oh hair marvelous hair
Wonderful hair
Magical hair
Fabulous hair
Beautiful hair
Glorious haaaaaaiiiiiiiir!

« Last Edit: February 24, 2015, 04:39:06 AM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #119 on: February 18, 2015, 04:41:27 AM »
Pg. 272

Dreamland Dance (Based on Dustbowl Dance by Mumford and Sons)

The cat man squats on the edge of his rock
The days were short and the Braidy was gone
There was no one in the trees and no one in the field
This hazy glowing land had given all it could yield

I've been whisked from my land at the age of nineteen
And I have no idea where else my heart could have been
I placed all my trust at my cousin Tuuri
And now I am sure my heart can never be free

So collect your courage and collect your cat
And pray you never feel this same kind of combat

Seal my heart and break my pride
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I can and try my find

Well you are my comrade, now look at my face
Your hair and face reeks, result from the chase
So one man has and another has not
How can you love what it is you have got

When you took it all from the cold hands of the dead?
Liars and thieves you know not what is ahead
There will come a time I will look in your eye
You will pray to the mage that you've always denied

Then I'll go out back and I'll do my spell
I'll say, "You haven't heard me, I never do tell"

Seal my heart and break my pride
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I can and try my find

Seal my heart and break my pride
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I can and try my find

Well, yes sir, yes sir, yes, it was me
I know what I've done, 'cause I know what I've seen
I went out back and I did my spell
I said, "You haven't heard me, I never do tell"


-----------------------------------




Watching and waiting (aren't we all)

Forlorn is the cat for he missed his greet,
Lost in the water when the hands pulled his feet.
Now the red-haired man is nowhere in sight.
The rest of the dream world are trees and bright light.

A sigh and a look and again a long sigh,
The patient dream kitty hopes he's nearby...
Patiently waiting upon his wet rock,
Looking around like some sort of hawk.

The crazy Norse lady with her loud laughter
Finally got some peace and quiet after
The feline man jumped out of that flame.
Now maybe at last we'll find out his name...
« Last Edit: December 03, 2015, 11:37:36 PM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan: