Writings
The Lost Lynchée
An solid L alliteration poem about a man surviving his hanging—through mystical means—and escapes running away from the execution hunting him down
Lo! Listen, listen!
I’ll loosen ma lips!
Of a loathsome lyric!
A lyric of a lonesome Lynchmen
And his lost Lynchee, Lawkmen:
The Lieutenant of the Light Lancers.
In the living-lanes’ lacuna
Lawkmen lynching came to light
Unleashing his last light-lyrics,
Lost In the loud litter of loosen lips.
A lone listener heard: the Lord!
The leathermen to his left, levitated
Like a lantern—lynched.
The Lynchmen’s legs lobbed to the lever and,
Lipped “The Lord listen least to
loathsome lycanthrope, Lieutenant!”
The lever leapt, the lookers lipped
Lawkmen’s lynching was the least lengthy,
Little to low levity of life
Little to low lunging legs
Little to low loosen lungs
Just unlinking ligaments,
and lunging life-liquids.
Leaving a lonesome loop,
Looming over Lawkmen’s
limp ligaments and life-lake,
As onlooker lear into his larynx.
The onlookers loud-litters lulled,
Leering at Lawkmens ligaments,
Locating, latching, linking
to other lively ligaments.
The Onlookers’ lids limpid,
Lucidly leering at the Lich!
As linking ligaments latch to Lawkmen’s larynx,
Lumination leeches through his life-lanes,
Lawkmen’s legs lead, leveling him
And lunged and leapt,
His lighten limbs levitated,
Lynchmen leapt to the lynching’s ledge,
Lipping “Lawkmen, Listen! You Lich! Your lynching isn’t lulled!
A lychee never lives! The low-lord has a lacuna for you!”
Lawkmen left lipping “Lich? No.
Just the lates Lazarus!”
A lizard’s-lifetime lost.
In the laps of light;
Lawkmen’s-leather lullied to lion’s hue,
As he levitated low and lightly over
A load of logs, littered across a lagoon.
His lugging-limbs, latched to a log,
Launching a lime lumination,
Lobotomizing a log into a lance.
Leering lightwards, he lipped
“So, I’m, located.“
“Lo Lychenthrop!” Lipped a lonesome lurker:
“You can’t lose a Lynchmen!”
A light-licked lasso lilted, Lich-wards
Latching his leg, locking his life-lanes.
Lawkmen levitated Lordwards,
Leashing The Lynchmen, like a lantern-lynched.
The Lynchmen laddered the lasso,
Latching onto Lawkmen’s leg.
Lawkmen lobbed his lance,
Unlinking Lynchmen’s legs.
lunging life-liquids, lilting in loops,
As limped legs litter the lagoon.
Lawkmen lilted his lasso,
Latching to The Lich’s larynx,
The Lynchmen unlatched from Lich’s leg,
Leading Lawkmen lagoon-wards,
Looping, lulling, and lilting.
The lagoon licked and lathered them.
The lagoon luminated lime,
Limbs lunged from the luminated liquid:
Lone limb of the Lyncher
Lone limb of the Lynchee
A lonesome larynx lipped;
Lazarus, the Lynchee.
Lo! listeners!
If ye locate that lime lagoon,
You’ll listen to a lyric, The lyric of
The Lynchmen lynched-locked
Launched to life by that lime-liquid
Lilting in that loop.
Captain Toll, The Pirate King: 1: The Key
A supernatural pirate poem
Snow fell sideways,
Shimmering across the purple days,
Collidings into the sea of flames,
Containing abyssal stars and their void-ful stains.
Soaring across these stains are ships of steel,
With pirates ready to steal.
Armed with muskets and vigor,
With their fingers on the trigger.
Under the rule of Captain Toll,
Ships cast sunlight upon the Capitol.
With the spread of sunny doom,
Met with cannons screeching, “Boom”
Skyscrapers of glass crashed upon its citizens,
As those pirates rub their bearded chins,
Looking out into the distance,
With the Capitol arming a resistance,
The Capitol's sky fleet deployed,
Firing upon Toll’s ship, as the ship gets partially destroyed.
Yet with a well placed ball,
The sky naval ship falls.
One by one the sky navy’s ships explodes,
Leaving rainbow clouds shaped like toads.
With the pirates untouched like a specters,
Piloting the flying dutchman across the sky’s seven sectors.
The Pirates landed on the Capitol’s ground with their blood stained boots,
scouring the land for all its loot.
Finding the mythical key of the Sea King’s treasure chest,
That contains riches and wealth, only achieved by the best.
The pirates celebrated their new riches with rum,
And toasts to new adventures to come!
During their celebration their bounties increased,
Which warranted a greater feast.
Toll proposed a quest to find the Sea King’s treasure,
Which will grant a life of leisure and pleasure.
At first with it was met great highs,
But upon pondering it was met with many neighs.
The celebration returned to their new prizes,
And in the morning, they said their goodbyes.
With every pirate abandoned the team,
Leaving Captain Toll, blowing off steam,
By setting sail west,
Embarking on his quest.
To Be Continued . . .
The Missionary Marauder
An M alliteration poem, where a marauder fights a mystical mage with his mace, but needs to elimiate his minions first
The Marauder of mythical monsters,
A mercenary of man,
A missionary of misery for myths and malevolent men.
Masquerading as a mortal man,
Meandering around the masses,
Massacring a myriad of men and monsters.
The missionary's mission: to mar the murderous mage of madness.
The eyes of the Marauder and the magnificent mage met,
High up in the mounds, where the mage maintains his minaret,
amidst the inner margin is a mess with a myriad of mutated mangled monsters bits,
Mended together making a mortal monstrosity.
The Marauder marches ever closer to the mage’s minaret,
the mage manding malignant mob of mercenaries,
the Marauder is marked for murder.
A myriad of mercenaries mobilized,
They melee the Marauder in masses.
the Marauader raises his martyr mace,
in a single swing, maiming, marring, mangling , and mutilating a multitude of mercenaries.
masking everything in muddled blood, muscles, and meat.
In mere moments the mercenaries were massacred, reduced to the meaty mush of former men who mourned, married, and experienced malice and merry
Now as their meaty mush melts in the mound’s mead.
A measly mercenary is molten in place, Mystified as a man mercilessly massacred a myriad of militaristic mercenaries in mere moments.
The Marauder meets eyes with the measly mercenary,
The mercenary tries to maneuver,
The Marauder already mounts his mace in the misty air menacingly,
Before maliciously murdering the man,
The mace mutilates everything as it migrates from the mind to the mouth,
As the mouthpiece wavers with the mistral winds.
The Mage’s meticulous eye, molds the muck and marl around the Marauder,
In a maze-like morass with murderous machinations,
Where a model mortal-man has no chance at survival.
The Marauder mains his mace and maims the maze’s walls leaving a massive gapping mouth,
The marauder marches through,
meeting the mage’s monstrosity.
The monster was a meat amalgamation with a mania of mutated monsters marred and mended back together,
Multiple hands melted into one single meat machine,
The Monster’s mass measured about a massive mast.
The monster mauled towards the Marauder, missing him,
as the it’s mutated fist mares the mount getting it mired.
The Marauder using his mace,
Mutilating the Monster’s wrist making it mere meat.
The monster lets out a monstrous mutated miserable moan,
its moan’s mimic all the monsters, as if all the moans merge into a monstrous one.
In its moment of misery,
the Marauder maims the Monster’s ankle,
as the malformed ankle gives-way,
the monster meets its master in the minaret,
milling everything underneath the monster.
the Mage malingers like a mirage,
murmurs a few words to the Monster as its wounds mend.
the Marauder swings his mace at the Mage,
as the Mage's merry mug mutilates,
the bloody brainy muck merges with the mace.
the mortified Monster mustering the materialistic body of its master,
moving her into the middle of the mort minaret.
manumit for its mitigated master,
the monster monopolized on it’s madness,
unleashing a mania of mauling, towards the Marauder.
the madness of maltreated muscles matting the Marauder in place.
Standing is the mist is him,
The Marauder merely maneuver out of the monster's madness,
without a mark on him like a mirage in a mortal model.
The Marauder mounts the monster's mane, Morning his mace,
He maims the majority monster's mass.
Right before the Murauder murders the monster,
the Murauder is mawed as the monster makes a meal out of him.
the Marauder matching the strength of the monster's mandible,
maintaining himself from not becoming a meal.
the Marauder swings his mace mutilating the monster's maxilla,
making an exit along with a memento and monument.
the Marauder mounds its mace for the mortal blow,
marring the monster's marrow.
the mission is completed: murdering the mercenary militia, mutated monster, and mage.
the mettled missionary marauder maintained mankind’s amity for another million years.