#talesfromarcadia
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golden
Bronzed arms, dans mes bras. Dappled.
Shimmering sunset on a broad, soft curve.
Your soles press against white-hot ash. Deserted.
She beams. Her maternal heat spreads across your bones.
Iron drumming eyelids, burnished ingot weighing light in your mouth. Champagne fizz.
Does last night even matter?
Take a dip, full immersion. Azure, assured, gelatine haze.
But eternal warmth to shroud you.
See the Madonna, weeping out not in grief but in reverie.
A wide-brimmed halo and linen wings. Donned!
You sway, as the auspicious palms do.
And you are all right.
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Above. Moving Forwards Pt. 1.
The decision to see a short campaign to Dragonfall had been a decision that was brash. It wasn't one made for coin. Not for glory. Not for parades or praise. To seek that ominous exit sign in the distance, or a general sense of purpose were acceptable measurements of what he expected and as such, was exactly what was gained.
To be Captain of the Airship, Arcadia, of House Aguillard was far from his expectation and yet, here he was. His coat pulled tightly around his collar to ward off the high altitude chill. Only the endless navy darkness of the clouds beneath him as the vessel hummed through the air.
He'd come to adore the crew. Nearly each man experienced and tested. Knowing what they were in for, established a level of living that made the crew feel alive. Each night harmonic music and laughs echoed within the hull as each men lived as if it was their last. Such smiles were welcome phantoms around him, every once in a while he could almost hear the echo of his own.
The first mate was all he could ask for. Intelligent. Experienced. Thoughtful. At times he wandered why they needed him, so often his own thoughts had occured to her so early that were apt to be completed before she'd ask. They were things she pulled from him, and although he'd be unlikely to admit it, it felt nice to have a friend.
Wearing the attire meant for official Noble House meetings and arrangements, he'd hardly recognized himself at first, but now the jacket seemed to weigh less upon his shoulders. The world and him, finally seemed to spinning, not only the same direction, but nearly at a similar speed, cutting through the clouds over a world below that was filled with just as much uncertainty.
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I can’t wait for this! @realgdt @dreamworksanimation @talesofarcadiaofficial #3Below #NYCC #Dreamworks3Below #TalesFromArcadia #newyorkcomiccon #newyorlcomiccon2018 #nycc #nycc2018 (en New York, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoiKMboBaRz/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ztmjyqest3ph
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Trollhunters
Season 1: this is a pretty good show
Season 2: omg, this is the best thing I've seen in years
Rewatching season 1: (tears streaming down my face) why didn't I appreciate this more, this is amazing
Me now: book is being shipped to me for Christmas, and eagerly awaiting season 3 and other tales from Arcadia
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conspiracy
they put it in my head
seed to sapling
unloveable but mouldable
a rotten rose
when you said it
I thought it was a lie
paralysis - stay, sis
horrid goodbye
friendliness = flirtation
(at least in my almond eyes)
swallowed inside my prison
(but only metaphorically)
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god ghosted
I kneel, keel, keen at an empty rock shrine
Worshipper to my sinfulness:
When you were mine
I warded off witches
By picking your tree
These arbours, your ardour
sowing seeds of unease.
You peeled away my bark
Yet I gorged it down whole
Etched into our roots
Mocking fateful footfall.
My moss on the pillar
To cushion my pain,
But roughness and toughness
Sprouted worms in my brain.
No buck, just rut
Not wed stones
But headstones: violent gemstones uncut.
Target locked but misfired and damn, misjudged!
Cupid’s arrow wept softly and
Only begrudged.
Could these petals supplant?
Could I have inspired your sap?
Let my lungs drown in honey and invite the ants?
Oh, but so sweet! So warm, the taste!
Succour to a sucker: palms pressed to the wastes.
We’d be a sylvan family: Belvedere,
Prick your ears up and hear those bells, my dear
Taming Medusa, your roaring great lion,
My chiselled Greek seraph atop Mount Zion.
Deity, I cradle, offer kindle up
Lay my flower to a bower once heady with lust
Now, god ghosted
I know how it felt. To have pined,
to have knelt
At my empty rock shrine.
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#poem#poetry#verse#versepoetry#versepoem#wordsofdisarray#heartbreak#heartbreakpoetry#talesfromarcadia
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willow
I grew up with you towering over me
Holding my parents in your leaves
So clear, gilded dancer
Blonde fronded movie star
New house: A coffin,
Pre-crumbling, all-fumbling
You went, then: Sakura
(Though probably magnolia).
Now you are born again,
My parents indentured - like then.
But you do not have to weep over me
I do - I will never be you.
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tightrope
i live on the border
of the sea and the woods
and also the line of
evil and good
compelling yet boring
inside, ever-warring
let me take you inside my labyrinthine mind
unwhite, unyellow
stilted talk and not mellow
a daisy-fresh veneer
becomes flytrap-
Too near!
in love but no touch
for you feel like too much
so I tumble off yearning for an endless abyss
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acher
acher, beating heart
your stretched forearm,
olive branch veins
arrow -> heart
let me crawl into your hollows, devour
why you’re so sour
there is rot in your house
deer + hunter = you, the mouse
guess what sweet thing
i chop your limbs
for my kindling
but I am left on the roadside
arrow -> heart
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prelude to the journey
enter the forest of delights
set thine sights
and feast thine eyes
oh yes,
arcadia-wise
a kingdom of beauty
a kingdom of love
a kingdom of betrayal
of imps from above
of fair maidens and princes
of flowers to unfold
of gods and prejudices
of lakes of lost gold
but in divide
above all,
by lines of no fault
but its maker; the fallen
amen, amen.
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tales from arcadia
a set of twelve tales from the kingdom of arcadia
identity, loss, love, betrayal, light, dark, heartbreak, healing, and more...
prelude to the journey
tightrope
eden / gardenia girl
god ghosted
scared
acher / roadkill
rot
conspiracy
willow
narcissus
magic
golden
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magic
i touched you once
scaly hands, scabby nails
thought you liked me like that
bony, snarky, pale
i lay on my throne
my lavish riches consume me
but a stranger could devour them
if i could once more meet thee
our skin never did kiss again
oh boy, we couldn’t fly
did I touch you or claim you
treasured memory, mind’s eye?
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narcissus
look at me!
i am the jocund jonquil
toot my horn
dusk ‘til dawn
perfect pout, oh?
daffodils are out.
i paint my petals carmine
if I bind these pretty petals of mine
will you see me as a rose?
discover me, rare rose exposed.
your petals thin, you wilt.
your stalk is tangled, your dirt is dry.
your pallor is sallow. you are bald and disgraced.
*lo, I am graceful!*
feel my pull
my tantalising beauty –
look at me, look at me!
creation
to mutation
to inspiration.
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rot
every morning, every night
i inhale a clifftop high
or low lake, sunk
drinking and drunk
all things are dust, said He
but would she want me?
this noxious waste,
phantom, foul taste,
oh, she would vomit
this liminal spirit
wanderer, mourning
whilst others spin
I will embellish myself
afresh, good health
so she might devour me whole
the good, the bad, all
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scared
colt-like you bumble
bolt-like I run away
bud-like you blossom
cud-like I return
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