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story Throw away ideas, that can turn into a story

Not a great topic, but I still like the idea (if I even know where I am going with this) a community approach to a story, where egos will clash, ideas will not match, but it sure is fun to see what can happen.

Post a throw away idea, and be open minded to how the direction flows from other writers, you threw the idea away, so let it be a community (when needing a break from your main work) event:)
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Jon Irenicus, the redeemer

It started with words
in the madness of his thoughts
the slayer, the conqueror

The silent Guardian
of his own virtual world

Where he lies beneath the Sky
A mad dreamer, daydreaming away
his own defeated past
in the oneness of his words.

he questions?
why do you submit
to this caged body, of flesh and bone
when there is such untapped power
inside you.

why not release the scars
from their definitions of meaning
where the flame, within your inner ray

never forgets to gleam
Like a candle in the wind

where the lost voices of Diana
pacify the storm, raging in our minds

Where the mind
like a restless lake
finds bliss, in the
tranquility of minds,

but his restless mind
with outstretched arms
embrace, the soft roar of waves,

found in the vastness of Oceans
his docile words

his dormant voice
in the spheres of life

where the remainder
of his journey
remains unfulfilled
in the fossilized remains

of civilizations lost
where he seeks his dreams

Digging the seeds of
change, in the garden
of his words.

in his beauteous
of Creation

merging in oneness, of the Ocean,
and he starts a maiden voyage
like the beginnings
of sailors poetry

the shorelines

of an Unknown island
where he draws the line
in his fragile mind

undefined by the bloodlines
of his freedom.

Manifesting his breath
of life, where the valley
sleeps, in jubilant peace

where Unicorns
roams in freedom

and his ink
with the tears of his kingdom

Where his dreams, born free,
echoed from the mountain

where rangers fight, for the cause of change
marking an end, to all wargames

breathing life, to the singing tree
lost in the yellow pages of history

And the leaves, moved
with the tree of life
rewritten in the book of life,

where life, is but an open dream
in the water-clock of time
singing in oneness
with cloud number nine.
OK this is not a story but a poem mixed with some form of abstract art.

O skyfarer, the carrier of life
the secret genes, in blackish code
the source,
where wanderers
roams in dark alleyways
converging through roads not taken
the terminal taste of freedom
Revealing their spectral light
from the rising Mistral
like the Second Coming
exploding in colors of morn
where the auroral daylight
breaks from the mountains
Transcending above, the summits
of dawn
Where the jaded soul
lives on in raptures of dreams
tethered to the conscious minds
Tranquil in the ripples of time
and this foreign body
Culminates in perception
Simplifying the reality
As it is, acknowledging
the gift of knowledge
manifesting the splendors
of wisdom

where the replenishing milk
of tenderness and compassion
perpetuate in true nature, that becomes a bottomless
Cavity, life growing perennially
inside a tenebrous womb.
Dark and sonant
On the other side of nothingness.

The lord seated, on Lotus throne
The unwavering power
from the marrow of his bone

Achieving naught
In a blossoming lotus
Dissolving the distance
Plaguing between us

Resting his palm
In jubilant peace
Finding bliss
In the sweet release.

MY creation 2.jpg
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