Riddle Of Irony

I am irony

It scowled at the world from its cave

When the fear of darkness closed it inside, it would rise again with the sun

The sun’s dance with the moon

Not from soil or sky

It is deserted in a world of its choosing

Flames of feast and embers of opportunity

Tip of the nose and tip of the shale

The light brings it forth and the dark will employ its madness

Sleep in the shade and work in the sun

Sun in the shade and moon in the light of haunting misery

It has an image of itself, painted on a lake of glass

Going back to the sight of its face to motivate

A clean vision of importance shines like light

No light from sun or reflections made by moons

From the mirrors of another face

It is a beacon of invisibility that is shown in the lens of ambition

The hands of time hold it in its empty embrace

Follow grains of sand to the mountain

Climb nothing to freely fall from everything

As fearsome as the smallest threat to the biggest liability

A heart that beats itself into submission

Scent of the finest melody

A prick and pride, a bloody cut with an egg and creek that is dried

It smiles inside its own undoing

The act is an act

It cannot be without the cave and cloak

The stone and the stars

Environmental parasite formed by hosting

The lost and the forbidden

On the backs of horses and the breath of the wind

Gilded with ore

Use and using, constantly dependant with a taste for power

None of its power is its own

The wings of the fallen and the waves of its wake of reproduction

More is less and all it will take is more

It snarls and snaps; grins and curls back

It is living and it is dead; no amount of life can be seen through its eyes

Painful stare of longing to stay weak

Joyous illusions, basking in false strength and folioed accomplishments of grand insignificance



Cries and chuckles with toppings of anger and contentment


A heap of collections


Sheets for every surface, a blanket for every chill and a weapon suitably tailored for every foe

Claim the love for its savoir the sun and covered its face

Lies to the face of benefaction

Calmly embrace the enemy and smite all behind cover of darkness

A shield for its own and a sword for its world

It is a feeble minded and strong willed beast


A hunger surpassed only by its greed; after sate, it continues to eat

Along with its kind, it will use everything in nearest sight to live long enough to kill

It kills long enough to die

It lies at the world and death; it seeks the serenity of its cave and the mist of its own delusion


Galloping along the steel spines of a splintering doubt

Twirling in space with an eye on the clock that rests on a nail in the wall that does not exist

The fiend has a deadline for destruction

The trash has its mane

Encircled around its life, the core of its only hope hangs from the intangible

A grip upon the understandings of everything all at once, with a firm notion of reality

There in its cave it will hoard the universe

Adorn wings and call itself for higher purposes of cave dwelling and favoritism of tools

It is a hero and a villain and gives reason to identity; with the cowardice in projection of happiness

It has determined and undetermined


It is blissfully aware of confusions and content with disagreement

Dissatisfactions, more

It is alone with itself in the world, a world, its world, any world.

A war cry of peace

Shout from the highest places inside the deepest caves


What am I?
(what the hell am I!?)

Hypocrisies of the sun belong to the moon and of man, time by Flatulent Phalanges

Published by Fartfist

I am personally a personal personality for a personable person using this persona.

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