Prompt: A redwood and stone house with wooden party decks built in the steep side of a rocky cliff between tall tress, above a river, rustic, and snow covered
Prompt: A redwood and stone house with wooden party decks built in the steep side of a rocky cliff between tall tress, above a river, rustic, and snow covered
Prompt: I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
Prompt: I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
Prompt: I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
Prompt: “Christ on a bike, father!”
But he was adamant: “You get out there and pick those tomatoes! Your only worth to me is by the pound.”
“Err, is that as in: ‘au revoir to pa?’ Or are you going to beat the pud out of me again?
He turned naked at me.
“Ah! As in you plan to terrorize another innocent little girl all night, is that it?”
This brought a terrible rain of fists down onto me. He grabbed the top of my hair with his left hand and pulled me up. Right fist.
That sound, my jaw breaking, I’ll never forget it.
But I had stood up to him.
Prompt: A redwood and stone house with wooden party decks built in the steep side of a rocky cliff between tall tress, above a river, rustic, and snow covered
Prompt: "The old barn hunkers on its hill, all peeling white paint, spindled wooden railings overgrown with climbing roses and poison oak." Anton Pieck, Frederick Catherwood, Ferdinand Knab
Prompt: "The old barn hunkers on its hill, all peeling white paint, spindled wooden railings overgrown with climbing roses and poison oak." Anton Pieck, Frederick Catherwood, Ferdinand Knab
Prompt: The Darkling Thrush
I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
Prompt: “An Honest Man:” (100%) an 85,000 word novel about a billionaire pirating UFO technology, who is forced to choose between disclosure, and his daughter’s life
Prompt: So little cause for carolings of such ecstatic sound Was written on terrestrial things afar and nigh around, That I could think there trembled through his happy good-night air Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew and I was unaware.
Prompt: Rodin. I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
Prompt: If this is an explanation of our common distinction between duty and supererogation, however, it is not a justification of it. The moral point of view requires us to look beyond the interests of our own soci- ety. Previously, as I have already mentioned, this may hardly have been feasible, but it is quite feasible now. From the moral point of view, the prevention of the starvation of millions of people outside our society must be considered at least as pressing as the upholding of property norms within our society.
Prompt: If this is an explanation of our common distinction between duty and supererogation, however, it is not a justification of it. The moral point of view requires us to look beyond the interests of our own soci- ety. Previously, as I have already mentioned, this may hardly have been feasible, but it is quite feasible now. From the moral point of view, the prevention of the starvation of millions of people outside our society must be considered at least as pressing as the upholding of property norms within our society.
Prompt: Mongolian horsemen, elephant walk Total radiated Power. Total isotropic sensitivity. Chamber. Absorber. Bandwidth. Sensor. Smoke eaters. Hoonigan. Bureau Veritas
Prompt: “Christ on a bike, father!”
But he was adamant: “You get out there and pick those tomatoes! Your only worth to me is by the pound.”
“Err, is that as in: ‘au revoir to pa?’ Or are you going to beat the pud out of me again?
He turned naked at me.
“Ah! As in you plan to terrorize another innocent little girl all night, is that it?”
This brought a terrible rain of fists down onto me. He grabbed the top of my hair with his left hand and pulled me up. Right fist.
That sound, my jaw breaking, I’ll never forget it.
But I had stood up to him.
Prompt: And I will indulge you with my broken tale. It starts with a waking dream, a flash from childhood. Mud is packed into my mouth, and I am shivering with goosebumps.
Mommie!
Today is my eighth birthday, and Daddy has been murdered.
Another muffled scream, it is her. She is desperate, and I am wearing grimy underwear.
Do something!
So I push up onto my fingertips. Whunk, my head strikes a floor beam, and I see stars.
“What the hell was that?” says a voice.
My body locked.
“Old man’s dead, Joel,” says another, “he ain’t never gonna chase you out that branch again!”
Prompt: “It’s the nature of tyranny Rip, and I fear we haven’t seen the last of it.”
“Well then, I choose to fight tyranny. It must be wiped from the face of this Earth.”
What a low but true sentiment. If school kids were taught the true deeds and history of the powerful, instead of knights at the round table, then all kids would be rebels.
Gustave Dore, Mongolian horsemen, giraffe walk
Total radiated Power. Total isotropic sensitivity. Chamber. Absorber. Bandwidth. Sensor. Smoke eaters. Hoonigan. Bureau Veritas
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Clarkman
(clarkman)
Member since 2022
I saw three seals kiss once upon a time. East coast boy turned west. I have been creating visuals since high school. My Dad said, "Do art and you'll be poor." So I became an engineer and the rest, ...
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.