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Do you create Collections for yourself, or to share and feature artwork with others?

Vote! (30,374 votes) 240 comments
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Come out, come out, where ever you are!

Totoro by Qinni
Tonari no Totoro by alchemaniac
totoro no rain by Apofiss
ToToRo by starryjohnTotoro by Vermeilbird
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Tue Apr 15, 2014, 3:49 PM
i walk into the garden at
3am, find death digging
his own grave in the middle
of my lawn, he says he's
dead to me now, he can
just feel it in his bones,
points at the mud and says
dirt is dirt
it can't pretend that it's
anything else,
oh and i found that peg you lost,
it was under the conifer,
climbs in covers himself and leaves
me standing alone

(keeps sending me postcards, i wish you were here)

Hey everyone :wave:

and this is a much belated feature from :iconpoetrynprosewatchers: . I apologize sincerely on behalf of the administration for not keeping this group as active as I used to :ashamed: especially given that so many deviations have been submitted to this group.

Now, before we proceed, I'd like to personally introduce our new contributor: :iconthegreendragoon:

Much like :iconjwa2277: and :iconpauper-circumstance: , I'm always on the lookout for good literature, and well - I look forward to having his company around here :)

Why not give his works a read? Here they are :nuu:

MouseThe smallest mouse
Can tame the lion
With a single squeak
And the tiniest whisper
The lion could find
That it’s royal foot
Has become entangled
In a thin hair
That is mightier than steel
Yet thinner than a pin
And before the lion
Can roar in defiance
It might find itself
Stuck in a little bit
Of a twizzle.
LookingSometimes, I look back.
Just wondering what I’ll see
Each time, the mystery returns
Will it be a friend?
A complete stranger,
Walking his dog?
A bright electrical storm?
A strange parade?
Could it be a memory?
Sometimes, it surprises me
And reminds me
Of that which I love
Of that which I miss.
Sometimes, I look Forward
Just wondering what I’ll see.
Each time the mystery returns.
Will it be my goal,
Taunting my reach?
A new idea
At the edge of my sight?
A musician
Yet to be heard?
Often, it surprises me
But never shocks me
Never gives me gloom
Only inspiration.
Sometimes, I look around
Just wondering what I’ll see.
Each time, the mystery returns.
Will it be the forest,
Branches entwining upwards?
My small cramped room,
Dimly lit, yet mine?
A crowd of comrades,
Hard at work?
Hardly, it surprises me
Yet always knows me.
The sights that I know,
That causes me to Look Everywhere.
The AdventureI lay gently upon the dewy grass in the twilight,
Staring upwards into the sparkling stars of space,
Thoughts running slowly through my tired mind.
A gentle smile gracing my weary lips of pink.
My car had run out of gas in the deserts of Nevada,
As I traveled aimlessly through the country.
My love of seeing yet more nature forces me
To continue my loving wandering of the land.
My glance wanders over to the interior of my car,
To the treasures I've managed to collect and keep.
My most recent was an abandoned lava lamp,
Hidden in the corners of a dusty antique shop.
I called the tow truck an hour before the dawn,
And the dawn was just starting to show,
As my old, rusted CD player gently flowed,
A calming, gentle tune of violin music.
Finally, the one that I had called arrived grunting,
Forcing a crumbled taco between his lips,
To take my empty car back into the city nearby,
For my adventure to continue with the new day.
The Eternal WarriorBack in ancient times
I would hit you with a club
I slowly learned to use a spear
To swing a sword,
To shoot a bow.
I defended many cities.
I besieged just as many
I led the crusades
I held the Muslim cities
I learned to fire muskets
To kill from far away
A puff of smoke
A spot of blood
My enemy would fall
My musket became stronger
Could fire faster, further
The world in war
I’m on both sides
Shooting at my self
I defend in peace
I attack in war
I’m the eternal warrior
I do not fall in battle.
At AuschwitzOnce I was happy
Once I was free
Before the Nazi’s came
Before I was here
At first it was the Ghetto
With gates at the doors
It seemed like a prison
And the Nazi’s held the key
Soon enough they let us out
Made us run for hours
With no break for food
If you fell, you were dead
We left the prison,
And we came to Hell
If you weren’t accepted
Then you would be burned
They burned my father
They burned my brother
At least I was deemed “fit”
To work in here. To work in fear.
My first job was to bury
All of those I loved
Their charred flesh still warm
Pleading eyes to empty skies
We hear the Russians coming
But they will not be here
In time for me
I am next in line
But when they do come here
To save all living souls
They will not be freeing lives
They will be freeing dead.
QuestionsWhy should you walk
When you could run?
But why should you run
When you could sprint?
So why would you sprint
If you could fly?
But why would you fly
If you could soar?
And why would you soar
when you could glide?
Why would you glide
when you could soar?
Why would you soar
If you could fly?
So why would you fly
If you could sprint?
And why would you sprint
If you could run?
But why would you run
If you could walk?
And why would you walk
If you could sit
And enjoy?

With that said, I'd like to personally thank :iconpaleauthor: and :iconecholalic-ellie: and :icondiluculi: for being active in contributing to the group's folders. :thumbsup: good work, and I'm hopeful that everyone else (like :iconprettyflour: for instance) will like our prompt.

:wow: yes! We have a prompt too! Here's the prompt's journal:

New Prompt!Hey everyone! :wave:
For those who're new here, welcome to :iconpoetrynprosewatchers:. Hope y'all are doing well :)
This journal is to indicate that a new prompt is going to come up. For those who'd like to know more about our prompts, refer to the following journals:
Prompt start:

Prompt end:


So yeah, its the month of April and so, the admin (me, and :iconpauper-circumstance: ) present to you, a new prompt in case you're interested and looking forward to it. This time, the prompt will last over three months because the theme, is as follows:
So, what's sacrifice here? According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:
the act of giving up something that you want to keep especially in order to get or do something else or to help someone
Hmm... what is it lacking... Ah! here we go:
So there you have it. Some examples of what is portrayed by sacrifice from the dA literature community

And the folder's made as well :dummy: so what's the hold up?! Go for it :squee:

And now, onward to the feature! :happybounce:

What you see are basically the sum total contributions for two months, and the selections are from the "featured", "poetry" and "prose" folders of this group.

Heaven Beyond the MountainFour straight months, the man had journeyed across the jungles of Africa. His guides were exhausted, tired, and ready to call it quits and return home, but the man insisted on continuing. His spirit raged above all of his journeymen, and he was willing to march on till the end of days…..
“Oi, you! When are you going to blasted sit down and rest a while!” screamed the guide named Mathew. He was born to an English family and had been raised in Africa. Even though his family had moved back to their homeland, he had stayed on. The man continued walking, not even bothering to turn around and face the man who had been addressing him.
“Oi! Oi!” Mathew eventually quieted down, realizing his pleading was making no difference to the man. Mathew turned to his fellow guide, Robert, who had known the man for a few years.
“I don’t think this bloke knows where he’s going! We’re the guides yet we’ve been following him for the past 3
Of Kings and AidOropher gripped his glass of wine tightly. “I will not see my people put under the rule of a Noldo, by default and acceptance of aid. Surely you can understand why as a people, we would be hesitant to go under your rule when your relatives have caused such problems for us.”
Gil-galad opened his mouth to speak, before pausing and looking to Galadriel.
“Perhaps he is simply confused as to why you would rather persist in making your own way without help,” Galadriel said. “You fled from the same troubles we did, and it could be said that it is folly to remain on your own when you could seek aid.”
“Is your husband of the same mind as you? Or does he recall the same as I do, that the Nandor refused to accept another king after the death of Denethor?” Oropher asked, sipping from a glass of wine. He looked into the corner, where Celeborn sat. “Have you lost all sense that you led these two into believing that the Sindar would accept a Noldo
Ambushed!"Alright Comrades!" Commander Orange called out.
"Sir, yes, Sir!" Cried the rest of the Reece's Pieces bag.
"It is Halloween," he pulled out a small flip-chart; "and it is a House Party!" The Pieces cowered: The dreaded House Party. A maniacal festival of horror and forgotten men, sacrificed for Mother Reece. Commander Orange flipped the chart, to a blueprint of the House.
"Remember soldiers, who are we?"
"Who are we fighting for?"
"Mother Reece!"
"Alright soldiers, move out. We'll get them Toffees!"
They had been ambushed from the moment they set off, grabbed by incandy hands, taken to the big war room (as could be told by the big metal cutters and the boiling meat pot) and dumped into a spherical container, walls a thousand millimeters high and slippery. And it started. The first indication of war was a loud screeching noise: Mars Bars, ice creams and bananas, all ripped to mulch, poured into another, taller container, and swallowed by the mighty toddler, in his tiger suit.
Dreams come trueI don't wish perfection and for those who do -
They're just dreaming dreams, never meant to come true.
She Says..."Men are sexists" - You're judging us! A Letter Hopefully Received. London
4th May, 1973

Recipient's Location,

Dear S.H,
You never wanted me to say goodbye – maybe it was because you needed to say it first. I don't know. It doesn't matter. I wouldn't have been able to say it anyhow. Because, even if you never really saw it, I was clinging too tightly, holding onto you with praying fingers. I was determined: if this was to end, I would never be the one to let you go.
No, you never really wanted me to say goodbye. But now that I think about it, you never actually said the words. All I remember is this soft murmur of "promise me". The rest went unspoken and we both assumed I understood. And I promised I—
I, what? You never actually said the words, remember? For all I know, I could be promising to let you break me. Maybe I did.
It's been years; I suppose this is something that should make me - how do they say - snap out of it, out of you, out of us. Truth is, there's no you, or us anymore, to snap out
Black and White dream"Black and White Dream on a Letter you'll never Receive"
Dear So-and-so
No I don't know your name, you see 
we've met on a train, it was
deep night, I believe, do you
remember?  psycho-
paths out of rapid windows
and trees
with roots in the sky
and time and yesterday's thinking
too much.
Stars were on the menu, guests 
all dressed alike, 
Black and White
but you.
I saw your sad, sad smile
reflected in a glass of absentminded
I said Me too, you said
I know, this dream is fast we have
met already
somewhere in the past.
What if
we stop the train
the world, our future
and claim moments memories minds;
What if
we talk till dawn
till time remains and we
can go
Me too
I know

But wait, please wait
don't wake me up
just yet
please no,
the train is gone
I know
Me too
Dear stranger, Dear
Soulmate, Dear
I need you 
to know
each word I've written 
Cell-cell to cell,
And I’m talking about phones,
Not the physical existential.
Where cells connect from the brain
And the physical-- and-and if you were here,
You’d feel that my palms are sweatin’
As my digits di-di-di-di-dial the digits,
Hoping you’ll answer the dial to-to-to-tone.
Dilated eyes and my tone dialed UP,
The pitch being raised
As you don’t take a swiiiiiiiiing.
I guess the phone’s out of r-r-r-r-reach.
Or you walked.
‘Cause the connection went from 5 bars,
And two smiles,
To 2 bars, to dark glares.
Wistfully whisking me from my chamber,
Into the real world away from my cell.
And it doesn’t have wi-fi.
Why me—no, why did you--
I mean why did we l-l-l-lose our fidelity?!
Why is there no cl-cl-cl-clear-clarity to us anymore?
Why when I di-di-di-di-dial-- practically dying by dialing,
You never pick up your cell?
I need you to pick up your c-c-c-cell.
I need to escape my c-c-c-cell.
The fidelity’s
a seraph in the stormBeneath the shimmering surface
a thousand pieces
all in white
are the angels who can't fly.
Peeling away
the moon's scars,
the fallen angels
are stitching seems-
little hopes in the stormy sea.
A wicked wind blows
immortal embers
into a new dawn
where we can walk together
in the last shafts of sunlight. 
IntrepidI have to let go,
If I don't jump,
I may never fly.
Dead weight
And the fragments are carried in the embrace of the wind.
I've never felt
So safe and sound
Anywhere else but here,
Falling blindly.
A tear escapes
From the corner of someone's eye
As the ground grows closer.
I have lived a thousand lives
In this moment.
A smile is etched onto my face
And the tear hits the ground.
Best Friends Last Well Beyond the SeasonsThere is a comfort in the way that wisps of air tickle the underside of golden leaves. They will hover for a moment, before their soft movements bring them towards the ground. Laughter is gilded along Autumn's lips as she looks at her brother. Fall laughs with her, painting her a masterpiece by flecking red and yellow onto leaves. Their footsteps fold breezes against lakes, their calm waters ripple into smiles. A flare of color topples over their heads as Autumn whispers feathery lullabies to the grass. Fall is braiding daylilies and dahlias into his sister's hair, dandelions wreathing their feet. Excitement is bubbling within his eyes as he points out the flight patterns of birds. Rooted deep into a nest of feathergrass they trade secrets with the wind.
They speak of how they have tucked in brother Summer, eyes fluttering and ready for sleep. Or of how brother Winter will scoop them up from the safety of his first frost. They will tell of sister Spring's soft caress as they slumber in
After CenturiesThe towers hover;
they do not budge.
But time uncovers
what is and was.
The treasures lost,
the jewels unseen
will one day leave
their quarantine.
sehnsucht/longingsweetheart, do you like looking at the sky
(at night) when the moon {which forgot to say goodbye}
had suggested to us that strange (Potter things)
would be {leading to people getting high?}
I don't know but I'm waiting for your answer
I am livid,
fluid and vapor. you let in a gasp of
wispy summer nights in a soon-regretted
impulse; I can taste the dulce
moon in my ears with how
loud you marked your return--
I am here, love.
You're beautiful. [How could you not be?!]
While the skies whisper to me (of lost lullabies)
{when dreams told me about my drear serenity}
how else could I walk to the ends, amending
A walk through a utopia [built from entropy]
where you stand, smiling. [you're beautiful
and I'm just one more face, looking (in vain)
at the sky]... somewhere...
though you are, but one face, I have been
to the end of time itself
and back to find
just one dune of comet debris
to equate to the way you have
always seen me;
that is not just one more star
going out in th
The Search For A Milkshake
The man had not eaten for 5 days and nights,
and on the sixth day, he woke up
desiring only one thing in the world:
a milkshake.
So, he stepped out into the world,
looking for an ice cream shop.
The world seemed to be covered in concrete.
Dying yellow grass grew between the cracks
and hung on against the beating winds.
By the time the man reached the first shop,
the sign outside said it opened tomorrow.
There was surely a place open somewhere,
so he continued on.
The more he walked, the stronger the wind grew.
Sand that had been dormant for many days
suddenly flew into his face,
forcing him to shield his eyes.
The winds grew stronger still,
as those around him lost their footing
and tumbled away, helpless against nature.
It must have been hours before
in the distance, he saw amongst the concrete world
a banner, with OPEN written across it,
and an ice cream store.
Nothing good ever came easy.
Give me a chance.
Give me a drink.
Give me a drink.
Give me a drink.
Give me a bucket.
I don’t see the light.
There is no light,
it was made up!
Magic is dead!
Give me a drink.
I don’t wanna sleep!
I don’t wanna eat!
Sleeping’s for the weak!
Eating’s for Sunday!
I have better things to do!
Give me a step.
Give me a microphone.
Give me a dollar.
Give Me Your Dollar.
I don’t wanna spend it.
I wanna watch it,
I wanna put it in a bank
and watch it,
This is the mirror.
This is your face in the mirror.
That man is dead!
His life is on a speed of light delay!
He’s a failure,
you can’t be that guy!
Give me your eyes.
Give me your attention,
I want everyone’s attention!
These are the final moments!
The world will end tomorrow!
Let me show you the new world!
It’s just over the hill!
Give me your attention!
Give me your faces!
Give me a chance!
Singularity Fall: Roxana part 1
 Roxana part 1: ReCode or Roxana Decoder?
It had been a few weeks since the trial and execution of the Century that had injured Roxana. I was on my way back from a visit with Mr Scott Free. When I got home I changed into a comfortable robe and found Roxana, undressed in the bathroom… and the most awful shade of tan I had ever seen on a woman. Not that I have seen many women in odd colors of skin, but it was like old luggage tan. She had her back to me as she started turning mud brown and then some off red or mauve. It was then that I noticed that her newly rebuilt leg did not match, and a patch on her left elbow. It was then that she turned her face to me. “What happened?”
“Changing skin color is the only way to test the repairs, but it’s the new grafts, they won’t sync up… I broken, beyond repair!” She gave a cute childlike whimper! “Maybe the conduit is clogged… I don’t want to… but if I up the fluid vol
All She Wantedi
The nurse walked across the hall with caution. She saw the man pacing around in frustration and smiled at his worry.
"Congratulations sir." She said, catching him off guard. "You are now a father of a beautiful girl."
She handed him the tiny little frame wrapped in a white thick blanket. Words could not express the joy the man felt in just holding his daughter in his arms. Just then, she opened her eyes; showing a pair of huge hazel eyes.
The little four year old girl raced across the airport. She was excited because she'd never been out of the country before but more importantly she was going to meet her daddy for the first time. She never saw him before because when she was just a little baby his work had made him leave her. She searched the crowd when her mother finally pointed out to a man in a black suit standing quietly, smiling. She ran towards him.
The nine year old girl walked into the bookstore with a guard beside her. Fitted in a custom made white dress and a purse
My friend has multiple rows of teeth.
Like a shark.
He yells at lots of people,
and he is my friend.
Sometimes, he sits in his office,
and breaks pencils,
one at a time.
My friend is two people.
One is called Mr. Agreeable.
Mr. Agreeable tries to solve everything.
He tries to be your friend too.
Mr. Agreeable assures me
that there is a way to solve problems
without destroying anything.
The other person is called Mr. Fixer.
Mr. Fixer is concerned about
not being rolled over.
He will make sure nothing
bad happens to him.
He’s less concerned with other people.
Mr. Fixer is also my friend.
I talk to him sometimes.
His jaw and tongue move,
but his teeth do the talking.
They tell me terrifying things.
They tell me that the true professional
is the one that doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
I’m happy to have such a good friend.
Chelicerae"Do you think they can hear us?”
“I don’t know – can spiders hear…?”
We looked at each other in dismay. Neither of us knew what spiders were actually capable of doing besides waiting on their nets for some poor flying creature to get caught.
Of course, we had had the occasional read about tropic spiders here and there, but did not remember much; tropic countries seemed so far away they could have all the same been non-existent.
“How could you let that happen” I said for the hundredth time, although I had promised I would not accuse her again. “Why didn't you throw fire at them, or poison – something, anything!”
“They were too many” she replied, on the verge of tears. “I told you, they were too many, they appeared, they just came out of the bathtub and the sink, so quit asking, alright? Mum and Dad will be back home soon and everything will be fine.”
“Don’t you get it? Mum and D
If I
let you hold me
While i break down every wall
That actually held you more close to me
Than separated us,
Will it make you feel more of a man?
I can see the cracks hidden underneath your veins,
And the shadows they bring with them.
You were more damage than I could handle
But it didn't stop me.
We both wished it did.
FracturedThere was a girl in the middle of the road.
At first, Cowl hesitated. Sometimes on a long journey he knew his eyes couldn’t always be trusted. But, the moment he was sure he wasn’t seeing things, he slammed his hand down hard on the lever to sound the alarm horn of his vehicle.
The Arrow, she was called. He chose the name because it reminded him of a triangular-shaped piece of metal he’d found as a small boy. Of course, he didn’t get to keep it. But that discovery was his first contribution to the clan he’d been raised in. It reminded him of the feeling he’d had, belonging to a family. Belonging to a home.
The Arrow was his home now, and his proudest moment since he’d joined the travelers was the day he’d been voted the new point driver. His baby now led the makeshift procession of twelve “caravans”, though each was fully armoured against any attack and large enough to house upwards of fifty people at a push. Each vehicle was
E-oneAre your feet ticklish?
“Reems…no…STAY BACK.”
Tell Me Travelling Bard, Is It True?I recall the first day you came from distant lands,
You were a travelling bard, simple, yet bizarre,
Yet my heart knew that it had met all its demands
And I fell in love as I watched you from afar.
You enchanted me with your eyes and your words.
Everything you said glistened with pure magic
And I listened to them all: tales of war and swords,
Songs of freedom, stories both joyful and tragic.  
And you also told me where your heart once belonged,
To an uncanny woman whom you thought divine;
But you claim to have forgotten her when she wronged
And quickly assured me that your heart was now mine.
But then tell me, travelling bard, is it true?
Where you come from, are all the dragons more feral?
Are your mountains diamond and seas a brighter blue?
And are your titans vile demons that imperil?
So are your lands different than my own or the same?
See? They are alike, just as you have also claimed.
Then why is it that, each time that you speak her name,
It seems a more magic world, vivid
Tempoif I moved away
could I see the trees as moss
or tangles of nettle?
if I zoom out of this magnifying glass
and stand above the cliffs
stand above the precipice
could I hold the sky in my palm?
I'm not in love
with you or them
or much of anything.
There's only flatlines running
across my mouth and eyes.
Only, my voice is ebony
and my fingers spark
I thought you saw the northern lights
in the lyrics I inhaled
but I guess we're all over
we're all flatlines.
All flat notes
and ink splotches.
I made a painting from a mistake.
I made a masterpiece from a discordant tune.
Tell me
what you think of when you see my face.
My eyes are clearcuts, yes,
and my mouth is a flatline
but I'm in love with thoughts
and shipwreck stories.
I thought they were my bonfire kin
but they're just shadows flickering
at the edges of my symphony.
So keep dancing in place
with still arms and arid hearts
Keep hollering to the moon
and back down at the earth,
no bigger than a postage stamp.
even if I
(Make) Love (To) Metrigger
me gently
at first,
fire me up
like a simple
candle flame,
fuel my burning
desires with
your hands,
explore me
touch me
feel me,
take it
one step
press me
up against
the wall,
any space
between us
body to body
skin on skin,
make your final
make me forget
where i start
and where you end
entangle limbs
claim me
kiss me,
and than
like only you
can do
(make) love (to) me.
Summer of Change 
     may started with a cliché in a cliché;
           fair hair and light eyes,
                 sitting in the back-row of the movies.
     your heart beating
           dum-dum-dum inside
           the realms of your chest -
                 suddenly feeling so constricted.
     butterflies fly on newborn wings;
           thoughts levitate on poetry
           and Shakespearian quotations.
           like birds high on adrenaline,
           your emotions soar
                 leaving only neon-trails behind.
lessons I wasn't taught at school1.I've gotten really good at walking out on people.
2.He was only collateral damage.
3.There is an infinity carved on the tree where your head once used to rest.
4. You smell of apple cyder, musk and her.
5. She created drama when there was none because that is how she liked to be; weak.
6. I've never seen snow.
7. They always misinterpreted your emotions, didn't they?  
8. He never got why she preferred sitting cross-legged on the floor.
9. She knew by memory to the last detail every crease that strained his face.
10. He never really understood her.
11. You're selfish and self-absorbed but that is partially my fault because I gave you even more than I ever thought I had.
12. I wish I knew who I was.
13. Lets try to be optimistic for a change.
14. I can't get your pain and suffering out of my system and God knows how many times I've tried.
15.'Don't you ever leave the house?' The short 82 year old man says.
He has more life at this moment in him than my entire 1
their names were written on the treetheir names were written on the tree,
and written deep into the wood,
engraved like faded tombstone wounds
(those epitaphs of pain
         were carved into our skin)
         the letters clung to us, like leaves
         would cling to barren trees
                and never let us go.

the christian ice sat deathly still,
along the fields of granite heads
and boxed-off mausoleum homes;
and still the names would cling:
         tattoos to dreams of stone
         in the night, in the night,
         ghosts would scratch on their neighbor's
         tombstones, the words:        we will never let you go.

their names were ruins of lost languages
built off of attachment; the conjunctions
bridged the hurt of one another’s anguish,
She Bears the Banner Red as Blood“Have you seen her?” the knight asked those who passed him by,
“She bears the banner red as blood.”
But they just shrugged and slowly paced away.
They didn’t know. How could they?
They’ve lived their life in the same place
and seen the same things every day.
But the knight went on and asked the question.
He sought out sorcerers and prophets,
oracles and fortune tellers,
but none of them knew what to say.
No god, no crystal ball, no divine omen could speak the answer.
Until that faithful night…
The knight paused at a lonely tavern
by a playful fire, and asked the same question.
Then, that old and white-haired bard
who had been sitting quietly on a stone bench
got up and placed one wrinkled hand on the knight’s shoulder
and spoke with a warm voice:
“Ah, child, you seek the one who makes us men,
the one who can make our hearts bleed
when there is no more blood. And even then
she fills our mind with a lusting need,
WearinessI have no words left
to offer this broken earth
No light remaining
to brighten anyone's life.
But plenty of tears to drown in. 
I can say your words for you
if you so wish
but they will not be mine.
And I can take your darkness 
upon my shoulders
it doesn't mean that you'll be fine.
And in the end what am I left with?
Friends who love me as their own
A family urging me to earn a throne
And two thin, slumped shoulders.
Give me your burden.
It won't make much of a difference anyway.
The Necromancer King's Mistake         Warning
Chill winds crept in through the open window
and rustled dark sheets that covered the bed
where, with a troubled sleep and deep sorrow,
laid unmoving the king of the dead.
He opened his eyes and tossed the sheets aside
and got up and paced to the open window;
the full moon lit his pale face. He sighed
and sat down admiring the night queen’s glow.
He was uneasy. His shoulders weighed
with burdens so heavy, it felt the same
as being trapped. He was afraid
of something that he could not name.
‘I cannot grasp what disturbs me… It’s as if I hear
a dark and frightened shadow struggling to come near…
It begins to whisper hollow words in my ear,
they are erratic, senseless, yet I can feel its fear.
What can this mean? Perhaps a ghostly warning?'

He asked but dismissed such thoughts with frustration,
‘I am the powerful Necromancer King!
I rule a kingdom rich beyond imagination
and I need nothing els
my grandmother had a blanket of galaxiesmy grandmother once told me that if i gathered all
the stars in the midnight sky, i could sew them into
a giant blanket of galaxies for lovers to make wishes on.
resting our quiet heads
after a long day of
smile-picking and neck-kisses.
every part of you:
smoldering & so close,
holding me like interstellar dust.
my grandmother never said it would keep us warm,
but you and i kindled a forest fire among tree bark and mulch.
we fed into the flames of our own desire,
ravaged & reckless:
this is what you do with your hands:
learn the same language my grandmother did all those
years prior to this moment of steam and shake.
come daybreak, we collapse into each other with the
sort of stumbling that my grandmother warned me of.
foolish hands know no boundaries, she would say.
thank God that i am boundless, finding you with probing fingers,
your shoulders a make-shift ladder i climbed to catch
just an inkling of heaven on the tip of my tongue.
if every i love you we whi
16 knocks on wood1.
the moon disappears every 28 days.
it wanes & waxes in fractions; it's smart
enough to not try everything at once.
i have been taught that every 7 years,
the cells in my body will die & be born again.
this means the moon will vanish & reappear 91 times
before i will have skin free of your fingerprints.
Proud Lake is located in Commerce, Michigan. at the crack of dawn,
you can find a boy with a gravel & honey voice casting fishing
lines into the abyss. you will wonder if he'll catch a good one.
time knows no boundaries;
just benevolence that doesn't always work out.
once, when i was 2 years old, i choked on the leaf of a mulberry tree.
not every seed bears good fruit.
sometimes, something is so beautiful that you can't breathe.
sometimes, you won't even try.
my palm is roughly the size of a nectarine.
in Chinese culture, nectarines symbolize mutation
and mutation is a change in structure.
i still don't know what my hands are trying to tell me.
a boy named Joshua tol
the lump in my throat isn't always a poema man with a scruffy beard and ice-blue eyes once told me:
when we love, we get angry when we are not loved the same way.
i wonder if he saw the hint of indignation,
the fragments of promises still swimming in my irises.
i want him to know that my smile still stutters across sentences,
that even though i haven't broken yet, i'm pretty damn close.
i want to ask him:
if an avalanche occurs when no one is looking,
will there still be a feeling of panic?
what happens to the leaves on apple trees?
if the piano is out of tune,
why do we bother dancing in the first place?

there is this lump in my throat that has not yet translated into a poem.
i think it's stuck there for good.
the human body cannot discard vitalities;
it is not designed to expel emotional things.
as he undressed me for the third time that night,
i tried to imagine what the moon tasted like.
my tongue kept clawing its way to the back of my mouth.
i enjoyed it too much.
now, his hands find themselves curled i
stars speak sign languageyou dug into the deepest corners of me
but never lost yourself long enough to
find something worth waiting for,
and it's as if this fiery carcass cannot create
a scintilla that lasts.
our pasts roared like suffocating
lions that could not be silenced.
we dove into a pile of animal
flesh, bathed in carnivorous fur & fangs.
you lingered no better than smoke,
like feathers floating in midnight skies.
your fingers sculpted my paper-mache
bones into Michelangelo's grandeur and
then spoke in sign language to tell the stars
that they are only as bright as their
Sunday night intentions.
i gazed through the center of the milky way
and found that i lost the nameless parts of
myself somewhere between 3 a.m. & the
battlegrounds of bed sheets.
A Demon Named TimeI once was a wizard so powerful
that no man alive could harm me,
not even the titans, not the mighty dragon,
I alone could have fought an entire army.
I could have summoned a legion
of fierce creatures to fight by my side,
I could have destroyed a city with a wave of my hand
and afterwards resurrect all who had died.
I could have reshaped the mountains of a whole region
and then simply destroy that same piece of land,
and oh! I could have created a poison so strong
that only one drop could have killed a minotaur!
Oh! I could have done all these
but all these were before…
Yes, I could have fought an army, but there
is that one thing I can never fight –
Time. Oh, I’ve aged a millennium
and age more with each passing day
and each passing night;
my body becomes weak and my blessed gift
is urging to leave this rotting flesh tomb.
My soul is tearing apart, gaping a painful rift
that shall only be sealed by my death, in doom.
I can now barely light a candle
and pull it near
for us to sleep
the grey waves
whisper gently
their dark lullabies
induce the nightmare
so beautifully
ordained by faith
as if we were lost phantoms
destined to remain secret
for all eternity
in antiquated anguish
and rising
to embrace
our skin
we become angelic
by consequence
a soft promise
that these last moments
will pass
a single sound
I am the scourge
within your veins
until the stars rain down
to mesh the love
and hatred
buried so far
beneath the ground
a forgotten witness
to our most sacred dream
ordained by faith
and painted
so perfectly
my soul is a monument
to the sea
O Captain, my Captain.....You are 80
O Captain, my Captain….You are 80!  
The party lasted for three days! On the last I am summoned, called upon, to his estate to park cars!
I do not mind!....To serve this great man, born on the Fourth of July, and his noble causes he has called on me…… to worse labors  and for better  cause! Tasks he has set me to do. I serve him, as a member of his own house.
“Perhaps now the presidency”, I naively ask! His wife shakes her head ”No”, no more to roam, and no more is said! My mind turning to folly , Full of food and focus gone,  “Retired” is my old captain his deeds done his battles won, and surrounded by his children three generations deep. As for me; I think on my lost my Dulcinea and what might have been.
As I watch his children play, with his grate grandson *cuing* upon my lap, I think back” Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” Some serve grate m
we used to make butterfly handsYou told me that when I was older I would understand
and I looked up and saw the sky in paper planes and periwinkle blue.
I reached out and drew a line for you;
traced it all over the globe and back to your wise heart
so that when I was older, my head full of understanding,
I’d be able to navigate back to my place there
and touchdown, settle down with you.
You said that our worlds were too distant,
you with your job and bills to pay and me with my honey-sweet dreams.
I nodded and pulled back my flyaway hair
thinking that if we’re alive together, against all the odds and centuries alive together,
that’s close enough for me.
I kissed you and you told me I was great. Carousel great. Sandy-toes great. Smiles on a Saturday, belly-laughs great.
You snapped the string and flew away.
I’m older and I do understand
that dotted lines get tangled or just fall away completely and
you were right when you said that things aren't quite as pretty
as they are in my party-h
the garden familymy father met my mother on the train tracks
leading out of Hackensack, New Jersey.
she was clad in blue and embossed with blisters;
he was wearing a black sweater and had a stumbling tongue.
the night they exchanged promises, the moon
was hiding under a cool blanket of factory smoke.
my mother wore a black n' beige dress.
my father was decked in the finest leather shoes.
their love was a budless stem:
to appreciate it, you had to do some gardening.
the botany of our family is complicated.
i am a shovel and my brother is soil.
my mother is a watering hose and my father sets with the sun.
come winter,
she will freeze in time and we will
barely see him through the clouds.
the occasional drought will manifest into our lineage,
but my mother will burst like a floodgate.
sometimes, it'll get so cold that the crops will be frostbitten,
but my father will break the barrier of clouds.
i will help dig my brother out of messy situations
and we will be
just a plot of land on the map of our family
Slivers of light(French version below)
The most dreadful winter of my life came.
I abandoned the idea of ​​a blossoming future,
Fled the misery of my own motherland,
For a woman I have far too often dreamt of.
Among the singing buds of the Shinto shrine
A white plum caresses my back,
Its petals lull me, my eyes are sealed, sweet reverie,
         A convent of grass
         The junk of my thoughts
         Send me to Amaterasu.
Blushing Lotus, enticing Lilacs, panting Azaleas,
         So many mistresses!
         Enough perfumes to be drunk from them.
Why, my promise, have I been waiting so long to join you?
         Your hair like Sakura flowers
         Your laughters sound like Shamisen.
Over the pond, a dragonfly sits down and begins to dream
Chaos, As One.
She gently nudges him awake and says “You have to get up; it’s time to kill again”; then she giggles and scrapes her nails down his unshaved face. She says this to him every morning and he never gets tired of hearing her voice like velvet gently coaxing him back into the cold reality of the morning. He is sleepy and he doesn’t want to get up so early. He rolls over in bed and rubs the morning rust from his eyes, as he luxuriates in the warm patch where her languorous, porcelain body lay moments before: the sheets are stained and the shade on the bedside lamp doesn’t fit properly, but everything is exactly how it is meant to be. He looks over at her and she is so fucking beautiful that he can’t even handle it and he has to look away. She hurts his dull, sad eyes: the pain is sharp and incessant and she has been impermeably burned into his visual cortex. He has memorised every tiny aspect of her face and he has counted up every one of her eyelashes.
monotony in murderI do not like newscasters
and the dull throb of their vocal chords
nesting like roosting pigeons in my brain
when they report to me the boy who was
stolen from his mother’s arms last week
was found today with his body severed
and splayed in the forest outside town,
each piece a mile away from the other
just like Osiris’ immortal parts were scattered.
She continues droning as the camera pans
to red white and blue flashes,
yellow cautions bandaging a house,
and a man in a stained wife beater
being shoved into the back of a police car.
I crave to see more than his five o’clock shadow
because I need to know if he feels anything
besides regret for the fingerprints
he left behind on the toddler’s skin.
They cut again to an interview
with the little boy’s mother—
her mouth spills words out like ashes,
and the lines in her face read like Braille.
My throat tears itself to tendrils screaming
it’s not her fault the man’s mother
never taught him to
one more off-key anthem, let your teeth sink inIf there was only some way
to pull words back into my mouth
without devouring them
like the damn devil,
then it would've hurt less
than the time the wounds were
like suicide hanging low
in the air, vibrating
from my tongue
to the world's damn drums
wishing I drowned in the silence
unfurling tears
and my shaking bones
holding back words
that are supposed to be left unspoken-
until a slight of hand
shoves me into a cliff
and everything
breaks like glass.
There's so much regret
caught at the edge of
my lungs and I wish I could
just stop saying that-
a dead heart
and an itch at the back
of my throat and all
that cliche-
but I can't breathe long
The Lightning Leaps from the Sky    The wind blows high and the sky hangs low,
    Tall ships are swallowed as the billows roll,
    The storm rears back with a bended bow,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
    Thunder roars o’er sea and coast,
    Bright light flickers like a fleeting ghost,
    Aye, ‘tis when we can see the most,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
    The light’s gone out on the beacon tall,
    The keel cuts jagged ‘neath a leaking hull,
    The masts all groan in the wailing squall,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
A Daughter Now BegottenIf reason could challenge the knowledge of infinity,
the blindness of justice;
should we not call ourselves Gods...
And Gods are we not, for if justice were truly blind,
it would hold the same fate for rich and poor alike...
Under the celestial heaven that shines above,
the beggar's crying face and the rich man's arrogant gaze...
So of The Creation we are, living in throngs of solitudes....
Each solitude made torturous by the lust for more money,
yet eased by the kindness of strangers and the love of God...
Which power of change is made,
unto glory from a prisoner down trod,
to a man of faith, who helped a dying woman in need till loving eclipse.
A daughter now begotten, of starry eyes and golden sun ray locks...
Cherished by God and adored by both parents,
though mother soon to be with the Creator Almighty,
this daughter grows up knowing the brittleness of mortality...
...As her lips of red rose blossoms,
her heart aches as the mourning moon that hides behind the bosom of clouds...
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
FINAL TWILIGHTI didn't know that your final Twilight was so near to view,
I didn't hear the door creak as Death came to steal our bliss,
but the sound of my heart breaking is too loud to deny, it's true,
your life's thread once intimately entwined with mine I will miss.
Your eyes full of Truth and Trust, pierced my trembling soul
and warmed my heart with your pure light, my life you made sweet,
the smallest sound, the softest sigh of your love into me flowed,
how can I go on without you by my side? You made me complete.
Can you see all the tears I plaintively shed
as I wish on every Star, in my sleep for you I reach,
but instead a mass of sobbing tissue drowns my bed
as I seek comfort in dreams of my sweet Peaches.
I will miss your gentle wisdom and tender grace,
you calmed my heart with your innocent love that knew no bounds,
I will  miss kissing your satiny skin, our many embraces
and the connection between us, with you a soul-mate I had found.
One of the angels now, in Heaven's arms you rest
NaPo2014 #11: Is the Lemonade in the Fridge?… It’s a stupid title, I know.
But it’s that stupidity, and slight
Quirkiness that keeps me from feeling
Like a house of cards during hurricane season.
And I should be considerate,
Because you used to say blank space
Is for the people who can’t think what to say
Even if they never shut up.
So tonight we’ll have a moment of silence
While we’re sleeping to honor those
Brave men, women, and imaginary friends,
Who lost themselves to themselves,
And maybe while we’re at it we’ll hold a vigil
For the man who slipped in the kitchen.
He didn’t deserve this after all,
He just wanted some lemonade.
Icarusbottled up at the bottom of
the ocean
is the wing-beaten
downtrodden boy
looking for a place to sleep,
far from the desolate
quiet of sky
and summer sun.
but he grew restless, this boy
lungs filled with saltwater
& quaking bones carved with feathers
and seaweed.
detached of the pressure
between his fingers
and the slow but thunderous anger
of water.
waves roaring against the sky's belly,
his body rising to the storm
roiling and tumbling
until at last
the current tosses him upright,
palms against the heaven
and his back against
white sand.
Talk to me my angel,
Though your wings are tattered, torn.
Your spark of love lies dying
While mine has been reborn.
But don’t think I’ve forgotten
How it feels to be alone;
When even friends seem pointless
And from a locked box a heart moans.
I know most of the feelings
You’re trying to bury under ‘numb’,
And I know what while it sometimes works
It’s not a rule of thumb.
Talk to me my angel,
Because those feelings that you’ve filed,
Have filled that box to bursting
And are freely running wild.
So before the time has passed us
And talking’s become obsolete;
Open your heart and spill your words
As I sit ready at your feet.
Why Do I Miss You?Why Do I Miss You?
There is a part of me that still misses your touch
On a Sunday morning.
The warmth of a hug offered in complete understanding and love;
A hug that would make the weak week worth living through.
You were a friend
And I miss you.
There is a part of me that still misses your laugh,
And the way your eyes
Sparkled with compassion
Every time you looked into my mask;
You were the first person to see behind the ‘fine’.
When my brother nearly died you held me
In the passage
As I cursed doctors and nurses.
No words were needed;
You were there.
And then one day you weren’t.
One day you went from friend to enemy.
Loving eyes to a cold stare.
Open arms to a cold shoulder.
I was too negative, although I had not changed,
And you wanted no part of me.
Yet I still have no understanding as to why
The bar was,
And always seems to be,
Set higher for me than for anyone else.
I was not allowed to feel my unnamed Depression,
Yet those worse than me
My Name is Hollow.Hello.
My name is Hollow.
I live inside your soul.
Under the layers and layers of skin,
and tissue and muscle...
all the way down where nothing
and everything survives.
(I wish I knew before I trusted you
That lying is second nature to one
with as many regrets as you.
My name is Hollow.
I live inside you now,
because you gave me the power
in all your virtuous belief
that the world was good
to survive your strength...
(I hoped to God you wouldn't
lie or steal or break what is already
a thousand pieces of a broken soul.
My name is Hollow.
You let me in when sex
began to feel like an ache.
But the pain felt better than
dealing with the hurt
inside your head, your heart...
(This was always a world for those
that were harder than me
Strength is sometimes a very relative thing.
My name is Hollow.
I am the jagged lines you draw
all along your skin,
your muscles, your bones...
The sharp edge of a knife,
the scarlet drops of remorse.
(Here's a question now for your
BurntI gaze upon thee,
with eyes of burning fire –
‘twas then I heard thine mournful song,
hast thou loved in vain?
Like Tears in the RainAll those times we've shared,
All those moments, good and bad,
Even these very words,
Will eventually be lost in time,
Like tears in the rain.
undressedmermaid girl,
your nudity is a gift
you've tried too often
to return
the ocean spits it back
and the silvery fish
of your vulnerability
never stills
what i oweto the leering men screaming catcalls from their coughing cars,
to the stranger in the grocery store who grabbed my ass
and told me to take it as a compliment,
to the teenage boys with bad facial hair and damp palms
who sit at their computers in their cum-stained sweatpants
and tell me all the things i owe them:
i do not owe you "pretty."
when i have days of baggy t-shirts and no makeup,
pony tails and ragged nails and untied tennis shoes,
i do not dress for you.
and when i rock winged eyeliner and flashing red lipstick,
when my hair cascades in golden curls over my clean, white shoulders,
i do not dress for you.
i pluck my eyebrows because i like the fierce angle they make in my mirror,
wear spiked heels for their commanding click on tile floors,
smear red lipstick over my secretive smile because it tastes like
blood and confidence-
i do not dress for you.
i do not owe you "pretty."
i owe myself confidence
i owe myself comfort
i owe myself pride
i owe myself the knowledge that i am co
Dew of TearsLarge and round
dark and deep
full heavy clouds
with love do heave
tears and years spilling
from blue pools of eon
unspoken words filling
our unfinished song
flashes of lightning
illuminate and sting
until pain would wane
and mirth-bells ring
fresh like summer rain
in your eyes—a new dawn
blue as the summer sky
warm as the summer sun.
PassageI`d rather take the    –passage-     now
While I am still young,
Before I`ll will grow older and
Miss the      “PASS-AGE”    to my inner journey.
HOW MANY BABIES DO BUNNIES USUALLY HAVEdon't delete my browser history when I die
instead, read it and write poignant poetry about the porn I consumed
and how it juxtaposed with google searches about hormones and the color of pears
( 4/02/2014 )It’s day two
& I already feel
shriveled, lungless,
I’ve been living
out of my suitcase
since I got home,
on the couch &
leaving my laundry
on the floor.
Everything in my refrigerator
screams 12 days too late
& rent money is due.
She’s slapping me
in the face,
you see.
that heartless bitch
with the long
spider legs
& hot mouth-
she enjoys
throwing me
into furniture-
up against
thin walls
& having her way with me.
letter to a little me1. these are the anniversaries that will stay with you,
for better or worse:
september twelfth
january twenty-fifth
august fourteenth
december twentieth
things go up in december, as if the coming of a new year
gives the old one a kick in the pants.
look forward to decembers.
time likes to tie weights to your collarbones with silk ribbons.
right now i am two years into a subdued grief,
five years into a wild regret. but don't be scared;
just as many feathers balance out the iron.
i am three years into something truly
2. you will get better. the words on the page will eventually 
come a bit closer to the pictures in your head.
by the way, you think in pictures--you don't see that now,
but look for it. use it to your advantage.
stop with the heavy moralizing. you try too hard.
you will abandon false modesty and snobbishness,
as you will find out that they are not attractive qualities.
you will, however, trade them in for navelgazing
and perhaps a bit of haughtiness and pre
the poem i never wrotei’ve got four fingers on each hand
to count and recount the carnal instinct of familiarity.
i have kissed you out of the liveliness of the moon
and her returning blanket of sea, like the softness & quietude
of your eyelid’s atlantic flutter. like the blue dream of sky
that extends the cover of your vagrant esteem. your heart,
gypsy to the cadence of likeness domestic of catholic balance
gingerly, ever able and oh so nomadic
extends the voice of its beat as small as the world
and as vast as our amalgamated essentiality. sunly
is you by which i am reborn, and time fails us
where the aim of waking is to dream.
i’ve got four fingers on each hand
to count and recount the carnal instinct of familiarity, and
two thumbs to tack every photo-still memory of eternity
within your fervent chest’s press: my love, my peace.
happy family.and it would make no difference
if these walls could
because even they know when
to keep quiet.
StarpulseTen folds
of singularity
around and around
that lucid pain
& sing across
the great divide
like a pulsar,
a throbbing star.
Let them hear you
long after you fall
through your heart-hole
into the never/ever
& keep them wondering
Sonnet LXOp. 25, no. 7
Carried to Completion

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
And crash into a cold and frothy foam,
Or as the mighty empire falls to lore
And remnants hidden under age-old loam,
So do our minutes hasten to their end:
Minutes now, not days nor months nor years!
Too short it was to merely be a friend,
Yet not so long our kinship breaks with tears.
But far less fleeting joy is on the verge
Of growing in this looming separation!
It lives where all our faith and hope converge
In Christ; I speak of lifelong supplication.
For yet to times in hope His verse shall stand,
That which he starts shall finish, as he planned.
CarcinogensMy hands smell
like antiseptic solution
and cancer, because
the peroxide won’t
cleanse your cigarette
ashes from my nails,
and the cremation
jar is still smoking.
White CrayonI was always a
white crayon,
but then you came
along and used
black paper.
happily ever afterall the good fairy tales started
with once upon a time in a
far away land
. so i looked on
a globe to see where far away
was, and started digging a hole
to see if i could reach it.
i dug a grave instead and laid
myself to rest, and there i
lived, happily ever after.
(the hole is still bleeding
because my heart
won't stop beating.
Sonnet Of The Dead - Foreseeing DeathSonnet Of The Dead – Foreseeing Death
Staring at the blank space,
Just woke up from a nightmare, the shock’s from my face,
Recalling the bad dream, I started to cry,
The tears wouldn’t stop as though I’m afraid that my soul would fly,
In truth, I foresaw the deaths of others in my nightmare,
But all I knew was that someone would die, unknown of who, when and where,
This happened some time before,
From past experiences, I still sore,
Though over time, I would soon forget all about it,
Carrying on with my life as I saw fit,
Spending time with my family as I please,
And laughing away with friends who’re fun to tease,
Then suddenly it came, the news which would inflict a lot of pain,
Someone just died and that’s when my nightmare began all over again.
Amplitude Of LongingAmplitude Of Longing
Black spits out the light
While white embraces darkness
Opposites attract
Fine, just go.I’ll spiral out of control
Maybe I’ll sell my soul
And the hole in my heart
Will only grow wider
My smile grow tighter
Without you to hold
Me down in the night
It’s a frightening life
I’ve slit my wrists before
You’ve seen the evidence
Of my ideations
And sick creations
I’ll write a thousand homicides
If that’ll keep you by my side
I’ll cut open my own chest
If you think that that is best
Oh, put me to rest
Put me to the test
You seem to forget
That you’re tied around my ankles
Like an anchor
I’ll drown out at sea
Falling is just gravity
It’s natural to go this way
Don’t be afraid you’d say
But you’re not talking to me
It’s not my fault
It’s not my fault
I said no to sadists
Who hurt me either way
And I gave my heart to a stranger
That I met on a snowy day
Well you’ve seen the rubbish
All my sticky, petty wounds
You’ve stuck your fingers in them
To examine me like a tomb
Of half-
StartledIn the middle of the night
I am woken by a yell
I dash to the door,
And fly down the stairs
To see what could have caused
Such an unruly uproar
Imagine my surprise
When I should find
A man outside my door
Yelling to let him in
At first I was confused
And also a bit annoyed
But I wondered,
"What could he know
that could help enhance my life?"
So I let this odd man in
to see what he had to say
But instead of opening up
He seemed to shut down
and clam up his mind
I shook him,
And struck him
But all to no avail
Why would he cause such noise,
then refuse to be let in?
This is how the mind works,
Giving you the answers
at the edge of sight,
then clamming up,
shutting up,
and shutting down,
leaving you lost
and deeply confused.
PandoraThe all-endowed, all-gifted, all-giving.
A beautiful evil -- moulded from earth.
By Aphrodite’s grace, Hermes’ deceitful ways,
She spoke eloquent speech filled with lies and crafty reach.
Without evil intent, curiosity did force her hand.
As she brought burdensome toil, disease, sickness, and death to man.
hangman.i want to devour each letter --
allow it to resonate on my tongue
like the sound of silence
striking a chord with emptiness,
before it weaves through my organs
to course through my bloodstream,
again &
a        a    
    g          i
i want to dismantle each word
from the tips of your fingers
& carry them delicately,
like atlas holding the celestial sphere,
until they seep through me
to replace each adrenaline molecule
released out of fear.
i want to swallow your lies
as if they are pills to pop
or candy rocks,
& i'm merely indulging:
the beauty of fabricated words lures me
like the feeling of death
of each cigarette to a smoker.
the act of stealing breath
without regret is the art
of destruction, but an art,
i want to feel complete
with your
Freedom For Your Soul in A MinorMusic is timeless. Real music surpasses the test of the hour. It takes a hold of you, and it nests you in its arms. 
It fills you with feeling; overflowing at times with overwhelming impact. If you close your eyes, you just might feel it more. 
Music connects people in a way I have yet to see else do. It can attach itself to memories steadfastly; beginning to grow inside of you like a musical vine of sorts, wrapping itself around your experiences.

It’s pure and genuine; real music doesn’t take too kindly to falsities — sincerity is its DNA, it makes it what it is. 

Music is insight; one song can teach, touch, and tell me, more than anything else could attempt to do. It’s my favourite expression, thus far, there’s so much beauty in creating and sharing music. It shows you a world of possibilities, stringed together by a tune, it’s “Freedom For Your Soul in A Minor”.

You can tap
Soliloquy of a First Time Lover,I thought something was wrong,
how long I shook after leaving when
your cologne was in my hair and cum dried
on the hem of my cotton dress,
you texted me before I went to bed.
My necklace was still on your nightstand,
I talked to myself on the way home. I said,
Even touching his hair makes him
fall into you, smiling,
and Pay attention to the road,
you're going too fast and He says it first
because you never think to,
is he also terrified?
Does he think of the girls he fucked
before you, who meant nothing like the boys
and girls you used to round up and label,
pretty eyes nice tits big cock a name
to moan, how it's going to sound
when you tell your friends who
warmed your bed and cunt,
we knew each other first.
We shed an existential skin before
I ever saw you naked and how much have I
given without noticing? How much more
is on your nightstand? Bad jokes,
uneducated guesses?
Tired metaphors, lame opinions,
water bottles, wine coolers, old politics,
thick books, my emotional repetoire?
Tears of Spring
The spring has come
it blossoms anew,
but it is nothing to me without you.
The spring has come
it blossoms anew
and eases the hole within my soul
the place where you once stood.
So sure and strong
we were as we belonged
beneath the moonlit sky.
All the green trees
and the buds so new,
but it is nothing to me without you.
Now I have only dear memories of you,
of happy times we shared together
to ease my sadness and grief
which I carry with me always,
dark pools, silent and deep.
The spring has come
it blossoms anew,
but it is nothing to me without you.
and battered
and broken
are we,
but just what we are
they never will see.
They'd love us now to lie down and die
they want us to grovel
and mope
and cry
but we are the ones who never will part
our bond has held us
right from the start.
They thought we'd give in
when they took us
when they beat us
and flayed us
they didn't know our heart,
they tried every trick in the book,
then some,
but they didn't count
that our soul was already won!
You need never be ashamedI love you, all of you,
the dark places that lurk in the depths of you
the troubled mines which have been dug out inside of you
the storm which rages and bleeds out in the heart of you
I love you,
all of you.
Of the silent deep places you need never be ashamed,
of the screaming voice in the very core of you
and the agonizing emptiness
all the pain and waters of troubledness
you need never be ashamed
of any of yourself,
'cos I love you,
I love all of you.
The darkness within
You've stood on the edge of the dark hole within,
looked down into the depths and felt it pull you in.
It's filled with despair and is empty and cold,
so why stand there and look, there's so much more you can hold.
Open your heart and mind to light,
'cos you are very precious in my sight.
You just need to turn, it will leave you alone,
it has no power and can do you no harm.
You are a treasure for which it greedily grasps,
a light it longs to extinguish and clasp.
Open your heart and mind to hope,
'cos you are very precious and you really can cope.
The darkest night, the blackest day,
can in an instant flee away,
the sun is always there behind it all,
just open your eyes and you'll find you can stand tall.
Open your heart and mind to love,
'cos you are very precious, you always was.
Last Advent (Poem)Last Advent
"My time to pray has passed
For all good things do not last.
Turning away from the haters of homosexual love
And hoping for their best from heaven above
Locking my door, picking up my staff.
Hearing my friends come down the road with a joyous laugh
We all look at the landscape, bare and gone.
Remembering that legend that came with a cursed song
Of a creature that was long and thick
One that could destroy the world with nothing but a stick
We knew the danger, but we had to get home.
For I do not wish to leave my caring mother alone.
God will guide me, this I know is true.
So with that I bid this land adieu.
To cross this land will be a good start
On how our adventure will leave a great mark!
May our journey begin."
Hollow (Solace)Hollow (Solace)
Blank is….
But still loving me. 
LossI run before I think,
down the long corridor.
It goes on, almost forever.
The floor is cold, so cold.
The door at the very end,
it's always at the end.
I want to see you.
But when I reach the door,
it's shut, locked away.
"Where did you go?" I cry.
"Why are you not here!?
I'm alone, do you hear me?
I'm all alone!"
But there's no answer.
My nails scrape against the surface.
All I can do is sink to my knees,
and weep.
My tears flow against the door.
I'm trapped in the passageway.
Left behind.
My Head Is PoundingMy Head Is Pounding 3/13/14
My head is pounding
Behind my eyes is hidden pain
Only shown in a creased forehead
And the rubbing of my eyes
You are the causation
You are the infection
You are the conviction
You are my addiction
My head is pounding
And I can't stop it
Because of you
My head is pounding
Too much stress
Too many tests
Of my patience running out
Achy arms and tired ears
Just shut up everything for a second
My head is pounding
Don't give me a nuzzle
Just a handful of Advil
My head is pounding
Shut up
Just give my mind a break
besottedI cannot voice your name
even though its letters pace
back and forth in my tired brain
when the constellations of freckles
balanced uncertainly on my shoulders
crestfall onto my worn mattress.
It’s for the trepidation
that you will see the way
the corners of my mouth
slowly tuck themselves in,
like strawberries into crepes,
whenever I stretch your syllables
like the sleeves of my sweater.
You cannot know how much
I am besotted with you,
no, not yet,
not yet.
Lucid TranquillityBasking in the virgin sunlight
Of this adolescent spring
Long enough blanketed in gray
Listening to song birds sing
Even the traffic sounds
Fill me with delight
The rumble of tires on asphalt
The hum and roar passing by
Occasionally passing my lips
A harmonic sigh
Life has come back to me
When only to visit
I suck up the vitamin D
And for a moment am happy
VixenAtrophied vixen,
stub snout in snow
clogging her hectic breathing
with the dank remainders
of a sky crying
over her inevitable death,
her blood slows.
It muddies
it thickens and deepens
with the slug trailing
from heart to throat-
poisoned from inside.
She has lived with it,
cradled it, her cub.
Protected the squirming womb
as her toxic bundle
of self hated grows
and blooms.
That baby,
that grew, that bites
on her ears, her heart,
it snaps shut
on her grating throat
as it heaves in a smile.
The tight, splintering limbs
of the atrophied vixen
turn to tree roots
and bury themselves
six feet under the snow;
she closes her eyes
to sleep.
some things aren't solid outside the couldn't know
that the boy sitting
beside you in Advanced
English was going to
fetter himself to the ocean
and break the sound barrier (and
his mother's heart) with his
you couldn't know 
that the girl sitting three
rows back in Computing One-oh-One
would fall so deeply in love with
the colour of the sky that she would 
spend a summer practicing knots just to
mirror the pale, bloated hue.
you couldn't know
that the man walking by
at seven a.m. with a briefcase beneath
his arm was on his way to
blow his world apart, along with
half a dozen strangers.
you couldn't know
that the woman rushing through
the supermarket was on her
way to drown her sorrows
in the eyes of another woman
while her husband was busy
drowning in himself half a mile
and a gunshot away.
you couldn't know.
ExhaleTowering over
all you have left behind. Just
don’t forget to breathe. 
Scary forest
Her arms are attached by branches
Her mouth is blocked by the moss of trees
she came here for him
she did not know that was a trap
She tries to call in for the help
The laughter of plants is scary
The king of the oaks is happy
A fir pushes its thorns in her skin
Her blood flows along its bruised body
The forest is happy
The Virgin sacrificed is incredible
Very delicious
Misused ToyThere's a place in the dark where the shadows all hide
There's a place inside me that's painfully died
If I've ever smiled at you, through my teeth I lied
I've  been hanging on so long
That I've forgotten whats right and wrong
The dead walk among me as I sing my sad song
The knots in my veins clot the joy
I'm tired of being only a misused toy
If you ever knew
If you thought me through
Would you still desire life
Or would you hold your own bloody knife?
The very best part of suicide
Is that you finally show your darkest side
I let my blackened spirit run free
I let out the monsters living inside of me
They want me to join them in the streets of despair
I would deny them kindly if only I could care
I dance to the beat with the ghosts of tomorrow
My blackened soul they may surely borrow.
Loom of WindWere...
hands of gods,
to the statues
of ourselves
that built this temple,
this loom of wind
Under its shadow
the daughters of men
weave tapestries,
fine garments,
precious tissues
made with the silk
of their lonely tears
No one sees,
not men
and certainly not
the new gods
the old ones
are long gone
their ways forgotten
All through
the cold Inverness
weightless on pale skin
fingers bleed and even disappear
on these improbable hair
with tired… almost blind eyes
the salt claims its costs
They murmur
in unison
what seems a lullaby
yet it is not
the rhyme keeps the balance
so they do not fall asleep
so they will not dream
Beyond the temple
and prayers
beyond time
always lost
beyond the loom of the wind
beyond themselves
and their sorrows
Better it will be
if they only seem to care
with the rows beneath their eyes
that never stop entwining lines
weaving tapestries,
fine garments
precious tissues
They have mouths to feed at home
and time here passes so slowly
the wind stays
*Graffiti*Graffiti scrawled wall
Kaleidoscope colour
Gratuitous art.
2014 Delice1941
3rd April 2014
City of TitansThey seek to go where none else have dared;
A family reunited, a world repaired
They've taken the place of a publisher absentee
giving us, again, a place to fly free.
They're a dedicated team, a volunteer crew -
Because "We are heroes. This is what we do."
A light on the horizon, a future brightens
Beckoning us home to a City of Titans.
Old World BluesAnd I’m in here
With the curtains firmly shut
But where I hope to be is
Somewhere where just maybe
New light may hit my skin
Artificial suns dancing into a grin
Where the people
Don’t just sit and stare
But with forward thinking people
Breathing forward thinking air
I’m drifting away
And not caring
And with my toothbrush
In a new day
With forward thinking people
And breathing forward thinking air
I’m drifting away
No more kerchief in hair
I’m drifting away
Młodzieży! I ponad horyzonty wzrosnąć,
I płynnie przenikają
Z twoich oczach widząc wszystko
Narodów wielkich i małych...
Narodów wielkich i małych...
Dear youDear you
You spent many lonely nights crying. feeling worthless and undeserving of anyone.
But I want you to know YOU are deserving. You are the most beautiful person, you are unique person alive.
Because you are you and no one can replace you.
Every smile and every laugh will make someone notice.
You are beautiful in your own way.
If you can't love yourself and keep yourself together.
Then let someone else love you and pick up your pieces.
Just until you can remember your own power.
An Ode to my Paper ShredderI love your satisfied growl as I feed you
I love the window exposing inside
Take my past take this paper
No more "I may need this later"
Slice that data I should hide.
Tax return from two thousand and one
Packing slips from deployment six-eight
Fifteen year old pay stubs
Slip from closed CD club
Reprimand for coming to work late.
Cancelled checks from before my debit card
Repairs on a car I no longer own
These aren't memories or needed
Just forests depleted
Dear shredder give them a new home.
But oh you complain and claim I overwork you
Your shrieking and overheat light
I still need you, you see
You're important to me
I promise you can rest overnight.
FearThere is this feeling I cannot shake
Something follows me slithering like a snake
I fear there is something that is creepy
Hiding under my bed when I feel sleepy
I hear the howling of vicious hounds
The beasts malicious and escaping from pounds
I hear maniacal laugh of a clown
I see the undead crawl and frown
There are things stalking me in the dark
Children have been abducted by creatures hiding in the park
There are things unknown hiding just out of sight
These are the thoughts that fill me with fright
Wishful Thinking.It is my dreams that
are sewn with golden stitches.
They burst at the seams.
My Fault         My Fault
An Elegy for Jason Todd
The open casket, the dark lit sky
the people that stood there.
The boy in the casket seemed to lie
there peacefully; awaiting his fate.
The hole in my chest was
too much to bear. So innocent,
so young – marked by the world's cruelest
being, the one who ends;
Insanity. Only He could do
these things. To take you away from me,
forever more… Jason
Todd; My Partner, My Soldier, My Fault.
MystifyThe endless tunnels of a daydreamer's mind are
as confounding to the fantasizer 
the elaborate patterns of a cornfield-puzzle 
are confounding to humankind. 
Sonnet 2 ~ DamnedDamned if I do, Damned if I don't. I wont
People watch, whisper and laugh. It hurts
I could try to blend in more, but I don't
They're so strange with their hair and shoes and skirts.
Damned if I hide, Damned if I run. I'll stay
They flock around like mindless sheep. I weep
I could follow, but myself I'll betray
My only escape is though dreamless sleep
Damned if I change, Damned if I shift. Enough
I am me, they are them, We're Not The Same
Enraged is their emotion, well I say Tough
I wont play any more, I'm done with this game
     Such small minded people, they don't accept
     People are people, not tears to be wept
_,∙~*All But Faceless*~∙,_
The Mansion
The Mansion
It was at times like this where I was glad to be by myself. I was driving down a dark, desolate road that was, most likely, out in the middle of nowhere. It had been steadily raining for the past couple hours now. I sighed softly and kept following the road I had been on for hours.
Why may you ask that I'm alone?'s sort of personal. About two weeks ago, my best friend Aubrey died. Him and I were walking across the road and he had stopped to tie his shoe, when he was hit by a van. I had seen the whole thing. I remember crying and screaming as I held his dying, broken body.
He had died in my arms before the police and the ambulances arrived. My life had already been rough enough with family that abused me, but when Aubrey died, everything took a turn for the worst. I became violet, getting into fights with kids at school and fought more with my family. I had permanence scars from fights.
Just yesterday, I had ran away from my so-called 'home'. I had taken enough ab
RequiemYou are sitting in a car on a blocked motorway, as you do, watching the sun. You have always thought that the world would hopefully end with something spectacular: like a zombie infection, say, or a black hole caused by some aspiring evil genius who got it wrong, or maybe even a mutated school dinner - which you know wasn't just a regular Vegetarian Lasagna. So, naturally, Heat Death wasn't on that list.
The sun imploded seven minutes ago, but you only see it now. Being in your shitty little Morris, your radio is bust. And you have no battery on your Nokia. The scientists told you the news last week, but you weren't listening, and you switched over to the game. Your team lost.
People scramble out of their cars, a cacophony of horns blaring under the increasingly red sky. You don't leave- because the heat has slowly melted the door into the rest of the frame, trapping you inside. Plus, why bother?
You begin to sweat and gasp as the sun shrinks in the distance, taking off your shirt... Y
Darkness - A Prologue      Darkness.
      Unfathomable darkness was the only discernible element.  
      Everything is born from darkness.  Before the creation of the Universe there was darkness.  In the moments before birth there is only darkness.  Darkness leads to life, but this kind of darkness was different.  It was a heavier, eerier, even malignant darkness.  I quickly knew that something was wrong.  I was lying flat on my stomach on a smooth surface.  I reincorporated myself, sat and extended my arms just to discover that I was inside a dark box.  I remembered once hearing that when one finds himself in an accident, he should stop whatever he was doing and do a complete check.
      First things first, I tried remembering how I got into this hell hole.  Nothing.  I literally couldn’t remember anything specific that happened before this, just quick flashes that I watched a
Stream of ConsciousnessSteam of Consciousness
Second grade must seem like limbo now. I was a naïve kid. I didn’t do anything in class unless told to. Being the new girl, no one associated with me unless told to by Sister Raphael. I didn’t care though, I just did what I was told, did my work, at lunch at my desk when everyone sat with each other, did more work, and then went home to do homework and play with my toys. The boys were all right; I worked well enough with them. Didn’t do anything outright. The girls went out of their way to ignore me, talk about me, but I didn’t notice. It was normal to do so, I thought. I knew right from wrong like how they said it in the Bible; I knew they were being bad. But if it affected me at all, I was soon distracted by something else. I just went with the motions.
-- (my name), come here.
Sister Raphael waved me to her desk. I was nervous at first, shivers going up and down my body and my heart jumping, but when I sat down, we ate together, an
Walking A Mile: Ch. 1
"Hey, Tails, throw another burger on the grill for me, would you?"  It was a bright and sunny afternoon, and I was spending it in one of Station Square's community parks with Tails and Knuckles.  Tails was cooking up a bunch of hamburgers and hot dogs for us, and I was downing them almost as fast as he could cook them up.  Tails turned to look at me, mildly annoyed, and said "Sorry, Sonic, but I'm cutting you off.  You've had two hamburgers and three hot dogs already."  I shrugged and said "Remember all the running around I like to do?  This is all fuel for the fire."  Tails pulled a hot dog off the grill and set down his tongs before turning to face me completely.  "That may be, but it isn't a good idea to go running on a full stomach.  Now sit down and let your stomach catch up to your mouth.  Remember that one time you gorged on chili dogs and you lied awake half the night with an upset stomach?"  (The whole time this was going on, Knuckles was sitting there watching us, try
Scribe Ch.1       HeeAh watched the rain as it ran down the pane in aimless swirls. One hand propped on her chin, she stared out at the watercolor diluted street with the dying maples reflected in her oaken irises. Cars whizzed by like streaks of color, leaving smears upon the asphalt in long erratic lines.
       The hollow crack of chalk breaking in half echoed around the room. She turned back to the front, and watched as the instructor picked the broken piece up from the floor. He peered at it for a moment before laying it gingerly in its metal tray; a child safely back in its cradle. He cleared his sunken throat and resumed his lecture. HeeAh copied the notes that had been scratched upon the chalkboard. That’s the way her professor lectured: the most important points went on the board. Consequently, it overshadowed the brand new presentation screen with its faded green color and dulled chrome edging. It was a three-hinged contraption, as old as it
I've Never Hated You.       She sits on the ground, yanking the dewy grass, daydreaming as she stares at the setting sun. A young man approaches her, casting his silhouette on the dimming dusklight. She blinks in surprise.
       "Do you hate me?" his voice is a rough rumble.
       She's lost for a moment, laying her glazed eyes on the unshaven stubble gracing his set face.
       "Do you hate me?" he repeats.
       "W-why would I hate you?" her voice is a stumbling bounce.
       "You never talk to me. So you must hate me."
       She searches his eyes for any hint of emotion, but they're a blank canvas, much like her own.
       "Just because I don't talk to you doesn't mean I hate you," she nervously responds, releasing  a tight grip she didn't know she was holding.
       "So you d
Just the way life isIt's hard to forget the people that leave us and we cared about.
And we have to live with the mistakes we make.
But we just have to keep moving on.
That's just the way life is.
My Cliff of GloryI once stood upon the cliff of glory. My trophies were endless, cascading down towards the earth like rainbows shining in the cool blue sky. I stood there smiling at the apex of my own glory, despite the fact that if I kept walking I risked the chance of falling from up here, upon my grand peak. Yet, in this foolishness I tripped over my own feet and fell down into the cloudy fog that hazed below the apex of this mountain.
I hit ground so hard, the earth trembled at my the very impact of my fall. Yet, I just layed there, content, waiting for someway to find myself back up to the cliff. My patience began to run thin, and soon I decided it was best to use my muscles and pull myself back up from the ground. I pushed hard and began to stand up, when all decided it was not to happen. I collapsed in an instant, after almost making it halfway to standing up. My heart squeezed out of my chest and walked away. Then, my blood boiled and oozed into a vile black, and my brain burst into flames. I
Every time we die´Every time you die… I die too.´

Lying next to you calms me down despite my heart is beating like crazy. I can hear the storm roaring in the distance, but it doesn´t bother me. Only thing which matters right now is your hand so close to mine.
It´s so hard to reach out for it. Small distance seems so long now. I feel so tired. I´d wish to sleep but I fight it and I manage to move my hand until it touches yours. I´m afraid to hold it but then you lightly squeeze my palm back.
That simple touch makes my heart almost stop and in the same time it makes me wanting to cry in happiness. It means a world to me when you let me twist our fingers together. They match perfectly, like right pieces of puzzle.
How many times did we twist our fingers like this before? Too few. You always want to do it and I know, but I pull back every time you try. Why is it so hard to let someone get close to you? Why am I letting you get closer despite it scare
Used Brooms for Sale by bookloverblue Binary
The general was introduced to the most powerful computer in the world.
The scientist could only think in brags. “We have programmed this computer with the most complex algorithms known to man. There is more processing power in this device than in any other computer in the world.”
The general could only think in bottom lines. “What does this machine do, exactly?”
“You type in any question onto that computer over there, hit the “analyze” button, and it gives you an answer.”
“And it gives you a report, presumably.”
“There are quadrillions of variables this machine takes into account. Printing out a report would take years. Ultimately, the most understandable answer we can get from this machine is a positive or negative.”
The general scrunched his nose, so the scientist continued, “A yes or no answer.”
The general scrunched his nose more. “Are you suggesting that the most powerful computer in the worl
Let's Talk about HappinessWhat does it mean to be happy?
The word "happy" is denoted as being: characterized by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy. So, what does this definition mean? Is it one shared by every person? How can this mental state be transformed into one that is physical?
The majority of people are aware of the phrase, "the pursuit of happiness". Being happy is what every person strives for and works towards, yet most people go their entire lives without ever feeling that they achieved true happiness. It's unfortunate, but nonetheless true. And then, there are those that give up on pursuing happiness because it seems like a goal that is impossible to reach; as well as others who consider happiness to be a foreign concept. Why is this so?
In my opinion, happiness is not an unattainable state. Happiness comes in many forms and each person experiences it in multiple ways. The trick is to stop believing that happiness is a tangible product that m
The Minivan of DeathIf the car didn’t kill them, the music would, Ingrid decided.
Her sister, Rebecca, had passed her driving test two weeks ago, and already she sat behind the wheel of the old minivan as though she owned it.
It was a basic vehicle – white paint, broken headlights, grey interior decorated with muddy shoe prints and ten years of coffee stains – and it had taken Ingrid’s family everywhere they’d needed to go.
“Ok, honey, now slow down before you take the cor—”
Their mother’s instruction was futile. Rebecca didn’t slow down, and the car careened around the corner as though it was the subject of a police chase on the news. Ingrid swore.
“We should probably turn the music down so you can focus on what you’re doing,” their father said, bracing himself as Rebecca braked.  
Ingrid swore again as her father’s elbow collided with her shoulder. Drew, her younger brother, laughed from behind her, apparently enjoy
Paint our Paletteyou are a susurration of motley bruises painted in soft, pastel hues. you are beautiful, in this moment and the next, and I know that I will lose you. but not today.
the first time we sleep together is a disaster. I spend crucial moments wringing your excess from beneath your skin, watching your nerves shiver from their bones. you leave, and neither of us finish what we started.
we catapult through our next meetings with uncoordinated dis-ease. I am canvassing the static heartbeat behind your eyes each time we collide, and you are always ready to lose yourself to the surreptitious glow behind mine. if this is forbidden, then draw the blinds and vacillate inside that crooked smile.
you are too obscure for me to let you go. I decide this with a drink or three under my tongue and a hand that isn't yours on my waist. I stumble through the night: wake up in a strange bed and retch in a sterile bathroom that tells me to pack away my bile and clear out, I do not belong here. I listen.
it take
Cry to the SunIl tenait des éclats de soleil dans ses mains
Et me lacérait le visage

How would I know I turned my woven words into something sworn never to be again? I thought I would sit forever at my writing loom and only use black threads.
But since the turn of the century I picked the golden ones and crafted a sun out of my loneliness, to keep light in my spidery and dusty corner.
Because for so long, I had been aloof and alone, away from myself and everything else.
And then some radiant day I woke up and my hands were drenched in blood and sunlight and I understood darkness could not infinitely create.
That I had to laboriously carve words into a blank fabric that did not ever exist,  sitting behind a window opened to the whole world, by breathing the light and choosing the gold dust into the centuries.
It's not easy to find; it can only be seen when the sun is revealed behind the wool clouds that hide my palace and shine on it.
Slowly the sun is wreathed. Thread by thread, year by
PlatyteraShe's the one on top of the tower on top of the world. She's the one who never tires to recreate, or who never unleashes the horses that drag her spirit's chariot.
She's the one  who sets fire to the horizon with her hair every morning and makes the sun rise with her words; words that come out of her mouth as white, ethereal clouds.  
She's the one whose fingertips touch the magnetic path of stars and whose feet bathe into the oceans.
She's the one whose heart is the nevus of the world, resting on the sacred rocks of the god Apollo.
Her belt is the ancient river that circles the Earth, and her smile is sometimes known as Artemis' crowning glory.
Every blink of her marble eyelids sends a wave through the secular cement and her breath births tornadoes and hurricanes; or gentle breezes when her mind is at rest.
She has many names; some call her Dana, other Gaea; some say she was born from an egg, others from the shaking sky, and some more claim she was born from an explosion so
Three TapsAlbert Hudson's morning began with seven voicemails waiting on his cell phone. Two were from his soon-to-be-ex-wife, reminding him -- with increasing volume -- of their meeting that morning with the divorce lawyer. Three were from his boss, demanding Hudson's immediate presence in his office, ASAP OR ELSE. The last was from a telemarketer. He deleted it. Since when were telemarketers allowed to call cell numbers, anyway?
A fresh gray suit, complete with white button-down shirt and red tie, hung on the back of his closet door. His shoes (freshly shined) and black dress socks (neatly ironed) waited at the door of his bedroom.
He turned off the alarm clock and padded to the bathroom. Stripping, he spent exactly seven minutes on the toilet, held the flush handle for exactly five seconds, and then washed his hands with hot water and one squirt of antibacterial soap for precisely one and a half minutes. Satisfied, he turned on the shower, allowing the water a moment to reach the proper tempe
Passions"Miss Storm -- "
"Eve, please."
"Of course, Eve. If you would, move your left knee up, slightly to the left -- yes, there. Now, tilt your head back just so -- perfect. Three... two..."
There was a familiar pop and flash, and the photographer emerged, grinning. "Wonderful! Wonderful, simply marvelous. That will do, Eve, that will do nicely. There is a dressing room -- "
"Who may I see for payment, Mr. Evans?" She stood, discarding the kimono the photographer had arranged half-on, half-off of her body for the picture.
" -- to your left, I -- what?"
"Payment, Mr. Evans, as we agreed upon prior to this... arrangement."
The photographer blinked his watery eyes several times, staring down what was -- in her opinion, at least -- a rather bulbous nose at her. "I believe that matter can be taken care of by your husband, Miss St -- "
"No, Mr. Evans, it will be taken care of by me. At once, if you please."
"Now, see here -- "
Eve ignored him. "Do you have an agent who handles
ScreechesI gaze at the silent buzzards overhead as they try to gain height in warmer winds, circling with pale underbellies and outstretched, finger-like flight feathers. Behind me, somewhere amidst the thicker clumps of trees, a woodpecker laughs heartily as it takes a break from tapping away, listening to the songs of the other birds and mocking their naivety. In my pocket, the recognisable ding tells me I’ve received a message, and for a moment excitement wells within me as I know who it is. I reply quickly, stumbling over the keypad with my fingertips and allowing my concentration to fall from the wildlife around me as my mind travels elsewhere.
A few hours later and I wish not to hear the buzz of my phone any longer. Am I merely a toy or an instrument of which you can get what you want from? Am I something for you to play along with until you are bored, leaving me hanging on words and memories, but nothing concrete and complete? You said I have to earn your trust, but you also have t
59. No Way OutImagine your artistic mind is a house, but instead of rooms the door you find can lead you into entire worlds of your own. Imagination, creativity and motivation used to buzz around entire floors, filling the house with life, darting from one place to another while playing catch. Ideas just to come and go, sometimes staying for hours, sometimes just walking by.
But this time, something is off. It's hard to realise at first, but the usually ever presents sounds have died down, replaced by an increasing, eerie silence. No idea is showing up and all the rooms are deserted. Imagination and Creativity are nowhere to be found, no matter how often you call out for them. There is only silence. Some of the rooms are locked and the worlds behind those which aren't, are also empty and silenced. All the beings who used to inhabit them are either gone or lying motionless on the ground. Slowly the colours fade away, until only grey shades are left behind.
In search for a reason, for a cause, or simp
Observations on Internet Poetry       There's something I've noticed after looking through quite a few poems on dA. And that is that people who write poems on dA tend to be overly moody, dramatic, and a bit pretentious. 80% of poems I've read are overly-serious free verse that try way to hard to be deep and meaningful. Of those probably half are about love/broken heart/loss/emotional distress. I realize that those feelings are very strong and they're topics that many people can relate to. However it does get tiresome wading through endless seas of heartbreak.
       For me, writing is about creativity; stretching your mind and trying to come up with something new. Seriousness is fine and dandy but there's so much more to write about than how shitty you feel after your boyfriend/girlfriend left you. My main influence poetry wise is Lewis Carroll, literary wise it's Terry Pratchett. I adore lighthearted fanciful tales, especially if you mix a little humor in with it; and it's te
There is a 10% chance the queues will be too busyStart high school in mute excitement as the oily bus trundles you away. It will never be replaced. In third year, it will be replaced. Lose your phone a day before the bus change. Phones do not like you. One will jump into thieving hands/ the North Sea on the Belgium trip. You must go to that. It is brilliant. Do not, DO NOT, ask anyone out on it.
You will get and love your Nokia brick. It is unbreakable. It will get a crack in its screen and you will be surprised; it will be one of the few times in which everyone is surprised at something you are surprised at too. Joining any clubs will make you uncool. Mingling awkwardly by the canal or the pitch is how you gain respect. Be scared to go out of the school building until boredom drives you to three parks and eventually Sainsbury's. The first park you will leave because someone will try to bludgeon you. The second one you will leave because there are neds at it. Everyone you are scared of is a ned. The third park you will leave when the
There is a Goddess in the RainDrops of water tumble towards the Earth, miniscule craters forming upon their impact. A gust of wind causes each droplet to spiral into the bark of trees and leaves tremble at their touch. Clouds pull apart their seams, their misty fingertips leaving trails along the sky. Summer is busying himself with painting the world in lush hues as Rain brushes past him. He smiles at her, but she does not smile back. Dewdrops garnish her shoulders as she continues to ignore him. Summer does not breathe easy as he begins to pour a deeper green into the grass. His breath flutters as Rain twirls up thunderstorms. Drizzling the ground with lightning, she smiles.
Hands wet with soil Summer looks to her, though she is engaged in her best effort to flood the earth. With a flimsy touch he reaches out, whispering in warm breezes. She stops. He hangs violent reds against the sky and drapes soft whites to dull the color. A pink haze covers the land as Rain scowls. She begins her tumultuous course to sit upon

Yeah I know, these are a lovely collection of works yearning to be read :) So send 'em some love and support! :+fav: 'em or :+devwatch: their authors/writers, write a comment on their works - whatever floats your boat :nod: .

Well, that's about it from my side, I look forward to seeing more works from all of you soon - preferably in the prompt :) Cheers.


Journal Entry: Sat Apr 19, 2014, 12:49 AM

disappearing V by Catliv

It's Nothing by CrazyGirL44 ..: Marie :.. by Mademoiselle-P flyyyy by minjos
.FL. by dasTOK Diaphonous 6 by Plage-Photo the twins by Enaston
The Invisible Force by CrazyGirL44 ... by apalkin My funeral wedding... by ZewarPhotography

Candlelight by nahojsennah

Silhouettes by eringraboski Maddie II by analogphoto Alina by apalkin
Dark Lace by Dapicture And then the silence surrounds you by monislawa salacia by alexandrea-j
Eriger des murs by Feebrile Shadow and Light by SheWalksInSilence Dark side by bubastis2

EON-4978_07 by alexandre-deschaumes

Elgol Beach...isle Of Skye 2 by denis2 Highlands-17 by Kaarmen Loch Cill Chriosd by denis2
Ternate III by Chaerul-Umam .LS. by dasTOK Highlands-19 by Kaarmen
Dalmatian Mountains, Study 6 by kapanaga Dance of the dead by freMDartet Highlands-16 by Kaarmen

powerhouse by NWunseen

Handfast Point by AntonioGouveia Baltic Sea, Study 9 by kapanaga Lands and Waters XIV by sleephead
Light Scene by AntonioGouveia Shipwreck by AntonioGouveia lighthouse II by lostknightkg
Black Pier by ucilito Yesterday is blowing back by invisigoth88 Taraje by Hengki24

Shrine by Metal-Bender

Enchanted Tree by AlexandruCrisan Pentre Ifan, Study #1 by Eukendei Where We Used To Meet by CrazyGirL44
Winter Tower by Metal-Bender one by Buntcone Back to the Roots by AndrewShoemaker
My Personal Autumn 06 by HorstSchmier Out Of Order by vamosver nawak 74 by virtualgadjo

The path is dark but we hold hands by OlivierAccart

Kula by slatkatajna _________ by windrides Chez Salah by roon1305
10 by freMDartet joy of life by BelcyrPiotr Vienna Staircase 13 by Nightline
Chongqing Bridge by xMEGALOPOLISx Lisbon 73 by JACAC New York by xMEGALOPOLISx

Brooklyn Bridge by xMEGALOPOLISx

black city VI by Fersy Main Tower by MatthiasHaltenhof black city by Fersy
Etisalat Tower 2 by MatthiasHaltenhof Hong Kong by xMEGALOPOLISx Etihad Towers by MatthiasHaltenhof
New York - Street Fog by Torsten-Hufsky Mono Square Series XLI by insolitus85 Study No VII by Chaerul-Umam

Big Ben says 5 to 1 by BrunoCHATARD

Organic Front by matze-end Cayan Tower by MatthiasHaltenhof Railroad by SplitEnsds
Mono Square Series XXXVI by insolitus85 DECO by Draken413o Heizkraftwerk Muenchen Sued VI by vamosver
Tetris II by lostknightkg The eye of the cooling tower by Dapicture Closedown by Fassod

Summertime by DinoKose

Can u luv me again? by kazarinakristina I'm not bad ..... I'm just drawn that way by fiathriel Paris je t'aime encore by SUDOR
8 by IPalis Lindsay by abclic Proportrait v.56 by Serrgeon
portrait de l'heroine en garcon by partiallyHere Wedding #1 by AnnaMazur Voodoo Fay by peterle28

LA crise4 by hubert61

Wicked game by JimP4nsen 1 by JennaKellen Laura by Hart-Worx
Unfulfilled tear by apalkin .TA. by dasTOK Ksyu by apalkin
silk beauty by Dean-Irvine Hit the road Jack by iNeedChemicalX pure by kusatta

So far away... by lomatic

Seafront by kapanaga An enticing moment of silencing by lomatic Lotim by adylee
gale by BelcyrPiotr If You Dare by piechot dark morning by indojo
Spring Reflections by justeline Givre by Al-Baum The snowy forest by Reiep

.gr. by dasTOK

Busan - South Korea by xMEGALOPOLISx Forsaken Prison by stengchen Burj Khalifa by xMEGALOPOLISx
Topography of Terror (Part 4) by Einsilbig XXV... by roblfc1892 Routes III. by Lissuin
1365 by birgan Radio City - New York by xMEGALOPOLISx Occam's Razor by Fassod

All the lonely. by lomatic

Rain down by Menoevil Saviour by iNeedChemicalX I am who you think I am by Menoevil
pion by all17 Ancient Alien by lostknightkg Rootless Eyes by Cloud-Factory
o.T. by ra-gro THE DAY AFTER MY FUNERAL by NataliaDrepina Under Ground by KizukiTamura

so much of me is you by StefanBeutler

forgotten VI. by MaryaS Arina by photoport Mistress Kat by Admiralj
We cried, we suffered, we died by ZewarPhotography Evaluation by DmitryElizarov Ornately Collared by mickwag
*** by Anna-model Flour gone wild by Daniel-West Fredau VI by Gizmotb  

Deeper Ectoplasmatic Down by Aegis-Strife

Humeur noire XVIII by crossfading A ceux... by natdia When Shadows Walk The Streets by ParallelDeviant
ob ich damals war by kolorits  Memento-mori by kolorits A236255 by crossfading
Path by tothzoli001 Faux depart by natdia Wrecked by tothzoli001

The Autopsy by laura-makabresku

thank you for your beautiful works

have a nice easter weekend !

This Journal Skin was designed by Night-Beast
Artwork by agnes-cecile 

I figured it out from black and white.

lines hold the memories by agnes-cecile
Seconds and hours.
just one hour - memory III by agnes-cecile
Maybe they had to take some time.

two different lights by agnes-cecile
I know how it goes from wrong and right.
Silence and sound.

Others' voices by agnes-cecile

Did they ever hold each other tight
Like us?
intimacy on display by agnes-cecile

Did they ever fight
Like us?

our lines, our story, it isn't a linear path by agnes-cecile

We can make it 'til the end.
Nothing can come between
our great love story by agnes-cecile
Not even the Gods above
Can separate the two of us.

I don't want you to forgive me by agnes-cecile
I figured it out.
Saw the mistakes of up and down.

within the bounds of this single road by agnes-cecile
Meet in the middle.
There's always room for common ground.

wakeful by agnes-cecile
I see what it's like for day and night.
Never together

this thing called art is really dangerous by agnes-cecile

'Cause they see things in a different light
Like us.
But they never tried
Like us.

Forever yours, Freckles - detail - by agnes-cecile

We don't wanna be like them.
We can make it 'til the end.
Nothing can come between
You and I.

intimacy on display by agnes-cecile
No, nothing can come between
You and I.

xx love by agnes-cecile
Suggested Soundtrack: "You and I" by One Direction


Wed Apr 16, 2014, 5:27 PM
a mother says to her son
can you feel the world lodged
in your rib? do not tell
me you can't, it's right there
and let's not tell god
anything about this, let's give
him the silent treatment like
he's giving to us,
sometimes i wake up wanting
to shred myself into ribbons
tie me up in a bow and send myself
to your doorstep with no
return address and let you deal with it,
you're not listening and you're not
understanding, you're too busy
trying to read all the text, but
i can go days without speaking
one word, got a habit of holding my
breath diving into my own mind
for hours, blue bottomless pool
river veins with the bones of a dream
drifting through, some stuck on the
banks all dried up and thirsty, this
shark tooth reminds me of you so i
press it in hard, still not one single
drop, a baby raccoon floats by with
no life but wide eyes, i know you'll
pray the horned god sends him
straight to the sea, drown him out
with that voice that says maybe
next year when you search for
yourself, you won't just be
facing dead ends

(the gate at the end of the garden is barred)

Love dA Lit Loves You: Vol. 2

Tue Apr 15, 2014, 7:00 AM
Hello lovelies. Love dA Lit Loves you! Well, it would if it were a sentient being. In the meantime please accept my undying love.  Chili Anime Emoji (I Love Chu) [V2] by Jerikuto

I don't actually get a lot of notes / comments from people sending me news or contests, so when I do I'm super happy. Like. Super duper happy. Bear Emoji-05 (Excited) [V1] by Jerikuto And what better way to say thank you than feature those who support Love dA Lit [I will feature those that frequently comment and fave too]! Then I might surprise you and randomly feature some people just because I can. It's all about spreading the literature love! :heart:

As always I welcome suggestions for news, events, projects, groups, or contests for Love dA Lit! ♥

Love dA Lit Gives a Big Thank You To...

:iconsadisticicecream: :iconworldwar-tori: :iconcality: :icon3wyl: :iconrainbowmonkeh: :iconmotleydreams: :iconneurotype: :iconezradeacon: :iconragemoon: :iconnichrysalis:

Pieces            “How’s Ethan?”
            “The same.”
            “Just the same?” Jeanette is scrubbing plates at the sink. Her fingers are shaking and I know she’s just making conversation to distract herself. Who knows when she’ll be able to take a cigarette break? Out of the corner of my eye, I see Donny watching us like a hawk.
            “Yeah. He lies there and needs a machine to breathe and everything.”
            “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
HaikuWriMo.IV22. Charming
 fairytales taste like
nicotine and wine on
 Tuesday mornings
23. Looks
he looks at me like     
I've lost my fucking mind again
and maybe I have      
stars are burning love   
for you and I their fire grows
creating passion    
25. Childhood
let it roam, frolic and play
  for we grow too soon
26. Theives
rob the night with me
my love, we'll steal stars and hearts
running together
27. Fate
cosmos give the fate  
we wish we had courage to
steal for ourselves   
28. OVER!
it's over, really over
leaping with joy - HaikuWriMo
it's over now!
XXIII think i too have known
autumn too long
The pale moon, 
dimpled and lonely
in the widening 
familiar as the dying
leaves ;
this year 
autumn will fall 
   into winter 
(and i to you)
LifeI am a killer at heart.
They say a slow death is the best death. I must admit it is fitting if you are into torture on the side, but I have to say I do not care if the killing is fast or slow. It just happens to be slow every single time.
You should know that I do not kill in a way that is obvious. If you want to find me, you can not, though I gift something to every person (I kill... for your pleasure).
I want them to feel what I feel.
That is what humanity is. It is about relating to others and getting them to sympathise, or empathise, because, deep down, we crave it. We crave the knowledge that we are not alone in this god. forsaken. world.
It may come as a surprise, but it works.
It works so well that I kill them.
In the end.
A New Way of LifeAurora pulled the sniper rifle off of her back and put her eye to the scope, closing her right eye which she couldn't look through the scope with. Off in the distance there were moving figures, she could see that much without the scope. With the scope she was able to see that these people were raiders. Raiders had destroyed her city and killed almost everyone that she had ever known. Her mother and herself, along with one of their friends was able to escape with just the clothes on their back and a few of the weapons that had been in the city. The Raiders had undoubtedly gotten most of the supplies. They'd only been able to take what they could carry at the time.
The raiders were looking through old cars that had been on the surface for many years, their colors were bleached away by the sun, most of the interiors had been stripped away from previous scavengers or destroyed by the wildlife, and anything breakable had already been broken. Unlike the area where Aurora had grown up, it was

Scratching at My Chamber DoorClaws in the carpet at odd hours
Shavings of wood from the floor
Waking me or shaking me
Or interrupting the movie
It's not always about food
(Though we'll have that too, thanks)
Something is amiss and
You want to tell me, I know
My cats are perhaps very selfish
Or keeping a rein on my misery
What do you know that I don't?
This Year Will Be DifferentThe problem with some resolutions is that, inevitably, you forget why you made them. Thirty miles into a thirty-eight mile drive, confidence at a fever pitch from successfully navigating the wind and snow in your front-wheel-drive four-door sedan, resolving to drive like a paranoid bitch at the slightest whiff of weather seems, well, paranoid.
So you decide to show the road who's boss. Coasting behind the idiot in front of you, left tire treading low because fixing it seems like too much trouble in this weather, you find that you are not the danger. The lowered friction coefficient of that cold, cold snow on your flailing rear tires is the danger, and hitting the brakes and swearing are not experimentally valid techniques to make Newton's Laws fuck off. The horrible voice of reason calls you a dumbass before going on to mutter claptrap about how much worse things could be.
There is no adrenalin rush of a near-death experience, and the only damage is the hulking purple bruise on your eg
The Lady in the Blue DressEllie hadn't seen her come in. Hadn't heard the tell-tale jingle of the entry bell over the diner door either.
"She must have come in behind the two rednecks." she surmised and, grabbing her order pad from behind the counter, made her way over to the woman's table.
Ellie flashed her a quick smile along with her standard greeting. "Evening Ma'am. What can I get you?"
The woman looked up and Ellie was instantly mesmerized by the most dazzling blue eyes she'd ever seen. The rest of the woman's features suddenly came in to sharper focus, as though Ellie were seeing her for the first time. The woman's hair was jet-black and styled in a wispy-pixie cut that framed her high cheekbones and tapered chin. Her almond-shaped eyes peered out from beneath perfectly layered bangs; her thin nose ending in a cherub-snub above full, ruby-red lips. 
The woman returned Ellie's smile, flashing the pearliest of white teeth. "Do you mind if I take a few more minutes? I'm waiting for somebody
Mad DestroyerLanding on the shores of Tokyo Eitna looked about her. She felt dizzy. Her eyes felt odd, kinda hurt a little. She took in the sites and sounds of the docks. Her stomach turned she felt ill. The land and water about her was polluted and screaming out in pain. She found a place to touch the ground and find out what this bit of earth wanted.
She saw it's dream. The dream of how it once looked. Clean and pristine, no more polluting people only the original animals that once lived, loved and had babies where once again living on the land.
She also felt another presence stir within her. The other presence was still asleep Eitna could tell. She did not know who the other rider was. She only knew that her Master said to start here and go there. So that was what she was doing.
Of course the Master also wanted death.
Eitna looked blindly around her, an evil smile appeared on her face was chilling and full of madness. She placed her hand on the ground and began to chant. The language was unknown
HaikuWriMo - Bonemealfamily dinners
continue after burial

Current Love dA Lit Article: Issue 166 | A Smattering of Lit News | Community Portal

Skin made by Ikue and Redesign by SaTaNiA

Monthly theme: Monochrome

Journal Entry: Fri Apr 18, 2014, 7:54 AM

Soft by SpademmI loved a flower by Al-Baum
In the moss by Dark-RaptorWater Drops 59 by ovidiupopFlourishing Yellow by oO-Rein-Oo
Warm Shadow by deerArylideLAST SIGH by wiwionart
gambecchio by FrancoBorsiWildLifeBagan by AndyMumfordMagic light by mjagiellicz
Nymph by EmmatyanLera by Zhivago86
Hot ice by pqphotographyThe Fire of Love. by dragonfly-oliautumn impressions4 by agatafotografia
Dancing in the Rain by alexgphotoReady to attack by Reasondinn
I want orange leaves by TwiggyTeeluckVolcano by Thinking-SilenceDancing Over The Turnips by Nitrok
Natural Gold by SetsiAngelSailorMarigold Days by arefin03
Tangerine candied fruit 1 by MorgaerFire by EliseEnchanted
Just close your eyes, the sun is going down by EleonoreCSummer Moon by MartaSyrko
days come and go. by dzika-koalaRed Tryptic - part III by OlivierAccartasylum. by Senju-HiMe
red by GeoArcus
delicate by hayzydakishimete by illusionalityPetal by Petal by BenHeine
back to life by BlaumohnHigh Contrast Ideas by onixaSolitude by Alessia-Izzo
enchanting by Blanchii
still life by malenka740715Purpura by Purple20e k p h r a s i s by poppy412
winter wonderland. by simoendli2 by natur-mystik
The Birth Of The Elder Part I by DmajicPhotography
The Water Ghost. by dragonfly-oliTiny World by nairafee
Hpider by MarcosRodriguez
They will light my lonely way tonight by iNeedChemicalXWhite desert by tihomirmladenov
Delicate by GinAngieLa
church of the good shepherd by KatomanBubbles.... by BabushkaII
A blue dream captured by arefin03Winter air by popoksXVI by eulalievarenne
Untitled by bougainvillea
Falling stars. by andokadesboisLost Message by SortvindDon't forget me by EliseEnchanted
Precious illusions by LuizaLazarFear by Schnitzelyne
Misty Mountains by Elei-Ruari.:: Tiny treasures ::. by Whimsical-Dreams
Edelweich by hoschie
Mr Green Frog by RainaAstaldoForever free by diensilver
Liquid Luck by Sarah-BKAs long as you've got a camera by a2star| drop | 5 by Somebody--else
Fluegel by feigenfruchtGreen-crowned brilliant 4 by CBasco
Brin d'herbes by Somebody--elsePerfect by MarcosRodriguez
Pag Bridge by WojciechDziadosz
Spiral Galaxy by DpressedSoulLena by 13noiseJean-Paul-86 by Sblourg
pion by all17Opernturm by MatthiasHaltenhof
formalin by isidasontzAnne-Lise + Hugo 2.0 by yup12
. . .    .. by Frozen-photo
Peaks and Rails by da-philjesen by tjasa
49. by niewidziane

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