WhyWhy3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
There's a saying that says that sometimes people don't reach out when they're hurting, that they cut themselves off, because they want to see who cares enough to tear down the walls and sweep them up into a hug that makes everything wrong just crumble away and makes everything right come from those arms. This is why people cut themselves off. They're challenging the world to show them they care. So what happens when nobody comes? When nobody can come? The despair closes in and you wonder why, God? Why when you say you love me, when you say you are my father and my husband and my lover and rock and protector and everything those arms represent, why don't you chase me?
He didn't stand at your window with a song, the warm night air ruffling his hair and his eyes directed up towards you, and only you.
He didn't write you a letter, telling you how much he loves you and how he can't stop thinking about you.
He didn't sweep you off your feet and carry you when you couldn't take another step.
BlasphemerBlasphemer3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Red skies illuminate my fury,
I had something to say
as I rose like the Phoenix
towards skyscrapers that follow
shot verbals at Him
in neat boxes He swallows
I've been hurt like a man scorned and torn
twisting and resisting the pain You inflicted
like a dog gone mad from a God who's glad
to kick up His boots on tables of indifference
as You sat at Dachau playing games over abysses
I stood angry on blistering plains
hollering shrieks like a bird loud with song
the weeds push away in concentric circles
weaving and reweaving away from my story
damn if I didn't fear my pronouncement:
"Where are you big sky?
Why are your rains mixed with blighted trouble?
some plants get too much, others little
some dance the dance of ragged disinterest
and fall to the ground ceasing existence"
I had to say more
from my perch from on high
yes, I like the Phoenix could see all around
the up, the down, even the sides
nothing escapes my inner-view:
"Mom down the street
has no food for the table
LA MUERTE DE UN HUICHOLESTA ES OTRA INDIGNANTE HISTORIA DE LA MUERTE DE UN HUICHOL.LA MUERTE DE UN HUICHOL6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
MAS QUE TRISTEZA ESTA NOTICIA ME PROVOCA RABIA,
EN QUÉ MOMENTO SE PERDIO EL RESPETO?
QUÉ HICIMOS MAL?
SI ESTA ES LA CIVILIZACION, ME NIEGO A ACEPTARLA,
SERES PENSANTES? A MI ME PARECEN ACUMULANTES,
QUE TRISTE VIVIR DONDE LAS RAICES HAN SIDO OLVIDADAS
Y LA HERMOSA NATIRALEZA REEMPLAZADA POR ARDIENTE ASFALTO.
HAN INTENTADO CUBRIR EL BACIO DE SUS MENTES Y SUS ALMAS CON FINAS TELAS.
Y LA ESCENCIA ENTRE SMOG Y NARICES ATROFIADAS ES CASI IMPERCEPTIBLE.
Y DA IGUAL BLA BLA BLA SI SI CLARO QUE TODO ESTA BIEN,
CÓMO NO HABRIA DE ESTARLO SI LA TELEVISION NOS EDUCA,
LA COMIDA VIENE EN LATA Y EL ELEVADOR NOS EVITA LA FATIGA,
FRONTERAS, CLASES, COLORES, TIPOS, MAS Y MENOS. QUE OCIOSO SISTEMA.
DEJAMOS DE SER SEDENTARIOS PARA CONVERTIRNOS EN INERTES.
MÁS QUE RABIA ES IMPOTENCIA,
QUE PESADILLA, DESPIERTEN HERMANOS!!
FateFate11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, a white shirt and a garish, comical tie. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER. Beautiful weather today.
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] The name's Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. Um… God?
PETER. Not to be rude, but… your name is God?
GOD. I am God. Or at least I was God.
PETER. I… see.
GOD. You don't believe me.
PETER. Would you?
GOD. No. But it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in me.
co z tegoZabrakło mico z tego6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
trochę świeżej bielizny
czekoladowych płatków na śniadanie
mankietu od koszuli
szczotki do włosów
długopisu na sprawdzianie
Co z tego, że
skoro i tak nic z tym nie zrobię.
dArama - ISSUE ONE - Love.dArama - ISSUE ONE - Love.7 years ago in Editorial More Like This
The dynamic between core staff, volunteer staff, and the community can at times be pure quality dArama.
It's worth noting that for years I've worked pretty hard to remain neutral on community politics. Today, I'm going to shatter that concept.
Needless to say, I am extremely politically aware of the inner workings of the deviantART community. I read *a lot* of journals, comments, forums, chat rooms. I have fake accounts. I spy.
But I don't spend my time talking politics, instead I focus internally at deviantART designing technologies and implementing understandings with core staff to address the issues I see pop up.
It's time to take a moment to be a bit more petty.
In the inner workings of our politics exists the soul of deviantART. What is this place? What was it meant to do? What does it do? What could we do better? And it's the politics that give insight into how well the greater plan is running.
There's $core staff who are employees or contractors and work 8+
Broken FingertipsJust looking for a shoulder to lean onBroken Fingertips6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A supporting hand
it's all more then I can stand.
Sorrow in the world
pounds against my beating heart
and I feel my breathing shallow
and I feel my eyes drop
and I hold out to steady you
Set in stone
is not my way
Nor am I flexible
my heart, my mind, my choices
have always been hard to sway.
Forever the spectator
of your beautiful world..
Earth ForeverTime ever flows onEarth Forever7 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The universe still expands
We are but a blip
God's ArtRhapsody of the universeGod's Art7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The song and art of everything.
And a pen stroke
A brush line
A single note
Our place in that,
And were too small to see
The entire canvas.
THE LAMB AND LIONTHE LAMB AND LION3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Those who tear the thread of primitive injustices
Those who dine on the flesh of Prometheus
and fear not the glint of wayward Sisyphean climbing
It is we who fight the rage of screaming Siren
and push the bounds of battles winning
It is we who put an end to raging archetypes
who shake the fetters of our fathers
who ravage the flesh incarnate
who kick against the goad
who set the captives free
who manifest destinies
who defuse the nuclear
who with ardent kill
©Bill Nace 10-20-11
imitacja*imitacja6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sytuacja nie jest taka zła. Rozmawiamy ze sobą, śmiejemy się razem, kłócimy się. Czasami zdarzy się nam zjeść wspólnie obiad gdzieś na mieście. Park nie wchodzi w rachubę, jest zbyt normalny, a krzewia niezbyt gęste. Ale nie szkodzi. Codzienne rano, kiedy budzi mnie zapach kawy robionej specjalnie dla mnie, widzę ogromne drzewo tuż za oknem. Najczęściej to wystarczy, imitacje nie są takie złe, bywają prawdziwsze, niż oryginały.To życie jest bardzo proste. Rankiem mówię do zobaczenia i nie zapomnij kupić makaronu i mam na myśli do zobaczenia i nie zapomnij kupić makaronu, bez zbędnych podtekstów. Wieczorem pokój wypełnia zmęczenie i zapach pesto (jeśli nie zapomni o makaronie). Dźwięki muzyki upijają nasze głowy i ogarnia mnie sen. Dotykamy się palacami ł
Lo to the SunIf the sun takes its time to fall from the sky,Lo to the Sun7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And the red can stay-
For a time we can pretend the world is ending,
That we are all loved, and love
And death is not what it is today,
But what it should be
Since with this everything would be beautiful,
And though we go, we stay forever.
RozplynacNie zniosę tegoRozplynac6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
jak bardzo jesteś.
Nie widzieć nigdy więcej.
Bo po co.
Haden's quip...A simple name on my list and a glorious robe of shadows shall collect the soul of which you known. In one long agonizing breath you are gone. Mine to have!Haden's quip...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A mere memory upon the lips of others as they watch you recede. In the ground your body goes to comfort the creatures of hollow.
Yes my dear, I have stolen you from the body you housed in. You, my worthy darling have been very naughty. Let's see if you can be at ease here in HELL!
Oh please stop the train of tears that don't fall and the sniffle that can't be heard. I have it in my right mind to anchor you with chains. Beat you with my whip of fire. Shove hot pokers where I can.
Or I could just let you hover of my hounds. They do need a new toy.
I want to drag you so deep into torture that you will beg for deliverance to above. I will make you relive all that you now deem wrong. I desire to make you suffer.
I want to tie a noose around your neck. Then tie your ankle and feet together. Hoist you on a pole over greedy savages and see
God as a WedgeGod as a Wedge7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
God as a Wedge.
Once upon a time
The Church had the power to say
These are eternal mysteries into which
Mere humans must not delve
But delve we did, and lucky for us.
And now the Intelligent Design Movement
(Creationism in a cheap tuxedo)
Is reduced to triumphantly stuffing God
Into the Gaps and Missing Links in our Science,
Here are the Mysteries that Science cannot explain away,
And should not try to.
Here, they say, is Proof of God at Work.
And each time Science fills a Gap or finds a Missing Link,
They see two smaller Gaps, one on either side of the new Puzzle piece,
And they claim that their Proof of God has Doubled,
Relying on Xenos Paradox to buoy their Movement,
As they stuff their God into vanishingly small cracks and crevices,
And call that Incontrovertible Proof of
Thus our Ignorance equals God --
The Stopgap God,
The Liminal or Interstitial God,
God the Placeholder,
Outlier and Outlaw God,