Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
Homosexuality BitesThey found me slumped over in the school showersMore Like This
With a towel loosely wrapped around my waist
Scalding hot water was blistering my skin
As I bled from an unspeakable place
A hard-handed teacher dragged me to my feet
With little or no sign of sympathy
For the bruising to my feeble framed ribcage
And the fractures to my identity
I think they all thought that I had it coming
As no one was willing to testify
That the sodomy inflicted upon me
Was something to which I hadn’t complied
Boisterous boys laughing in the corridors
As I shamefully limped throughout the day
Not a thought for the pain that was inflicted
Just worried for what my parents would say
I couldn’t bear it if I saw in their eyes
That I deserved everything that I got
As they are the ones who created my heart
Whether they care for whom it beats or not
So I will take a discriminate beating
If my resolve will help people to see
That I can not be anything more or less
Than the person that I was born to be
Man Made the Money.Man Made the Money.More Like This
We think that if we had more money everything would be different.
That we would suddenly be able do all the things we always desired.
Because the lives we lead right now have become predictable and consistent.
And should we choose to, we could be the ones that are rejoiced and admired.
We could be the ones on the front cover of every magazine.
We could be the ones appearing on everyone’s television screen.
We could be the ones that the paparazzi haunt and terrorise.
We could be the ones that have our every move televised.
With the aid of money we could have unlimited vacations
And have access to an infinite amount of beneficial relations.
We could be the ones flocking and flaunting the finest fabrics
And every trivial experience we encounter will cause a global panic.
We could give back to charity and help to make the world a better place
We could cosmetically alter our bodies and readjust the features on our face.
We can become anyone we choose and crave.
Invictus“You will not go,” my father rumbles. His voice is low, but laden with an air of finality. “I forbid it.” He’s standing now, palms placed firmly on his desk, head bowed.More Like This
“But father-” Before I can finish, he looks up, and my voice dies in my throat. His face is that of a stranger’s. I recognize nothing. Not the lines, crevices, and crinkles etched into his papery skin, not his thin hair as white as bone, and certainly not the spidery blue veins stretching across his trembling hands. He looks old. So, so very old.
“No.” he growls. His pale eyes, usually so solid and sure, house something I’ve never thought my father to have: fear. My hand moves to my chest, hovering right above my heart where a crimson cockade is pinned to my coat. I breathe in. My fingers wrap around it. I breathe out. Crimson: the color of rebellion.
“I have to do this.” I speak every syllable with force, praying that my voice doesn’t
the covered slide kingHe stood slouched, faking nonchalanceMore Like This
Craving a taste of something chemical
Black jeans clinging to bone legs
Empty-handed he settles, sucking on a cigarette
The wind is nipping, turning his knuckles pink
Burrowing inside a tight black jacket
The cars and pedestrians race by
His only shelter in the form of an empty playground
Culture shockSometimes restaurants are reallyMore Like This
hit me like an ax to the
I want you to know I am
adding your name
to the list of people
I am not allowed to fall in
I want you to know that
I didn't after all, I was
-- False Flag Hatred --"Although bananas may only look like a fruit, they represent a wide variety of environmental, economic, social, and political problems. The banana trade symbolizes economic imperialism, injustices in the global trade market, and the globalization of the agricultural economy. Bananas are also number four on the list of staple crops in the world and one of the biggest profit makers in supermarkets, making them critical for economic and global food security. As one of the first tropical fruits to be exported, bananas were a cheap way to bring "the tropics" to North America and Europe. Bananas have become such a common, inexpensive grocery item that we often forget where they come from and how they got here."More Like This
— Rebecca Cohen, Global Issues for Breakfast: The Banana Industry and its Problems, The Science Creative Quarterly, Issue 3, September 07 - April 08
False Flag Hatred
An American company
malapropismthere is beauty in theMore Like This
freudian flowers that occasionally
make it past my facade,
the way i st-stumble over your name
and stu-tuter when i think about your lips
give way to a higher meaning
i can make endless jokes about your
"feminine psychosis" of lipstick and feminism,
but mostly what i find is that the secret
of where your dress sits against your thighs
is the secret i hold dearest
so, i write poetry, letting the words spill
across the open lap of my mind
as i struggle against the parapraxis
for the correct words to find
i cling to the memories of your smile
and the way your fingers grace over
the side of my cheek when we lay together and ponder
the loveliness of each other
and it's then i know that the words i seek to find
have always resided with you
Trendsplastic is the newMore Like This
ink. facelifts and
acronyms instead of
Prince Charming mentions you to his work friends
with the same tender violence
a five year old yanks the tail of the cat with
for the first time,
smiles have devolved to nothing but an overabundance of
My Beloved WordsmithTo the one who can keep me talkingMore Like This
into the late hours of the night
The one who helps me carry on
and makes my future bright
You carry me to other worlds
upon your wings of ink
as further down, evermore
into our dreams we sink
So upon your feathers black
onward we soar
pushing on, ever waiting
for the day we need dream no more
DreamsMore Like This
I close my eyes
in darkness deep,
awaiting the embrace of sleep.
my last escape
from a world of lies
and foes wearing a friend's disguise.
and as I fall into sleep's hands,
submit myself to her commands,
does she let my mind fall still
and empties it, for dreams to fill.
This in Our HeartsMore Like This
Faith is not to be governed
by the vile will of you humans.
It is the very pulse of your soul.
The very core of the morality
that drives you.
Like you, it may be tainted & controlled
but only by your given gift of free will
can this take place.
Like light, it holds the power to
guide and to free, just as it holds
The potential to fade away into the darkness.
Like a parasite, can it consume you
but only by the filthy hands
of invited demons.
Faith is both gift & privilege
accepted into heart & mind
by the words of a truthful tongue.
In days to come, shall you hear
the drums of war over & around
The plains of existence, and faith shall be tested.
Hold fast for the Way of God
and not only his Holy Word.
Ever tainted by corrupt men.
Roads shall lead on and mislead
To a great many stories
But faith will move you, should you let it.
Faith is this in our hearts and souls...
Faith is the Road which leads to home...
Faith is the governing force of morality...
Faith was the motivation of these w
Supernatural Jingle BellsDashing through the states,More Like This
With a car trunk full of guns.
Seeking out their fates,
Full of danger, daring fun.
Gun shells full of salt,
Making demons pay.
Oh, what thrill it is to vroom
in a 67 Chevrolet.
Oh, demon smoke, Spirit sounds,
Oh what thrill it is to vroom
In a 67 Chevrolet. Hey!
Vampire fangs, shifter skin
Our butts kicked day by day.
Oh, what fun it is to help
In a 67 Chevrolet.
Not so long before,
Dean had went to hell.
Sam was lost and sore,
He tried every spell.
After months had seared,
Nothing was ever said.
Then Castiel appeared,
And pulled Dean from the dead!
Oh, Rugaru hunts, Dracula,
Lilith will not stop,
And there are Angels with big wings. Hey!
Witnesses, Bear doctors,
Alastairs a pain.
Uriel needs to go and die,
Before I go insane!
Oh, Fallen angels, broken seals,
Demons wont go away.
Oh, what fun it is to kill
And have weapons everyday. Hey!
Dean nightmares, Sam powers,
All on through the day.
dA Guide: Text FormattingMore Like This
Please PAY ATTENTION to where the codes WILL and WILL NOT work! (Certain codes do not work in comments and deviation descriptions, no matter how hard you try.) :'D
Try NOT to copy/paste the codes, manually type them out yourself. (Copy/paste messes up some of the codes lately thanks to dA). :C
This is just a simple html guide to formatting text on dA (and other sites as well). My goal was just to compile some html info into a simple, easy to understand guide for quick reference. :) Please let me know if the codes don't show up because sometimes they disappear when dA updates certain things.
This guide goes a little above and beyond dA's FAQ entry (although I purposely left out anything to do with links, because they don't work on literature submissions). I also provided working examples, which might make the codes a little easier to understand. (Keep
Let's Patch Things Up .::England::."I'm really starting to get annoyed with your attitude, love."More Like This
Your eyebrow twitched at the sound of the thick British accent from behind you. You set your plate in the sink and turned around, leaning on the counter and crossing your arms over your chest in an annoyed manner. "What attitude are you talking about, sir?"
You saw Arthur's lip twitch a bit at the smart-ass remark you gave him, making you smirk a bit to yourself. He stood up and set his empty dinner plate in the sink, as well, and mirrored your movements. He stood opposite of you, though, and he was seemingly glaring at you. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. I didn't exactly marry you to be bossed around all day by you to do things you're too lazy to do. Plus, you don't ever thank me for the things I do. If someone does something nice for you, you could at least thank them and not brush it off like they didn't do it."
Your nose scrunched up as you thought of a comeback for the true statement Arthur had
A Pirate's Life: Chap 1"Papa! Stop!" you shouted as you dodged a chair.More Like This
Your mother and sister were cowering in the corner. Your father came home drunk again and you quickly went over to the corner with the others.
"Shut up wench!" your father yelled as he stumbled drunkenly.
He has never been this bad, you thought. You grabbed a broken chair leg and held it against your chest. You looked at your sister's scared face and saw a bruise on her cheek from this morning. You felt a burning rage boil up from your gut. You relaxed and tightened your grip on the chair leg. You could smell the rum on your father's breath from here. He stumbled closer and you swung the chair leg. You felt it connect, but you didn't know where. You grabbed your mother's hand and dragged her and your sister out of the little shack you lived in. You took off down the street into the night.
You woke up with the sounds of the market. You blinked and looked around, wondering why you weren't in your bed. Then you remembered
A Pirate's Life: Chap 2You sat in the middle of the office in a daze for what seemed like hours. The full moon shone through the little window on the far side of the room. You finally pulled yourself together and started to explore around the office. You looked out the window again and almost fainted from surprise. The pirates weren't stealing anything. They weren't even going into the town itself, they were just at the docks. They looked like they were searching for something. They didn't kill either. You shook off your surprise and started to look for a weapon.More Like This
"Surely the Captain of a pansy pirate ship has a sword or gun in his office." you grumbled.
You searched through the desk and smiled in triumph when you found a short sword hidden underneath. You peeked at the papers on the desk. They were mostly maps; they covered mostly the seas around a place called Asia. You have never seen a map before and you didn't know much about the world outside of Europe so the map intrigued you. Many areas on the seas we
A Pirate's Life: Chap 3You looked at the bundle of clothes at your feet and you picked up the item from the top. It was the britches. You sighed and changed into the clothes. You looked at your reflection in the large window. Even with the britches rolled they were too long, a big black belt was the only thing holding them up. The shirts sleeves ended way past your hands. You tucked the shirt in and put on the long vest and tied the strings tight. You rolled up the sleeves of the shirt to your elbows.More Like This
You folded your other clothes and set them on the window seat. You walked over to the door and paused. You pulled the collar of the shirt up to your nose. It smelled like soap and wood, along with a masculine smell. His smell. You smiled and stepped into the small hallway. You made your way toward the deck. A big gust of wind greeted you as you walked out. Your hair fell out of its tie and started to dance in the breeze. You tried to tame it as you looked for Kirkland. You stumbled as the ship rocked and you sa
A Pirate's Life: Chap 4You tried to catch a glimpse of Kirkland so you could see what he was really like but, he always seemed to catch you. You were annoyed with him. Whenever he saw you he acted like a git and yelled at you. It was really starting to irritate you. You wanted to see what he was really like and you were having no luck. You grumbled about it one day as you were taking the tub of scraps out. The ship was now anchored in the towns harbor and Kirkland said he was waiting for a sign from Fursey. You didn't really care. Even though you were enjoying your time on the ship so far you wanted to go home. You already wrote your letter but you haven't been able to post it. You readjusted the tub and went to the railing and dumped it.More Like This
"Shouldn't Jameson be doing that?" You sighed and looked at Kirkland. He was leaning on the railing and he was fiddling with what looked like a compass.
You stuck your nose in the air and pulled a large spoon out of your back pocket and started to scrape the rest of the scr
A Pirate's Life: Chap 5"What?" Kirkland said.More Like This
The man, you assumed it was Fursey, nodded. "I followed that Italian and I overheard him talking to some of his men. They started talking about the Jones kid. I knew your Mum didn't let Al's name be Kirkland and all so I knew it was him. He's on Kiku's ship in the Caribbean. The Italian is casting off in the morning. All we have to do is get the Italian bastard before he leaves and go." he said.
You could see the excitement in his eyes. Kirkland shook his head.
"No, Kiku will know something is up if his partner doesn't arrive when he's supposed to. We will follow him and he will lead us straight to Kiku."
Fursey nodded in understanding.
"So, we're not going to capture and interrogate the Italian at any time?" Francis asked.
Kirkland shook his head. "We'll capture him right before we arrive. We arrive in his ship and we attack."
You spaced out. You honestly didn't care about how this operation was going to go.
"Say Arthur, since when did you have lunch with women?
A Burning Letter-Hey! Thank you for the invitation to your wedding!More Like This
I'm really looking forward to the big day....-
Those are the words I'd like to say, but I just can't bring myself to do so.
I'm still trapped in the past...
Still remembering the first time we met:
Sitting in my seat, "doodling" from the boredom,
Subconsciously wondering what the hell I was doing with my life.
The lecture had come to an end without me noticing,
That is until you popped your head in from of me:
-Hey, stop daydreaming! Class is over.-
I still remember how idiotic I looked with my surprised face.
After all until that time no one had really talked to me, but yet there you were giggling for some reason after taking a look at me and my notebook.
Truth is, I got angry at first because I thought you were one of those people who found me a "sad sight"
A loner at the time I guess you can't really blame me,
That is until the comment which followed:
-You should pay more attention in class, instead of doodling, though truth is, I
Have you ever been in love,grandpa?Why is something in my stomach pulling me down,grandpa?More Like This
Why do I feel sick?
Why do I have a need to throw up when I think of him,when I realize I miss him?
I need him,grandpa.
More than living beings need the sun.
You understand what I mean,dear.
I remember your stories,please tell them one more time.
All I need now is a cup of hot milk,without the cream,like what you used to make me when I was just a little girl,when I didn't know pain,when I didn't know love.
I want to listen,grandpa. I really do.
I am happy,yet why do I cry?
You found your woman. And I found him.
I need to touch him,look at him.
I just want to fall asleep in your embrace,like I never used to,grandpa. I need that someone takes care of me,and you always did.
I don't want to cry because of Disney cartoons' endings,I really don't.
I miss him,grandpa.
Have you ever been in love? What is love?
I need his hands in my hair. I need his eyes on me.
It's not that I can't live without him. I just don't want to.
He's my everythi
The Price of Dying“I want to be interred after I die,” Mr. Peters said. He made that clear to his family while he was still lucid, before old age and illness rendered him unintelligible. Seventy wasn’t that old, but he recognized the symptoms that were creeping up on his ailing body – the aches, the fatigue, the feeling of helplessness and despair. Despite his daughter’s attempts to assuage his concerns, he sensed his own mortality.More Like This
The worst part about dying, Mr. Peters thought, was what happened afterwards. Even since he was a small boy, he had been afraid of fire. He could never forget the scorching heat of the orange flames searing his skin, the dark billowing smoke entering his nostrils. The time that his house burned down, the fire almost took him with it. How ironic then, to escape the fire only to be fed into it after death.
So one day, he sat his son and daughter down after dinner. “I want to be buried whole,” he said, emphasizing the
POI Poem: Mr.ReeseYou could say he's a killer.More Like This
No devil or angel.
You could say he's a savior.
It all depends on your angle.
But if you'd ask me
I would tell you
No; show you
What happened to me.
I was broken, beaten, shattered
I had no hope.
My time had come.
But then he saved me.
My knight, my prince,
He came for me.
So before you judge him,
I would advise
For you to decide swiftly
Before your numbers up
And you meet the Guardian
Or you meet your demise.
RecrudescenceA man in his fifties lay in his hospital bed, surrounded by white sheets, baskets of fruit, and get-well-soon cards. He tried to sit up, but found himself gasping for breath. He lowered himself down.More Like This
He closed his eyes, trying to sort out the mess in his head. He wondered what his liver donor was like. Had he, or she, also been lying on a hospital bed? Surrounded by white sheets, baskets of fruit, and get-well-soon cards? No, no, he reasoned. His donor would be dead. There would be no fruit or cards for someone who had already died.
He rubbed his forehead and sighed deeply. It was becoming hard to think. The regret had begun to set in. The years of drinking, parties, women, debauchery, these were all things he shouldn't have done. He should have taken care of himself, taken care of the people close to him. He missed his ex-wife. His latest mistress had been here earlier, but he waved her away. She meant nothing to him. Now he was alone in room, swathed in white sheets.
He was afraid.
Canadian words?I thought since I haven't written a journal entry in a while, I would share some wonderful things I learned (or learnt for the british XD) about english, and not just english but CANADIAN english! I know what some of you are thinking, besides the stereotypical eh, hosers, some borrowed British spellings, and the pronunciation of the letter Z, there is nothing unique about Canadian english compared to American English or British English. Well that's not true! We have almost 2000 words and sayings that are only used up here in the Great White North, with the Great White North being one of them! Did you know that Americans think of Canuck as an offencive term for French Canadians when we use it here as a proud nick name for our country's citizens! You (if you're a canuck) may also be familiar with the term double-double. Well that's in the canadian dictionary and they don't use that anywhere else! (for those other english speakers, double-double means 2 sugars and 2 creams) What about stuMore Like This
A Parody of RomanceA Parody of Romance:More Like This
Often I see a number of poets
Who speak of love as an ephemeral thing
An ethereal problem, that lasts for a moment
And yet it leaves a sting...
Boring! I say, there is no fun in that
I need to create a different feel
So let me offer you a parody, my love-sick friend
Of the love that you thought was real:
-switch accents here to a standard african american rapper-
See, the thing I love about a girl
Is when she got a booty shinin' like a blindin' pearl
All the flash gear she wearin' just accentuate
And her rack make all the girlies wanna hate
She sway into the club and now she drop it low
She got my pants in a knot and I wanna know
How to get her number with a couple drinks
Take her back my place when she gettin' pink
Let me try and tell you how I love all her curves
And the way that she move when she makin' love
Man her voice is the best when she whisperin'
Got a rap from Wayne playin' on the wing
See that's the kind of the booty that I love and
SHLyricsBooks, and films, and games, and fiction -More Like This
All that normal human's wishing,
But for me it all came real -
And nobody can me heal.
I have lived for more than hundred
Years, and my name rings like thunder,
Fans love me, but not them only...
They say Sherlock Holmes's not phoney!
I open eyes and guess what?
My hands in chemical spots,
I'm in a medical lab.
Then someone enters and I
Begin recalling all. Why?
Don't know. Memories brain stab.
Pray tell me all
Before I saw it all myself...
The riddles call
To tear away from huge bookshelf...
Not my tales tall -
I had to do what I was told,
But then it happened, so I roled
Books, and films, and games, and fiction -
All that normal human's wishing,
And for images it's tempting,
And for me it's intersepting.
I changed face like snake changes skinnies,
From a sharp one to one dimmy...
Fans love me, but I wish other -
Change the image to man! Bother!
First long and skinny in words,
Then scruffy one with torn cords,
Then sweetie... ah, tho