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+~+ Beary +~+
Black tea leaf future;
the cup stings my fingers so
I push it away
to you i am only me
beneath sun shadows &
"pretty" little stereotypes.
you hang my insecurities
from my neck like a sex thief -
stealing me from myself.
were you that hungry - starved out
from the frostbitten world
between your own thighs?
aroused & f r u s t r a t e d -
you are a bruise - purple
& ugly - there is nothing "pretty"
no inch of the cosmos
rests like a fever
beneath your skin.
You: a dead wasteland of
i am uncategorized
space, a body of seared rose petals
like a burning kiln -
i am the eye of Jupiter's hurricane,
raging for centuries.
she stands among the rocks
where the trees part for water
softly babbling, it sparkles in places
under the dappled sun spots
shedding her spirit
like dandelion petals
wafting across the glen
the magic of earth and water
radiates in a pulse
vanishes in the shallows pools-
the rays of light penetrating
the deep sage and emerald canopy
A sprinkle of rain falls,
upon my bubble windowpane.
It is a perfect nook, to read my book,
sitting upon the extended frame.
Wrapped in a lovely winter shawl,
I allow my tea to cool.
I pull my knees, towards my chest,
and breathe in, the scent of cinnamon.
The candle burns low, the flame dances,
as the sound of, 'Piano Sonata Moonlight',
spills out from an antique wooden music box.
As lightning flashes through the sky.
the sound of distant thunder,
bleeds through the music.
Snowball, my white cat with little grey boots,
jumps down from the little seat and runs away.
This is what it is, to be in my skin.
This is how my comfort begins.
there, beast-brassed ruin, wide roaming
from north on a train, from sunset wild
deep summer reds
eyes large lakes, tinted with steel
rising like steam into night-high neon
body in glow
day of roses,
so much good leaving
left to go; good children
street full of swallowed souls,
good children disappeared, good leaving
left to go; in cobblestones
another day without roses
left to go.
No Man's Charity Land
War against the war to end all wars,
Money scatters the trenches in a wealth of bullets,
But I see no dead... with greater introspect I see no alive,
But the guns keep firing besides
I have held the gun you see,
I stood my ground and fought on my knees,
In terror I fired; but I could never quench any of my desires
and so I smashed my gun and all belief with it was withdrawn
Ah, but you see my biggest scar was my friend’s faces,
Stacey and Alex... they turned on me,
They fired on through smoke and tears,
Ss I struggled with indecisive bellowing fears
I see the struggle; my eyes are clear,
How it haunts all but my wary daydreams,
I wish to cherish a world where these things are bereft,
Instead I own an island of fame likeable to UNICEF
See how it is but another land we all seek?
One full of a bizzare form of Amnesty,
The Plan was swung before my eyes as luring guilt
and We all found in the end that nothing was ever built,
So my quest was formed, one which was once again reborn,
I find your words to be as ugly as the weight of your soul,
You're self righteous when you spit, but your heart is just cold!
and I'm afraid I'll never measure from a pole to pole,
but at least my mind is open; not an empty black hole.
You are the everything that's wrong in the world of today,
You spit the right but then you turn your cheek when others would say.
That our acceptance in a virtue, but your values are gray,
they either play along with you or there's hell to pay!
Feminism Causes Cancer (Part 2)
So how many of you have heard the claim that women only earn 77 cents to every dollar a man earns? This claim just so happens to be anti-male propaganda because they only look at the overall average income. They also fail to factor in hours worked as well as the fact that the women need to be there to take care of the children. With second and third wave feminism also defending abortion as if it was a woman's right, they are not attacking men for working longer hours than women when this allows men to supply for their wives and children.
The US department of labor showed that in 2008, men actually did 57% of all the work hours and more work deserves more pay. It's only fair that way. If men were to have their wages reduced to match this in the name of equality, then it would hurt women and children in the long run, thus hurting the women that the cancerous third wave feminism claims to support. Also, Pew Research also shows that couples with no children show that the males work slightl
Never choosing another
Even after death
the last tail flips out of sight
as rain wets my face
Flash Fiction - #000
staring out of the train window she smiles
they all wave goodbye as their distance fades
trying to refrain her heart from shattering
she covers her face with her long brown hair
hiding the tears that slowly began rolling
had THE Arts AND crafts crisis team IN again
yeah the arts and crafts crisis team they were trying to talk me out of it
seems i had got myself into a bit of a formaldehyde
trying to draw straight abstract lines and perfect abstract circles
they said it was all just part of my fatal attraction
the figure of fun fetus was making a fool of itself
the prain drain was in the bram
the casement had no dead joke facility
........................................................................................................................................put the lava lamp over here again
....................................................................................................................................put the the microphone balaclava over here again
i say cobweb plectrums
and you say
good night and good luck
A Mouth With the Eye of a Raven In It
So speaks the knife point,
to regain the wealth,
It spoke of before
It were past being trained
An important point of
For the Dream of the
to in using a full
self of memory,
much like souls
transplant in nature with
how strange the house
then, A mouth with the
eye of a Raven in
The fantasy tavern
In front of the warm fireplace
two fellas play with cards,
while a bard and his flute
play a nice, gentle song.
With a good beer in hand
I chat with the inn's owner
about my last adventure,
enjoying this night of warmth.
This cozy place, the tavern,
gives me drinks, music, friends
and a short peace from dangers,
protected by wood walls.
And still these comfy walls
will cause my pain tomorrow,
'till I'll be back outside,
for XP, glory and gold.
The Rainbow Fog
A fog of rainbow fire
Colors that burn with brilliant mirth
She walks amongst the lights
With beauty not found on Earth.
Through coldest nights
Illuminated by moonlight
And in brightest days
When bird and song both take flight
Hands outstretched to the mist
The mist that burns with ire
Yet to her, its touch is calm
For her soul, like the mist,
Does burn like fire.
She may appear as not
But more than a thought.
She comes and goes
To where, none can know.
But go she does,
Unashamed and proud,
Into the fantastical world
Hidden behind a rainbow shroud.
-By Cliff Corbett
Mixing the two codes the jedi n' sith code
"there is no darkness,
But there is peace,
there is no pain,
there is no evil,
there is no corruption,
there is no hate,
May the great god be with thee."
january was deep,
deep red in the palm
of the back of my brain. it
quiet out at me. hard-soft,
wine and gemstones, head
in the roof and toes behind
the echoes of past lives. you were
there. i can’t say i remember.
sleeping in class,
sleeping in the car,
sleeping in church, but
hardly sleeping at night. violent
peace, ache of tense muscles
without release, three
nights separate with open eyes
to close for any length
of time. we were robots
other days, mechanical.
january was the unreckoned
storm, aged gold turned brilliant
by accidental polishing. blinding as
the snow it did not bring – memories
grown unbidden and
I cannot live without a Thou
Without a Thou mine I
Cannot exist, nor see
The heart sleeps
To suffering and beauty
Seep into me
Pull me to my feet
Demand of me
Hear me when I speak
Be the kiss of this old world
Embodied just for me
Be the bliss of that new world
Riddled with cracks, like me
You are the fire driving me to sing
The darkness in which I search for meaning
We are both limited beings
But together we participate
In something that defies limitation
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