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PagesofPoetry

:bulletblack:"Deep into the darkness I began writing long with the quill, which only brings about fortunate tears of blood,peering,doubting,ever more with the cognizant thoughts that slither around in my head, onto these pages I have before me....Yes on these pages of POETRY".... -Bewildered-Scribbler-->bewildered-soul.deviantart.com…

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◘Welcome to this group called of course PagesofPoetry, this group was designed for writers to express, anything that comes to the mind, through poetry no less.Please do be supportive of those submitting there work to this, group(:...

:bulletblack:"There is no limit to the number of poetry entries submitted, let you're mind go wild. This group promotes new kinds of arts and the main idea of it is to create, not recreate and to show great work does not go unnoticed......"

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"Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words." - Edgar Allan Poe:reading:

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Featured
WithinTo auspicious beginningsand enigmatic endingsTo the warm golden glowwe once sharedTo flowers that twinkledlike starlight in your hairTo laughter fraught withtwinges of painTo treasures foundonly to disappearTo madness passedin lazy nightsTo harmonious delightsdiscovered at awe inspiring heightsTo buds that never bloomonly to diein the frosty morning dewTo a closing of a nightthat coils itself into a summer dreamTo whispers still heardin the shadow of wordsTo lightning that passesin a thunder stormTo love remainscircling in pools of cavern rainsTo all we wereand will never beTo all those things that mortalsdare to dream There’s a world that’s lostto an average maninside the touch of a gentle handIt’s a restless, hopeless feelingthat will tear you up insidean unquenchable desirethat can never be satisfiedWe've built walls around itshackled it in chainsPoisoned it with medicationsbut still the presence remainsIt talks to us constantlyAlthough, we pretend we can not hearWe turn up our TV'shoping the sound will drive it awayWe create thousands of sources of entertainmentJust to distract us from its painStill it lives inside usand grows stronger everydayWhispering sadly to us:"Everyone may be following the same pathbut they're all going the wrong way"Within this spaceWithin this timeI have seen imagesthat have shattered my mindToo much horrorI can’t describeI’ve seen the best people destroyedwhile the worse surviveBrilliance is strangledwhile evil has thrivedWithin this spaceWithin this timePursuit of the truthhas become a crimeAll that was sacred has now diedWithin this spaceWith this time
Water MusicJust a little water musicbeside the soft moon lightA curious fire’s burninginside this delicate nightIf you want the wavescan carry you awayFloating you gentlyunto another planeJust a little water musicto ease the daily paina little water music to send you on your wayShe turnedsomewhat startledI smiled,and her body easedWhat do you search for out in the sea?I asked her nonchalantly,as wet sand squeezed delightfullythrough her toesIt whispers of our pastand all we wereThe secrets of the universelive within the ocean tidesTime can changeand perspectives become rearrangedBut, miraculous mysteries always flowwithin her majestic wavesIt also brings youback to me, she explainedAway from your watery graveI shed a tearand stood with herSoon I knewI would have to goWe had the oceanwe held each other tightWe had this momentwe shared the nightThese sorrows I feelmuch deeper than fearsBut somewhere all is wellSomeday I'll join you thereWhen all that went wronghas disappearedThen a love that once bloomedcan blossom anewIn this place...that will never beI'll wait for youthrough eternityAs the new tide comes a rolling in the old beach just gives a little away againLike waveswe endless crashupon the same shoreEach seemingly separatelybut always a partof the same intangible forceFlowing together as oneuntil the beach is doneWe are all but tiny drops of waterthat together form a mighty oceanWe are lostbut the ocean has direction In timethe ocean will flowback through usAnd we will saillike glorious shipsonto a beautiful new seaA world inside each wordA lifetime inside a soundUniverses vibratingA soft playful breeze is always dancingand the water music never really stops
Virgin SnowHe’s in custodyThe stranglerThe dark serpentThe creator and destroyer of dreamsHe’s locked away nowyou can’t hear him anymorebut I canHe’s in the atticdrawing pictures of slaughtered animalsFumbling around with a box of matchestrying to ignite all that has hidden himfrom youHe needs flamesto stay aliveEverything is combustiblewith the right sparkHe’s watching youWaiting to be resurrectedTrying to find the right openingHe has a filthy little secretehe wants to shareIn between your thoughtsHe’s whispering itin your earSlowly the transformation is taking placeThe grip is beginning to loosenIt won’t be longYou can’t hear him, yetBut you willWalked into the woods on a rainy, dreary eveJust to find my scarred bodylaying dead amongst the leavesNow I can't remember yesterdaybut tomorrow is quite clearDo you recall the pain of your birth?Or the strange awakening upon your death?Children of the forestare now singing just for meThey're painting me a picturethat only my soul can seeCrazed lunatics running naked out of controlfrenzy of a new dawns light flickering in their eyesAwaken now to a world of plastic imagery, false dreamsand the morbid reality of a self induced robotic hazePlay children don't be afraidyour only byproducts of their hidden rageTaken from you is all they can't explainthen you're cast aside to do the sameCold, pale facesfrolicking in virgin snowPilgrims of the new dawnfumbling and stumblingto become a part of something they can't understandI love you allI am so ashamedI feel your soulsas they twist with rageI sense the warmththat you hold so dearand seek the comfortthat is always nearI love you allI am so afraidJust the briefest of looksthen a shallow graveThe bridge was crossedin the storm that dayChildren had come to show the wayThis lonely man,had no more tales to tellHis cold, dead eyesshowed only a vacant, hollow, stareNight had conquered the world once moreOne tear was droppedon the fresh dug graveDoves will fallfrom the sky today...
EverydayDo you search endlessly for gods?Is your face lined with sorrowAre your eyes filled with pain?Do you wonder why you botherDoes each day seem the same?Do you feel it's all an illusion?Does life seem but a game?Today, Yesterday, EverydayDo you look in other eyesfor guidance?Or are any even there?Do you feel you have lived foreverand all has been before?Are you searching for truthOr living in vain?Is there a differenceOr are they the same?It’s the same as the last timethat's for sureAnytimeDoes it ever change?We just do our routinesComplete our little tasksEach dayEverydaythe same wayIt’s sadbut strangely beautifulhow we would rather be enslavedthen to risk giving up our cageBut none of it means anythingWe’ve turned a blind eye to the worldThere’s just too much heartacheToo many worthwhile causesSo much pain, tragedyand endless miseryMore then our minds can comprehendWe can’t take it all inSo, we simply ignoreall that we canTurn it offTune it outBecome placid, complacentpointless and dullWe assume that thosewho have createdmost of the world’s problemsWill one daybe the ones to solve themWe are insaneFeeling it’s easier to diethen to try and change Everyday I feel so uncertainTired and brokenAll my thoughts remainUnspokenOut of focusDo you feel the same way ?Can we help each other through?I look into your eyes but become confusedIs there no one?Is there nothing?I wish,I could give to youwhat I need to findInside of meLost and brokenSo uncertainPlease someoneClose the curtain...
Horror
Prose
Telaranas de AmarguraEl hombre mayor caminaba con dificultad. Le dolían las rodillas, las espaldas y la vida. Caminó hasta el edificio rojo, cuya pintura nueva brillaba al sol como si fuera de rubí y no de resina. Tal como le fuera explicado, encontró una puertita que conducía a una farmacia luminosa. Allá adentro encontró un farmaceuta con una sonrisa color de sol, que le dijo:“Cómo puedo ayudarlo?” Entonces el abuelo le contestó: “Perdí mi sonrisa. Tiene alguna cosa que me la devuelva? Mis parceros de ajedrez me dicen que siempre encuentran sus sonrisas en una caja de medicinas que usted me podría vender.”“Ummmm, no creo que usted necesite una caja de medicinas. Venga, hombre, vamos a tomar un café.”El farmaceuta cerró la farmacia - porque era su propio patrón, hacía siempre lo que le daba gana de hacer - y llevó al desconocido por unas escaleras apretadas hasta su confortable habitación. Las ventanas estaban abiertas y era posible escuchar la música que venía del apartamento del otro lado de la calle, donde una pareja practicaba una coreografía de salsa. En esa habitación, todos los dias habia baile, tanto que los transeúntes no podían dejar de mover la panza.A pesar de los intentos del comerciante para llegar al problema del abuelo, el hombre más grande se evadía, haciendo “enchufes”, “vacilas” y uno o dos “sombreros” al ritmo de Joe Arroyo. Pero la música no dura para siempre; invariablemente llega el momento de quitar zapatos de baile y enfrentar la realidad.Así que empezó el abuelo a contar su historia: “Hace muchos años, por la pascua, nuestro hijo nos visitó con su familia, Lídia y Carolina. Yo estaba sentado en la cocina, cuando, súbitamente, Carolina aparece imitando a un perro.”~~~~ “Cariño, vienes por la mañana -”“Guau, guau, guau” le interrumpió la niña.Jaja, mira cómo tu cuerpito tiembla de entusiasmo, pensó.“Ya sé.” le contestó Antonio. “Guau, guau, guau.” “Aquí tienes tu galleta.” el abuelo abre la lata de galletas, escoge la más grande la deja caer en las manos suplicantes.En ese momento una nube que había cubierto el sol se movió. El azúl cielo brilló por unos segundos, reflejándose en los limpios ojos fijos en la galleta. “Lina, yo tengo un regalo para ti, lo hice yo mismo para mi nieta preferida.” Antonio llevó un dedo estirado a los labios. “No cuentes a tu prima.”Los labios de la nieta se abrieran en una “o” y tembló más rápido.El hombre canoso le alcanzó un libro de tapa de cuero. En la primera página había inscrito: “Tu sonrisa, tus abrazos, tus ojos curiosos, mis favoritos.”Como un rayo, Carolina corrió a sus papás, que estaban en la sala.“Mira! Mira! El abuelo me dibujó un cuento de hadas!”La mirada de los hombres se cruzó, mientras daban gracias a Dios por aquella bendición incapaz de quedarse más de dos minutos en el mismo lugar. ~~~“Esa fue la última mañana, comprendes?” murmuró el abuelo después que bebió con avidez un trago de aguardiente. Estaba de pie junto a la ventana, sin embargo, no estaba en la habitación. Su mente examinaba recuerdos, tantas veces examinados, que si fueran fotografias ya se habrian roto. “No, no creo que comprendo” le contestó el compañero confuso. "Querer mirarte y no poder mirarte. Querer tocar tus cabellos y no poder tocarlos. Querer abrazarte y no poder abrazarte… mi hijo…" él alcanzó el brazo por el aire como se buscara la mano de alguien. ~~~En la casa entró Antonio y de sus labios un suspiro salió. La pareja discutía en voz alta. Nuevamente."Tu corres lejos de tus problemas y los invitas a tu casa!" gritó Lídia a su marido."Fugaz, efímera, tu aprobación." Marcelo sentado, ocultaba sus rostro con las manos."Basta! Basta de poesia, Marcelo!""Ya no puedo soportar más discusiones." El hijo se levantó. "Papá estás allá?" Sin esperar la respuesta, caminó deprisa hasta la puerta. La mirada de los hombres se cruzó, mientras maldecían las estrellas. Tomaron sus abrigos, que aunque no los protegían de palabras cortantes, los podían proteger de la lluvia, y se dirigieron a la salida.Simultáneamente, la mujer furibunda, horneando en su ira, arrojó un plato en su dirección. El espíritu de un cualquier antepasado atento a los acontecimientos, desvió el camino del arma pseudo fatal, que entonces se rompió en la inquieta pared a la izquierda de Marcelo. La vida en la calle se detuvo como un reloj roto. El pueblo se quedó boquiabierto ante el drama casero. ~~~"Su matrimonio no iba bien. Hubo un tiempo en que la risa fluía como vino, la habitación olía a felicidad y se sentía el calor de nuevas emociones entusiasmantes emanando de los cuerpos." Contó Antonio al farmaceuta. "No obstante el amor que tenían uno por el otro, los demonios de la adicción les complicaba la relación. "Qué pasó entonces, parcero?""Íbamos a bailar salsa y a tomar una cerveza. Ese era el plan. Una cerveza…"~~~Antonio desvió los ojos de la mujer, que se rompia delante de él en mil pedazos, los cuales se juntaban a los pedazos del plato que todavía adornaban el piso."¿Cómo pudiste permitirle a tu hijo borracho que condujera? ¿Que papá permite a un hijo alcohólico que conduzca?" El discurso mordaz brotaba ininterrumpido de la viuda. Su mirada, más pesada que hierro. Sus palabras, más venenosas que la mordida de una culebra.Su mente viajó hacia la nieta. En la calle jugaba Carolina, ignorando la tragedia. "Una luz más del mundo se ha apagado. Pero tu juegas y tu imaginas y tu sigues viviendo.Y mientras tú saltas, se ríen las piedras de la calle y aplauden al ritmo de tu canción. ¡Oh!, ser nuevamente inocente." pensó el hombre, a quien el peso de los años, de las incertidumbres y desgracias habían curvado sus espaldas. ~~~"Creo que fué en esa noche que perdí mi sonrisa. Pero me reía en rincones por mi ridícula locura, rota estaba mi mente." Diciendo eso pareció perder la poca energía que todavía conservara. Dejó caer la mano estirada.El abuelo continuó su historia, cómo si al contarla cerrase por fin un capítulo doloroso. En la comprensión del nuevo amigo, Antonio encontraba también redención. Pasados tantos años cargando una tan grande culpa, no sería tiempo de perdonarse a él mismo? Además Carolina, ahora una mujer perseverante así como ambiciosa, hace tiempo, lo había perdonado. Después de ese día, el abuelo y el farmaceuta tomaron muchos cafés juntos. Ellos lloraron sus miserias, rieron de sus desgracias y encontraron la belleza del mundo en tazas de café y el rostro amable de un amigo. El compañero de muchas tardes incluso persuadió al hombre canoso a comprar un celular, cuando llegó el invierno."Nos quedamos en casa, pero no quedamos solos. El puente para el mundo sigue vibrando en nuestros bolsillos." explicó. Puesto que, Antonio escuchó la voz de su nieta preferida después de 20 años de soledad voluntaria. "El Tiempo que pasó, abuelo, eso no lo recuperamos! El Remordimiento no cambiará nada. Deberíamos aprovechar el tiempo que aún tenemos. Creemos nuevos momentos felices. Te extrañamos. Tu sonrisa, tus abrazos, tus ojos cariñosos, mis favoritos." La cita lo hice llorar lágrimas sanadoras, que rodaran hasta su corazón donde las últimas telarañas de amargura persistieron, lavandolas....
Emotional
Human Nature
Tears of Remorse (Remastered)Tears of RemorseRemastered By J.C. SolisI am solemn during daytimeA gloom that always seems to lastAs I sit upon this cold chairIn recollection of my pastI am solemn and heart brokenAnd my heart just will never sateI recount all these dark momentsThese moments that I’ve come to hateAnd as the tears drip down my eyesAs I recall all that I knowAs the room fills with solemn criesAs peace of mind now starts to goRegret and mournful emotionFrom memories that just won’t dieWhat haunts me and my life till nowWhat fleeting moments gone awryI am the result of this painAnd this is the gloom that I shareThis is the reward I have gainedAnd from my life you should bewareAs rum and liquor fill my mouthAs vice and sin now numb my mindI try to put these thoughts at bayTo find respite a little kindThe Mind is not quick to forgetFor the conscience cannot be fooledAs a Good Heart now feels this painThe morals that dictate its ruleI hurt those close to achieve wealthI hurt those close to win my fameAnd for the things that’s happened sinceI am the one solely to blameFor I lost my way and my pathI lost my loving familyAnd now in regretful stuporI am now brought down to my kneesFor there’s a price to pay for thisThere is a price in all we doWe reap the rewards and the painWe either feel happy or rueFor there’s a price for life and timeFor life is not always sublimeThere is sacrifice and a toll What we reap changes on the dimeAnd as you look upon my lifeAnd see my worry, woe, and strifeAnd wickedness my life was rifeAnd plunged my heart with this hot knifeFor Life can give many good thingsAnd they are things to cherish dearThey are such things that bring one joyAnd to our hearts we should bring nearFor regret comes for anyoneAnd no one is quite yet immuneAnd the more wicked things one doesWill bring this bad fate coming soonFor one does wish for the powerTo change the errors that are madeFor when our reckoning does comeThe tolls of our lives will be paidFor now, I wait for death and peaceMy actions my life’s centerpieceAs I hope Hell now gives me leaseThat my mortal regrets now cease…I mourn what it is I’ve becomeAnd I am coming close to dieBut I’ll never stop this weepingNo matter how hard it is I tryI mourn what it is I’ve becomeHoping that this is not my fateA sadness severe, unendingThat never seems to want to sateI mourn what it is I’ve becomeThrough all this time that has now beenAs I try hard to recoverFrom the damage that’s caused by sinI mourn what it is I’ve become That I’ve now driven down this course As I now shed these bloodied TearsFilled with nothing else but Remorse…
Controlled Burns or Fire-StormLiving in California is not without a price,Nothing ever is.One must pay a price of wildfires and drought,Two cyclical forces natural to the ecology.Controlled burning that would stop fire-storms,Too many people live in a placeAnd a controlled fire cannot cleanse it; peopleWould raise complaints that it’s not safe. Thickets and ditches, they’re thick with dead plants,Dead trees impeding saplings,But there are too many residents who won’t tolerate it;That would threaten houses and countryside.It’s either controlled burning close to housesOr disastrous fire-storms.There’s always a price, a difficult choice to negotiate,Timely negotiation is urgent to us now.Loisgeamh Stamhanta No Doineann-TeineCha thig còmhnaidh air California gun fhiach, ˆ-ˆ--ˆ-ˆ--ˆ-Cha thig gnothach lurach sam bith. ˆ-ˆ-ˆ-ˆ-Feumaimh neach pàigheamh fiach leis an roidean ‘s tart, ˆ--ˆ-ˆ-ˆ-ˆ--Dith’s neart cuairteach dùth don àrainn.Loisgeamh stamhanta gum bacamh doineannan-teine,Tha cus sluagh a’ tàmh air àite‘S chan urrainn teine stamhant’ a ghlanamh; thogamhDaoine gearan nach e sàbhailt’. Preasan ‘s claisean, th’ead dùmhail le lusan marbha,Craobhan marbha ‘bacamh fiùrain,Ach th’ann cus daoine ‘tàmh nach fuiling loisgeamh;Mhaoidheamh sin air taighean ‘s dùthaich.‘S e nas mó loisgeamh stamhanta dlùth ris na taigheanNo an doineann-teine dhubhach.Th’ann a ghnàth fiach, roghainn dhoirbh leis an tràchdamh,ˆ--ˆ-ˆ--ˆ-ˆ-‘S tràchdamh tràthail ‘nis dhuinn faochnach.
Narrative
The Place I call Home (Poem)The Place I Call Home By J.C. SolisI search for a placeSo dear to my heartI search for this placeSince my journey did startI search for this placeAs I continue to roamI search for the placeI’ll soon call My HomeI explore the vast wildernessThe tall conifers and treesA world so majesticThat is so lively and freeI explore all the perfectionThat was meant to bePerhaps there is HomeThe place meant for meThrough lush and vast plainsFull of thick and green grassDown the river that flowsOf time's future and pastTo uncharted territories And expanses unknownTo a place that I soonWill undoubtedly call HomeI walk through the junglesOf nature and manWith sharp twists and turnsAnd ever changed by human handsI walk through the brambleThe twists and deadly turnsThe area around meI will soon come to learnI’ve met many peopleAnd talked about LifeOur goals and our dreamsOur agony and strifeWe share food and drinkAnd told tales to hearAs we talked of our HomesThe place we hold dearI soon start to wonderIf I’ll ever find that placeThe perfect locationThat perfect, vast spaceMy body grows tiredMy vigil turns weakMy heart aches with worryAs to the place I still seekBut I’ll soon find a placeTo satisfy my mindI make plans to start anewSo long fate is still kindThis is the placeThat will bear my full nameThis is my HomeIn the wilds I will tameI will carve the foundationAnd add brick by brickRaise beams, the wooden frameWhich I plant bit by bitAnd soon I put the roofAnd so, cover the domeI have done it at lastI now have my new HomeAnd when I will do thatI’ll start a familyA bloodline I’ll layAnd have my children wander freeI’ll teach them of lifeAnd what they should beware As we eat juicy fruitAnd breathe the clean airFor now, I roam this worldAnd the danger it holdsA planet so diverse So alive and so boldI search for a place To rest my tired bonesThis place that I will then, --indeed, call my own Home...
General Poetry
Romantic
Stories and Vignettes
Devil's Triangle - Location Blips 5.1May 16 202X13:48@ sansan4ever: Ahh server’s been so dead these days.. Anything new, peeps? @ modthebod: Been busy with school work. Sucks.13:55@ mr-drake: thank god i ain’t in school anymore. good luck, @ modthebod@ modthebod: Thanks. Btw found this photo of Sandra. Enjoy, guys.13:57@ sansan4ever: Aww I feel ya, @ modthebod. *hugs* And ooh boy Sandra looks so hot!@ mr-drake: yo check out that booty *whistles* 14:05@ kai: Great skirt but not loving that top.@ mr-drake: whoa are you the fashion police or what??@ kai: ? I can’t express my honest thoughts?14:07@ modthebod: @ kai Please refrain from expressing criticism of Sandra. This is your first and only warning.14:09@ kai: …. Whatever, fine.~ ~ ~As he drove, Thomas bobbed his head to the country rock music blaring from the car speakers. He liked weekends, even when it was his shift. Weekends meant that Marsha would be at home, supervising Percy’s studies. He had the whole car to himself, so he could blast any music he liked without having to listen to Marsha’s complaints.Weekends also tended to be more relaxing. Not today though. Thomas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was too early in the morning to be dealing with complaints and house visits. Catching sight of the signboard off the road, he flicked the turn signal and took a left. The car drifted down the road, past rows of houses and playing children. Thomas watched them wistfully. Give them a few more years and soon, they would be shuttling between extra classes, with their free time being occupied by a tiny mobile screen.He shook his head and turned his attention to the plate numbers on each house. He was looking for number 12 which was further down the road. The neighborhood was not one he came to often, although in his younger days, he would always pop by. His cheeks flushed at the thought.As house number 12 came into view, he sneaked a look past it. House number 13 sat right beside his destination. It looked almost the same as he remembered it - simple and dull. But it was the occupant inside that had his heart pumping like a house on fire. Thomas took a sharp breath. With a quick turn of the steering wheel, he parked the patrol car opposite house 12 and killed the engine. He stepped out, taking in the smell of freshly cut grass. His lips broke into a wide grin and as he strolled through the open gate of house 12, his mind wandered away from his duties. After all, he was right here, next to Sandra’s house. It would make sense to pop by and say hi, right?No, that would make him seem like a creep. Thomas brushed away his fantasies and rapped on the brown front door.Hands held behind his back, he waited. Over the sound of shuffling inside the house, he heard the haunting tune of a piano. The melody drifted from the neighboring house - Sandra’s place. He smiled to himself, enjoying the music, and at the same time, excited to know she was at home after all.The front door creaked open an inch and a pair of suspicious eyes stared at him over owl-rimmed glasses. Thin lips parting in a snarl, the old woman rasped, “What do you want?”“Hi Dina,” Thomas chirped. “Sorry to bother you but-”“Then go away,” she snapped and made to shut the door in his face.Thomas jammed a hand between the door and its frame, his fingers digging into the wood. He held it open and cracked a forced smile.“Please, Dina. I need to speak to you,” he emphasized.The old woman’s strength was no match for his and she gave up, letting the door swing wide open. She sighed in exasperation and crossed her arms in a defiant stance.“Get on it with it then,” she grumbled as she leaned on the door frame.“Ah right.” Thomas recomposed himself and cleared his throat. He clasped his hands at chest level, putting on a polite smile. “I’m here because we’ve received several complaints about the umm… noise level coming from your house at wee hours in the morning. I-”“Oh those blithering fools,” Dina cut in as her hand moved to rest on her hip. “What have they to complain about when they are the ones who blast music and laugh so damn loudly and bring back guests! I’ll say I should be the one complainin-”Holding a palm up to stop her tirade, Thomas tried his best to keep his tone friendly yet authoritative. “I’m sorry about that, Dina. I know that must be frustrating for you but since it’s before midnight, we can’t do much about that. But if you’re having noise from your place past midnight, that would count as disturbing the neighborhood.”The old woman’s cheeks puffed up and she wagged an accusing finger at him. “Now look here, the only reason I’m even making… noise-” She emphasized the word, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “-is because they woke me up first! I’m a light sleeper and I’ve told them oh so many times about it.”Thomas felt the situation slipping out of his hands and he scrambled for a way to appease both sides. “Okay I understand your grievance, Dina. Maybe you can tell me what or who woke you up in the night, and then we can solve all of this.”Dina huffed and glowered at him. She held her silence long enough for Thomas to shift uncomfortably on his feet. When she was pleased that she held the higher ground, she deigned to give an answer. “It all started when that lady moved in next door.” She jerked a thumb at house 13. Thomas’s heart leapt into his throat. He swallowed hard. “What did she do to wake you up?”The old woman scoffed. “Exactly what she’s doing now. Playing that goddamn piano and always repeating some awful tune over and over.”Dina’s derisive tone scratched at his ears. The vein on his neck bulged and pulsed as he attempted to rein in his irritation. He managed a thin smile, his reply curt and minimally polite. “Got it. I’ll talk to her. Thank you for your time.”His cool tone was not lost on Dina. She glared at him for a few seconds before hissing, “You’d better.”When she slammed the door in his face, Thomas finally let out a long breath. He stalked off her property, his smile morphing into a scowl. He cursed the old woman under his breath. It was no wonder her neighbors complained about her and not Sandra. Who would like that old bat anyway??He slowed his pace as he neared house 13. Upon closer examination, he found the gate closed but not locked. Thomas pushed past it and slipped into the compound. As he walked up to the door, the tinkling sound of piano keys grew louder, calming his anger.The thought of seeing Sandra relaxed the tension in his muscles and his lips curled upwards into a smile. He rapped on the door twice, the sound echoing through the house. The piano playing stopped and he heard her airy voice call out in a singsong manner.Hurried footsteps approached. The front door swung open, revealing Sandra in a baggy tee and shorts, her hair tied back in a lazy ponytail. She broke into a big smile. “Oh Thomas, it’s you!”He grinned. “Sorry to drop in on you unannounced.”“That’s fine.” Sandra waved him off. “So is this an official visit or..” Grinning, she threw him a conspiratorial wink that stained his cheeks pink.“Ah right.” Thomas bumbled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It is official actually.”“Are you going to arrest me or something, Sergeant Thomas?” Sandra teased, sticking her tongue out.He laughed and shook his head. “Nothing of that sort. It’s just that umm..”He cleared his throat and assumed a more official tone. “Your neighbor complained of piano playing in the wee hours of the morning. So I’m sorry to have to tell you but it would be good for all parties if you refrained from doing that.”Her expression changed into a blank look. Thomas winced and quickly added, “I know it doesn’t sound fair to you - I mean it’s music and all. But some people might not find it pleasant. Not that I don’t- I mean I like your music and-”“It’s Dina, right?” Sandra interrupted with a sigh, her shoulders slumping. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation. “I tried to play as softly as possible. Looks like it didn’t work.”Thomas grimaced. “No it didn’t. Maybe if you change your schedule a little..”“I write my songs whenever inspiration strikes.” She folded her arms across her chest. “It just happens that I get them in the night, or when I’m asleep.”“Oh.” Thomas deflated, at a loss as to how he was going to solve this issue. His eyes darted to the ground in search for an answer that wasn’t there. At the sound of a light-hearted chuckle, he looked up.“Alright, alright,” She said behind a mouthful of giggles. “I’ll help you out here. I won’t play my music past midnight. That should solve your problem.”His chest heaved as he expelled a long breath and whistled. “Oh thank you, Sandra. You’ve no idea how much trouble you’ve saved me.”“Well, how are you going to repay me for this favor?” Sandra cocked her head to one side, soft bangs covering her twinkling eyes. Thomas’s eyes widened. Color tainted his cheeks. “Umm.”Damn. Here goes nothing.“Would dinner and drinks be enough?” he blurted.A grin tugged at her lips. She laughed, one hand cupping her mouth as she nodded. “Yes, that would be good.”The young man broke into a wide-toothed smile and bounced on his feet. “Great! I’ll see you at the pub at 7?”“See you at 7 then.” Sandra smiled.Thomas waved goodbye before she closed the door. He stood there for a moment longer, savoring the victorious feeling. Then, he turned around and strolled out of her front yard, closing the gate behind him. His face lit up like a thousand watts, exuding a warmth that matched the surface of the sun.As he headed to his car, he felt like he was floating on cloud ten - fuck cloud nine. Buoyant and exuberant, there was nothing that could bring him down on this wonderful morning. Nothing at all.
Devil's Triangle - Virtual Takeover 4.4Loud dance music boomed in the small pub, drowning out the scatters of conversations. Working people and some college-level kids dominated the population. Most were dressed casually; some of the working stiffs were still in shirts but with loosened ties. Thomas had already changed his uniform into loose-fitting pants and a checkered shirt. No point sticking out like a sore thumb and attracting attention, when all he wanted was a relaxing conversation to destress.“Tell me honestly, Thomas. Is it wrong of me to fantasize about Lynn?”Thomas paused, his lips brushing the rim of his beer mug. He regarded his half-drunk friend with concern and sighed. “It’s not exactly wrong.”Across the table, his friend took another swig of his beer and belched. “It’s either a yes or a no. You’re with the police, so you should know.”“Oh wait,” he paused before laughing. “I just rhymed!”Thomas placed his mug down and massaged his forehead between thumb and forefinger. “Albert..”“Okay okay fine. I won’t ask.” Albert scowled, his thick lips pursed in a pout.Thomas watched as his chubby childhood friend dug his fingers into the basket of fries and stuffed a few into his mouth. He noted that Albert had put on a little weight in recent months, but he had no heart to tell him that when he was drunk. Although his looks weren’t exactly a head turner, Albert still held some amount of friendly charisma that attracted quite a few ladies. But the single man had his heart set on Lynn for some time now, and even though Thomas had tried to introduce other women to him, it had not worked out.Well, then again, Thomas reasoned morosely, he was one to talk. So as a good friend, he listened and soothed as best as he could.Seeing that Albert was still sulking away - evident from the silence and the fact that he had just pulled his hoodie over his head to hide his sullen eyes, Thomas tried to reinvigorate the conversation. “So what happened with Lynn? Obviously something did, since you’re asking me that question.”Albert eyed him from under his hoodie as he munched on the fries. He took his time, licking his fingers and downing another gulp of beer, burping as he did. Then, he leaned back on the worn leather bar seat. “I bumped into her the other day,” he said. “She said she was going to take up a part-time job in the night.”Thomas lifted an eyebrow. “Money issues?”Raising his hands, Albert shrugged. “I don’t really know. I mean, maybe it’s something to do with Mark’s job.”“Why? What’s wrong?”Albert leaned forward, placing his elbows on the wooden table as he did. He gestured conspiratorially to Thomas and lowered his voice as he spoke. “Our company is investing more in automation. So grunts like me and Mark will be the first to get-” He drew a finger across his throat. “Laid off.”Eyes widening, Thomas’s grip on his mug tightened. Following his friend’s hushed tones, he whispered, “Is that just a rumor or something? I mean, they can’t do that… can they?”“Oh they can,” Albert tossed back his mug and wiped the residual froth from his lips. “It’s just a matter of time really.”Thomas mulled over this piece of news as he swirled his finger over the condensation coating his mug. He never thought things like artificial intelligence and robots would ever infringe on people’s lives to such a devastating extent. And yet here it was, replacing people whose skills were outdated. Was a future like that in Terminator really inevitable?“I doubt Mark will lose his job though.” Albert’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Why not?”Bitterness seeped into Albert’s tone. “He and the boss are close. Mark’s son and the boss’s daughter are classmates. So yeah.”Thomas tipped back his mug to savor the last bit of beer. The bitterness warmed his throat, a stark contrast to the feelings that roiled in his stomach. The world was unfair, no matter what he did as a policeman to bring justice, and it made him feel helpless.He tried to recall who Albert’s boss’s daughter was and then it hit him. “Ah! That would be Valerie’s sister right? The quiet, timid one.”“Yeah,” Albert drawled. “The dull, studious one.”That would make sense, Thomas thought. Mark’s son was also the quiet type, so the two of them would fit together. “Are they like… together or something?” Thomas asked.“I don’t know. They’re close, I think.”Nodding, Thomas stroked his chin. He could barely recall Valerie’s sister’s name, much less how she looked like. He only knew she was completely different from Valerie. Thinking about Valerie reminded him of that incident in the police station.“Hey, Alby,” he addressed his friend by his nickname. “I just met that Valerie the other day actually. At the police station too, of all places.”“Wow really?!” Albert gasped, his mouth open wide. “What did she do?”“She made this scandalous video of Sandra and posted it online.”Clicking his tongue, Albert shook his head in disapproval. “Kids nowadays. I don’t think her parents have any control on her.”Thomas crossed his arms on the table. “Probably not. She was always the wild kid.”Albert took a few more fries and wagged them about like an adult telling a kid off. “Honestly that was her parents’ fault. They’re both workaholics - no time to spend on a kid. Let alone two.”Thomas frowned. “But look at her sister. She turned out fine, right?”The chubby man chuckled as he shook his head. “She’s anything but fine. That girl’s an exploding time bomb, mark my words.”Opening his mouth to protest, Thomas thought better of it. He was too tired to get into an argument about parenting and wayward kids. Instead, he waved a hand in dismissal and laughed. “Fine. Anything you say, Alby. Let’s just drink away our troubles tonight, okay?”Albert grinned and lifted his mug in a toast. “Sounds good!”“What should we toast to?” Thomas asked, his mug lifted high.Albert hummed in thought. “To unrequited love?”“Wha-what?” Rubbing the back of his neck, Thomas blushed.Snickering at his friend’s reaction, Albert teased. “Oh come on. You with Sandra, me with Lynn. Just say it, man!”Thomas’s lips lifted upwards in a sheepish grin and he snorted. “Fine, fine. You win this time.”“To unrequited love!”...
Nature
Threats For ApocalypseYou don’t feel this world changing Though it has been changing for a while already And though you had to change The ways how you are living to get used to You’re following the old world order Not preparing for the apocalypse that comes Each second of today, closer and closer Just like people have always You’re looking for your peace of mind For your happiness, being in harmony with yourself To achieve that you’re listening to the old lessons How to take this world easy How to forget to think Maybe for a while it works Shortly you breathe without stress But today is not yesterday, times have completely changed Threats for apocalypse are seen by everyone Now even a newborn won’t find any peace We’ll calm down only aware how to fight it You have to forget everything you knew before In these times of change you have to change too Forget what peace, happiness and harmony is Our world is not a paradise anymore But a hell that rises out of what we have done And you don’t have to ask what exactly The way we used to live was completely wrong It’s too hard to do that, such sentiments moving But please try or all the mankind will die One after another threats for apocalypse Have been said by our mother earth To warn us and give us some signs If not today we are changing along with this world We are doomed to die in the apocalypse That we could predict and avoid If we don’t listen to the old voice Teaching us to take it all easy Forgetting to think critically...
Horror CONTEST 2013

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I own a literary magazine, we are a new publication looking for poets and short fiction writers for our first publication that will come out in June 2017. Everyone is welcome to submit to our publication. The online publication is called The Crimson Gnome Quarterly, it is a writing e-zine that gives a free blank page to creative writers, poets, and freethinkers. We do not deal with a particular genre per say, instead, we love to give the misfits of any genre a voice. This may be a small publication, but it is free of any corporate influence and we do not box our writers in with technicalities and other b.s. other writing journals attached to their publications. If you want to express your creativity limits, then this is the place for you!
Our current open period for our June 2017 issue runs from March 22 through May 20, 2017. Here are our guidelines regarding submissions:
FORMATS

    POETRY: Submit anywhere between 1-7 original poems, length of poem does not matter. Please make sure to title and underline said title of your poem(s).
    SHORT/FLASH FICTION: Submit between 1-4 pieces of short or flash fiction. For short fiction, please make the story between 1,000 and 5,000 words. For flash fiction, anything under 1,001 words will do just fine.
    FICTION: Submit 1 or 2 pieces of fiction between 5,000 and 8,000 words.
    ARTWORK: We do accept artwork occasionally to make the issue come alive more. It can be either in the form for a stylish drawing or a photography piece. If you choose to submit artwork, please only submit up to 2 pieces.

Please feel free to submit and tell other writers and artists about our publication. Here is our publication's website: chrismoore1990.wixsite.com/the…
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Literature
detangling dangerous circuitry
at the beginning
I was innocent
I believed I was strong
I believed I was secure
I believed I was a protector
I believed I was an advocate
I believed I stood for righteousness
I believed I stood for justice
I believed I stood for healing
I believed I stood for the weak
I believed I stood for the helpless
I believed this would never change
but slowly
I became the weak
I became the helpless
to all the pain that I witnessed
to all the cruelty I saw committed
to all the indifference and even prejudice
my voice started out strong and diminished to a silence
I was silence by all of the
popular politics
the strong opinions
the negative thoughts
the active gaslighting
my voice died a slow cruel death
silently watching
my soul screamed
and I could remember a message from King that said
that those that stand by are just as guilty of the perpetrators
and I knew I was guilty
the guilt ate away at me
my happiness corroded
rotten on the inside
but happiness remained intact on the outside
toxic energy
:iconemilywrites:emilywrites
:iconemilywrites:emilywrites 5 4
Literature
Three Hearts Eclipsed
Three Hearts Eclipsed
– a love triangle ballad –

I met him some years ago,
his sea eyes sung my heart;
my skin was soft, his eyes aglow –
we couldn't bear to be apart.
The golden light of new love,
the beauty of the stars,
surrounded us – below, above –
our hearts as red as Mars.
But then he spoke of another,
her eyes – blue as sapphire;
a first love, his former lover,
the water to our fire…
Three years they'd danced in dreams
and then it fell apart.
Three years then had passed between
till my love warmed his heart.
True to me he thought to be,
he loved me well, and so did tell:
only she, a friend would be…
And thus his loyalty did sell.
--
Hemispheres divided us –
I knew of her and she of me…
But we could not predict the gusts
of his summer-winter breeze.
Many holidays he made,
far away and overseas...
And for our love I always prayed
that he would keep the keys.
Weeks and months and years flew past,
seasons bl
:iconSwanhyld:Swanhyld
:iconswanhyld:Swanhyld 6 41
Journal
Writers' Workshop: FOUND POETRY!
Welcome to the first workshop of 2015! *confetti*
Hi, I'm PinkyMcCoversong. You can call me Emily. I write all kinds of poetry, but one of my favorite styles is found poetry. So, for the next few weeks, I'll be guiding you through the world of found poetry. Using found poetry techniques is not only one of my favorite ways to write, but it's also a way to give yourself a creative kick in the butt when you're having a hard time revving those engines.
This workshop might be a bit different from previous workshops because 1. there's a LOT to be had in found poetry and I want to give you a taste of a few different methods and 2. I'm hoping that each participant can send us three to six different pieces based on three different featured methods, which I'll describe below.
:new: Erasure How-To is now up! 
:new:
:iconPinkyMcCoversong:PinkyMcCoversong
:iconpinkymccoversong:PinkyMcCoversong 29 19
Literature
Love is...
That dusty, old board game on the highest shelf -
Impossible to reach until we are tall enough.
Or perhaps, until a step stool is used? (Alas, however, that is blind ambition!)
But once we are tall enough, and we grasp it,
We find that some parts are broken,
Some parts are missing,
And the instructions are nowhere to be found!
Yet,
We still play the game.
:iconomnibusjeremius:omnibusjeremius
:iconomnibusjeremius:omnibusjeremius 14 13
Literature
valentine's
today,
i got a red rose
from a loved one.
i snipped off the flower
and kept the thorns,
as she stared at me in shock.
i told her
that I loved her, but that
i would rather be profound
than deceived.
:iconomnibusjeremius:omnibusjeremius
:iconomnibusjeremius:omnibusjeremius 8 2
Literature
My Confusing Mind
Can you help with my confusing head?
Or would you be as lost like me?
As I try to answer so many questions,
But always failing in this strange type of end.
Where I’m lost and afraid to leave this very place,
As I’m to scared of getting out of here.
Since outside these walls is the world of work.
From day to night, with so little rest.
To be alone,
And to do things on my own.
Since this world is filled with labor,
With a pay within these wagers,
Will always be the one in filth and greed,
As they’ll make me pay for almost everything.
I’m frightened to be in such a world,
As I only feel that I will only fail.
To go with the flow of this society,
 Since I can only go to my own path,
That I have made long ago.
And as that life is getting closer,
I still don’t know on what I’m taking.
As I don’t think I’ll ever print,
Another product again,
Since I know I’ll only screw up.
Cause, isn’t that what I always do?
I try to win,
But a
:iconAwsomeIsRed:AwsomeIsRed
:iconawsomeisred:AwsomeIsRed 1 0
Literature
Amelia
Green eyes; brown hair,
She was the air I inhaled-
The universe in my palm.
Smooth skin; small lips,
Her laughter filled my decayed heart;
Forest eyes twinkled like stars.
Long fingers; teeth encased into a wired trap-
Her teasing smile sketched itself onto the canvas of my arm,
The colors of her happiness tore me apart.
:iconChelseaRavenn:ChelseaRavenn
:iconchelsearavenn:ChelseaRavenn 3 10
Literature
We Are All Insane
What if
We are all
INSANE?
And society
Is the
ASYLUM?
:iconInfinite-Word-Forge:Infinite-Word-Forge
:iconinfinite-word-forge:Infinite-Word-Forge 33 55
Literature
Ensnared
Your world is a spider's web,
Spun with care.
And while it may look beautiful,
It pulls you in
And ensnares you
In a net of meaningless aesthetics
And false words.
It dissolves you from the inside,
An agonizing desolation
Materializing under the skin,
Your personality becoming
A melting pot
Of vexation
And lost words.
Until the skin breaks.
The fangs of all of those
Who try so hard to be something,
But build themselves from nothing,
Puncture your final defenses,
Forcing their fangs into your heart
In a meager attempt
To take what they don't have.
You are too great for that.
This breaking of the skin
Releases a flood of pain,
And a torrent of anger.
Now you understand.
There is power
Lurking
In your mind.
Your ability and your will
To fight the flesh
And tell the world
"I am alive!"
Is one untouched
By the bite
Of an arachnid fool.
However,
In our frustration,
And our search
For the others in this world
Who are stuck in this net,
We take the web with us,
And so too, the spiders,
As we r
:iconSeancey:Seancey
:iconseancey:Seancey 1 12
Literature
Mental Hospital
I got locked away today,
In a dark and lonely place.
Locked inside a small white room,
Where all light is erased.
This is the place the unwanted are sent,
When they give up reality.
When nobody wants us around anymore,
They send us here, you see?
There is a guard outside my door,
I hear keys locked on his hips.
I scream and yell to be set free,
But his concentration never slips.
I'm trapped here in this room,
Im trapped in this small box.
There are bars on one small window,
And the door has many locks.
All of my hope is lost,
All my dreams are fading.
I hear a noise outside;
The nurses are invading.
I hear patients screaming,
As they open up the doors.
I hear them fight and struggle.
I hear bangs along the floors.
Then I hear a "tick"
And a twist of a small key.
I sit alone in terror,
They're coming after me!
Two ladies walk right in,
They try to hold me down.
That is when one lady,
Stuck a hand right up my gown.
She stuck a needle in my rear,
Suddenly I felt real jaded.
I tried to fig
:iconxXWitherXx:xXWitherXx
:iconxxwitherxx:xXWitherXx 396 341
Valkyrie Down by iamtoolio Valkyrie Down :iconiamtoolio:iamtoolio 3 1 In Your Arms by iamtoolio In Your Arms :iconiamtoolio:iamtoolio 4 0
Literature
Dark Shores
It is the night,
when the dark tides will rise
and the waves will carry me
far, far away...
on the tar painted waves,
with crimson crests,
under the pale shine
of cold skull moon...
In boat of bones,
I’ll travel alone
and hear no call
or cry from back home
lying down
on the alabaster bed
with black silk softly
covering my head…
On the silent sea,
in silent night,
following the path
of extinguished lights,
over the water,
to lands unknown
I’ll travel in dark,
to some distant shores…
:iconMaylar:Maylar
:iconmaylar:Maylar 3 3
Literature
Broken Doll
I'm your broken doll
for you to dress
for you to mend
but I'm tired of your needle in my skin
cos it feels like it burns
even though I know it doesn't
it pulls me back together again
now I'm your patchwork doll
with fragile cloth and breakable thread
and dark eyes full of regret
but of course you don't know
because my tear tracts don't show
but you can stitch a smile on my face
and my body you can embrace
and I'll try to take comfort
but my heart it hangs heavy in my chest
and it remains still and quiet
as I succumb to your command
and your insistence in loving me
both baffles and beguiles
and I am both thankful and terrified
so please never leave me
but leave me alone
because I am your raggedy doll
made of fragile cloth and breakable thread
and I will only ever fall apart
:icondraws-with-words:draws-with-words
:icondraws-with-words:draws-with-words 5 12
Literature
Fat and Skinny.
Being thin has become a bad thing.
Fat is now in.
Calling someone a skinny twig is something you can get away with.
Calling someone a fat lump is something you can't.
A girl at school asked if I was anorexic once.
Asked where were my womanly bumps?
A boy at college snidely remarked,
I don’t fancy her. I’d snap her in half.
I realise I look quite thin,
But I like to run and ride and win.
Veg and fruit taste good to my tongue,
A sour of lime, a slice of melon.  
I’m a healthy weight,
But that doesn’t seem enough.
The feedback so far calls for change.
A little bit of weight gain?
Perhaps I should pile my plate high
With fat disguised as food, it coats my tongue in lard
It slips down my throat like eels.
Oil, grease, fat, plump, expand, grow, put on fat.
All this leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Is there a correct weight?
I’m striving for it.
Forcing nasty food down my gullet.
My hips expand with
pork pies, pastries, sausage rolls,
I put weight on by the bucket
:iconAngelJoyeuse:AngelJoyeuse
:iconangeljoyeuse:AngelJoyeuse 5 8

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:iconpyrosaniac:
Pyrosaniac Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for accepting the request, I'm looking forward to sharing my bits & thoughts
Reply
:iconanalillithbar:
analillithbar Featured By Owner Jun 19, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the inclusion of my work. Much appreciated. :iconflowerplz:
Reply
:iconelena17tapean:
Elena17Tapean Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2017  Professional Writer
Hello, poetry lovers! I am Elena, I am a poet and translator of the art magazine Contemporary Literary Horizon (link: contemporaryhorizon.blogspot.r…), and I am currently searching deviantart to find contributors for a new Hay(na)ku anthology. Mz. Eileen R. Tabios has asked me to find new poets that write in this new contemporary style. Beside me, the other poets need to contribute to the anthology with 20 poems each. The poems can be written in the main Hay(na)ku form or in other variations, such as the Haybun. 

You can find here the forms and variations: www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/… 

If some of you are interested, please comment bellow or send me a note. I will inform my editor and Mz. Tabios, and we will start from there our literary collaboration. Thank you.
Reply
:iconneo128:
Neo128 Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2017   General Artist
I'd just like to say that I like being a member of this group. :meow:
Reply
:iconfoxyesty:
foxyesty Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello! I just wanted to briefly tell you all about my new group :iconzing-creation: (Zing-Creation). Our group is all about bringing together art that is unique and has a bit of something extra to it. We accept most traditional and digital artwork, as well as literature. We also try our best to build a sense of community within our group and our affiliates. We would love to have you join us! :D
Reply
:icontalesfrommycell:
TalesFromMyCell Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
How is this a group with no admin ?
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:iconneo128:
Neo128 Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2015   General Artist
Thanks for accepting my membership request, and my 1st contribution. :meow:
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:iconchibichiree:
Chibichiree Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for adding all of (or most) of my poems to your page
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:iconhades-flower:
Hades-Flower Featured By Owner Jan 30, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hmmm. Both admins have deactivated accounts. Yet another zombie group? DA has become the zombie apocalypse for groups anymore. :no:
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:iconbeatrixsardonyx:
BeatrixSardonyx Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2014   General Artist
Thank you for accepting my request and my poem. :D
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