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Green Thumb or Bust

Green Thumb or Bust
    A yellow dandelion flies in the same way freshly poured concrete does not. A white dandelion is another story – they are like an abundant wish bone, or a wishing well condensed into the natural eye sore of any golf course. If everyone on the planet had a dandelion to wish on, there would not be many left. Chances are, dandelions would become quickly sacred to society. As rumours inevitably spread of their enriching and mystical powers, tapestries would be sewn, symbolising a single weed’s gracious powers akin to the gods themselves.
    In a world without dandelions, there is no dandelion tea, no dandelion jelly, and no Belgian beer – and a world without obscure novelty European beers is a world without civilisation itself. A world without dandelions is a world where the word ‘dandelion’ carries the same luxury connotation as saffron or d
:iconrose-em:Rose-Em 5 2
Symptom Seven Cult!
We've got! News, and
we've got space, take
a hard drive!
Or take what! I'd take,
Because Smooth Jazz'ez
be the com'pa'ie name.
Take a! disk drive.
Honey suckle company
treats! you! to one of
new graphics cards.
Computer programming
ain't all that! hard, with guts.
and with a internal
wet dream
For! that place in Bogota,
following the new regime
For! 100% satisfaction
It might! be a shame
if you needed to read
a doc! You meant you
signed “I Agree”? 
:iconrose-em:Rose-Em 2 1
Twenty-Five Cents For Love
I am the bubblegum queen.
Spreading the pink with
high self-esteem.
Take me as the bubblegum queen,
become one of us,
there is never a fee!
So seldom are some people comical.
Maybe they don't think it's probable.
To give a big smile,
To stay for a while,
Without thinking life's diabolical.

Please be my bubble gum king,
my bubblegum queen,
my bubblegum dream.
I don't ask more for a smile
As a bubble gum queen
the bubblegum dream. 
:iconrose-em:Rose-Em 31 27
American M-I-N-U-T-E-M-E-N
Wake up every morning
for the:
Everyday could be the day,
the gun is polished at the door,
we've got a minute before--
“The British are coming,
the British are coming!”
Take your marks.
Get ready:
Welcome to Massachusetts,
where the militia chooses
who and who to shoot.
The English have their evil,
feeding taxes,
drinking their upheaval.
It's a wonder why,
they come back spry
as we dump them
all in Boston.
Bang starts the revolution
clear around the world.
A start for North America:
the game for France's mania.
And finally 17,000 men take their—
And finally it all comes crashing—
:iconrose-em:Rose-Em 6 6
Hello, Hello Pennsylvania?
Hello, Hello Pennsylvania?
Take me off to Pennsylvania
some exotic Transylvania
Make me feel like the Tasmanian devil.
Take me up and taking down,
take your feet right up the ground.
We'll go up and upside in Pennsylvania.
I want us to make ruritania in
some exotic Transylvania.
Flip me up and upside down,
There's no reason to frown in Pennsylvania.
Take me for your bride—
with truth
Take me like you're my
Babe Ruth.
Take me off to the station
Alcohol has no relation
to how much I want to see the nation
Through blood relations, health complications,
I want to see the world's location!
Bad dictation, price inflation
I want to see it all!
Take me off to Pennsylvania
some exotic Transylvania
Please, before I explode with mania.
Take me off on a ride to Pennsylvania!
:iconrose-em:Rose-Em 4 14
My Spider Wears a Tinfoil Hat
     Murder is wrong. Murder is usually, most entirely and for the most part extremely bad when it comes down to it. Shockingly enough, people thought murder was so wrong that they made laws about it. You can't murder people is what they say and they say that you can't harm animals either. That doesn't stop one from killing alien species.
     The alien in question was tall, black and had eight legs. Eight long, entirely gross and disgusting legs that scurried away into dark corners with its equally—if not more-so—ugly eyes. Spiders sucked and that is really the point of it all.
     There are a lot of options on what one can do when they spot one of these alien creatures. Scream is always the first option whether one likes it or not. The louder and higher the scream depends on where one happens to find the spider. If it's on the floor about fifty or so feet away, a quick “ah” is sufficient. However, if you find the s
:iconrose-em:Rose-Em 160 68
Warm Laundry
     I'm stuck in a type of an experiment that involves an extraordinarily large laundry shoot. Claustrophobic as it may be, it's one of the most comfortable experiences I've ever had. With five foot thick walls surrounding me in a sort of dull grey arena, the addition of cozy sweaters and miss matching socks really brightens up the decor.
     Everyday, there are five pounds of laundry that is stacked up through a laundry shoot in the corner of the ceiling. At first, I let the laundry stack up a bit, until I decided it would be much more comfortable to sleep on an ugly sweater than concrete ground. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner, because all of the laundry was still warm after days of just sitting there and collecting dust.
     The flow kept coming and I suspected that there was another pound of laundry being added to the load. I'm always so snug and cozy though, so I don't really care all that much. I just really wish I had
:iconrose-em:Rose-Em 5 4


Over the Moon: Prose (Volume #14)

Sat Jul 28, 2018, 7:00 AM
Welcome to another volume of Over the Moon, a growing collection of literature and talented deviants! I encourage you to Added to my devWatch! and Favourite Star these pieces and authors and take a look through their galleries! 

Over the Moon: Prose (Volume #14)

The End of the World“The world did not end in a bang, or a whisper, but rather, one scream at a time.” Her icy blue eyes were staring at a point in the distance, she didn’t seem to notice I was there as she let herself slip into her thoughts. “I still remember when that happened.”
I sat on the edge of my seat, looking at her, waiting for what else was to come. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke…
“It was a regular Tuesday afternoon when the sky suddenly seemed to turn black and the sun disappeared behind all that darkness. I was playing on the see-saw with my little sister. We could hear mother’s calls in the distance, telling us to come home, and we did. We ran for our lives. We were out of breath when we arrived at home, where mother was standing on the porch, calling out for us. She seemed so relieved to see us, yet she had no idea what was about to come. She quickly ushered us into the house where father was waiting for us, sitting in his
New and Old - W1, D4    When I think about our nation and what I try to do to 'shape' it, I am struck by the different activities I chose between when I was quite young and what I do now. Now, I puzzle over ballots, and have a mail-in ballot to vote on. I sometimes take it to my polling place, to get the little sticker that says, "I Have Voted" and wear it on my lapel. But I usually mail it.
    This year, the ballot was long for a primary ballot. There were many people running for governor, many to choose between to put on the November ballot. I did my best. I also voted for school superintendents, treasurers and more. There were propositions to study. This year, voting took a long time. I looked at campaign material I'd saved from the mail. I don't have TV and don't do social media, so, besides reading straight-up news, I wasn't really informed about some of it. I informed myself with what I had; the official voters guide, ads, knowledge gleaned from the news. I felt good about it.
Walking (While Trans)Walking (While Trans)
The Doctor gave me that talk again
After talking about that depression thing
Exercise, better food and rest
I put myself together in boy mode
cuz that's where i am, not who I am
I want to be myself anyway
So I take short steps, arms loose but not flopping
Head up
and a gentle smile
I walk
I smile
I greet people
and smile
knowing who I am
I meet a gentle woman and she says a soft nearly sexy "hello"
and I come back with a gentle "hello"
I walk on
a guy with headphones says "Good Morning"
I reply a softer "hello"
It dawns on me, these people may not even know my pony is tied back
and as if being answered by Karma
a tall salt and pepper man passes me (I am walking at a woman's pace, you know?), and says "Good Morning"
and I reply too butch for my taste, "Good Morning"
I walk
it takes a moment, but my smile comes back
Four other people say nothing
and I am home
I reflect
on "a woman's pace"
the woman i'm talking about has two knee replacements
and I love her like

Yuukon , xlntwtch , atlantifique
Temperance in the ReversedAbigail Wash had seen the mafia push a beat-up Model T into the lake. And she had told the town about it for five days. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe her; it was that they didn’t know what she wanted them to do about it. She would insist on pulling the car from the lake and her daddy said he only needed a few good men to help with the wrenching. But no few good men wanted to know what the mafia didn’t want them to know.
Men cut from a less moral cloth told Abigail to keep silent. And after those five days, she fell silent on the topic of the car. Although for the next six years until her daddy lost the house she could be found gossiping with the other school girls or baby talking that mutt of hers, it would go down in local folk lore that the mafia cut out her tongue.
For five days the car was the topic of the town. After five days, they laid the topic to rest in a shallow grave. And it stayed there for the next ten years. Some government project was intere
Senses of ProportionI walk over dried worms, the day after rain, and wonder if their lives (defined by these last moments) were courageous or moronic. I wonder if I am the splinter or the lion—and who would be the splinter? Doesn't someone have to be?
I crawl on my hands and knees to find the river. Trees grow from its overflow. There has been too much rain this week. There has been too much rain this week. Where are the silver linings—the tree in front of me grows proudly as the water laps around its thighs. Ah, I muse, I think I understand the splinter.

Two trains come by. Two trains thunder through this railroad town, and they whisk the chocolate dirt. The earthquakes scare the geese. They blow by like dried leaves, and there, there is the sound of the river. Here [in the stillness] is the display of hope.
I cry in front of the river, longing to sing alongside chickadees—I do not know enough happy songs. I cough with the crows, instead: I do not know enough ha

stormsinmidsummer , Nullibicity , ikazon
Diary of a social workerLately, I have been asking myself the same question over and over, ‘Why do I still want to be a social worker?’
I have seen people suffer.
In schools, where children are meant to learn, grow, and have fun… I see children get badly bullied because of their disabilities. Some of these children should be in specialised schools where they can receive proper support and enjoy school… But no, they are stuck in normal classes where they lose interest in learning, day after day. There are kids who even beg to stay with me, wanting me to take them away from school because they dread it so much.
In homes, where children are supposed to be loved and cared for... there are some who are being raped by their relatives, while others are being beaten up and neglected by their parents. Meanwhile, there are also children who are taken away from their families and children with such low-self esteem that they end up having morbid thoughts. This really isn’t the sort of
Ingenuity“Prisoner 835-J, please step back from the door.” The voice through the cell’s small speaker was hollow and cracked with static.
Johannas stepped away from the door in compliance, hands clasped together behind his back. “Done, Sir.” He could hear the dry tick click clack of the wrong key being inserted into the lock and smiled. It must be Davis. He never got the key right until at least the fourth try. Soft spoken and intelligent, although a little absent minded, Davis wasn’t your typical guard. He treated the prisoners with courtesy knowing they were here through no real fault of their own. They had been following orders just like he was- just as all good soldiers do. Not like that dickhead Samuels who went out of his way to make your life uncomfortable- always flicking his fat fingers into your legs or ribs. He treated the prisoners as if they personally caused the war just to inconvenience him.
Johannas waited patiently as Davis tried the keys for
Slow MotionMorning-after hangovers are about as subtle as a sledgehammer. It turns out the god of booze isn't as merciful in the daylight as he is under club strobe lights.
Which is where I was last night, not drinking myself into a stupor.
The bouncer's a chick, which I guess is a feather in the cap of feminists everywhere, but I'm almost curious to see how she's going to deal with the guys in line behind us who look like they bench-press tanks in their spare time. She waves in the giggling college girls in front of us, sneaking a peek at them in their short skirts as they walk by.
Whatever. To each his own.
Someone famous said that—can't remember who.
She scans me and Lily up and down and steps closer to the red velvet rope, her fingers closing on the release hook before she remembers, "Gotta give me your car keys, guys. It's company policy—if you're plastered when you come back out, I'm calling y'all a cab."
Lily shrugs absently and I shake my head. "I'm not drinking toni

JustACapharnaum , Eremitik , Ashdancer

Happy Writing,

:iconcrliterature: :iconwriting-rampage: :iconglory-be-project:

Welcome to another volume of Over the Moon, a growing collection of literature and talented deviants! I encourage you to Added to my devWatch! and Favourite Star these pieces and authors and take a look through their galleries! 

Over the Moon: Exclusive Feature (Volume #13)


Champion of thoughtChampion of thought
Let loose these bonds which chain.
Free me from myself.
Allow my heart to reign.
-The Actor
A Cute Little PoemI have a cute little box
With cute little powers
From cute little seeds
Grow cute little flowers
With cute little raindrops
Falling on cute little towers
And cute little lovestorms
Spread cute little showers
That cute little darlings
Watch for cute little hours
-The Boy
Mind DanceMyriad golden tendrils of thought
Dancing merrily through conciousness
From actions coveted but not sought
Creating meaning in happiness
Lifted feet soar on dance floors of mind,
The heated Tango only for love
Any sweeter serenade one cannot find
Than souls dancing on Æther above
Twisting, turning, spinning all around
Sparks of stars falling have no compare
For such actions never touch the ground
Hearts flying, minds meeting in the air
Melding with another's vibrant soul
Having no eyes' sight touch the other
While knowing precisely one's own role
Which distance nor struggle may smother
Oh please take me from this mortal place
You can move me with your smiling face
-The Poet

MandelbrotA butterfly flaps its wings.
Lips touch softly in the night.
Ripples through time radiate.
Heartstrings breathe life into song.
Smallest action creates change.
Tender moments spark a flame.
Empires rise and they fall.
Heart drumming the march along.
Pivoting on a moment.
All started in an instant.
The innocent butterfly,
The most tender of kisses,
Unaware of what it wroght,
Passionate and wonderous,
Changes life for everyone.
Brings two hearts closer tonight.
-The Scholar
-The Lover
Forged in flame
Under pressure
From so dull a source
Are what we call
-The Scholar
The FeelingThe Feeling
Moonlit walks.
Summer rains.
Cleansing talks heal my pains.
Sleepy morning.
Brilliant night.
There is more beauty in my sight.
Hanging art.
Written script.
Nice truths, emotion dipped.
Tearstained faces.
Unchained mirth.
Searching for my own worth.
Gentle touch.
Tender grasp.
The strength that hands can clasp.
Windows down.
Music loud.
Lightning from distant cloud.
All the time.
Best expressed through my rhyme.
-The Lover

Choking clouds smothering my mind
Anger rising from the dark heart
Asking my body to respond in kind
But I wouldn't know where to start.
To explode with waves of rage,
As it courses through my veins.
To make the words fill a page
With all of my scarred pains.
Letting it free would be too much
To handle in any way.
My skin burns to the touch
Anger seething as it may.
I can't see what lies before,
Through the dark clouds in my head.
All I want is to have no more
Demons who follow where I tread.
-The Actor
Friend of mineI look up into your eyes
As a thousand times before
But this time perhaps, I think
I just felt a little more.
I think it not possible
A rogue hop from my cold heart.
Brush it off so it may pass.
What could give it such a start?
I let my eyes sweep the room
And linger upon your face.
I forget why I'm smiling
When I noticed your odd grace.
I see more than yesterday
In everything you may do.
Suddenly, your softest kiss
Would become my dream come true.
I don't recognize my thoughts
How you linger in my mind.
I can't hope to change my heart
But that you may feel in kind.
-The Lover
Inky nightInky night.
You are my salvation.
You turn the world down
And let me breathe.
But what use is breathing
What use of this heart still beating
If life and love and hope
Are all strewn about,
Laid down as if they don't matter?
I see my life now,
Laid out,
Ready to be started
And I pause.
I pause to think.
I pause to remember.
I pause to hope that it will never change.
That I may get a second chance
To right my faults
And recover what I lost.
It's all too much.
I'm set to burst.
So, just take this night,
This smothering darkness,
This void I cast myself in every night,
And just breathe.
-The Actor

Happy Writing,

:iconcrliterature: :iconwriting-rampage: :iconglory-be-project:

Over the Moon: Poetry (Volume #12)

Sat Jul 14, 2018, 7:00 AM
Welcome to another volume of Over the Moon, a growing collection of literature and talented deviants! I encourage you to Added to my devWatch! and Favourite Star these pieces and authors and take a look through their galleries! 

Over the Moon: Poetry (Volume #12)

Wishing Doesn't Make It SoI wish,
That this fist,
Wouldn't be clenched,
But hey,
I got fight,
These demons,
In my head,
And outside it too,
See if you,
Think they aren't real,
You been lied to,
I'm not about to do,
That to you,
The only time,
I feel I'm,
Safe from them,
Is when my eyes close,
Yeah I know,
My life's a show,
But I don't care,
About the money,
Or the fame,
I do this so,
People feel at home,
When they're far from it,
Wonder if you do,
Because I always knew,
I'd never go,
Back to,
See I don't deal,
With abuse well,
See I learned early,
To fight against,
That kind of thing,
And if she really knew me,
She would have let me,
Go for that walk,
Around the block,
I would have come back,
After I got,
A little bit clearer thoughts,
But she didn't care,
She wanted to have it out,
Then and There,
Which was a mistake,
If you weren't aware,
Because backing me into a corner,
Is a good way to start a fight,
Knew I made a mistake as soon,
As I pushed her,
Given my nature,
I'm glad I made it clear
  Poem - Union's LightUnion’s Light
I stand bent against the years
casting veils with feeble light
obscuring more than what's shown
as the gloom gathers round
more has gone that I can grasp
in the time that I have left
yet in this place I hope to share
insight I still grasp
a guttered candle to show the way
unlikely guide for those who stray
miscreants of the same stripe
as this taper of dying fire
I offer guidance few may grant
expect for those that travel same
on the paths dimly lit
by example I strive to give
nomads of the shadows
attracted to the wisp
conspiring with the night
to frolic in shadow’s rim
joining in my dance
with beacons of their own
no longer in the dark
we shine by union’s light.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180619.
  Hot Chocolate and a VampireA green monster
& a wasp, sat at
cafe, with a brain
to ponder,
filling the
street the smell of
hot chocolate
by the time the
white marshmallows floated
to the surface
of the cup,
the green monster
& the wasp
were gone,
with no brain
to ponder,
& there sat the
opposite a hot chocolate
drinker, with a mirror
behind the hot chocolate
cup holder,
with no waiter,
left, as the cafe
was near closing,
& this in near
dark next to near
& dear darkness,
the scent of hot chocolate
in the near & dear
darkness, in the
near dark of this
the Oct 31st, & End
of Halloween Night,
Hot Chocolate & a Vampire.

AndrewAllanFaulkner , greensh , BootShopStory
BesidesYou don t now how to recreate the show properly its not any old show you know it is The show .I have got to pick the actors etc .  :thumb750696392: Overrated GreatnessThe simple turn of rhyme and word;
a meander down a pavement - petty
To destination undetermined
the cadence coddles - pointless, empty
Peppy stepping out from nothing;
nowhere waits, an evermore
Stated in nauseating postulations
and cutesy, cloying metaphor
My child mind was left a'wantin'
in sing-song puzzled inquiry
The drafty drift of lofty nonsense...
The mess of depthless injury

ArtStarBright , TheDeathOfUs , ShadowsofLight777
Pocket PoetNote: This poem was based off another recent dream. Tribilation and Trumbulations/ing are made up words for this poem.  
Pocket Poet
In that REM filled twilight between sleep and awake
I saw Prince and DeBarge fighting on a late night talk show
when this Gothic carnival barker strode between them
as the talk show turned into a carnival.
Do you have trouble with:
Having tribulations with sonnets and iambic pentameter?
Have no fear, I have the solution to your worries.
The handy dandy, almost looks like candy
Pocket Poet!
With the Pocket Poet you'll soon be trumbulating with the best of them
It only cost you ninety nine, ninety nine
and any original creativity you may've had.
Order yours today!
  Trouble ChatsShe wasn't much of someone I would be near,
mostly that her kind weren't much doing it for me,
yet there was something about this woman,
that even in our most shortest chats,
it was something worth remembering,
never quite the same as before but different enough,
that it was flipping the car radio to find,
a new song every time with little trouble,
though there was still moments,
the world could only be ugly in sight,
and that drove us apart on how things would work out,
it was life just watching and slowly a bite,
out of our misery every step of the way,
to eat in just the most cruel of ways,
we were happy with what we had if anything,
after so much time left us behind,
I don't say that miss her as she would for me,
there wasn't much to miss,
it was a memory and we lived in the moment,
but moved on the just the same,
less of a romance and more of a slice of life,
yet just lazy enough,
that most couldn't see it as either,
just two people meeting and living,
and what we had was enough f
Find MeHard to comprehend, hard to defend
Even harder to share with a friend
These emotions I feel, can't understand myself
So I hide them away, tucked high on a shelf
But even from there, I still hear them cry
For me to come back, stop living a lie
These emotions and I, never far apart
Tied to a string that leads to my heart
So if you find them, if you hear their plea
Just follow the string and you will find me

ElenoreFangirl , AwkardOddOne , FeliRikku

Happy Writing,

:iconcrliterature: :iconwriting-rampage: :iconglory-be-project:

Journal History


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Emily Rose
Artist | Student | Literature
I write articles for the community! Come join me for features such as Over the Moon and On the Home Stretch! :love:

Check out the April 2018 Lit DD Roundup! And be sure to drop a note to any of your Lit CVs if you need help or have questions!

:iconbeccajs: :icondoughboycafe: :iconakrasiel: :iconsquanpie:


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sakpalamey Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2018  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the feature.
OneWithTheStars Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much for the watch; I appreciate it!  :)
SheDares Featured By Owner Jun 16, 2018  Professional General Artist
Thanks for the watch :heart:
BootShopStory Featured By Owner Jun 2, 2018   Artist
Veta-Fox Featured By Owner May 31, 2018  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for faving >u<
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