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Yellow MaskBroken in the vents of ageless phosphour,
cast adrift with the gold of ages; always.
There it lies, and there it remains,
And there it has always been,
This horrid yellow mask.
This horrible pallid monstrosity!
It calls to me, you see. Day and Night.
A vibrant horn erupts from the sea,
and sounds to call me away forever,
to the murky depths of the Aegean.
And if I walk to it, to see the source,
the sound stops, as if to mock me.
But the crabs and the cockles,
and the cowries in the sands,
they are the worst of actors.
This silence, save for the piping,
of the wind, and of the gulls,
cannot make me forget the blasphemy
that was the sounding horn.
Sounding in notes unheard before,
and unimaginably awful.
And that yellow mask,
broken in the vents of ageless phosphour,
and cast adrift with the gold of ages;
Barrelstow and DalstonFriday Morning. It was the month called May, and I'd never enjoyed the Sun as much as I did then, sitting on my veranda. My sister had just been born; Silvia, in all her glory. She's since grown, but I can remember how she looked that day as if nothing had changed. Mother was shivering, I remember. I was only eight at the time, but I was aware, and I asked her if she was alright. She said she had had the same shivering after I was born, and that, then, it had gone away after a week or two, and it would probably do the same this time. I smiled. A bee flew by me and attached itself to a coneflower maybe six feet away. I watched it take up the pollen and fly away again, newly burdened. Mother called to me to tell me I'd be late if I didn't get going.
I grabbed my book, pencil, and coat and started walking. I lived about three miles from the Schultz-Herod Memorial School in Dalston. It was named for two war heroes, they told us. Peter Schultz was th
The Cotton Tree I do not expect you to believe me— I can scarcely condone even myself believing; but if this is untruth, it stems from my own ignorance; for I believe it wholly. And how should I not? I shall explain my account of the story as I remember it—
This day we had been sent to buy bread from a baker who makes his home in a nearby town; we had made short work of the trip and had, at length, decided it far more interesting to stray from the familiar path on the walk home. On a length of trail where we would normally take the left of the fork, we instead took the right, and so became separate from any previous knowledge of the area that we may have had; and, realizing that we had no reason to stay on a trail that meant so little to us, we quickly walked an hundred meters perpendicular to the trail, and began to navigate by intuition through the noon-time forest.
After an hour, which would normall
The Modern PrometheusTo my frozen jaw, his hands reached,
they molded from clay that which has killed me,
But it is too cold for blood to run,
and for what purpose would it?
And to what end, and by what means?
For that which he does not mold
cannot take form-
He is the creator,
and his hands the carpenter's compass.
And as I lie before him now,
like a stone sculpture from the Tripoli of old,
I cannot help but elate in the life he has given,
he and his mistress whom we call the mind.
For had he not come to me this day,
(or I, come to him)
Then I shan't have discovered
this so fleeting thing called life-
in any form, save for that shaded box
in which one sits before creation.
WinterHer heart spills the freshest of evening blood,
warming her hands in the winter air-
but her finger-nails have long fallen to the cold.
Her limbs have grown pallor-
She now blends with the snow-
save for the red upon her hands,
staining the landscape with a pinprick of the deepest ruby.
And a swan swooped down anon, as if to mourn
for the death of such a beautiful thing-
and it leaned to her cheek, and so showed its respect,
and left- being sure to leave enough time for the crows,
for they do so love to watch the other spirits arrive.
OceanaThe captain threw his haughty voice through the night sky,
as the crow's nest began to topple down,
and a cry was heard from the ocean-
a sudden, explosive cry- as from a child in despair.
The cry grew louder- more devilish.
It became something entirely new-
something of a shriek- a cacodaemonic shroud of sound.
It coated the air, and every surface there-in,
it burst the ears of sailors and cooks,
and left them stunned to drown
as the ships planks gave way
to that horrid sound.
And as the hull found it proper,
it collapsed upon the crew
who had forgotten their loves,
their lives, and their mothers-
and a crack was heard
by the ocean-
such a fair maiden, she is.
And as the last cry was wont to fade,
her hand shot up
to grasp it by its heart
and pull it back
to it's salt-kept grave
just naughts below the captain's feet.
A Sudden War"I'm…Afraid."
Drops hit her head.
Lightning crashed as beckoned wails from wounded dogs.
Her face grew paler than it had in years,
since her last fit-
and she yelled to the sky
as freezing drops blanketed her nightgown,
yelling in their own right,
to show her that
she is once, and for all,
In Praise of MorningWith the rise of the golden sun,
the leaves come to life.
They shimmer and billow in the breeze,
and make the sounds which only insects hear.
The birds shake the dew from their wings;
And the Rabbit, in his pomposity, just sits,
taking in the Morning.
O requiem! the Night has gone;
"And it may never return," said the Rabbit.
But the trees did not wish this.
Nor did the birds, who find refreshing
the morning dew, and sunless rest.
But the Rabbit insisted:
"I have never seen the sun so bright,
and it is clear it shall never dim again!"
The birds prayed for Night once more,
to their nameless Gods, with faces bizarre.
And the Leaves and trees called to the Sun
himself, to let the Night Return.
But the Sun answers not.
Nor do the Bird-Gods with Armoured wings
and satin coats upon their backs.
"How is it," twitched the Rabbit,
"that you all so wish for the cold Night?
What has the night done but made you lonely?
Made you cold and scared?
And stolen away your closest company
until the Morning
The Lover's Feud with TuesdayBut with Friday,
in all of its precipitous glory,
so far away-
and without feelings;
how can one find it amorous?
How can one,
who is so much a cynic,
consider it anything
but the cruelest of all,
leaving you with but a taste
of this week's end,
with which so much joy is placed?
-But the lovers claim it theirs,
and so look forward
to its endless day,
and endless night,
that even the most neutral of days,
seem as a sadist to their love.
Divinity Of A Heart BreakSpring has come, the snow has melt it,
And, alas, my heart just felt it,
What is keeping me sane?
I would have told you, but I cannot explain.
Every time I see her pass by,
I feel like I would lose my mind,
But the God above is too kind,
But why does he not let the love die…
It is not meant to be for a reason,
Going against His Law is treason,
But why should I even comply,
If I know I love her, I won’t even lie…
I pray for peace or love for me,
Oh, My Lord, why are you ignoring me?
Why my wish is is not what has to be?
I love her so much, but why aren’t you blessing me?
As time goes by we are closer to the end,
Why won’t she see the messages that I send?
Maybe that is how it should be,
Maybe she was never meant for me...
Do I Want to be With You?I wish to take your hand,
but you are only just a friend.
I want to hold you and call you mine,
but I don't want this friendship to end.
My heart tells me to say you're mine,
but my mind says that's not wise.
Yet, how can I not be with you
when all I see is beauty in your eyes.
PretendingGive me half your love today,
and the other half tomorrow.
As long as we can spread
this out a little while longer.
If silence is my vice,
then agonys my virtue.
We're good at playing make-up,
but I know that I've still hurt you.
I'm sorry for our sunshine
that leaked in through the rain.
I'm sorry for not understanding
why you couldn't stay.
I'm sorry for your lies
that were disguised as love-yous.
But mostly I'm sorry I still believe you,
and that I can't hold it above you.
3 PalabrasEsta mañana me han pedido
Que te describa en tres palabras.
¿Tres palabras? –me dije.
Eso es simplemente imposible.
¿Y por qué es imposible? –preguntaron.
Porque no podría así mencionar…
El sabor de tus labios, el calor de tu piel.
Tampoco el fulgor de tu mirada
O el poder de tu querer.
Esta mañana me han pedido
Que te describa en tres palabras.
Y yo nada más he respondido
Que tres palabras no me alcanzan.
Me han tachado de loco enamorado
Y tal vez tengan razón.
Pero mientras eso no me impida amarte
Poco y nada me importan tales palabras ignorantes.
Es que ellos no comprenden
No te han visto, no te sienten.
Y por eso solo quieren
Palabras de significado carentes.
Esta mañana me han pedido
Que te describa en tres palabras.
Y seis salieron de mi boca:
Las tres palabras no me alcanzan.
Pero ante sus rostros contraídos
Me decidí por agregar una co
4/17I wish I could
Hold out my hands and
Present to you
And tuck into your pockets
My lonely mechanical heart
Because you know
I wish I could feel love
So that way
You won't have to love
A cold machine.
When we got separated, I was alone without you and Riku, It been a year I haven't been seeing you two. It felt a very long time, I been forgot about you and even your name, I was very shame of myself....but, I have never forget that promise that we made. Someday, I will find you no matter what. Even if you're change. You still have light in you.... including me. I Always Be With You, By Your Side....
LOST AND FOUNDAs i continue my path
Believing in all the Quantum and math
The ghost who lives in the bath
and those spirits and quacks
I believe in my stars
From point one to mars
From first glance at an instance
A smile is formed in my heart
I saw a sign Lost and found
I took you at hand
So elated i danced
Celebrate with grand
After a while i was stunned
Co'z you're nowhere to be found
Guess the sign was turned back around
maybe it was found and lost not the other way around.
The Reliable FoeMy insides are twisted like a coiled up snake
that is writhing and thriving for a love it can't shake.
It is slithering in my stomach and honing in on my heart.
Soon it will have invested every one of my parts.
Its venom has infiltrated the marrow of my bones,
its gushing from my pores, from my cells,
and from my soul.
My body is a masochist; it feeds the hand that bites.
The tender butterflies, for the snake,
do not suffice.
It is bitter. It is selfish. It wants all, and it wants flesh.
Why would it ever pick an easy prey?
Oh no, the snake has an insatiable desire for
that which brings dismay.
And after all these years, my body has welcomed the snake
and adopted its fears.
It has crafted a cozy nest for it in the recesses of my core,
that the snake diligently burrows into every night,
such as it has sworn.
There is a welcome basket, wallpaper and all,
and on a grand pedestal, perched up proud and tall,
There is a picture of your toothy grin,
And the little freckle on your cheek,
Lepsze jutroRozpłynęło się wszystko, mili panowie
Jak puste słowa, jak oddech na mrozie,
To wszystko za nami, niech nie wraca więcej,
Bo któż by chciał, znów brudzić sobie ręce?
I tak jak za oknami śnieżyca kołacze,
Jesteśmy silni i nikt tu nie płacze,
Do przodu dalej, bez postoju brniemy,
Choć na ustach gości nam wyraz niemy,
Nie załamywać rąk, choć życie nas wyniszcza,
Gdyby tak się poddać? Zostałyby z nas zgliszcza,
Więc podnieść się, ja rękę Ci podaję,
Rozmawiaj więcej, ja też czasem zagaję,
By przy Tobie ludzie stali murem rzecz istotna,
Każdy jeden, choć większość ludzi jest ulotna,
Niech zapomnienia całun zakryje złe myśli,
Dobra książka, film i niechaj coś dobrego się przyśni.
To a DreamOh, love of mine, what brilliant seed hast thou planted?
That, in your place, such brilliant flowers have been wont to grow.
And vines of brightest green, that make grass seem cant, hid
your livid heart, and it's accompanied breast, so the world shall never know
of its honest beauty, and vital voice amid
this summer full of trivial things, that, in view, you'd always seem aglow.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More