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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.
TnM Casada a la fuerzaMe levante como todas las mañanas mi madre gritaba desde la cocina que se me haría tarde para ir al club
Isabela: Marie levántate que se te hace tarde y no podrás desayunar- volvió a gritar
Marie: en un momento bajo- grite desde el baño
Bueno déjenme presentarme soy Marie Elizabeth Flynn Gracia-Shapiro, mi padre es uno de los grandes inventores, mientras que mi madre se encarga de la casa y de mi educación que termino hace aproximadamente dos año desde ese tiempo mi madre me hace ser voluntaria en el club, ya que ella dice que haci puedo socializar un poco más ya que no se me da muy bien lo de hacer amigos mis únicos amigos son Jazz y Xavier ellos fueron mis amigos desde hace años aunque claro también Fred fue mi hermano pero bueno no tengo que pensar en eso ahorita.
Baje como todos los días a desayunar junto con mis padres, mi mama se encontraba en la cocina terminando de preparar el desayuno, mientras que mi padre
On my OwnIt gets a little lonely
Having no one to talk to
No one close to me
I miss you
Have I ever told you
How much you mean to me?
I wouldn’t know what to do
If you weren’t here to guide me
Born to everyone’s glee
That day, it was just lyrical
Of course, I wasn’t around to see
But I won’t deny it was a miracle
Unspoiled, innocent, and kind
Thoughtful, loving and faithful
Someone like you is so hard to find
Yes my dear, you are an angel
No one else has that charm
That glow in your eyes, that spirit,
That voice, which sets me off in alarm
Every time I hear it.
Those men who threw you away
Lost their one chance to be lucky
They’ll regret it someday
You’re sweeter than honey
And so I hope to see you again
When our skies are clear
With patience, I’ll wait ‘till then
Just know, I’ll always hold you dear.
Come to me, sweet everlasting love, come to me. I've been lusting your appearance, I've been wanting your presence and adoring your existence. Oh sweet love, fair as a flower would ever be, delicate as silk, sweet like jasmine, gorgeous like the dawn of the day. You rise with such grace it makes my heart lose it's pace. Oh sweet love, like Shakespeare had once said 'With any other name, just as sweet'. Oh sweet crazed love, won't you come to me? Won't you please me? Have I not adored you enough? Have I not worshiped the ground you walk on enough? Do I need to kneel on my knees for you to see how much I love thee?. Sweet, sweet mad love, and even so, that you have left ,we are still not very far away. Our existences tangled in the mess that is the creation so called 'time'. We are one, my love, but I ache for more. I desire you and only you, and if death would be the judge of our love then the trial as fallen, for I have fallen. Fell the ground and hit the doorway. Meet me at the entran
I don't need your love. (Poem)I don't need your love.
I should have been lethally heartbroken,
I should have killed my love for you
I should have slowly died.
I choose to love you even more!
I don't need your passionated love.
I don't need your kind words
I don't your affection
I don't need your love!
Don't I need your loving and caring kisses?
Don't I need to feel us as one?
Don't I need your fondness?
No, not at all..
'cause I'm feeling alive!
Your smile takes my breath away with a warm sensation.
Your company makes me feel so buoyantly
Your eyes electrifies me
most of all..
You are my life-essence.
If only I can make you laugh and smile even more.
If only I can be a friend of yours
If only I can see your being
never be needing anyone else.
BerechnendWenn ich einen
Strich ziehe, wenn
ich uns subtrahiere,
zähle, kalkuliere sind
wir doch keine
Es ist als
Und doch gehöre
ich zu dir wie
das x zum
y und hoffe
sind und unsere
Fibers In TowLittle deliveries and Pacific promises,
These are the bolts and the buttons that hold our desperate communion together.
Each thought earnestly sown and honestly shown as best as could be.
An exchange of ties and hitches just to string a future together.
The tethers are snapped and sniped, and grabbed to be re-stitched; as quick as we can before the distance sets in.
I never thought an ocean could sink into me.
That the miles pass easier by the eye than the mind.
But with each careful knot and weave and wonder.
It is only the earth that still falls under.
Under the soles and soul of my feet,
As I go back to the mountain across that sea.
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.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More