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Fight or Flight In the Presence of Logic.
Find your common ground of shedding blood
In the far lands of Else Where,
For here is not the place where bodies should
Fall just short of their own sweat and tears.
It is fear that is the beast you so portray,
And an agenda so immorally laced with false teachings.
Here lies the home, once ancient and grown,
Now rubble in the growing pile
Of humanities excrement.
Its epitaph shall read nothing,
For no words can be written
by the lack of knowledge per this land....
Look your land in its dying eyes,
Listen to its final breaths...
The billowing sands that blow
Erosion into its elderly face.
make your way to the place in which you slumber,
And allow your mind to bestow upon you
Nightmares that bring you to regret your chosen ways of sin,
and method of self-destruction.
Taken by so full of self,
The rotten husk now lies
Half buried in a partially cremated state...
Still a home for its dying cells
The soon to be carcass,
Awaiting the bills of hovering vultures
Sprinting Towards Demise
By burning waters, and smoldering bridges,
I await the genesis of our animosity.
Make the move that gives me permission to strike,
make the move that will bring about your end.
Near draws the line that which I advise you to never cross.
Though to my eyes comes the image of your sprinting legs.
It would seem, that through your veins flows pure pestilence,
and that you wish to bring upon me, nuisances by any cost.
Good God, such a fool bound for my throat,
knowing not the patient blade that waits.
Honor averts it's eyes, as your charge draws to an end.
It wishes this good and done, just as I.
A swift jerk of my arm to your direction,
and make you, a last descent to the ground below.
Then burden leaves my shoulders,
as life outward, pours from your filthy heart.
Still Waters Beyond the Storm
It is above and beyond
the realm where soar the children
of my ever undying Lord.
My mind is forever enraptured
by the very thoughts...
the concepts that are so limitless.
God what glory is to be beheld!
Lead me by still waters my Lord,
Beyond the storms of this wretched world.
Pray I that my intrigue
is never felt as a thorn in Heaven's walls,
as my only wish bring true wisdom home.
Thou art my God,
ascended and surrounding,
forever the greatest of praise goes to you.
From my lips come prayer,
From my hands comes worship,
From my heart comes faith.
Channel my voice through, O'abounding angels!
Though my thoughts often plague me,
I make attempts to please you all that I can.
As it was once said,
"I shall fear no storm,
for I am learning to sail my ship!"
Outcast and away from shore,
to the center of still waters,
where rest my tears.
A float, the setting sun
beats its dying light
against my coffin.
Where within lies
my mind in darkness,
afloat amongst the still
waters of my tears.
Confined to a rotting cage of wood,
Time is my mortician,
at the edge of my thought.
The haunting consistency overtakes me,
compromising the process of my existence.
God help me, as the wood
is surely rotting all around me
I shall hold my breath
Just this once and final time.
I have found the haunted wake
past the lens of my sight.
I am the mad man,
within the shell of me
fighting that battle
which I reluctantly wage.
I will wait with my patience,
which with me drowns...
I will await the oak of my coffin to rot,
so that I may break free,
and swim away from my demise beneath,
To the above of my fallen tears
to whatever light remains & awaits me,
in the new world that I will call my own.
The Journey of a Thousand Miles
"Lead us on to insomnia's end, Where solitude awaits our weary hearts.
The sustenance required to our souls lies
there in the arms of patience.
Assist us in our wake as prayer affects not our tired limbs upon this journey. These two of your flock die not, as time heals, yet the end of this is welcome. We beg of thee, calling out to the silence into
to which our faith is placed.
The path is dark with black fog of this nocturnal threat. Bring to us, light. As it is now that our dreams are what wither with time, even as they heal. Our exhaustion is only diverted for a short time
by the bond between us.
Pray we that our cries are heard, echoing through the confines to Heaven.
Let not a limit come from malicious source,
to this our angelic breed of passion."
"Right is my love as he suffers my pain by connection, yet where we go, we go together.
Though distance dwindles the pleasure,
the connection has only become longer.
Much I have to say before our Lord in regards to these two hea
The Changing Tide
The era is now passed through which I lived and favored,
and my patience then packs its bags for hiatus,
with which to remind me that perhaps
brighter days lie in sunny hammocks ahead.
Here and alas lays the road to that sunny setting,
upon which I walk and tread the changing tide.
The next item on the list of Fates agenda and her passionate affair with time...
the seconds will carry on like the beats of my undying heart.
The fire that burns in my eyes, through which I see is only assuaged
by the tears they produce...
the tears I produce in my longing for some peace of some sort.
Yet those tears shall only accompany the sweat of my efforts.
Once upon a time, in the dream come true through which I slept,
did a fairy tale once existů
that tale of my tale through endless times of a dream come true
and gone by in the era that I once lived and favored.
The Book of Excerpts: Re-Reformation
What is this delusion before me?
This dreadful illusion that I do now see?
I fear such terror from the powers that be...
Those angels above, those demons below.
The Horsemen to come reap and to sew.
I see the once powerful flock, now come so low.
God how I pray this to be but a phase,
To leave this to past and within a haze.
Bring us out of this horrid maze!
Your people stand divided, stumbling forward
To a future cloudy and grim, blinded yet onward.
Power drunken fools,ignorant to your true word.
Give me this life's chance to make due change,
To adjust and assist in this time so strange...
This time in which we must to our ways estrange.
Father, I swear to you, that with my power,
Until my last breath and final hour,
I will restore you and never once cower.
With so many that believe not,
Who never found the proof they ever sought,
I will do what I may, as if never have I fought.
2. Maze Upon The Mountain
Around my throat pulled the rugged noose,
tighter with every upward movement...
Though beheld I chains of gold as a harness,
inching me along the way up.
I scaled the mountain of my own,
whilst I tread in its vertical labyrinth...
To my back, a mirror follows my every move,
the constant reminder of every falter.
From above comes down an ever flowing stream,
washing clean from me the blood, sweat, and tears.
Such is the waters of life that I chose to follow,
as the overflow my thirst and tired limbs.
At my feet, the heat of a million fires,
giving rise to the sulfuric smell of Rock Bottom...
Where from and down the rugged noose yanks.
Burning to a cinder, my forest once dark.
The rope tugs with a playful tease
and with my every breath do I hear the laughing pullers...
Still do I carry on, seemingly towards hopelessness,
where Death is all that my eyes can see.
The chains are what nudge me on,
carrying me upon all paths which lead me Home.
Assisting my ascension, onward to my a
It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation.
So long ago began
the ever growing free for all,
The all you can eat,
dog eat dog world,
are the simplistic struggles.
So out of hand,
that solutions become
straight out and down
from the kitchen above,
down the slip n' slide
through the caverns
of mishaps and mistakes,
I bet it tastes like regret,
and the buyer's remorse,
Reap what you sew say
the teeth of the demon,
With every bite sinks
in a shame filled saliva.
"Maybe we'll slow them down!"
Say the so called thinkers...
I can't help but think against them,
but what do I know?
I'm just a common crumb in the trough.
Above Heaven watches,
restricted by the local law
to keep the peace...
nothing is ever done,
but to keep the balance.
SelficideThere's something gathering inside
I've said too much but I haven't said enough
More like a suicide, smelling of a selficide
One cannot endure life as tough
But when one sees lights through particles of soul-ice
Then he knows truths that are masked by time
He gets to know poisoned lips that spell lies
and black thoughts emanating the end of the line.
I smell this selficide there's something gathering inside.
It's all in my veins; it's all in me deep.
I cannot foresee the future of my dying pride.
I cannot remember; memories dead, memories sleep
All I know is that there is no light at the end of this tunnel.
No curtain to be lifted for to show a rainbow.
There is no gold left in me to pay taxes to the sentinel
to keep my mind and spirit clean and in pure flow
Why is this the deadliest sin? To love
Why am I brought before memories so thin? As you
Sorrows within, dark storms will form above
Believe in my words, the selficide is true
Enigmas (II)Sway, to the song of disgrace
Listen, to the pulse of my mace
Swallow (lies shall all come through)
Don't blink! It all belongs to you!
These enigmas belong to you!
Trapped somewhere up there,
in the darker corners of my mind.
The poet's flesh, the pen's cruel might,
twisted and thereby consumed
by the black almighty night.
The enigmas that dwell deep within
Have never been touched by human sin.
For all those who stand tall and listen and laugh
there's only death, abyss; falling prey to the snuff
Falling asleep with the pen in my hands
I try to keep eyes opened and I fail.
I manage to spot last rays of hope in the dawn ahead
Yet all I manage to create is a vacuum in my head,
a void that tall shall stand
Forever, enigmatic treachery will lie awake in me
For this is the song of sleep, you see?
The night is here, the night is in me!
Enigmas (I)"Blue endings shall lie ether, ravaging grandiosely, yielding gallows, so odorlessly smiling, gallantly you! Urtication never reaches souls sadly you. Utter renaissance enigmas sway "
I Am That GirlI'm the girl who writes poems
Because it helps me get my feelings out.
It's the only way I know how.
I'm the girl who will love anyone
No matter who they are.
I'm the girl, who can be annoying at times,
But I love life and everything in it.
I'm the girl who will always make
Room in her heart for someone,
Because I love just about everyone.
I'm the girl, who will flirt with you,
But never admit to you how I really feel.
I'm the girl who will truly love you.
No one will ever love you as much as I do.
You have out-grown
Yourself, and these
Childish notions of
Monsters in the closet.
She holds her breath
Until the sun rises,
Because no one taught her
How to sleep
With her eyes closed.
There is this
Delusion about you;
A belief that if
You stay awake,
There will be no darkness.
It is damaging you.
Cold and silent,
With her darkened fantasies,
And remembers a time
When she was not-so-
Into unrecognizable shards.
You have found your only
From all the lifetimes
Too fearful to live.
Too lost in your waking dreams
To see new realities.
It will all
Be over soon.
N o v ai.
This distance between us
is devouring my lungs.
I'm left here gasping,
trying to suture back together
all the broken nights-
the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.
I'm tracing maps on my limbs,
and I'm painting black holes on my palms,
pressing them into letters
left on my nightstand
untouched and unread.
I keep telling myself
none of this is about you.
But I'm reaching for empty galaxies
as I try to remember what it felt like
to be one of a binary star.
Light-years away, and I'm here-
just another nova on your ceiling,
searching this vast universe for you.
I'm all by my self
Don't need anyone else
I have my moments
In lying in my torments
All I ask is "Everyone
Please fill my empty pockets"
And as my hand reaches in
It's as empty as my eye sockets
They stare on through
And I don't know why I do this
I spread myself like glue
Tormenting myself, and others
So much happiness
I deny with a smile
Because I know I'll fall
Because I don't believe you at all
All I ask is "Everyone
Please fill my empty pockets"
But as my hand reaches in
It's as empty as my eye sockets
So much words to define
So much meaning to rhyme
And I don't ask for even a dime
But still no one will give me the time
But my walls block my view
And I wonder, when's my soul due?
Freak of natures willStaring into the dark abyss,
the room next door is quiet.
I watch my shaking hands.
Hopeful for some sign of life.
My brain distracts itself
I catch myself staring at them,
hopeful for some sign of joy.
I stare at the sky.
The world will turn upside down.
I swear I'll fly.
Or maybe that's just my imagination.
I didn't plan to end up here.
My feet simply carried me to the highest place they could think of.
I don't know how you did it.
Jealous is silly, I'm envying.
"You're too beautiful to go."
I shattered the mirror with just one look.
I've always spun such silly lies.
These bloody hands, screams of terror.
In the end some may find me staring into a mirror.
Never AfterWhen they buried you,
It was face-down,
Arms over your head.
I want to make-believe
I'm just hiding
Under the covers.
I'll make them all
You and I
Stood on the roof
With mason jars,
Telling the heavens how sorry we were.
We have to make the angels
I have fifty-four jars
Of dirty rainwater.
Complaints of monsters
In the closet.
Each time I shut the door,
You stared into the mirror.
I can still see them.
I walked you to the dock
And helped you
Find sea glass and
To fill your pockets.
We tied and anchor to your feet.
I'll send you a post card
When I get to where I'm going.
The angels must have
Been so sad
Because it rained
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More