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I Can Make You Cry
My heart sank at the sound of the first shot,
Falling deep into black of this abysmal state of mind.
My thoughts rushed in a panic,
Knowing only anarchy the beat of my heart.
I collapsed in a stairwell,
falling upon jagged right angles.
Weeping out of my pointless efforts,
Broken down along the road to saving her.
Shouts came like the voices of ghosts from the 13th floor,
Echoing through a haunting resonation.
Silence became a blanket over my shoulders,
The ghosts and my weeping became mute.
I was to be alone there on,
With her as but a memory,
A dream to bring me smiles,
A nightmare to make me reminisce.
I feared for the future of our child,
Wondering of the consequences,
Feeling little but a bitter hope,
And a cold air over me.
My limbs grew close to lifelessness,
And my shock kept me all but enticed.
My heart, struggling in its climb back to my chest,
Plummeted a final time, at the second shot.
“I can make you hurt,” said Fate,
“I can make you cry.”
I ran, cl
Hear them, those voices in mind.
Heed them, those ideas they speak
I have felt the hands of those voices, in the wake of my choices.
I have heard them laughing at me in my shambled mind.
Those voices are not mine,
Nor were they ever...
I was not born with them,
But they came to me in weakness.
Attracted to the scent of my flawed being,
the aura of my imperfection.
The voices of, my rotten conscious,
Overtaken by shame and regret.
I have heard them screaming
at me in my shackled mind...
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 exist…
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 Grand Finale
The hour at hand at when the bell tolls,
The cry of a land digging countless holes.
Nothing short of going through the motions.
A long shot in the pointless devotions.
God forbid that something goes well,
To seek some light in this blackened Hell
Watch and witness the lack of vigilance,
Begin to weep at impact of first glance.
The double take does you little good,
Yet nothing yet seems to be understood.
The hour at hand at when the bell tolls,
The cry of a land digging countless holes.
A coffin arrives, sealed over with rusted nails,
Awaiting that final one when all else fails.
3. Clothed in Ascension
Down upon my knees,
a murky puddle,
stared as a reflection,
with familiar eyes,
looking beyond the back of my shoulders,
at stormy skies and shuffling wings.
the description unneeded, desired still...
my thoughts raced through the crowds of beasts,
growling at the very pulse that made me such a nuisance.
This place is where expectations wither and die...
where anticipation is born and grows in the arms of rhapsody.
The tests are simply are a part of what I now look forward to.
Thus far I have survived, that I may push on,
upon the degraded and bloodstained Gaia,
now given vision, as blessing or curse, to this war.
My eyes are the ones that see you as you see me!
Yet my own is my own, tested by such a timelessness...
Look to the skies, says my only Faith.
Were you all so blindfolded by mirrors,
only to see yourselves? Rotting to husks?
Falling to fire, to fight as shadows amongst us?
So blinded by light, that darkness is all you know?
Mocked by heathens, feared by believers?!
The Subconscious Strive
Challenge this opposition before you,
as the very Kingdom of Heaven is at your back.
What know you of the sight of victory,
should you not even attempt to seek it out?
Pull your head out and swallow the sand.
kick up the dust beneath the liquid layer,
swim against the tide, ascend and ride the wind,
Journey only forward, beyond the grasp of defeat.
Take us beyond the firefight,
to the brittle outskirts,
upon the horizon,
where lies our origin.
Within memory is our future,
where made easy
is the heavier weight of the burden.
Plant the seeds for the new battlefield.
Make it our own, by conquer, by incline.
Push forward through the storm,
the floods that make the seed grow,
as there is no progression without conflict.
The Mask Of Arrogance
Making your silly world up as you go along
Keep on in this trek on the chosen path,
And increase my hopes of your self-defeat.
Let the pressure of my truth
crush you beneath its weight.
The Devil's indignation is strong
in the midst of one such as your name.
Please and never believe yourself
a contribution to the future's good
When yours is an age old sort of pestilence
To which my efforts contribute to killing
I envision what truth lies rotted behind your pitiful mask
That image is ever burned in my mind,
like the bridges between us.
What method of humility do you prefer,
Of such a decimation to the mind of a fool.
So desolate of proper thought,
that wind blows from ear to ear.
Wind in a cold void that remains
to be seen through cloudy eyes,
Blind to the mirror's reflection.
You deserve absolutely nothing from this existence
Therefore you shall receive it.
Alone in your Little World
Fool should be my bestowed name in my bitter wake,
where I curse fate in the rhetoric of my tangents from hope.
The mark of a prolonged lie can only heal so well in time,
by in its revelation, being submerged and drowned in truth.
The prayer to the choice of my therapy is to be content
with what is received and thankful for the same, regardless.
Yet whilst alone, waiting in a withering land of chaotic mentality,
from the dawn of my time to its lonesome dusk and eve.
The fool who is I, imprisoned within self...the last man upon my little and crumbling world...
hears but three knocks at the gates that keep me.
The prayer never said aloud, now is answered by three sounds of fate
to call to my normally hallucinating ears, at a midway of my life's journey.
A little girl hummed once more beneath the ears of her guide...a mixture of emotion swayed through her spirit as she was led away and picking flowers...a glance to the back of her shoulder where once she'd heard faint whispers...and she found with her faded eyes, the rope that swung a lifeless and familiar body in the wind.
The wind carried back to her hands, and the small hairs that stood at the attention of her chills tugged away at her grip upon the flowers...the severed plants retook a disoriented place at the earths surface, and her eyes overflowed with reality. Youth meant not that she was blind to revelation...and the guide took heart to this, placing an age old hand down on her ethereal shoulder. Her weeping began, just before her feet made an attempt at running towards the gallows. Her screams flew past deaf ears, through the limbo of our realm. Only she and the guide could hear those pathetic little screams that echoed past those of the crowd surrounding the stage of the gall
The Ravens of ValhallaO’er desolate shores wept the fate of immortal flames
And into a Winter sun I bleed my dreams,
as a thousand years of love & war dressed the sky
Long-ships sailed to the otherworld upon Odin’s breath
Betwixt night and day I wandered, shimmering, peering
— Till my chalice of Dragons blood flowed but no more
I became a warrior lost in the stars, drifting, ever falling,
Until the shadows entombed my soul in Raven-lore
Lo the tempest eerie; ‘magick entwining spirit and flesh
Upon snow I awoke dreary, beneath winged-silhouettes
‘Couldst be, my Princess adored; — last of the Valkyrie!
I recall — myriad of black feathers in leisured-dance,
And our love soared ravenous unto darkness befallen
From the frosts of creation I wrought gloom and desire,
Bore the tongue of fevered winds thru oceans of time
Here thy whispers feasting, I linger, clad in mists of fire
O’ we have lived, in the arms of shadow and vapors
We have sung, in fields of night
To That One GirlChin up kid, stop and put down your razors and lighters.
The relief is only temporary
By tomorrow the feeling will be quite the contrary.
You could cut all night long if you want,
But people will call you weak for that stunt.
Baby, you need to focus again,
All this feeling should come to an end.
Chin up kid, your heart is filled with too much hate.
Your anxiety and depression is just too much,
Now, you even tremble at anyone's touch.
You'll die young if you continue like this,
So, please don't. There's too much to miss.
Slicing and dicing yourself up won't do
A damn good thing for you.
Chin up kid, don't give up just yet,
All these images in your head
Have me worried, will you be dead?
Honey, it's really not worth it.
So, for now let's just talk and sit.
I'm sorry but life's painful bite
Won't end until your very last night.
Oh, chin up kid, take up your dreams.
Remember to be yourself,
Take that as a lesson and put it on your shelf.
I know you're insecure now,
But baby, don't end that
Messsage in a bottleSometimes people cry out for help,
I think we all have witnessed it,
We watch them break,
We watch their tears,
And we see something in their eyes,
The last piece of hope,
The hope that as well could be a message in a bottle.
Who will ever know if someone noticed that tiny little bottle in the ocean,
Or if they did,
Did they pick it up?
I have seen a lot of bottles in my time,
And most of the time I pick them up,
But I notice quite a few times I don´t,
It is like they become invisible,
Even if they scream loudly right in front of you,
I think something is wrong,
Why do we leave the bottle in the ocean?
I clearly can see they need help,
And I see it,
I really do,
How can you pretend not to?
blurThis weekend went by in a blur
And here I am again
Stuck here as if I never left
Not sure how or why
But I have been at this awful place before
Labeled animosity for some time now
You have taken me to this place before
And I’m not sure what I can do
To avoid being trapped here much longer
So I did what I thought I could never do
And that’s give up all hopes
That we could ever be anything
And to curse you so you would think
You’re nothing to me
Now I just have to live with my decision
And act as if I’m alright
When secretly every time
I hear you laugh I’m dying inside
So kill me as you have done
So many times before
For it won’t be too long
Before any fond memories
Are left and then I’ll be
In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyes
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…
Poisoned LullabiesCradle me with bloody hands and wipe away my cries
Hush me into my sweet sleep with poisoned lullabies…
The Mysteries Of ShakespeareSo this is what it feels like to die,
one heart beat an hour & a million breaths a second.
Hypothermic kisses on the summer solstice, but having
solar elliptical hallucinations makes me surrender my
five senses on winter's bones.
The queen has implanted snow white's heart behind my
arctic ribs, because i could never believe in true love's
kiss - until i met you.
I called you Romeo as my negative 5 degrees lips grazed
I had became your Juliet by the 'Black Arts' death.
Our suicidal secrets could unravel the history of love conquering all.
but - - they don't deserve breathing one's last through Shakespeare's eyes.
Bare sweptBare swept
Why do all words fail me
everytime I get the chance to speak with you?
My fear to make everything wrong
makes my heart weigh tons
and places it on my tongue.
While my wit and intelligence choke on it,
I feel so stupid.
I've always been shy and quiet
but you make me silent.
In my bare swept mind
too many thoughts overturn.
How can I ever tell you
that I love you?
the light, the light and stoicismone ounce
pure fed genuine
held between two fingers
she is moved by fumes
the poet withdraws
is the unanswer
of syllabic hasted inspiration
she insists to remain addicted
her pen flows
as a light has been found
when a light was found
scritching out perception
on one ounce lined paper
and the poet remains stoic
Fairytales and Fantasies
Lay down to rest that beautiful head of hair
upon the pillow that welcomes your tired mind.
Let your body find comfort amongst the soft sheets
that caress your lovely skin as it relaxes beneath eased gravity.
Close the curtains of the enrapturing audience of your brown eyes,
let begin the lucid dreams of your kindest fantasies.
Let your mind wonder as your lungs welcome the fresh air of
a deep breath fill them, pushing ajar, the doors of your heart.
Lose yourself in your own fairytales, while in reality I move
with the quiet patience next to you upon the soft sheets.
Take no notice until my lips press against yours gently
with passion invigorating in every sense to your heartbeat.
Let open the curtains to continue the once terrifying
play to the audience of your eyes,To my smiling face.
Let excitement overtake you and embrace me with the utmost joy,
putting to shame, the fantasies and fairytales of imagination.
Kiss me and allow my adoration of you to be expressed in turn.
Love me with
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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