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Recollection-Chapter 1:The Hills are nothing new.
Normally...Journeys...quests...the idea of a purpose upon an unknown path...they always have some sort of ending...the story ends, and the reader is finished. It is rather hard for the reader to move on to another story when the writer is all but mortal.
I was once mortal, like all humans on this Earth, but fate has always had a harassing sense of purpose with me, before and after the Great War. These words will be of the roads fate has placed my old feet upon. There is so much to tell with the memory I have...However, I primarily write this to maintain any bit of sanity I may have left in mind...Lucidity is quite the difficult thing to hold onto to in a time of madness. I only ask that you do not take what is written here lightly, as much of what is to follow could very well teach the reader a great many things. Yet as always, one must remember that life goes on and its hills will keep coming...but in the end, the hills are nothing new to the mind t
A Shade in the Fog
Gazing onward with the wanting eyes,
in search of nostalgia and reminiscence
is the shell of me.
Repression of thus, my depression,
I recall little to nothing at all.
Find me within the fog of my thought,
Shade of my Lord,
for lost am I,
drowning in the murky waters
of my ever fleeting psyche.
That Elated Kiss
Between us both, that kiss of God
From to and upon the souls within the very cores.
The fruit of this knowledge was not ill-gained,
As meant for mine eyes was the gotten teaching.
Ah yes, the inspired motivator amongst my tongue,
Pure, but deadly, as to protect what is owned
By the cavities that contain ours, the beating hearts.
This marathon to & through
which I gladly volunteer to run,
Has my limbs aflame, enthralled with elation,
Striking down to its knees, the very calamity that
once over took me. Bless you, from above,
as from my lips between us both, a kiss from your lover.
Yet Another Fallen Host
My, what hope lies
in the half empty glass,
trembling by tremor and leer.
At such a long road's end,
does it rise and shatter.
What understanding have you,
of fear, of pestilence,
other than the existence of self.
Imposed, the creation
to be eventually bled out.
Filthy, the very cause
by which the water rises,
boiling with blisters
in the overwhelming sin
of the ever beating sun above.
Freedom, to the acrostic asininity
now found laughing atop the grave...
the grave of past gone by,
decaying with every bite
of a gluttonous sloth with an ancient cause.
That to my eyes, the mass hysteria,
borderline loss of sanity from the commonalty.
Have I lost track or do my eyes deceive,
the horsemen's tracks are of disarray,
and I know not which one has come.
Now, the angels look onward,
gazing with hopeless eyes,
searching for faith in the fallen creation,
who now wither and crawl,
away as they fall, into the Abyss....
Declines, the signs of the end,
the near and far come and go,
as the war seeps t
Fallen From On High
Embrace sweet calamity,
The darkness which engulfs you now.
Apollyon, of that intrepid verse,
Now awaits, drooling with a gaping mouth.
Of temptation, the liars tongue,
Striking up the deals that bring you only to ruin
Just below, Tartarus waits for you...
And the patient welcoming shall be of no surprise.
Embrace now, bitter calamity...
The retribution that has longed for thy touch.
The clustered storm, prolonged, procrastinated,
hovers over to knock you down.
The portal, that vortex, to plunge you down.
Have you to own, no peace...
only what is allowed to your filthy hands...
Have you looked into the shattered mirror,
to find the subject of your exasperation?
Accursed hypocrites of the heathen reign,
"Make them suffer for the sins of their ancestors!"
What know you of history's bloody course?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
Look in the mirror of this worlds memory,
let the record show that which is yours,
the folly, the choking arguments.
Evidence is all you have,
just and yet, the other term, of faith...
Yet again and again,
abased, abashed, by my shear hatred for you all,
Of what do you know in regards to faith?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
You walk hand in hand with
the blind, deaf & dumb
whose names are covered over with genius.
Ignorance is fear, the blood that flows,
will bleed out to write your part of history...
yet what of history do you truly know,
repeated by basic word of mouth...?
Not a thing...
Home in a Heartbeat
Knee by knee,
at turning the other cheek,
this distance brings me down.
The seconds that pass away from
fly abroad, bound by time
to be else where and beyond me.
Flying to the air, by each moving hand.
I hold little for you of giving to,
For The hands of the clock do taunt me,
as from all ends have I met isolation from you...
and my wake is nothing short of lethargic.
From I to you, the long stretch of land,
a mere obstacle yet for us to conquer.
The tests know nothing of our bond,
and by no means will we fail.
The very thought of home,
allows me that smile
which I once took for granted.
I long for that open door,
the welcoming gap
into warm familiarity.
Away from this,
All my misery.
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.
I Prayed For RainDear God,
I prayed for rain yesterday.
Rain to rinse the sprawling greens that lay across my home,
To wash the coats of the goats that graze there, so peacefully,
To clean the mildew from that rotting hut where the old man lives.
To cleanse my lips, for they are dirty with half-hearted lies.
I prayed for a warm, soft rain.
For a cold rain would make the grasses shiver and shrivel, and
the goats to mewl uncomfortably as they retreated into the darkness.
The old man would simply turn and hide in his aging hut of cold, cold stones.
And my lips? They would harden with the lies I coat them with.
I want a shower to dance in.
So the grasses could tickle my feet as I twirled into the light, and
the goats would shyly come forward to watch, to listen to my rhythm
The old, old man might peek between the cracks in the stones,
And laughter would crack at the lies on my lips.
Give me a rain, dear Lord,
for the Sun is burning at the grasses, killing them slowly,
Infinite ProtestersIt was the first time that such a thing happened! A protest for the reform of the education system by an infinite amount of demonstrators.
The first one, in a radical effort said:
- I'll burn the ministry down and kill the minister within an hour, if nobody has done it before!
The second of the protesters, carrying an identical desire, said:
- I'll do it in thirty minutes, if no one has done it before!
Not to be outdone, the third of the protesters said:
- I will, if within fifteen minutes nobody has done it yet!
Then the fourth protester added himself saying:
- If after seven minutes and thirty seconds no one has done it, I will!
And so on, each of the infinite protesters was reducing the time to half.
After an hour, obviously, the ministry was in flames and the minister was dead.
"Who is to blame?" asked the headlines.
As the search showed to be futile by not throwing any light on the murderer's identity, they called to testify each and every one of the pr
*One Red Rose*Christmas snow gently falls
World is pure and white
Red rose with tenacity
Unfurled petals overnight.
Christmas gift, one red rose
Heaven's present this I know
Blossom glitters in cold glory
Frozen red in winter's snow.
The Surreal SeasonArbitrary screams, have washed away in bliss
The forever unspoken words, turned into kiss'
From the uncertain lips of deceit
A chilling breeze from the exiled mist
The fiery summer has gone ashtray
Radiant winter is along its way.
I'll Make It BackThe Justice Building is old. The marble is beginning to chip away, and ivy twines itself around the facade, trying to hold it together. The Peacekeepers take me through to the very back of the building. The room is plush; there are plenty of embroided chairs to sit down in, and the carpet is thick and soft. The heavy door slams when the Peacekeepers close them, and I am left alone.
I take a seat on the very edge of an aqua chair, and find there is nothing to do but wait. Who will come and see me? My friend looked too lost in despair to come. I know my family will, but I can only imagine my eldest brother's bitterness. What have I done?
As I predicted, my family do come. But only after Silvia.
She's in a state of despair alright; her eyes are blotchy and red, and her hair is a wild matt. She sits next to me, and starts sobbing all over again. I hold her close, and rub her back. She tells me how frightening it was, how she stood up on the stage with the district watching. Then she breaks
December 21stHands held tight
While the earth takes flight,
Steep plunge and scarring red
Choking flames and acid sky
Clouded by salt tears
Last loving smile
Before the abyss eats us whole.
Champagne laughter, whirlwind music, collective happy sigh
Stoke the embers
Mark the year
And breathing starts again.
I wish the world would end.
Farewell ParadiseFarewell Paradise
I should have known
of your demise
You have been the loan
I never deserved
Karma has had me served
I am gone for good
Didn't think I ever would
but here I stand, alone
Only the wind will hear me moan
and only he can give me sympathy
Do you even still remember me?
or how you and me used to be "we"?
I still thought this could all go well
but our private heaven has turned to hell
And all the love songs that we sang
turned to ashes, gone out with a bang
Happy PlaceI lay on my back in a field of soft green grass
The shapeless clouds hover over reminding me that I'm still alive
The breeze rustles the leaves of the maple tree that shades me from the scorching sun
I feel so happy here
Just me and this simple paradise
Who I am and where I am don't seem to matter anymore
All that counts is here and now
Then suddenly the world stops and I'm thrust violently back into reality
Just another droplet in the river of life caught in it's endless flow
My Perfect WorldWhen I close my eyes, I imagine this world. I imagine this world where only I can live. Where everything is perfect, and nothing hurts me. This world is not run on politics, not run on industry, not run on fuel such as electricity and gas.
This world; that I have created, that is my own creations, is run on music. Run on sound. Sounds you dream of. Sounds of love, sounds of hope, sounds of a new world. A world I dream of. This world; where I hear what I want to, and I see the most amazing things.
I see sunsets; blending the sky in the most beautiful shades of golden yellow, burning ambers and baby pinks. I see a sky full of crystal like shining stars; even in a city full of harsh blaring lights. And in the middle of this beautiful sky; is the moon. Spreading luna rays of silvery blue glowing light over everything it can touch.
In this world, I can not be hurt.
Everything is how I want to picture it, everything that I would see this perfect world as. In this world, I am alone; for even
Ignorance is Fear
What knowing have you
of what you speak?
The rotten fruit from which
you've bitten and consumed,
has truly brought to you
the seeds of idiocy.
What have you done,
to comprehend such words as provocative?
As pure and professional
are the letters that I form to art.
Doubt I that you
know a significant thing.
The ignorance you so proclaim,
is the fear from which you flee.
You dread whatever is misunderstood,
and without reason do you lash outward
with teeth and claw,
like some rabid beast, tormented by disease.
In the end, the clarity has marked
that yours is the feeble mind.
Yours is the debate of madness,
and the indecency of your own nature.
In the end, you know nothing,
because you are nothing.
Crown of ThornsShe wakes up with red staining her pillow
and the taste of blood like iron in her mouth
It stains her teeth and leaks from her lips, and as she
rinses her mouth out, she can’t help thinking that
it’s better than dirt and ashes
it feels like she’s wearing a noose
of broken promises and shattered glass
that tightens around her throat with every day that passes
She nails a smile to her face
and doesn't let herself think the word dying
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More