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Free Spirit Fail Safe
Unhinged, the floodgates collapse
The waters weighed so heavily on them that in the dark of night
do they unwillingly liberate the transparent stillborn
unto the dry soil once adjacent to the gates.
Two clocks tick, their gears turning at the uneven tempo
Unwound, rusting to a screeching halt on the command of the flood.
Time stops at the hinder, And neutrality dies on impact.
What a sight as I close my eyes,
Late at night when energy dies.
Taken to flight my psyche then flies.
Do as one might, the cold sweat brings about my cries.
Fighting my fight, in where my imagination lies
The withered flowers ashen and in bloom
Be my soul to cower, from the ever impending doom.
Two clocks tick, one my own and the other my fate.
The flood arrives to consume
and to the end does the time die and go black...
Open my eyes to the dark if night
An abyss before me to lay back down...
down where the floodgates come unhinged
and my imagination lies.
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 third eye wanders,
Zoning in and out of reality.
Focused on theories,
Never on proof.
Prayer only begs for hope,
Off an indecisive tongue.
Knowing not what to do,
But only to worry and fear.
Paranoia sets up what seems like the end,
The third eye tears up...
An effort come and gone,
Dead upon running its course.
Thus begins a means to an end,
Or so we think.
As a conclusion is never desired,
The heart continues to beat.
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.
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...
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
Taken aback, never have I been so ashamed...
And lo by the brethren of my very faith!
Bestow upon them your grace,
sweet Heavens above,
For they realize not
the ignorance of their arrogance.
Forgive them my Lord, as I cannot...
Many attempts have I made
To make amends...
Yet they continue to abase and abash
Those whom can truly claim witness
to your infinite truth.
Their judgment should come from me not,
for I wish them to make their way
to the shores of the ocean of their making...
where they may drown within their asininity,
to which their ways now lead them,
Moths to a frenzied flame.
I fear I must now express
My views of us, your flock.
As I have so boldly expressed them
to my mistaken kin,
with only a hint of lended ears...
We are flawed O'Lord!
But of course, I mean no insult!
As I hold absolution to your greatest plan!
Yet I feel I must speak up,
And let my confessions pour out,
over my vile human tongue...
And I will do so out of faith...
These words, Father,
come both from fea
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.
from inside my veins.i want to sing out of tune,
become undone, fly a giant
marshmallow to the moon;
i want to jump on a sponge
three miles long and a mile wide.
i want to speak in bubbles,
just to pop all the words i wish
i hadn't said.
because i'm allergic to the sound
of wind-chimes, sea-food, and the
coasts of france.
i'm dying to become someone, but i don't
think i have a chance.
so i will throw my beer caps away,
i'll light the warehouse all ablaze.
and maybe i could lay down in the grass,
maybe i could sleep beneath
the constellations, dream about
Achilles' heels, take a breath
and breathe out sunflowers.
oh, it could happen,
one of these days.
i could be sitting at the bus stop,
and suddenly a millionaire
could be tripping, and i could catch him,
charm him, maybe. who knows?
and then i'd have sixty million pennies,
lined up in my saving's account.
and i could buy a beach house
on the coast of maine, i could
live to breathe a hundred years.
maybe i could be someone,
maybe i could.
after all, fate is
IgnoranceIf I lied, would that make you feel better?
What would hurt worse having to know the truth or living with the lies forever?
Either way, it'll still be hard to get sleep at night.
Either way, it'll never leave your mind.
But what if I had said nothing at all?
You'd know neither the truth or have to live with the lies.
After all this, you should come to realize that your ignorance is kind.
Talk to me.
Tell me what shattered your heart inside.
Your heart is beating, yet, you're not alive.
You're hearing, yet, you're not listening.
You've become a black shadow.
I can see the demons in your eyes.
Your eyes have glazed over.
Your life is coming to an end.
But yet, you're still healthy, still alive.
You smile to hide your pain.
But you're slowly dying inside.
You keep saying 'I'm fine', when I know you're not.
You tell me 'it's just a phase. Don't worry'
But I've never worried so much before.
You're like a leaf
Your beauty slowly withering away, unbeknownst to everyone around you.
Soon, you're going to fall from the tree, and hit the ground.
People will walk over you, ignoring how much pain they've caused your heart.
But hold on.
It gets better, I promise.
Your heart will beat once again.
I'm hoping for a sign of life.
I'm watching for those eyes to fill with joy, like they used to be.
I beg you with all my heart.
KidsWe're just kids, that grew up too fast.
Due to expectations and isolations.
Adaptations, illustrations, separations.
It's not how it used to be.
I wonder will it last?
One words replies,
Now it's lies, cries, guys and skinny thighs.
Oh I despise, but I'll advise,
Do not trust a soul.
Blasting music in our ears,
Hiding from the sneers and leers,
They're picking on the queers.
Aren't they our peers?
Alone, and other feelings I've never known.
Upgrade your phone.
Dye your hair a darker tone.
Wear cologne and dig the drone.
Welcome to the cool zone.
Break and clatter.
"I'm fine." or "it doesn't matter."
Am I flatter or fatter?
Definitely the latter.
Watch my heart shatter,
And the pieces scatter.
Cause we're just kids, who grew up too fast.
Due to expirations and deprivations.
Situations, innovations, realizations.
It's not like it used to be.
Now we're an outcast.
Sometimes, It's Okay To CrySometimes, it's okay to cry.
It's okay to let the world see your tears.
Sometimes, it's okay to be angry.
But the hardest is to be angry at the right time, for the right reason.
Sometimes, it's okay to let your emotions show.
Because you've been strong for too long.
Sometimes, things can shatter you permanently
But you've got to pick up the pieces and mend them back together again.
You can't stay broken forever.
Just because it's okay to cry,
Doesn't mean that you should live your life in tears.
It doesn't mean that you have to be weak.
The hardest part is telling people that you're 'not okay'.
The hardest part is telling people that you 'need help'.
Because sometimes, it's okay to not be strong.
Lost FreedomThey say freedom is a beautiful word, a beautiful thing. When you dream without fear and live without oppression, all you need now is for your life to embrace it. Isn't it easy though, just to think the concept that dwells in the West and disintegrates in the East could be as powerful, as life-changing, as the word "love" itself?
I beg to disagree, but then again, circumstances have dealt me a different hand.
I'm not saying that humans don't deserve to be free. I hate any repression to freedom. Human trafficking, for instance, makes me sick to the bone at the cruelty that humans can be so capable of. Being denied freedom of speech silences the hopes of future generations and reveals the cowardice ingrained in human psyche. But freedom, like love, has many different facets to it.
Freedom for me is the lightening of the soul, the inner peace within myself and with life, and the joy of knowing that burdens do not make me a shadow in the light. But for me, there is no freedom. There is onl
Near Life ExperienceI've been thinking People ask if you ever had a near death experience How come people never ask if you ever had a near life experience?
There's so much to be seen, done and experienced in this world but the ways of our society and our time has us locked up, as though we are prisoners within the walls of our very own homes, work spaces, schools We are so swamped with tasks that we don't really have much time for anything else.
How many moments did you have that made you really feel alive? How many moments were you able to smile and feel happy? How many moments made you thank God or whatever you may believe in, for the life you that you have? If right now you're thinking, ''not many'', then perhaps it's time to make a change.
You only live once. So seize every opportunity and make the most of your life. Do what makes you happy. Because I've got news for you, something your teachers, principals or bosses are not telling you. Whether you pass an exam or fail i
Wander to nowhereA ghostly walk on the autumnal pavement
Even my own shadow is gleaming more
Than the empty shell of my body.
As I keep wandering, on this endless pit
Picky starving crows are looking down on me
The leftovers of my thoughts order me to die out.
This path of glory I've kept away from, it might be gone.
My dignity and pride, where have you fled?
I'm searching for the graveyard of redemption
Where my promises are all buried
Shot down by my deceit's gun.
Will you ever forgive me?
As I'm standing there, the icy silence blows ;
As time goes by, the ruthless mutism of yours
Reckons that time for forgiveness hasn't come yet.
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.
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More