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By Death and a prayer,
Through my tongue
A burning blade into
The hearts of many.
You know me not
But a name and a rumor.
Yes, to the will and way
By which I attempt to live.
Human am I, yet ever so strange.
Far gone, and close to madness
But still am I sane
By Death and a prayer.
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!"
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...
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
Hand Cannon Overkill
The charismatic recluse
with a loner's philosophy.
Birds of a feather,
the punishments that I endure,
I cannot work beneath
The know-nothing status
in the search for myself
Goes on with trial & error...
All in all, I am merely awaiting
my own return.
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.
Where lies our summers warmth
Too deep to make the cut...
Thus questions lacking answers even decent...
Unworthy to our ears...
The actions, and lack there of...
there they lie, for the record
Before us, the tombstone
Made up of page after page.
For the wish of personal gain
As from above, God weeps.
The grass was of greed...
The dirt of lead and uranium
The sky wept blood,
Washing clean the crusted oil
From the eroded stone.
"His weeping calls to us"
Said I, to the ignoring ears surrounding.
To busy were they lamenting
Over the grave now shifting
As poured down a hard wrath of Heaven.
Forgive me, this tangent,
As the summers warmth has gone from me...
Making me cold with a hatred so bitter.
Understand you, the will of your ways
Oh holders of power and ability?
It is of them which I speak,
It is of their impious folly
About which I rant on without rhyme.
Do your simple minds comprehend?
Or is the grass too high for my voice to reach?
A Game of Madlibs
A part of me wonders, wandering in circles,
Screaming silently at the back of the locked room.
This fragment questions, off the tongue of curiosity,
so grand a spectrum. This part of me grows by
passing ticks of a talking clock that can
never desist from its natural noise.
Going mad as the timeline grows, the circles
became a spiral without my noticing, so novice
this child of God like every other. Though true
wisdom is beheld in knowing I know nothing,
yearn I still for a word bank for the riddles
of endless blanks on a script in the making.
Potential gives every answer the chance
to be truth, lie or dare. An effect for every cause,
spoken and untold like infinite stories written
yet never printed with stable ink while the earth
shakes in a madness of its own. Yet here I tread,
creating spirals in square one.
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.
ShardsThe dream shatters around me like a broken mirror.
Pieces of you surround me, but nothing seems to be clear.
I'm still cleaning up the mess you made.
You should have put down your fear,
You could have stayed.
I'm done chasing.
I've stopped running.
Have you even noticed that I'm walking the other way?
I'm cut by the shards of what's left of who you were.
Red tears stain the surface while the world is in a blur.
LostI walked in. The room swirled around me. The bare desolate walls splashed with muddy brown paint. It was as if the walls were gossiping about me, my ears began to burn. The high ceilings white as paper closing in on me. The window blew open the slight breeze lifting my hair. The sofa sat at a side looking as if it was whispering to the walls. Its cushioning arms looking rigid. A grand painting was stuck on the wall. It was a painting I couldn't understand. The vivid colours collided in to each other. Its frame was rigid and stiff like it had been hung there for years. The painting stood out, it wasn't supposed to be here. As i glanced around the room the fact that I was alone came back to me. The feeling of alienation crept over me.
Suddenly the wind began howling with anger and desperation. The curtains shivering like the wind and coldness affected them. I wrapped my coat around me the piercing wind biting at my delicate skin. I felt uneasy. The blood
Not That DayNo one wants to remember their worst nightmare.
No one wants to relive the pain.
No one wants to go back to a time without joy.
No one may want to, but the memories remain.
There was a time when I trusted people.
There was a time when I let others inside.
There was a time when every bruise was accidental.
There was a time, but that time is long past.
Maybe some day I'll have the will to live.
Maybe some day I'll learn to love again.
Maybe some day my scars will heal.
Maybe some day, but today is not that day.
Angel TearsImagine a raindrop is an angel's tear
Falling from heaven on Gaia's mortal fear
Weeping in unity their children's lost soul
Heaven's pure spirit evil now doth control
Eden of rapture consumed by time's flow
A lost utopia where gluttony doth grow.
Alluring serpent's lair humans covet the bait
Devourer of truth so poisoned with hate
Innocence now lost in maelstrom of desire
Purity long blackened by greed's hungry fire
The spirit debased evil darkens the heart
The nefarious abductor tears the soul apart
The moment approaches the farmer shall reap
Love now eternal for faithful lost sheep
Gnashing of teeth those left in despair
Time now elapsed for repentance and prayer
Renounce the darkness and take gentle heed
Embrace the truth be the Lamb's seed
The Story of Girls and BoysSee that girl?
She made him smile on his worst days,
She stayed up to talk to him every night.
He made mistakes but she forgave him always,
He ignored her - he knew that wasn't right.
He didn't care, took her love for granted;
He expected her to always just be there.
She liked him but she wasn't what he wanted,
He dated other girls, she tried not to care.
Finally, she left, didn't want to wait forever
She found a better guy who liked her too.
This guy saw her potential, he adored her;
His intentions with her were honest and true.
Seeing them together made him realize something:
Without her, he was stuck in a lonely world.
All he had left was the memory of her leaving,
He had lost out on one amazing, special girl.
Don't I deserve it?Why is the flesh so fragile?
Soft skin turns to jagged red lines
The day before the snow came
Three years ago so similar
Right to this day, before the moon came out
This life I live, it frightens them
One week ago I finally went insane
I cut some more jagged lines
Right down to the bone, my love
I hope this hurts you
As much as it hurts me every day
Don't I deserve it, my love?
After all, I blame you
All of my insecurities, spoon fed
Only by you, my sweet love
So go home, let me rest
Do I not deserve it, my love?
Poem: The World Looks Better With My Eyes ClosedThe World Looks Better With My Eyes Closed
I know the dark underbelly of this place
I know the black underneath the sun
I've lived the horror of the nights
I know how this world works
And I know that it looks better
With my eyes closed
Starving children and homeless families
Are living among us and around us
The tragedies of this place will never go away
The hurricanes and tornadoes never cease
The crying eyes and broken hearts
Will never leave
I could think back
And remember all the lights
But I still know
The world looks better with my eyes closed
Ignorance is bliss, it's sad but true
To see the earth through a child's eyes
Would be quite a wonder
Everything so pure and innocent
It seems though,
The older we get
The better we used to be
All we do is deny it all
Continuing to let all of
The potheads and whores
Walk around, self-absorbed
I see the horror of the younger generation
It's unfolding right in front of us all
Yet there's nothing we can do to stop it
Try and try, we'll
Aristotle Got It Right"By nature,
we are all political animals."
I deem this norm-owl, for my ears
listen in earnest dog-mantic predictions
which stretch out pass the fiscal cliff;
like an ELE-infant based upon distance.
Abandoning divinity for Maud-lien attempts
to reduce pressure through oppression - tense;
like a turtle shell. . . coral-lading communes
in prides of prancing ant-elopes.
'Tis his-story acquaint to the oystered-us
in speech, in skill and in pursuits of free. . .
dumb. Chirped from post-poaching sea-sons
hunting up for those who mar-sue, people.
Charlie fox-plot towards the pleasure
mauling - hue-main Hun-duress;
disowning. Rich, you-all for inclination,
the bare-inn, ripe with cent-impede. . .
Petraeus, animals have linear currency
to the kings and queens of sanity.
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.
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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