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The CastleNo one can enter
They may bring their
And try to break down
But the gate does
I watch above from
Eagerly awaiting, yearning for
When the walls
But that moment
The walls may crack
Has it fallen.
May seep through
But it still stands
From that which I want
My walls live on as
Inside them alone
But never able to fly from
Never able to open
Why can't anybody enter?
I remain here alone?
Behind these walls.
Cannot enter but I
Dark CornersMy mind heads toward
The dark corners
As my body slips away,
And I am left
Strengthless and defenseless
As the darkness spreads
And creates a new,
This shadowed mask
Surrounds my soul
As I try to flee,
But, suddenly, it embraces me
And I am made stronger,
A porcelain doll
That will never break
Will never be human.
Strengthless and defenseless
My soul willingly
And becomes one
With the dark corners.
It doesn't MatterIt doesn’t matter where we go,
Death will consume us all.
Oh Fate, let the bells toll
And forgive us for we do not know
Of the stalking fiend we call
Death. He will strike or stall
At his will but he will show
In the end at our downfall.
It doesn’t matter how we fall,
Death will leave with us in tow.
The War Sent from the HeavensThe stars shoot like wandering
Fallen angels through the cosmos
On their unpredictable, universal journey.
They light the sky and call with a bloom
Whispering to men to start a war
While the heavens above frolic.
And so, the warriors frolic
About the fields of blood like the wandering
Arrows fired during the war,
And the Gods up in the cosmos
Laugh and mock the bloom,
The beginning, of another useless journey.
The phalanxes joined this journey
Watching as weapons did frolic
About the air and brought with them the bloom
Of scarlet drops and panicked screams wandering
Through the air up to the cosmos,
But the Gods reveled in man’s war.
And with fallen angels, the war
Did continue on its wayward journey.
Man below prayed to the cosmos,
But heavenly figures continue to frolic
And left man to their wandering,
Searching for that one pristine bloom.
The flowers still did bloom
A horrid shade, reflecting the war.
As man, in vain, continued their wandering
And praying for the end of the j
The broken windThe broken wind
of yonder hill
caresses me forcefully,
tipping me over the edge.
I fall into the abyss,
at the broken wind
that pushed me.
I want to live;
it wants me to lose.
I give in, and
am no longer myself.
Forgotten I stare up at the world like I always do. A world full of colorful skies and places ever changes as time moves on. If I am lucky, I can glimpse grass or snow in my peripheral vision. There is only one thing I have never seen, but I do not know if it even exists to be seen. I have only heard about it from you.
Throughout the years, I change just like everything else does, just like you do. However, you do not notice my changes as often as I notice yours. You gradually age and grow taller, but I am constantly changing.
You played with me when you were a child. As years went on, you played with me less and less until you forgot about me entirely. We are no longer the friends we once were. Our relationship is one of a leader and a follower. Wherever you go, I must follow. I have no will of my own anymore. Though, I might not have had one to begin with. I go where you go. I do what you do. No questions asked. I am always with you, but you forgot about me. I am forgotten
A flame burns
in my heart
a passionate way.
-Please, don't leave-
But, as time
slowly passes by,
It fades away.
And I forget
it was ever...
Kiss of PoisonKiss of Poison
You jerk! I HATE you! she screamed at me.
What did I do wrong? I asked, confused.
Like you dont know! You broke my heart, and now youre going to pay. Oteru kisera ando unten posin! There! Now you are cursed for the rest of your life! Tears streamed down her face as she ran away.
Now, for the first time in five years-has it really been that long? - I see her again. Her long platinum hair makes rays of sunshine down her back. Her skin is the color of sand. She uses the voice of a Siren as she talks to the librarian. As she turns around, I notice her sea-blue eyes. How could I have ever let her leave me, I wonder. She walks right past me and does not show any signs of recognition. Hi. Sierra, how have you been? I politely ask.
Who are you? And how do you know my name? she demands, slamming her hands on the table.
My name is Angel, m
A Modern KnightA Modern Knight
Ding dong! Ding dong! "Lilia, Chris is here!" my mom shouts as she opens the front door. I hear the creak of the steps and then the pounding on my door. My mom stops knocking and asks," May I come in?" I allow her to enter while I stare in the mirror and see myself, a girl with a heart-shaped face, eyes the color of dead grass, and pale blond hair that falls halfway down my back. I'm suddenly nervous; this is going to be my first "real" date with Chris. The handsome Chris, I think, with his brown hair and eyes the color of the sky at midnight. I gather my purse and take a quick glance at the mirror to check my hair and outfit one more time. I race down the steps and spot Chris. Chris is too busy looking at the many pictures and books that fill the bookshelves; he doesn't notice me until I embrace him from behind. After I unclasp my hands, Chris pivots around. He grabs my hand and kisses it, like a noble night that just rescued a princ
A Poet's EchoCan poetry be felt in the blood, in the veins
with each lyric being harmonized through dreams slain
Each epic speaking of places both far and nigh
With each melancholic elegy seeping pain?
Can verse performed by thunderstorms in the sky
Be what compels us to express our hearts, to cry?
How many poems have been written using tears
As ink, written until our souls have been bled dry?
Have decades of weeping filled the seas with our fears
And our nightmares penetrated mountains likes spears?
Can a poet's echo resound beyond the chain
Of mortality and fate's tyrannical leer?
Poem for Lou ReedTruly singular, an outsider’s outsider,
He learned well life’s hard truths, and was walking proof that
Your thoughts are only as deep as your faults.
Subjected to psychic savagery in his youth,
His mind took on an ever-changing persona
Always shifting between fame and failure.
A misfit, a hustler, a rake, a transformer,
A rogue, but not a charlatan, an objector,
But not a coward, never a coward.
An expert spinner of verse, he possessed a knack
For feel, impact, attitude, style; he always knew
Which words were those worth the listener’s while.
His means and his methods were fittingly erratic:
He would spend his days crafting curiosities
Only to then neglect and forget them.
What was important, though, wasn’t his works or quirks,
Nor his talent for causing a storm at a stroke,
But what he and his friends set in motion.
They would, unwittingly, forever change the way
We’d hear the sounds the mind thought it already kn
I Am: 2I am only the friend you talk with in class, the neighbor you only wave hi to, and the student you pay no attention. I wait and
I wonder when someone will come and question me, question the things I do and why I do them for
I hear this floating voice that belongs to no one and
I see a shape that resembles a person and
I want no more than to mold and sharpen that image into someone... but
I fear that will never happen for
I am only the friend you talk with in class, the neighbor you only wave hi to, and the student you pay no attention.
I pretend to actually talk with my friends, face to face instead over wavelengths of the internet; hear their voice and see their smiles and stupid hand gestures! I felt...
I feel like they're really there. That people I've never met are with me in my room, sitting next to me- and I really want that. I know
I touch them; emotionally, that is.
I worry about that, actually. I'm happy to know that I've had an impact on people I will never know. And more tha
The Beginningons ago, before time and space,
Was born a set of twins who took its place.
One had eyes of daybreak and hair of sun,
The other, hair of night and eyes of blood.
Born to Laelia, Singer of Light and Love,
Husband to Laelius, God who rules with a fitted glove.
‘Twas a difficult birth, screams echoed through the empty world,
But Laelia was never alone or so the story told.
Lucifer was first, life entered with hollow cries,
Laurentius was next, his smiles greeted by butterflies.
Both welcomed with joyous celebration.
Excited Laelius, humans, his creation.
The Twins then never left each others sides.
Except when heavy choices caused morals to collide.
Death's LoveHe obtained a frightening manifestation
And held the power of creation
Without creating a new individual but becoming something with a strong relation
That kept a sturdy foundation,
As his cells connected, broke apart, and were destroyed during his formation.
Before me he stood, light lurking within his eyes, speaking of temptation.
Then, the déjà vu was overpowering, a suffocating and heartbreaking sensation.
Death played with an individual that people see as a cremation
And how I see as a pure, devilish damnation,
Where I can only vision the house it lived in, being eaten in a conflagration.
The appearance, however, delivered me into salvation,
That, alone, was enough to wash away any frustration.
The longer I stared, the more I studied, there was an alteration
In the depths of my concentration,
Where I began to piece together an understanding of admiration
That Death had somewhere in preservation.
His corpse-like figure had the power of reincarnation
And how he changed for
Why I Hold On TighterThe gunshot echoes penetrating the air,
Increasing tensions in military warfare.
Knives that puncture and slice apart,
Fists of rage that damage skin and heart.
Explosions and smoke so sudden and fast,
No time to recover from the devastating blast.
A moment frozen in time after the disease diagnosed,
Tears falling on a body lifeless and comatose.
Car horns and screeching wheels on the pavement so loud,
Two victims of a crash of the rain from a cloud.
Though all of these things do not fill me with fright,
It is to you, my dear, they make me hold tight.
Vulnerable YouthPaper hearts from bright pink tissue meant for presents,
fanciful butterflies from orange dashed cardboard,
five petaled flowers danced around the sentence
of simplicity, ultimately to discard.
Tender thoughts from censored, guarded minds,
boldly do the simple stubby fingers strive to hide
the gift from Mommy, so that she can't find
the secret depth of the darkest snide.
The gentle pressure of acknowledging gestures
even the meaningless thank you cards
meant to send you on emotional adventures,
only to be shredded on cynical hearts' shards.
But it is the thought that counts,
those sweet little eyes haven't yet been renounced.
NeedlesThe meat is cold from bloodless lust
My organs are damaged
Path be taken down range-
-And end with chilling wall
Forest of needle spires climb
My height cannot ask
Deem the stars they point-
-For reverence physical
Destroyed as winter comes
Invested into my stock
I am bought and brought home
With no escape from the lock
Needle sew a coat of iron
Black with the char left by
Remembrance make me a scion
And kindle a soul inside
Lids have shut and no key breaks
I cannot see between blades
Cut the night to ribbons-
-Now banners to losing way
Imposing in my blindness wait
My feet are icy cold
The forward march is death incarnate-
-Though I am numb to catch
A fabric stolen mask and clothe
The boundary pointed shed
Once streamers bleeding dry wove
The semblance of disjointed ends
No try can match the mind at work
For ochre has my pallor drained
This raiment bears a doubting murk
Through glacier impassive face
My asking wanes with setting freeze
The armour frozen bites
A pleading body already w
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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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