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8/25/13Sometimes I like to close my eyes
And imagine that he's tracing his fingers
Up my neck and through my hair
And that I'm okay with it.
Because that's the thing about losing yourself:
That any form of contact is devastating;
Where you actually start to believe
That this empty shell of a body
But that's what's devastating:
When you find out
The Altar Beneath the Sun
It was getting worse, this madness that slithered everywhere Elm could get his claws on, and it would be too late if action wasn't taken soon. Birch was desperate, after all wasn't he dirtied enough by his elder brother’s actions? He had to save his siblings at least, to protect them from themselves. But the preparations were necessary to help defeat this foe, and Birch knew what he had to do.
He knelt before a stone altar, the center of his territory in the Grove, shaded by the vast canopies of the dozens of trees that surrounded it. No one ever came there but him. In fact, most of his siblings seemed to forget his existence at times, but that was fine with him, he knew his purpose was to be the messenger, not the message; the hilt, not the blade. But what was the message? What was the blade?
Acacia, the savior.
Acacia, the light in the dark.
Acacia, who was nowhere to be seen.
Birch had never really understood Acacia’s position, she was and yet wasn't, she existed and yet
NightshadeCypress didn't really understand why she came there, this cave that sat like a void in the Grove, an abomination to her father’s will, the mouth of death, gaping with sweet promises of solitude, but she resisted such thoughts, she had other plans. This, after all, was the result of Elm’s fight against his imprisonment, a deep crater, one of quite a few, created by his rage and hatred of Malus. Yet that was so long ago now, as Cypress could see from the bits of vegetation growing, as if trying to mask the scar of the battle; nature sometimes has a way of covering up mistakes.
She peered inside, squinting her eyes and leaning closer, anticipating any danger that might come her way, not that danger had any meaning to her (being immortal and whatnot). There was no danger, she knew, as a certain figure approached from the dark, cloaked in robes that seemed to reject the light itself, bearing a subservient aura that shook and struggled to even exist in a consistent form. There wa
You Were...You were a man
Whom I never knew, myself.
You were a soldier,
Serving his country in the smoke of war.
You were a drunk,
Cowering behind a putrid bottle.
You were a pig,
Getting his fill of all life’s carnal pleasures.
You were a beater
Whose fists knew no restraint.
You were a monster
To both your wife and children.
You were a father
Only by blood to those children.
You were a man,
Who lived his life and died.
You were my grandfather,
Whom I never knew, myself.
Elm and Cypress
Cypress thought it strange.
Strange for a visitor such as him to enter the Grove. After all, most guests to the home of the Children of Malus came unwillingly and were poor, sniveling, and trembling beings, worthless of even a second thought from the bitter Child. Yet this man before her had an air of confidence, or perhaps arrogance, and a smug look of self-entitlement, as if someone, somewhere, owed him something. That’s when he said to her: “Cypress, my dear, it’s been so long.”
She squinted her eyes at him, suspicious, “I don’t know you, mortal.”
And he laughed--how he laughed!--his mouth opened into a wide smile that showcased a set of jagged and horrid teeth, “Now, my dear, sweet, fragile Cypress, that is where you are wrong. As I am no mere mortal, and you do certainly know me.”
Then Cypress noticed the deep scratches that covered his body like sharp red flicks of a fountain pen on pale parchment, and she knew immediately tha
Birth of WisteriaAlone in the perennial abyss under the surface of the Grove, the primordial son whispered sweet nothings to the soil around him, clawing for release from his prison. He had been there since Malus, his father, had determined that he was too tainted to exist among the tranquility of the Grove, but tranquility is one of many things that can be easily tainted by his power. Digging his claws further in the soil, watching closely as the dirt curved under his fingers and cradled in his palm, a little clump let loose a tiny cry, and for the first time in his entire existence, he had hope. For if his father could make life from nothing, so could he.
Yet the life he held in his hands now, his little dirt child, was weak, but that could always be fixed.
The Welsh BloodI have the Welsh blood in me,
But it’s dead, dead and gone,
Flowing beneath my flesh
Like a bloated corpse
Faced down in a river.
I have the Welsh blood in me
But it’s freezing up inside,
Cracking great red fissures
In the cavities of my veins,
Flowing the great Red Dragon.
No more the Welsh blood in me,
With their proud intrepid ways,
Overthrown by the Brits
Allied by the Germans and French
On a genetic battlefield.
No more the lily-colored skies,
The rush-leaves of the mountain,
Nor that mountain’s misty peak.
Only the face of the conquerors
And the Hammer of the Scots.
The Dragon’s blood within
Is not in much anymore,
For it’s been bled and bled again,
By the pecking of the Eagle’s beak
And the Lion’s greedy claws.
I have the Welsh blood in me,
But it’s dead, dead and gone.
Yet there is no time for weeping,
For the tears aren’t mine to shed.
I, the diluted, bastard granddaughter
Of the Norse gods, the scholars,
And the Red
Drill Tooth"Pass along this message, love."
Said the Bird atop the Tree.
To which 'Drill Tooth' did reply,
"I shall and you shall see."
So down the trunk 'Drill Tooth' ran,
A scroll rolled up in his tail,
Down to where the Serpent lived
O'er dead souls that scream and wail.
Soon 'Drill Tooth' arrived in Hel,
Where the Serpent called his name,
"Ratatöskr, do come near'r,
And come play a little game."
So 'Drill Tooth' came upon call,
Staring back upon the Snake,
"I cannot, Nidhöggr, for
I've a message you must take."
"Very well, my furry friend,"
Said the Serpent with a purr,
"But you must com closer still!
Bring it here, Ratatöskr!"
And so was done as was told,
And the Serpent took it in,
And swallowed whole the message
And the messenger within!
As tales of immortals go,
The messenger's tale went on,
And he burrowed himself out
With his drill teeth and was gone.
Thus the message was received,
And the Serpent lived as well.
So ends this tale of 'Drill Tooth',
The Bird, and the Snake in Hel.
To J-Speak to me one word alone,
Whether it be of Hate or Love.
I'll hold it close, pressed to my heart,
And cherish each syllable.
I'll be your ugly Sappho
And write these words, for you, unread.
Cage this nightingale in your heart,
For I'll never fly away.
If one day you set me free,
And so command that I depart,
I'll listen to the word you say
And carry your memory.
Heartless......no moreShe needed space like the rest...
She left one instead in his chest...
Remained no heart to be broken
For the words already spoken,
From a confronted confess -
"You are so heartless"
Felt like his insides hollowed;
Felt like he was being followed,
By a black cloud o' lies
Rainin misery and despise.
Put up a wall and fences;
Brought up his defenses.
With pills and a session.
To himself he's confined
Else but heartbreak on his mind
A month or two passed by..
Facing the reality he's tryin to Deny.
Morbid memories he dismembers
And then he remembers....
To get somewhere wholehearted
The secret is getting started..
.. started with a day in the park
..couple o' hours before the dark
Alone in his own zone
Mathers chantin on the headphone
Caught somethin across the aisle
A beaming, beautiful smile.
More than just a few HEYs
Same went for a few day
Talked on and until late
Turned to a dinner at 8
Her beauty, grace and smile,
Life was again wort
My Love The ShipwreckMy love was a shipwreck deep under the sea,
a silent and watery prison for me.
With corners so silent and robes full of death,
and lips that could capture my every breath.
Fingers that groped quite like long strands of kelp,
dragging me down when I begged them for help.
A body as pale as a skeleton sunk,
wrapping me up in a tidewater trunk.
Dragging my tongue across decks made of night,
tangled in rigging that delayed my flight.
Dredging for anchors that didn't exist,
never quite knowing to cease and desist.
The crow's nest held views eternally blank.
Eyeglass-horizons so cloudy and dank.
Ghost-hunting sails without wind from afar,
with watery eyes staring up at the stars.
Drinking deep of a poison more potent than rum;
sobbing for gallows that just wouldn't come.
Walking on sandbars with no relative end,
fantastical promises just 'round the bend.
Screaming out into trenches as deep as the earth.
Discovering death when I wanted birth.
A face utterly haunting could drag me deep d
Let MeLet me touch your chest
To make sure your heart's beating.
Let me feel your breath
To make sure you're still breathing
Tell me how I look
To make sure you still see me.
Tell me sweet nothings
So I can think you still love me.
The Beating of a HeartThe beating of a heart,
Is more than just a sound,
It's the tune of a music hall,
Crowded all around.
The band takes its seats,
The conductor in his place,
A mysterious song,
Takes up a quickened pace.
Will this be in harmony?
Are we a strong duet?
Is this just a solo?
All I can do is fret.
The tempo of my heart,
Is beating out of time,
It's jumping from my soul,
And making my love rhyme.
Frustration surrounds me,
Staccato all around,
My heart's in double forte,
With each and every pound.
It turns into a waltz,
Then a jazzy tune,
This song is too confusing,
All I can do is swoon.
The song inside my heart,
A ballad of the best,
It's turning to allegro,
And running from my chest.
As the melody slows,
A fermata is all that stands,
The audience will pause,
Then join together all their hands.
Our tango was played well,
But I am at a loss,
What is this feeling?
My eyes feel quite cross.
The Only One LeftNobody wants you if you've beaten the block
But nobody wants the brand new
And you're constantly fighting the hands of the clock
Pretending you know what to do
And you're fooling yourself into feeling okay
And you smile every day when it hurts
Pretending the sunshine might clear up the rain
But the pretending rarely works
You can try to be brave and take on every leap
Hoping you might find the fall
But realising everyone is too far to reach
You still try but miss them all
Getting battered and bruised by the journey of love
Never finding the finished result
And just when you think that the world's had enough
It comes back with another assault
With the time passing by you're the only one left
And you're wishing for something to change
So you try with each heartbeat and every breath
But the sun still won't clear up the rain
Shadouge part 5Mierda…lo arruine todo parece que no tengo suerte pensaba mientras salía de la habitación
“Coronel Mark está bien como se siente quiere que lo ayude realmente lo siento no sé por qué shadow hizo eso ese tonto no se que le paso” dijo nerviosa rouge
“Jeje está bien hace mucho que no me golpean así, el tiene mucha fuerza, y si no te preocupes rouge yo estoy bien porque estoy acá contigo preciosa gracias por ayudarme jeje bueno mejor ya voy a ponerme algodón no quiero mancharme de sangre“dijo el coronel
“Está bien mark iré a buscar una enfermera, le avisare que lo revise y buscare a shadow hablare con el coronel adiós” dijo rouge con un tono triste
Adiós… mi sacerdotisa hermosa pensó mark
“Hola podrías ir a la habitación 115 a ver al coronel gracias enfermera“dijo rouge
Rouge empezó a caminar por todo el hospita
Shall I be a Shakespeare?Shall I be a Shakespeare
And compare you to a summers day?
Or be like any other poet
And draw comparisons between you and May?
I shall see you as the autumn months,
When leaves turn brown and fall.
The trees look much more beautiful
When clad in brazen pall.
Or perhaps you are the winter,
A snowflake that glitters with dawn.
Long nights of comfort before a fire.
A time to smile, instead of mourn.
They say these are both times of death,
Where no beauty can be found.
But beauty depends on where you look,
Even in steel-grey sky and iron-hard ground.
Though you hold not the fires of summer,
Nor the new life that's brought by spring,
The strength of winter and grace of autumn
Are greater, to me, than both those things.
You are a magnificent beauty
With a heart, supposedly, of gold.
But like the autumn, and the winter,
It's a shame you're just as cold.
Death and Wrath: The Twisted EmbraceDeath sat upon his chiselled throne
Wrath in hand
a prisoner, of chance
a lover, perhaps
Life seemed so senseless,
boring; not a struggle
temptation was easy; but yet, they always stay
so well behaved
upon a throne of lies
Death looked to her
Her eyes alive
she craved the blood
of a thousand men
But he loved
yet not another being
The blood came fast
She looked to him
his eyes, dead
he was human, but
She was not
she adored him so
but in pitiful grace
She held him close
and forever, remained
the blood, that ran
Down the lovers' arms
dried, it cracked
it never stayed
The lovers stayed enticed
in a twisted embrace
forever they would stay
in this hell-like trace...
Quando os níveos ferrões da noite intensa
Inoculam-me tóxica peçonha
Que leva-me à tristeza mais medonha
E causa-me ao espírito descrença;
Quando a palavra aos lábios meus é densa
E, congelado em sólida vergonha,
À noite, solitário, já não sonha
Este ser de esperança tão imensa;
Dentre as nuvens noturnas eis que surge
Aquela que nas tênebras se insurge
Contra as trevas em tétrico tropel:
Vem curar-me do amargo nevoeiro
Que me roubou da vista o Sol inteiro
A Lua, imperatriz do negro céu!
Icarus LoveYou are my Apollo, shining so bright,
And I, ambitious Icarus in flight,
Wings of cold wax and smooth, bending feather
Carrying my form above the Aether.
For you are my ambition, burning my flesh,
Tearing my mind in a love so afresh
As I soar above the deep, hallowed sea,
Approaching fast your clinquant brilliancy.
Yet as I draw nearer and nearer still
The wax of my wings fall, against my will,
Twisting and turning, invisible hands
Pulling me back to the drowning black sands.
Thus is when the fire comes, rending my back,
Burning light, crackling of feathers singed black.
No hope for me, yet I still know my love
For you, shining sun in the sea above,
As I fall, splashing into dark ocean,
Forever to gaze, death in slow motion,
I know that seeing is all that I need,
To simply see you, beyond the seaweed
And these walls of water and atmosphere.
For when I see you, I've nothing to fear,
Not even death, and fire, and earthly frights
Can tear my love asunder. The nights
Come fast, but I shan'
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More