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like every other cometI believe in enduring love
for other people
I believe in bridges that don't burn
as long as I'm not one of two points
I believe in meteor showers
I have learned about entropy
through intangible pain
I think the most difficult part of growing up
is realizing how much
and how little
I know that I contradict myself constantly
the high wireyou traverse tight rope words with ease
avoid the tangle of spiders' webs
touch the snagged threads of water
as the tide rises and ebbs
you weave the symbols from your wrists
place variable lengths in place
your mind dances nimble as your feet
when you catch equations to erase
there are functions with no solutions
yet you resiliently press against entropy
all this logical movement toward conclusion
that defies analogy
you've spoken diamonds from the river
shaped the banks into tangible ground
as water washes away pigment
your voice explains the sky with sound
there are finite oases of harmonics
between which dissonance abounds
yet it is the simple act of breathing
that breaks the monotonous silent mounds
the sepulchers so many whose frustrations
have been ignored
you bring a tender association
with which you heal the greater world
whether in effort or mere existence
your breath gives life and hope
there are pieces of this poem
that were once confined with rope
but the knots were undone
the patchwork quiltI forgot to wake with the sunrise
I walked through half the day
and thirty two miles
with my eyes closed
like the petals of a youthful rose
timid of the intangible emotions
too complex to disentangle
cutting my leaves upon my own thorns
and then in realization
I found myself 32 years older
and hundreds of miles away
from where I started out
a squiggle on a map
a dead pixel on the screen
life ain't a chorestrung like the guitar of the sky
I will sing the songs of concern
that give rise to creases upon my face
and as taut as the steel
that sings harmonic chords
I will weather change
upon every shore
sailing through life
as it is a pleasure
and not a chore.
gods of the guillotinewe all wander like gods
after the guillotine
surgery to circumspect
any external aspect.
we are all the nines
out of a scale of ten
peer pressure of the angelic kind
we starve like saints
and bleed like sinners
threaded through the eyes
needle after needle
woven by our c
would that I could listenI prefer guard rails to god
stairs to elevators
stars to light bulbs
and knives to guns
would that I could listen
to all of our sons
their hopes and fears
encourage their screams
and stifled tears
lessons that would
blot out the light of day
I offer you a pulse
without an attempt at sway
convincing was never a pressure point
I cared to place a finger upon
trading a queen for shorter chess pieces
life to which we must
constantly renew leases.
would that I could write down
and record the pain
offer comfort in place of disdain
I prefer love like a flame
that burns eternal
fed from within
by connections beyond material
I would not wish to be other than I amafter the nightmare of forgetting to breathe
I had a wish that these embers
beneath my skin
would simply leave
but I can no more quench my burning
than stop my heart
nor leave this body behind
for all that I am apart
or a part
of the earth and the air
and the water
and the flame
I choose these words
chose freedom and affection
love and loss
after the nightmare
and its subsequent dross
I would not wish to be
other than I am
merely presenting these scars
upon open hands.
a spark of internal beliefstudying the rising sun
and the bullet holes through my shirt
sleeping upon a sepulcher
with a knife
and dreams to knit
I am whole
beneath the moon
with nothing left to fit
the pieces that were pushed out
by projectiles from afar
I have gathered back from enemies
by following an internal star
studying the setting sun
the red rays of firelight
finite miraclesthin words stretch forth slowly forth
emerging from my mouth
letters in the haze of smoke
escaping my cerebral pouch
I have the moonlight
to which I etch the glass
several sequences of symbols
twenty three pairs in a single splash
thin words that spell out the complexity
of my path
a phone call at the witching hour
devoid of wr
100mg of nature.the clouds are lost today,
like unsung lullabies
stuck in the throat of a strangled sky.
the flowers levitate today,
their tissue paper wings
pink sertraline dreams that the bees cannot sting.
the trees bob their heads today,
like tired old men
falling asleep in church, disillusioned again.
the white thistles are stuck today,
entrapped by their names.
hissing popcorn on stilts, or rupturing brains.
the sun mottles the grass today,
in psoriasis patches,
like liver spots on ivy in the window sashes.
the wind kisses sick patients today,
tucking them in,
and then flees in a rustling dress while she sings.
Kidnapped Eevee! What do you do!?You were walking through the woods minding your own business until you heard some muffled cries. You were curious about the sound and followed it. You came to an abandoned warehouse and went in and saw two figure’s. One of them was a male Gurdurr and the other was a female Eevee tied up.
You went to hide behind some crates and listened closely to what the Gurdurr said. He said something about getting excited to sell her as a sex slave, but the Eevee didn’t like the idea and cried inside of the ball-gag.
He went out of the warehouse and was there for some long minutes. You felt sad for her and you…
A: Untie the Eevee and let her free.
B: Take her as a slave.
C: Take her as a pet.
D: Submit to the Gurdurr.
E: Teach the Gurdurr a lesson.
F: Leave like nothing happened.
G: Anything else you want.
Plunder straggly timber
above frosty mists
implore the heavens
PremonitionsBehold as the sky
Cries its tears,
Shatter like glass
Against cold &
As every spite
Of thunder sounds,
Blinding with the
Shocks of lightning.
Behold the scene,
For tonight's sky
Is our future.
FallAs the leaves turn
So too do the pages of a new chapter
A blank book
Or perhaps a page with some notes on it
When the leaves fall
They are not ending
They are beginning
They are pausing for a second, a minute
Maybe you should, too
Maybe you look at the trees
Because maybe there is a little bit of hope
Left to be had in this world
Or maybe you look at the trees
Because maybe everybody comments
On how beautiful they are
And nobody comments
On how beautiful you are
But you are beautiful
And so are they
And so are we
And so is this
And maybe you have to wait
A few more seasons
Maybe today isn’t your day
But one day you will be able to
Let yourself go
AutumnReds and Golds;
there are pumpkins everywhere.
fall off the golden trees.
The smell of rain;
fills the air.
Frost covers the land,
leaving behind a crystal wonderland.
In the pumpkin fields,
getting lost in the corn maze.
for Trick or Treaters.
to the rain drops,
patter on the roof top.
While the smell,
fill the room.
It is autumn,
and soon winter will come.
Prayer of the Peaceful oneQuiet contemplation.
See with closed eyes,
But with opened mind.
Cold wind and rain,
Whisper in my ear.
Meditation of soul...
Give me stillness of heart,
Grant me calming sublimity,
And oneness with the earth.
SerenitySit below, down upon the great green rock
And watch, as the water tumbles soars down
High from the mountains above
Gaze at how it disappears, in the starry sunset
And how the trees dance, with the golden wind
And I sit, there at the edge of the river
I wonder, what it would be like to exist
There, at the top, close to heaven
Would there ever be true peace, that high up there?
In the end, I prefer to sit here
Next to the river, because, here and now
It is just so much more peaceful.
As I opened my eyes, the only thing I saw was the sky. With its azure-colored background, fluffy clouds were splashed all over, the sky looked as if it was in a good mood. Sailing through them were a flock of birds, spreading their wings as if they were a kite. The gentle winds blew the leaves of the trees, making them dance in excitement. As I looked at the dark-blue lake beneath the hill, swans were seen, peacefully floating on the waters like buoys on the seas. Alongside them were their offspring, clinging together as close as possible like a thread in a cloth.
As I turned to my right, I saw field, filled with grass and trees. The scenery was like a painting of a masterpiece that was made once in blue moon. The plains the filled with children, playing tag, not realizing that they could play something much more fun. Right beside me were my siblings, sleeping soundly, locked away in dreamland.
As I stood up, I realized that this
the composite solitudea bleached bone whale canoe
woke from crossing the sky
to find itself
buried beneath the sand
the hills were ruined
cathedral trees gone
leaving only burnt bones in the soil
like everything else unfeeling
it cannot harness memory
the anthropomorphic entity
but never more
than a concept
so you wear needles
along your inner thighs
an olive branch bridge across
hear it snap
just like a dove's neck
a peace symbol
the solemn psalm
but syllables blossom
with the voice of the bone whale
harmonizing baleen with stained glass
orphaned tears of the summer
falling across your barren back
I'd cleanse you this one time
kissing away the dust
till you were innocent of time
filaments of whale marrow
and your body merges
with the shifting of cloud
swiftly the bone becomes a limb
the motion of fingers
from index to palm
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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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