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Waiting OutsideThey say that when a door closes
another one comes ajar
Well, I've been waiting and waiting
Doors slam in my face
Doors are quietly closed, while
Someone on the other side
Doors are barricaded
Doors are boarded
Doors are deleted from existence
I'm in a hallway
So many doors
But they won't let me in
I'm not pretty enough to go into the fancy ones
The ones with gold knobs
and posh voices coming from the other side
If I were strong and brave
I'd force some doors open
Or bang on them
Until someone heard me exist
But if implies the alternative
And I'm not strong and brave
And I choose corners when there's a choice
Blend in with the wall
And hover around the doors
That seem nicer
But they close
And I'm still outside
I'm always outside
Watching doors close
And waiting for another one to open
But it hasn't so far.
Hello, Dear MeDear me,
remember our early promises
so heartfelt and true
about the beautiful future,
well, I haven't made them true yet,
but I can swear that they guide me.
I didn't love me much in the past -
words spoken to hurt seemed so real
and loving something not perfect felt like a sin.
I choose to love me now:
love my mind,
love the way I think and the way I understand,
love how my hair looks in the sun,
love the color of my eyes,
the books I choose to keep close,
how my fingers move over the piano,
the decisions made
and the first uncertain steps
That will take me where I want to go.
Where I have always wanted to go.
For being me.
Not That Different: Windows and DoorsSometimes I fall silent.
Facing the whiteness of what is yet not,
Of the nothing that must be made something,
Must be made beauty by me.
My weapon of choice - words.
The bulding blocks of a new reality.
I paint a picture in black and white
So that others may see a world of magic.
But facing the white,
I fall silent sometimes
And words fail me
And I fail them.
I watched others come face to face with the nothing.
But they used colors to chase it away.
Brandishing delicate lines
And confident strokes.
I watched windows be opened,
Windows to new worlds
Frozen in a moment of beauty.
And I saw stories hidden
Behind every swirl of a line.
I have no skill in my fingers
To open windows with charcoal and oil.
I'd like to think I open doors
For others to come through
And settle in peace
Just for a while.
I saw us work in similar patterns.
Breaking down walls in between dimensions
So others can see what is hidden in our minds.
We face the same blank space
Time after time.
And turn nothing into som
Fear the FutureWhat I need is a map for the future,
Where every treasure is an X and every pitfall has a warning.
I want thick green lines that tell me the shortcuts
And thin red ones that mark the wrong ways.
But the road is long
And nobody knows its turns and twists.
I wish for a map,
For I look into the future
And the future is fog and darkness.
Heart of mine, give me hope.
I have to choose a path at the crossroads,
But the roads are a thousand.
And one goes into a forest of wolves.
And one goes into a desert without end.
And one goes up a grey mountain.
And one goes into the cold sea.
My feet are bleeding already
And my compass is broken
And each road is a thousand miles long.
Heart of mine, give me guidance.
I wish for a companion in my travels
To make a joke and sooth my fears
But I walk alone, for my path can fit nobody else.
I wish for a horse to ride,
To ease my feet and carry my burdens
But the road is narrow and my pockets are empty.
I wish for a fire ahead
That would guide my steps throug
Instructions for Being a Good GirlKeep a smile handy, along with your lipstick.
Squeeze your heart to fit in a top.
Walk on needles and don’t dare to trip.
Taste is a luxury, calories are unforgivable.
Those are the basic rules, got them all down?
Pick a face now.
You’re lucky, girls come in two models -
Vixen or virgin.
The measures are fixed, customize the colors,
But not too much.
No warranty, no exchange.
Remember, all women are witches.
It’s still a fact, even if a letter is changed.
The modern witch needs nothing but glamours.
These come prepackaged - beauty in a capsule, youth in a tube.
Running out? Sorry, thanks for playing,
Glamours are the currency for all your trades.
Witches come in two models - sexy or hag.
Let’s see, what am I forgetting?
Be helpful, “no” is the worst insult a person can hear.
Nod. Wave. Laugh at unfunny jokes.
Let others enjoy you.
And didn’t I tell you to smile already?
Princess - KorolevnaЕе прозвали Соколом и это имя ей шло. Гибкая и тонкая как лук, Инге сражалась как прирожденная хищница, неважно ли в кабацкой драке или на поле битвы. Неплохая спутница дл&
Tsuren's SonnetКак лист увядший падает на душу
Тень прошлой жизни, выкинутой в море.
Теперь с собой я в непосильной ссоре:
Я утонул, хотя вернусь на сушу.
На прежнем берегу — мечи и серост
More Than a SumI am more than the sum of my parts,
More than the sum of my roles.
Even if there is an infinity of them -
There is an infinity of roles I have
And some more that I want:
I stand at the intersection of words
That designate a function.
But still, they don't designate me.
We are made of the same elements
And the molecule on the tip of an eyelash
May have danced around a campfire
We are made of water and salt, like the sea.
The sea washes my eyes when I'm sad.
We are made of earth, dust and ash
But those who say we return to dust are not right -
We return to everything that lives, too.
But I am more than the sum of sea and earth.
I am more than the sum of molecules.
Because they are only for loan
In this thing called a body.
The element of spirit refuses classification.
I might give it shape in metaphore,
But too many words have been said already.
Let's just i
The Princess of SorrowOnce upon a time, there was a kingdom. A peaceful, contented, sleepy sort of kingdom - with white towers and green forests, with apple trees and blueberry patches, with small ponds and red-roofed houses. It was a prosperous land where life was ever the same.
Of course, this kingdom had a king and the king had a palace, built out of gold and ivory. In the palace, the ruler lived with his family - his wife, a prince and a princess. The royal family also looked like they were made of gold and ivory - they had pale skin, and they had curls, delicate like golden threads. The king loved his family very much and admired their beauty, especially the little princess', who had the sky in her eyes.
In that peaceful kingdom, they lived for a long time, for the fields were fertile and hardly any work was necessary. There were no worries in the kingdom, until one day a storm came to ravage the land.
For many days, the storm screamed and raged, until there was no more food and no more rest for the
He Climbed the MountainIn the early hours of dawn, I hear my name upon the wind.
Reverent tones, that piercing sing, thro' the half-light, echoing
where I reside, and try to hide in cloistered realms to clear my mind,
but how can it be cleared inside when you are beckoning?
Not just a softly whispered song, but a voice that's sounding strong,
reverberates through corridors, endlessly without a pause;
Can I hear a message there? Senses are worn, I hope I'm wrong.
It tells me how, you're weary now and you have a path to choose.
You’re in the room, just next to mine, yet many light years from me.
A breath away, both night and day, with tubes and puzzled mind,
Yet knowingly you search for me, intently, blindly, wonderingly
where 'ere those cloistered realms may be and speak my name upon the wind.
You've lain there pale, for quite a while, merged corpse-white with the bed.
Smooth and neat with pristine sheets, your conscious mind, estranged,
‘It is quite clear that he can hear,' words kindly, wisely s
The Mournful PoetAll I seem to write are flowing elegies,
Full of angst and bitter grief –
Words that don’t ever fit with the desired melodies
And lines that I can’t seem to keep brief.
What is it about a happy tune – full of pomp
And circumstance – that fills me with the urge
To sleep? If it inspire the listener to stomp
And clap, why is it that I instantly purge
All thought to analyze and critique?
Why do they not my interest pique?
Joyous tunes – light background noise
For me. Nothing to learn from a poised
And confident persona declaring naught
But his own content. Nothing to be sought
In the words of a persona who flaunts her
Own superiority and gaiety at all times over
The audience. If there can be no lesson,
No journey to be taken, it does lessen
My own interest in the story. An escape
For some is to me nothing but a premise left agape.
Yet the opposite, too, is true nonetheless –
Nothing but moans and groans is trite
Before it can be said. Even an audie
The Children SufferedIt’s a hell of a lot easier to shut the door
than accept an alliance with nothing more
Than an illusion displacing dustmote spaces
haunted by trapped spirits with distorted faces
Frozen screams weren't vocalized back then
so the horrific murders of the innocent seven
Went unnoticed; the evidence was swept underneath
the floorboards to hide a collection of broken baby teeth
Went unnoticed until the signs became too obvious to ignore;
understanding became impossible to achieve as never before
Of atrocities that identify an insidious evil that remains unnamed
Undiluted terror, which drove lone survivors completely insane
Mothers and fathers buckled under the weight of fear and despair
Missing children that were later found reduced to nothing but bone
caused by acts so hideous their true nature can never be fully known
Not by the minds who've never lived in the abyss of depravity's home
The Butterfly:I’m not as strong as I used to be –
All my energy having gone into stupider things.
I once could have lifted this weight off of me
But now the effort feels like a puppet without strings.
And it didn’t have to be like this,
This I know as a matter of fact.
Fact and fiction, though, have traded places;
Places we know bulldozed for new attractions.
A wing beat to the right or the left; that is all
It would take to change the trajectory of our fall.
But the butterfly was stillborn in its cocoon,
And we could not resurrect it from its silent pall.
Yet still I eat with gladness, and get drunk with joy
In my heart. The time I spend with my wife, so coy,
Is bliss to me. But all the while that poor
Voice of inner wisdom is undone by the clamor
Of the fools seeking strength before they employ
Any sense of restraint. And so it all came to an end
As the shouts of the Fool King did damage we could not mend.
And the city did fall when I broke that one rule:
I told her that she need
WIP - whispering of the treesChicanery, subterfuge, had hardly a place in the streets of this honest borough (Thomas Hardy)
Whispering of the trees which leave me forlorn
whispering of the trees which leave me forlorn;
A darkness, enshrouding, that holds me astray -
Tread gently, my dear, through this passage of thorns.
From upwards the trees beseech seasons, reborn
of creation, our kind, is called out by day
whispering of the trees which leave me forlorn
Is this what we have sought, for which we are torn?
Be wary, these skies whisper of our way
Tread gently, my dear, through this passage of thorns.
There, thus do we seek those sad dreams, as one, worn
as a cloak, as we keep our woes at bay
whispering of the trees which leave me forlorn
Wild are these yearnings, lost to anger and scorn
Vitality is a trick, lost in time, pray
Tread gently, my dear, through this passage of thorns.
For you, my dream, are my pride, for whom I mourn
passing moments, gone, to you I hope to say
whispering of the trees which leave me forl
The Mockingjay (a tribute to Hunger Games)If on my flight, my wings should fail,
I can rest on the ground to cry;
If flames should reach my broken tail,
They can go 'round here where I lie.
When danger comes with other birds,
Here they may linger in the sparks;
Though I can hear their spoken words,
I cannot see beneath their masks.
I hear a voice inside me say,
'To leave or stay, you have to fight,
And if you wish to see the day,
Then fight the foes that hold the night.'
I wonder how - I'm all alone
With birds and flames surrounding me,
And my body has not yet grown;
What hope is there for me to see?
But if I let to show my fear,
I cannot stay, nor can I leave;
I know I am not welcomed here,
But I can fight if I believe.
With feathers scorched by burning flames,
We all catch fire, and while we do,
I'm fighting still to win the games,
To rise alive when all is through.
The Unnamed CreatureAn eccentric scientist with a most curious aim
Created what would become iconic in name
By unorthodox practice he did wrought
a being he wished he'd never thought
Body parts of corpses constituted its structure
Given no name, seen as a grotesque creature
It was intelligent, articulate, and very sensitive
Not just a shambling hulk with base elements
Set apart by what It was, It desired a life mate
But Maker destroyed what Its hope did create
Then the creature killed those whom the scientist loved
in retaliation for what its loneliness could only dream of
It had hidden itself away due to people's reactive fear
It meant no harm, though that's not how it appeared
It wanted friendship, but they all turned away
so he burned their home down, in a fit of rage
Its grief and anger was a mighty ferocious thing
so pain and much misunderstanding it did bring
This "Adam" was born of one mortal man's ego;
traveled into a realm humans aren't meant to go
Overreaching laws of nature isn'
The PledgeI pledge I have made,
and a pledge I will try hard to keep.
Because I love the one I have promised to;
For her, I would go days without sleep.
Great whites, Long travels, The deaths of beloved friends...
Wars of sharks, Poaching humans, The wisdom of a hammerhead...
Lack of food, desperation but endless determination...
I face countless dangers, many that which likely bring dread.
However, they are nothing, nothing that will stop me.
They won't. They can't. For how could I possibly let her down?
I shall shred any number of nets for her, Face any number of dangers...
She is my cherished one, my loved one, near her I could never frown.
When I have found it, the perfect home for us,
I will return. Return, and show her the haven I have found;
When I return, and old rival comes to pester.
And upon his attack, he caused my anger to become unbound.
And so I fought, and so I battled. Full rage unraveled.
She called for me to stop, urged me to cease...
However he continued, and soon he had me d
Writer's BlockI had a dream of writer's block
A dream in which my mind was stuck
On words like verbs, and terms like f*ck
And how my head deserved a knock
And in this dream I was quite vexed
I was so mad I was perplexed
I couldn't think of what came next
Nor how to finish up my text
I begged my words to understand
I begged that they come on demand
I couldn't bear a pen so still
That couldn't move by my sheer will
Yet on deaf ears befell my pleas
And this fact brought me to my knees
So I left a prayer on the breeze
I pray to write with ease."
El LlamadoTrajo el viento una canción enredada en su pelo,
Que sonaba con voz de sirena, con susurros de mar.
Le escuche pasar y tire una flor por anzuelo.
Y con la canción en brazos al norte me heche a andar.
Pasé por montañas altivas; en rios bañé mis ropas.
Entre hierbas que hablan misterios sólo soñé con tu voz.
Con tristes fuegos fatuos compartí unas copas
Y para no perder tiempo, monté una tormenta feroz.
A la orilla del mundo construí un blanco navío
Con nubes, para darle alas, con velas de fino papel.
Zarpé hacia el norte, para evitar extravío,
A la canción que me puso en camino, siéndole siempre fiel.
Un dia volví a casa, como vuelven también las aves.
Abrí la ventana para que el viento pudiera entrar.
Dejé la canción ir flotando sobre corrientes suaves
Para que a otro viajero al mundo pudiera llamar.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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