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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
Songs of Loneliness II: Remember MeПрости меня, мой милый друг, я не вернусь назад.
Хоть здесь очаг и здесь покой, а впереди гроза.
Я оставляю тебе дом, и лютню сбереги,
А мне останутся тогда меч, плащ и сапоги.
The New CrimeaFrom China's people'd farms and towns
To the dark-Dnieper flowing broad,
A tramp and growl of war resounds
And planes sail o'er children awe'd.
For distant Russia stirs from sleep
And clears the snow about her head.
Now awake from dreaming deep
To build a wall with Western dead.
For common man with no fear or sloth
Let out a message high and bold;
To join with Europe's peaceful oath
And break the Russian stranglehold.
Fair Europe girds her children well
To stand with sons of Cossack men
And send the Russian down to hell
And face down Barbarous hordes again.
For we in Europe long abide
And fight in Western brotherhood
Against the cruel eastern tide
Where once the lauded Teuton stood.
GoJust run don't look back, you already did that enough times to give yourself whiplash. Drop everything and just start running, it's your turn to finally start getting what you want. So don't just sit there and do fuckall like you always do, do something else for fucks sake. No matter how much it hurts don't stop, it'll get better; it always does it just takes time. So get the fuck up and go.
a network of lines that intersectOne May morning
I was stumbled upon by my soul,
my body splayed in a curl of light like the petal of an iris.
10,347 or probably less poems
beat in livid hives beneath my skin, my skin fishing
for a less-offensive rug to teach it the art of braille.
I left ridges in the dirty argyle as I woke, 10,009 braille
death threats composed to the drug of morning
injected, red, into my tired eyes as if by the fishing
hook my soul
uses to catch the shimmering poems
skittering like flighty koi-fish in the iris
of the universe (blue/green like earth). My iris
is scored by the astronaut prints of 5 years ago: invisible braille
smudges left by my soul as she writes scripture in the form of sestina poems.
is the scroll from which that soul
reads, one leg dangling over the precipice of my pupil, fishing
as I do, now, with my hands in scalding water. I am fishing
for the exact shade of my father’s favorite red iris
in the burning steam emitting from the sink. I feel my soul
touch herself i
LIRIA CRUSADERSIn this world, it is not like your own
For in this land sat a king on a thrown.
Though this man had a kind face,
Behind the castle walls, peonage took place.
The king thought himself a powerful man
And enslaved the entire Zotairak Clan.
The Zotairaks’ leader, whom once stood tall,
Now sat under the king as his personal thrall.
This way of life lasted for many centuries,
Building up some rather terrible memories.
Finally one day the Zotairak leader had enough.
He rose up tall and yanked off his cuff.
With his mighty voice, he roared to his clan,
“Come brothers, come sisters, and come forth woman and man!
Together we will fight back for our land!
We will be free of this pain, free from this misery!
We will break from this evil penitentiary!”
So the battle began and soon turned into war
Ending only when neither clan could fight anymore.
Though, this war was far from over. This they all knew.
The Zotairak retreated across the sea to Feiaras to plan their next move.
The Found, Dead OnesThere once laid a village in ancient caves,
ravaged by time and touched by sword,
yet the First Ones stayed in their homes,
For an eternity, they slumbered,
their homes carved out of cold stone.
Their forms, once stout, are now slender,
their skins grey and the air held dust.
Ravaged by time and touched by sword,
nothing of value remained in the rooms
and deciphered texts told very little
save for references of siege and disease.
What once filled these caverns were
works that inspired wonder and
displayed their might, but now
they lay crumbled and forgotten.
No one knew who ended the First ones
And the elderly creatures held no answer
nor would they care about
the First Ones’ plight.
DragonMy eyes are flame; my breath is flame;
Everybody knows my name.
If you seek fame then come to me:
I'll make sure you die famously.
I ate their sheep; I'll eat you too.
Believe me, I'm not scared of you.
Your pretty lance is just a thorn.
Come test it on my blackened horn.
Your sword is naught more than my claw.
I'll crush it with my iron jaw.
And, should you make it past that point,
I'll rip each fragile limb from joint.
To round it out, I'll burn the rest.
How's that for an end to your quest?
My girth is greater than your house.
To me, you're just a little mouse.
Let's make it clear: You stand no chance.
To me, you're just a pesky ant.
So bring it on, you hero, you!
I ate their sheep; I'll eat you too.
Die Tryingwhat the hell did i do, to never ever try to do better?
When have my exceptions always surpassed my expectations.
My worried woe's hold me back,
Try, try again strapping boy you,
For the World will rely upon your wisdom and misguided fortunes.
And forever be the day you shall never forgive,
the day you forgot to Remember. Just to try, and try to do better.
Because the thought of One-thousand tomorrows will never meet the time,
those worried, forgotten yesterday's promised.
Robert J. Price Jr.
The Haunted KnightI have a tale I'd like to tell,
A story dark,
With bloody end and bitter smell.
A story, in truth all about me,
My guilt laid bare for all to see.
After wars and battles, and so much blood,
I laid my armour in the mud.
I threw my sword to the lake,
And holy vows I chose to take.
A silent life inside a cell,
With holy books to make me well,
No steel skin to save my bone,
But hooded robes and a life alone.
Rest my soul to avoid temptation.
My heart was lost,
In a place so dark,
So deep, a place so vast.
I was a soul alone,
In some place unknown,
Devoid of love and as cold as stone.
My first battle had been a hard won thing,
And ever after, guilt did sting.
Men who died screaming upon my blade,
Men I crushed underfoot in mud now laid.
Men now dead, by my hand,
Men who lay, while I now stand.
One freezing winters, silent night,
I stood alone by candlelight,
My troubled thoughts whispered by,
Devilish tongues who heard me cry,
Who smelt fresh blood upon this so
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.
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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