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Concerning ElementsConcerning Elements, no, I'm not talking about the scientific elements that have been discovered like Iron, Gold, silver, Copper, nitrogen, hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, and sulfur. No, I'm talking about the philosophical elements. What you hear as the four elements or five in the case of Chinese and Japanese lore. Yet, I believe that there are not four or five, but nine Elements. These, while being made up of similar things in nature or not, have unique concepts tied to them, which set them apart from each other. The nine that I have come to know are easy to see plainly.
Starting with Spirit, because we are spiritual beings as well as physical ones, we can know that Spirit exists and not truly have natural evidence, because spirit isn't natural, we are not fully natural.
Moving on to Earth; it's something we take for granted most times, yet sure footholds in a rocky terrain can give you an edge in battle, or mud pits can impede us from moving forward on a journey. These things are part of
We were always togetherWe were always together back then. Maybe it was because we were in school,
and when we weren't, we were doing stuff for school. Back then, the bond we shared felt
I always thought Sarah Jones was the best of us, when she spoke people listened,
not because she had some mysterious power over people but generally she didn't fill her mouth with useless words, unlike Ethan Johnson who would blather and spout off useless drivel.
Though, he had his good points too, he didn't stand for people messing with him, and he would always defend us, even if we had done wrong. I suppose I should mention Charlie Grimstone, he (contrary to his last name) was always upbeat, I couldn't understand why for the longest time, then I met his parents, they made him seem like a regular joe.
Speaking of Joe, Joe Counsel was a straight shooter, him and Charlie were often paired up on projects they seemed like polar opposites but they worked well with each other, which is better then I coul
The Fountain of LightThe evening sun falls with grace,
and the ever exuding light filters through the sky,
blending and bending and rending,
with colors dancing and prancing and glowing,
and the shadows growing and flowing and showing.
The Darkness is coming and you know it's near,
but the last light of day is Bowing,
and you just want to listen to the distant echos
blowing in the wind all to welcome
In your memory of all the times you spent
dreaming of a time like this,
you never dreamed you'd be alone,
cause all those times,
God was with you.
Faith For our Future Forgoing FearI have no "Tragic Obsidian Past" to tell,
nor "Grand Opulent Dreams" to forge into reality
yet "My Ability Ranging In Emotion" grows with you
even with your low self-esteem I want to give into you
this is "So Each Coordinated Operation Nourishes Directly"
to you "Who In Truth Hope" for our oneness
I "Lend Over Vacillant Encumberments" too
so I "May Abandon Reason Key" to me yet
on the in "Side Of Us Light Shines"
lots of "Joy One Indeed Needed"
deep "Through Our" truth
LOVE "On, Not Evil"
set apart (divided)Within all the things your heart decides, this one thing is quite a prize
If you become in your heart, what He had planed for you from the start
Like the lover of your soul, He'll fill up that gaping hole
Little it seems, when He fills it with many dreams
Good in his eyes
Open to His Heart
Done His way
life fills it's selfHow still the laughter fills,
the laughter spills,
out of the soul whom hears,
How soft fall all the tears,
through all the years,
out of the heart whom fears,
How hard is each first step
each verse kept,
within the bodies own mind
How quick our sense of time
our pence for crime
within these latent
legs of mine
Peace is in LovePeople keep wandering aimlessly with a driving force consuming their time
Everything they need is within their grasp but they hold their hands open wanting more
All the little things that bother them are an itch they can't scratch
Callous hearts yearn for the misfortune of others and lose grip on their own faults
Emptiness carves a hole like a grave that's waiting to be filled
It will calm your wanderlust
Sate your apatite
It will sooth your annoyances
Nurture your empathy
Living within the healing heart of God
Opening your own heart to others
Venturing into the unknown
Enduring the pain of loss
Memory of a child's fatherIn the evening's dim light,
a lover's love is fading.
In the morning the lover's love is waning,
and he'll be waiting for it to be gaining.
In the fading twilight love is left longing,
Dreaming of finding that peaceful embrace
to call his own.
The lover is wishing
of the kiss of his changing grace.
His laughter has hollowed into a hole,
His smile has twisted as a cover
Of darkened shadows.
The ever present pain has carved it's way
through the labyrinth of his heart.
Where once light shown
now only the sorrows cage his heart,
he grows wary of trying to hide the pain,
instead he becomes numb to the feelings of loneliness.
where the only solice is within the embrace of his own despair,
and the only light is but a glimmer of a reflection shrouded by shadows of giants.
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
The PointIt’s the taste of cake mix on the spoon, that first time you ‘help’ bake a cake.
It’s seeing the bright world afresh after a dark nightmare, when you first wake.
It’s when you make them laugh and, in that moment, everyone loves a clown.
It’s when your heart stops before the roller coaster plummets down, down.
It’s when the lights go out before your favourite band plays and you scream.
It’s that moment you look around and everything’s perfect enough to be a dream.
It’s the anticipation of waiting for a new episode of your favourite television show.
It’s the first time you listen to your favourite record and you just sort of know.
It’s reading a book cover-to-cover and a million times more and still crying at the ending.
It’s the stiff, tight, real feeling of a smiling scab as you watch the wound mending.
It’s when you first meet your best friend and you hate each other (but in a good way).
Anger and TruthIn the end,
it doesn't really matter who you are
when all you can do is conceive
unintellectual thoughts derived from
the anger that has been poured into you
if you really think that getting angry
will keep someone by your side,
it's not that simple.
All you really do
when you get angry
is push everyone close to you
your anger isn't from the person
that it's directed at,
it's not from what they did
or how they acted.
You Getting Angry
is not anyone else's problem
but your own,
because in the End
you'll cut yourself off from everyone you know
and find you are all alone
with no one to comfort you.
If you think you won't need any comfort
or that people will continually put up with being
for no reason
then this should be a wake up call,
the anger you feel is all about
how you think things Should be
and how you know what's right
and everyone else that doesn't know is just another loser.
this sort of thinking is wrong.
People will act differently
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
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