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Miss Missing YouI never thought I would miss the way
you made me drink away my pains
How I got so drunk that night, I ran away
and did not remember waking up in his arms
Or how I wanted to cry every night
you told me you loved me
and kissed my cheek
Because I only knew you were wishing it was her cheek,
You were wishing you were with somebody
who loved you back
Self LoveAnd for no reason, I began to cry.
I had nothing to cry about;
this is where I am guilty.
Flowers are growing
where you planted your kisses.
Cheeks ache from laughter,
Am I so selfish
that I ache for more than love?
What better is there than love;
what possibly is causing these rainclouds
in both my eyes and my mind?
It is my own fault
that I broke my very own heart,
waiting for the day that I love me, too.
Dandelions Among RosesAlthough I am the south
and your daisies are the north,
my petals are no less than shooting stars,
for have you not said a flower is a flower?
Tell me then, why must I perish?
I try my best at glamour,
yet I am still nothing to you
compared to roses.
Tell your gardener to go;
we are not friends, he and I.
His hands are the devil,
and his jars hold the devil's heart.
As summer grows old,
he rains the devil's tears among us.
Although you may say a flower is a flower,
what is a dandelion among a bouquet of roses?
Suicide NoteMy Love,
This world is such an awful place. I'm afraid there is just too much madness
in one lonely world that I just cannot comprehend; the way prostitutes
look so lovely before faking so much pleasure, oh-so sweet children losing their innocence,
the old man I saw eating out alone - how must he feel approaching his wife's grave?
I'm afraid I know of no pain of the kind; however, each life invites new pain, new wars.
That's all we are these days - the struggles of dealing with madness and war.
The greatness with that is with each death is that many less battles to fight.
Oh, how many battles could we end with each lost soul?
That is what I am and will be - lost battles.
There is too much madness that I cannot understand.
Bury my memories as well.
It's not as if the sun dazzles in a thousand different ways,
a thousand better ways.
All it does is ferment the sweet flowers
that once held the key to my heart,
scorch the innocent embrace of what used to be.
Boston holds such better promises,
comprises such better welcomes.
I will not find tears
beneath the corners of every street;
no memories at the stop sign.
Just passersby, looking at yet another
broken girl, hoping to make her way
in the city of Boston.
Temptations and DesiresWhat do you want?
...What do I want?
I want to love you.
I want to love you
like you say you love me.
I want to please you,
as I am a people pleaser.
How could I possibly say no?
You're here in front of me,
hurting with your life.
I don't know who I am -
God knows who I am.
If only he could reign His truth
upon my soul.
If only, then I could tell you
what I truly want.
(...It isn't you.)
Be My EscapeFinally, the moon rises with all its secrets withheld.
But you still don't move..
The sand beneath your toes is like silk, isn't it?
You don't want to go, do you?
Although the sun blinds your eyes and sets your skin on fire,
the stars softly kiss your wounds, your scars.
The scars that those pretty little roses caused,
as you tried to bury your life in the thorns of beauty.
The boundless embers dance on,
pulling you in with them.
Will you dance, or will you fall?
Oh, how the dance can go on for eternity,
bringing with it new wonders to yet be revealed.
Or you could fade to nothing oh-so quickly...
So answer this, will you dance?
Oh, how those stars do catch my eye,
with their ever-taunting cavort to the ageless beauty of harmony.
And how the sand, glimmering delicately as it does,
hides underneath it the roots to all value,
to the flowers, the trees, the sweet embrace of raspberries,
as they blemish your face with their candy blood.
But those incandescent lights...
BraveThe struggles of his own
disappear beneath his smile,
replaced by sense of unknown hope.
Giving up is an option,
a door always open,
but he glances through,
and quickly moves on.
He is not.
No, he does not see light
through cracks of darkness,
does not see sunshine
in the black of the night.
This man knows where to search, though,
how to find sunshine
after tornadoes reined their fury.
as if their stones meant something
when spoken by poison lips
set out kill.
He will not defeat,
nor be defeated.
Rocks may be thrown,
sticks and stones,
but come morning,
he's no longer deaf to the solution.
Aren't You Glad You're Not a Giraffe?Aren't you glad you're not a giraffe?
Ever since I was born, everyone just laughed.
I always trip and I always fall,
But worse than that, worst of all,
When I was born, I hit my head.
"He won't grow at all," the doctors said.
So here I stand, a giraffe who's undersized.
I'm short and fat, and to none am I a prize.
When I stretch my neck to eat the trees,
My head won't reach the lowest of leaves.
No one else helps; all they do is stare.
"Haha, you're so weird!" Life isn't even fair.
So one day when I was all alone,
I decided to go out, all on my own.
I slowly crept from our large herd
Without even a single goodbye as a word.
I ran away from that mean, old town.
The dirt path was my friend, staining my feet brown.
I didn't turn around; I didn't look back.
I didn't stop running until I heard loud, "QUACK!"
The oddities of this animal amused me, though.
One of them amused me most, of all her woes.
This duckling didn't waddle, for she had to jump.
She hopped out of the bush, and hit the gro
UntitledIt comes in silence, it comes in the dark
when people and places are so far apart
some people aren't happy when it comes their way
it makes the whole world look kind of insane
such a ripple affect this dark art
that it can tear the whole world to pieces and parts
what is it you ask in a voice kind of lame
well the whole world calls it a brain
A Discordian Children's Verse"...And there I was one morn,
as one would normally do
in the late hours of noon.
And Lo! As if by a ray
from the dark of a grey day,
I was struck down
I ask You oh Discordia,
for am I Immortal?
Or will you be awful
to not call me a Loon?
A Lark, a leon,
alight, oh night feather!
A spark to the right
is sure like the weather!
a mark of time pass
burns bright as the Truth.
Turns as the Yuletide
to steal Our youth.
Is this like the dark, then,
or a shark to the mark?
or maybe my Bark
shines brighter today.
Spare me! Oh father,
for light brightens the way.
And whence will you come,
crash running today?
By and far sooner than
the Quark that burns stark?
Throw this fnord home then
and dance backward this way!..."
Roxy (gift for roxy82)Roxy
with multicolored hair,
and rules far from fair.
with a flexible voice,
accents that you rejoice.
with a happy exterior,
could you get any cheerier?
What goes on in your dark little mind,
never given a chance to unwind.
A pervert, a momdad,
we still love you, so don't be sad.
An odd obession with 2p! FrUK,
and an endless supply of horrible luck.
Roxy, dear, never change
or we must estrange (you).
Run away, o, run away
It`s coming fast
It`s closing fast!
Turn the corner and slam the door
Lock it quick and back away
Still it comes, laughing away.
knock! knock! May I come in?
No! Go away!
Now, that`s not very nice
Who are you?
A blood thirsty fiend yearning to devour
What do you want?
Something filled with screaming fear
Holding an icy hatred
Forged of grief, sorrow, and suffering
Carved of tears ripped from the soul
Please go away
I wish not to appease your hunger
knock! knock! I`m coming in
No, leave me alone!!
I`ll make you a deal, make it out
And perhaps you will survive
Running away as fast as I can
Still it continues on
Welcome to my crazy maze
Left, Right, run away
I`m getting closer
Keep running, keep running!
Left, Right, straight ahead
But don`t let him near
No one to tell me where to hide
And only he knows the way out
Sadly for you
A Note to My NeighbourTo whomever was responsible for the racket at 1 AM:
Hello, I am the fifteen-year old who lives above your flat.
I write this poem at 2.20 AM in order to tell you that:
As much as you may enjoy blasting music at odd hours
Or yelling, shouting, making a racket to prove your vocal powers;
All this noise does nothing at all for our rest and sleep.
It should be common sense to at minimum the noise-level keep.
For example: late last night, I was deep in the land of dreams
Dreaming dreams of crème brûlée, toffee apples and custard creams.
Oh how I wish my blissful sleep could have gone on longer
Alas, alack, it wasn't to be; your vocals proved far stronger.
I was roused from sweet sweet sleep at a godforsaken hour;
1.16 AM, it was, when I at my clock did glower.
Ah, sweet Fate, and all her mercies and thrice-accursed joys-!
I could not get back into sleep because of all the noise.
It's half-past-two, now, and the noise has not abated a bit
My valiant efforts to return to sleep
A Play of Words: Discordian Poem 30-08-2014To contract or detract
A comeback; a setback?
To unwind or rewind?
To confine or define?
To revise a device
It's concise to incise
Or realise it's too high
A drop up Damselfly?
Run back down, up a-ground
Tilt aloud lost and found.
Swing about lazy cloud
Please don't shout; whisper loud.
Spin Whey, come back and play
I do say, Fray of Fey!
Spray don't say, Mists of Hey
Greyface lays blame all day.
Is this: A play of words?
Is this: A song unheard?
Is this: A vision blurred
Is this: Not too absurd?
In this verse two times three,
shall the words six times free.
Outside shell open eyes see;
Five more rhymes what will be.
Untitled"This cat longs to see you art..."
I mean, like, littel kittehn, i have lame thingies. I got no good, wat u got?
Erhm, okay, what about this?
"Nuuu, way wuuld u give me dat? It's suu terribel."
*cat sees nature*
"I have finally found art. Real art that I can truly treasure. Nature shall be passed on in generations to come. All these people, they've made art, but they never understood nature. I hope, even with my tiny, tiny life, but having 9 lives, will see all of this even from kitty heaven."
Gibberish: Charles and Rocket about Rut MeratOff I go to tea time with Charles and Rocket! Ah yes, the glory of Charles and Rocket!
We remember all the sparks and the lights of the shimmering sounds, the grease of the floor and the chiming drums! Oh the drums were my favorite, for they always brought me back to the days of Mister Rut Merat, an odd old tosh commie who loved a good bongo! He hit notes on a skin that no genesis could conceive! The symbols he brought, he said he nicked him from the Taj himself! That weasel!
But he'd always play good when the tribe found him some fish on rye, that he did! Sounded like an electric glass blow horn on angelic levels of love with sitars borrowed from plastic sheiks! Ahh the echoes would bleed onto skins like the fine wines of red and white, but would have the raw lime of yesteryear's quarries! Fine fine Rocket!
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More