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SilenceI met her in a dim-lit room. Beside myself,
I was enraptured by her simplicity, and
conquered thoughts left astray long ago by
her grace. She was lovely, draped in a ricochet
of blood pounding through my veins. She held an
eerie familiarity in her thin, bony arms and
grinned a night sky of stars. I watched with awe as
she sat close beside me, so our knees just barely kissed.
Yet we were distant. Both of us: lost, in longing to be
found and worshiped like the gods that molded us in spite.
She held modesty between two elegant fingers
that dusted the surface of my very being. It was, at long
last, kind. I listened eagerly to the melody laced in her
voice, and swayed to the beat. So soft, so merciful.
Yet she fumbled a B flat. Bustling cities and harsh cries
stirred like parasites in the pit of her belly, leaving
gratitude beneath vice. Yet my lady held that night sky
between two pale, white lips. She curved them, humbly, returning
to a forgotten melody. And I, unbeknownst to myself, struc
GratitudeYou asked me how I was today, so I
looked up at the bright blue bars above
me, where the departed - oceans away -
took refuge in frozen time. I answered,
You asked me about the weather as
the clouds wept liquid bullets, who
familiarized themselves with marching soldiers,
and crashed to Earth, forgotten. I answered,
You asked me what was new as lives began and flew
from wombs; as cities burned and good men died;
as rebels saved and saviors lied;
as mothers wept upon the end; as bullets soared
through the sky. I answered,
CircumstanceHe was, through circumstance, a hero.
He knew the corpses of a thousand men,
some as brothers, some as strangers. Each
a new name he bothered not to familiarize himself
with, or a family he dared not meet. He conquered
the unknown, and the unwanted with a modest
handful of bullets; he ranked himself among gods
by his superior's orders, and a loaded AK-47
he received the day he enlisted. I learned
to hail him as a hero through circumstance.
She was, through circumstance, a murderer.
She never knew his corpse,
only the memory of a New York night and
cold, cruel brick walls. She knew a voice
that demanded, hands that took, and a pain
that tore through her in ways she could hardly
fathom. She never knew a name. Only a stranger
who bothered not familiarize himself with her,
and a corpse she dared not think of. She was
conquered by the unknown by a modest threat to
her life; she ranked herself among the damned
by her incapability to prevent it, and the empty
apartment that echoed the pitter-
SignatureMemories of yours
Objects in my room
You sold me gloom
And all the lights.
Are you a fool
Or a blind mind?
Believing my lies
Soon you will die.
I have the rights
Of all your stupid life
Any kind of will
You read the chain
Embracing your neck
You signed it anyway
I am so lucky
I own a soul
I’m lord of its world
My wealth grows.
There’s no escape
My hopeless pet
Be my slave
And try to obey.
first kissThere is no equality in love
Who willingly wears the tightest glove
All must give what few can take
Brave heart dares bend far past its break
No casual chance not to be bored
Give to get true risk reward
No one can win this dangerous game
We all play still the same
While at the door pause reminisce
Only to remember that first kiss
Take these drugs and feel the fun,
smile once and then you’re done.
Click our ad and try your luck,
elation-fit, and then you’re stuck.
For just another little dime
be happy, happy, all the time.
Melancholy’s for the saps,
put your boredom in our traps.
Once you need a stronger fix,
Give us money, get your kicks.
Hear our pitch, ignore the slime,
be happy, happy, all the time.
Real worlds do not exist,
lance that sadness like a cyst,
Make your own world, make it true,
Use our rules, made just for you.
Where sadness is the biggest crime,
be happy, happy all the time.
RustyMy heart is of rich, bright copper old
And in it contained love and happiness
It's not my smile or eyes that are bold
But the joyous soul shines its goodness
And then I met him, a mysterious guy
Of high status, an aristocrat if you will
He's charming, majestic like the sky
His grey eyes always gave my spine a chill
I don't know what lured me into him
Perhaps it was the danger that he emits
Little did I know he was nothing but grim
And he sucked out my life when we kiss
Heart and soul turned cold, a hard metal shell
I couldn't repair it no matter what I tried to do
The love was replaced with something from hell
Anger, sadness, misanthropy only grew and grew
My tears, like rain, touches my metal heart- now red
It's rusting away, until one day I must dispose of it
It is no longer beautiful, no longer pure, just dead
I'm broken and tainted with vileness of an evil spirit
Like a rusted robot, I need someone to fix me, a repair
Please clean me and help me rid of the painful memories
pencilsif life was a pencil,
my eraser would be gone.
all used up,
but the lead would live on.
it would make it's mistakes,
but couldn't take them back.
so the lead would live on,
until it cracked.
hot to trotinside out
this years' toy
hot to trot
Melody"Be proud of yourself",
the words rise and fall.
"Look at what you have accomplished!",
They hit against the wall.
"Be proud of who you are".
They sing to me and to all.
Hear the song,
and the reason to be alive.
To think it's warmth,
To think it's touch,
would leave me in cold,
and forever behind,
was far from my mind.
The melody brought me down,
taking my hands in it's chains,
never allowing me to reach and rise,
in the light of the sunrise.
rustythey called me little iron-heart,
because i "only cared about myself."
if only they knew the memories,
that were rusting away on my shelves.
the feelings came along with the pain,
and back to the memories to start.
everything in my life led up,
to my gray, little, locked up broken-heart.
i didn't care about anyone,
because i was unable to care anymore.
i thought i wore my heart on my sleeve,
i thought my sadness was apparent, for sure.
but maybe they just couldn't see past me,
and see that my heart was a little dusty.
so that's me, "iron-heart", the big fat jerk.
well i'm sorry if my social skills are rusty.
Confessions of a Nameless PoetI don’t seek harmony in life,
I don’t seek harmony in nature,
I don’t seek harmony in strife.
I don’t pretend to understand
The law of universal order.
I am where I am meant to stand.
I’ve never tried to touch a flame
Or walk the angry ocean waters,
For nature is not mine to tame.
I don’t seek luck; it isn’t real.
I don’t seek dreams too great for dreaming,
I don’t reveal the things I feel,
The thoughts I think,
The hopes I kill...
What I seek, friend, is love eternal.
For love I’d give up even peace,
To rid myself of hate infernal
And feel release.
HonestyShe walks beside a reaper late at night,
Her pleas hung as a noose around his bones:
They paced the willow seemingly alone
But the moon grew brighter in her spite.
The reaper breathes a sooner, heavy sigh
And listened, hallowed, by the woman's shriek
That ricocheted like bullets; their mystique
Dependent on a pleading mother's cry.
Beneath the willow, now, lay two departed
Beside a reaper who'd just barely started
To tear the world from its triumphant lie:
The lie of living honest in the womb
Of gods they knew in faith, but shunned in doom;
And men they killed but never questioned why.
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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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