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The World Without WordsThere is a world in which no one can say but one word. Any word. Their word. After that, they die. There is no warfare, no poverty, no suffering. Men are unable to explain away the cruelty of their actions, and so man toils under the weight of his actions. No lies spread by way of eager lips.
In this world, there is a man and a woman sitting together in a bar, having a comfortable silence between them.
He leans against the bar, an eyebrow quirked at her. She inspects him with pursed lips, taking him in without interruption. He is a tall man and a big guy. His hair is thick and invasive, and dyed green. She takes more time than he'd like her to, and so he gives her a clown face. She's beautiful. She chortles at him, and he lets his chest down and breath out; she's beautiful and he made her laugh. A wonderful start by most of society.
She tosses her long, luxurious, lengthy hair back over her shoulder and adjusts herself to face him. He straightens up and brushes a hand through his hair,
Man in Space and Time"What if I did do those big and important things?"
I thought to myself aloud.
"What if I stop being afraid of living?"
I swore then I'd instigate change in the universe.
On a tiny blue rock in nothing, I could change the world.
But when I was done, everything was in flames.
I frowned and thought long and hard about it,
sighing as the flames took all breaths away.
"I destroyed everything. I wanted to do good, not bad.
I'm not a bad person."
I stopped being selfish. In that moment I gave up the chains of consciousness
and let go of morality, the world, myself.
"This is the Universe. Flames have eaten my blue rock,
and now they dance in a new world just for them."
The fires raged to life and breathed and were powerful,
and they changed things and sometimes what they changed was beautiful
and sometimes what things became was beautiful. Ash rose in the violent winds,
embers hugged the earth.
"I did it. I lived and did big and important things, and everything I thought was
bad or ugly
An Affair on MyselfWake up early morning, it's time to be on my feet.
No time to eat something, I've got a place to be.
The sun beats on my head, I'm burnt like the sand.
The past whirls in my mind, I can hardly stand.
Time like water flows on by, currents in the sun.
Frozen feelings begin to melt, oh look how they run.
I don't feel the light burn, the peeling of my skin.
I only feel that urge to stop the loneliness within.
I could just scream! Unleash what's inside of me.
That is I would do that, if I wasn't so empty.
I can just shout! Let my heart sing.
That is I would do this, if the words weren't so heavy.
Vapid vixens vex me, fleeting like the wind.
Their faces come and go, stop before they begin.
I like to loose myself, to the bottom of the drink.
I'll think of you fondly, 'til next we meet.
Tender loving is all I really wanted.
Hard to love anyone, by the past you're still haunted.
I don't really like you all, just strangers in a mask.
But a touch is a touch, and there's peace of mind at last.
The MawThe Maw
An endless river barren black with souls,
the living wailing as they wait for Hope.
In all their minds they hear the chewing,
the bones crunching and the blood spewing.
Filled with dread they flail about,
they don't want to die, when will Hope pull them out?
Oh what a sight to see the hopeless hell of humanity,
The moaning corpses shoveled into the Maw,
Freedom to live forbade by law,
The fear of timeless prison,
bodies mulched by society's jaw,
consumed by social religion.
The young, the pure, the innocent.
They're stricken dumb, blind, and tainted.
Their youth is eaten by spirits malevolent.
They become old men with the same cruel intent.
Struggling and failing to escape the Maw,
Before death all are beaten raw.
I watch friends and loved ones sigh and ache in line.
They stumble on, deaf to my pleas for salvation.
Like a haunting their lives are stuck on a miserable repeat.
They dress like government issue live stock,
branding themselves with different lies and false freedom,
A Practice in Freeflow.Set up: A man ought to have his own private room, i.e. a study. A place where can go to work and be left alone for however long he needs it. Even his loved ones are proscribed* from entry. But an artist seeks to express the life expressed within, and how can you refuse your lover from the one place you pay her highest tribute?
And so she enters...
Her presence was first an annoyance. I'm not annoyed with her, per se, but with a foreign presence in my most private of areas. In this small room, cramped with books and papers and drawings and music, lay the spirit of I. The mind's soul, which doesn't seek to know all things, but to experience all things. It is my time and place alone from the human race.
Here she is. I'm not speaking to her. I'm pretending to be slightly agitated and highly invested by my work. In truth, I can't put any productive words down to text. I try to look at her when she doesn't see me. I like to see her. Not in quick glances; those are saddening. I like to take h
Maybe... Perhaps...Maybe ... because our encounters are given as numbered...
Perhaps ... there could be no poets in the world, but there will always be a poem for you...
Maybe... I want to eat you and fill me of you because I don’t know when I will have you again…
Perhaps... where my heart burns and rests, I will find you, my beauty...
Maybe... because there is no map to the place where we go...
Perhaps... because all of your kisses are stolen…
Maybe... Darkness and light are the work of one mind, features of the same face, blossom of a single tree...
Perhaps... Something special for you, whispering to the foolish hearts like mine...
Maybe ... because you decided to not stay with me...
Perhaps ... I have to resign myself to run away with you...
Maybe... As long as there are eyes that reflect the passions of the eyes who look at you...
Perhaps... The eyes can’t fit on the face of the world, and the eyes do not fit into the earth to admire your beauty...
Maybe ... Suddenly I found
love poem for a pianistyou make me think about
how heavy negative space can be.
the space between your fingers,
the space between notes,
the space between us
in this small, soundproof room;
every empty millimetre
in my chest
She + She"I like how our feminine gazes cross, from dawn till twilight
This honeyed voice of her, every time
She says she's deeply fond of me. Mellifluous sounds.
The way we roll up in the green watered grass, innocently
Our burning hands melt under our youth's sun beams.
After years of wandering, I'm conviced
I finally found how I should live.
Her arm around my pleased waist."
said Laura, with an indelible grin on her chubby face.
"I especially liked our fortunate meeting
I remember everything, every purple clouds among morning mist
Sprites sowed seeds of love on my path.
When I saw her, one word bolted in my stunned mind,
This stunning aura of her, just left me speechless
Spring butterflies in my stomach,
Each new sapphire moon with this girl is a gift."
said Charlotte, tightly holding her darling's hand.
"A dyke? Meeeh it shouldn't exist, th
FIOLEE,CAP 21 NO ME MIENTASFIOLEE,CAP 21 NO ME MIENTAS
¡Ahora lo que casi nadie espera que sucederá!
Una lagrima broto de sus ojos, trato de detener con persistencia las que le seguían…-no…¡Esto no ha acabado!-
Entre de nuevo en la casa del árbol, definitivamente esa tal Fionna me esta haciendo enfadar de nuevo, no entiendo como es que hace para que esa mirada y esa voz llena de compasión puedan penetrar en lo profundo de mi ser, me hace sentir extraño es como si quisiera estar a su lado y protegerla, ¿pero porque la protegería?, tiene una fuerza bruta inmensamente mortal, claro que eso no lo admitiré nunca por supuesto, pero cuando lucho sola contra mi y me venció baje de las nubes, nunca pensé que un humano pudiese vencerme, ella lo hizo posible.
No se que es lo que le ve al dulce chicle afeminado, digo, por favor, el no puede defenderse por si solo, además de que es un completo cobarde, ¿como i
RosesRoses are read and violets are blue
I gave my entire heart over to you
You took it from me and dumped it in the trash
I should've known; beauty never lasts
Roses are brittle and violets will wilt
All I did was try and ask you for help
You took me under your wing and crept into my heart
Then you made sure to take your time in ripping me apart
Roses are dead, the violets are too
How did I ever convince myself to trust you
Still, it was nice to think I had a friend
To bad I was just a toy to you in the end
GoodbyeRight now I don't want to remember,
And I hope I won't regret this,
But I know I won't want to forget this
Those final hours, and that lingering last kiss
Was the type of moment dreams dwell on,
No I won't forget this:
If that was the last time I held you,
And thought we'd have time,
The last time I tasted you,
And felt your skin slip against mine,
It's the type of goodbye
Writers write about,
Singers sing about,
And dreamers dream about.
Well, I'll scribble about missing you,
And about wilting flowers;
I’m always looking for a story, darling,
And 'goodbye' may be the best of ours.
Loud SilenceMy tongue cannot convey as much emotion as my hands can.
My hands can dance a dance of love & ecstasy, as I caress your beautiful skin.
My hands, they can express how much you mean to me with a gentle stroke of my thumb over your knuckle.
They can scream in anguish and displeasure as I pull my hand from yours, my futile attempt to
shield our awkward affection for one another from your eccentric, pushy family.
They can experience a euphoric sensation as they, ever so slowly, part your silky hair, silent pleasure emanating from my fingertips.
And they can aid in my eternal struggle, -to express my love for you and all you stand for, with a simple squeeze of your smaller hand.
What is love really?What is love really?
I see love as...
Being warm and comforting.
Playing a game of 'Where's Waldo?'.
Being as wells as coming in different shapes,
and sizes never disappointing either.
Being able to look inside of someone,
rather than just the outside.
Being here to make you feel good,
as well as always being there when its needed.
Being something that is irreplaceable,
and not something that can be bought.
Being yourself and not changing,
that for some love.
Being something that is obvious to see,
and what others envy the most.
Being more expensive than anything,
in the whole world.
Being able to tell when someone loves you.
Being able to cry,
and show your sensitive side.
Ignoring your lover's flaws,
and undesirable traits.
Not being destroyed and broken,
no matter what happens.
Smiling at the little things they do.
Putting your differences aside.
Growing weak at the knees.
Not committing a selfish act,
Tears of GlassI wish I had someone to comfort now
like the girl staring back from the mirror-
I would whisper my love and hold her hand-
I would soak up her tears and find her smile.
But I can’t dry tears that are made of glass-
I can’t hear lovers’ words that are my own.
There is no one here who will hold me close,
and no companion I can charm to smile.
The only girl with whom I share sorrow
stares back from the mirror with tears of glass.
Twenty-three years before the crippling of Crown Prince James III
He was fourteen and she was probably aged about the same, give or take a few years. It had been an hour since he'd met her.
He hated her already.
She scowled behind him and likely shared the sentiment as they scampered up the hillside in a desperate attempt to escape the roaring mob that seemed to be growing perpetually larger and coming ever-closer. Gabriel would have liked to say that it was all her fault he was in this situation, though it was his careless nicking ofwhat was it? A chicken that started the first old woman running, but how was he supposed to know that she'd stumble and fall and everyone else would think he'd assaulted her?
He hadn't. He'd taken the chicken, snapped its neck and run, because he hadn't eaten meat in weeks and he was starting to feel the affects on his already weak limbs.
This is what happens, he thought. This is what happens when you live like th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More