Looking On Stars From A Dirty WorldIn some other time, in some other place,
in the vast reaches in the darkest space,
We've given it one more chance,
at undying romance.
At the melding of souls,
to coalesce like the elements,
binary stars around black holes,
Hot love that burns as coals,
along the night sky.
Subjective ObjectiveRiding on the precipice of a collapsing wave-function. In between initial frames of reference, relative to the world at stand still. Becoming all possible states until no more are left to assume. Invincible, irreplicable, pushing off the earth as the earth pushes back. Neither either but both. Micro macro, negative positive, repel attract. Riding on the precipice of a collapsing wave-function.
My Trip To The GroundI've been pushed from behind,
I don't know by who.
When I look I hope to find,
It was me and not you.
Because when push turns to shove,
I'll shove harder than you do.
When you pull hatred out of love,
Not much else is true.
Why am I being pushed anyways?
As I got close,
You should have warned me to stay away.
Now I'm upset as I contest why I feel this way:
You were my savior just yesterday.
As I trip on my feet,
I don't know what to think.
Where's your helping hand?
In black sand I've begun to sink.
You have a mighty smile,
Will you be here for awhile?
Gotta say I think not,
You look like you're lost.
Here And NowHere And Now
Here we are, in the here and now,
nowhere else we'd rather be.
Of all of time and space,
this is when I want to be.
We fly, the universe and I,
together in this place.
We'll lose each other soon enough,
though we're in no grand haste.
Death is the final moment, the clarifying breath,
every moment is that moment, only death has yet to join us.
Breath in the air, death will soon be here,
and now is all we have, for all we really care.
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
hallucinations and dreamsHow do I call you without losing the romance and mystery?
What ritual or dance is done to the moon to bring me your kisses?
The death of a being of such beauty is a spectacle that seems to me as sad as wonderful... I feel compelled to stop it.
Every night, when I retire quietly of your dreams, but not before leaving a black rose on your pillow, along with a note "Goodbye beautiful girl. You already have a place in my heart. "
For a moment, a feeling consumes me the idea of staying here by your side until I'm lifeless...
But then I think about the consequences of letting me die: my soul would rest, yes; but my body would miss you, and that pain could not bear a lifetime.
One sometimes die slow, and miss everything that has not happened yet, living in a fantasy, a fast and bright longing to that person who has not even turned around to see us ...
These are seemingly endless minutes, minutes where only exists pain and torture.
The pain becomes a pang.
The rumors are floating in the mist.
The FeelingLove is the feeling
Of being hit in the chest by a tidal wave,
A feeling as heavy and crushing
As earth thrown into a grave,
And it could pave
The way to happiness
Or lead us into Hell.
Love is that feeling
When nothing matters but then it does
In high definition
And in your head is an endless repetition
Of every moment you’ve ever
Love is that feeling
When someone else is your oxygen;
You need them to survive,
And every time you touch,
Even in your dreams,
Is the only time you feel alive.
Love is that feeling
Where everything is beautiful
Because your eyes have been stolen
By an angel
But everything is as secure
As it is fragile.
Love is that feeling
When you know it’s all over
But you can’t bring yourself to hate
Them because you want them to be happy,
Even if their happiness
Crocodile X reader: You're the only one for me.You were some what bummed that you didn't get the partner you wanted while the game played on. You even stayed behind to see if your secret crush even put in an item to play the game...but alas, he did not play. Whom was your secret crush? Well, that should be quite obvious...it was Crocodile!
You didn't know what it was, whether it was his hook, the scar across his face, the cigar or his muscular body...but mmmmm! Damn! He was a nice piece of work! But...you'd never say such thoughts out loud, hell you'd probably walk up to him and say 'I like sand too.." and then walk off hurriedly so that the biggest reaction you would probably get out of the former warlord would be a raised eye brow.
But seriously, he could have played and gotten seven minutes alone with any of the pretty ladies on that ship several years ago...but why didn't he? Well.. now was the time to ask him yourself. For there he was; sitting at a café, along with his blade-blade fruit partner. They were reading a newsp
Golden Field of Sadness
Golden Field of Sadness 1/25/14
There she stands in a golden field of wheat,
hands spread - her face raised to the shining moon.
She embraces the rain the slides down her cheeks
and falls lightly on her long hair of bright yellow.
It is straight and lustrous as it clings to her skin.
Her eyes are wild and crazed.
Pain wracks her body in wave after
wretched wave. This world has broken her.
She wishes to drown in this saturated air.
She screams into the night as a cloud
covers the glowing face of the moon.
Through her sadness, somehow I see a vibrant life.
I feel the fullness of her light.
I watch her from a distance longing to ease
her anguish but unsure as to how.
Oh, that dress looks so nice on her.
Does she even see me?
Could I ever comfort her?
Make her forget the past?
She drops to her knees and pounds
the soaked ground. And her tears
blend in with the rain and my heart melts.
I have to try to end her fears
and shelter her from the bitter years.
To end her pain becomes my aim
November SkyThis is where we come to get lost
Where the horizon meets with sudden
The ease of orange marmalade and honey
But passion strikes us in its reflection
Cascading desire for the unattainable
Burning blistering in our hands as we
Catch stars like fallen embers which arose
From fires burning to challenge the cold
In nights bewitching the tempest of twilight
Though silently soothing like cinnamon in fall