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For MichaelAt this moment, if I could,
I would wrap my arms around you
and tell you that it's ok to cry. That
everything is alright, that everything is as it should be.
I would tell you that it's ok to be afraid.
I would let your tears fall,
look you in the eyes, and smile at you.
I would tell you that life will go on, and that
one day, you will be reunited,
no matter where your belief's lie.
I would tell you what you already know,
that she loves you,
that she will always be with you,
that she is no longer suffering.
And you will feel her close by
with you at all times. Because
she is part of you. And you are part of her.
You are her son, the one
that made her eyes sparkle,
made her face light up,
made her smile.
But there is no way to force these things
into your head. It's your heart that's grieving.
I know that your heart
is cold and blue, and choked with tears and confusion.
So all I will do is tell you that I love you,
and eventually, although it may seem like life will
never be the same,
The Ashes of my DreamsThose are the ashes of my dreams,
Floating on the wind as time passes by.
Sitting and waiting
As moonbeams softly fall through the sky,
Cutting my flesh like tiny daggers and
Landing gently on the ground below.
Recycled blood just like recycled dreams,
Just like recycled words and thoughts and stories.
And I stare up at the sun as if waiting for some answers
And my blindness leaves me crying out of empty eyes.
Darkness is the light,
Only then will I be able to sleep.
Rest eternally, find my thoughts,
Thoughts on paper,
Ramblings all the same.
Menacing words, hiding within me and keeping me awake.
And it's never good enough,
Only good enough to hate.
The Value of LifeWhile shopping for groceries, my friend and I rounded a corner and bore witness to some confused commotion down one of the food isles. A woman walking towards us held up her hands and splayed them about six inches apart; "It was this big!" She stammered, talking to another customer.
It was a mouse. Or perhaps a rat. I wouldn't be able to find out. Because as we parked the cart, I walked over just in time to see something get kicked into a box, and although my mind was thinking 'wow, that's great! The rodent will be taken outside and away!' It seems that my optimistic thinking was just me, because a customer decided that he would rather kill it than have it saved: he dropped a box of firewood on it.
What was left was a small red smear; it looked like some sort of paint or liquid candy concoction, as 'clean up on isle six' boomed over the loudspeakers.
'Clean up on isle six' was repeated over the intercom more than once, as one of the employees stood watch to make sure that no
Untitled ObservationTo one side of me, my right,
A woman waits for her two nieces to come from the salon.
She paces back and forth, an unlit cigarette sitting in her designer bag.
I had no light to give her.
To my left, a Starbucks, a group of young adults sit in a circle,
The summer breeze carrying their youthful laughter
And caressing their sun-kissed skin.
And me in the middle, my blue hair tussled and ruffled – no 'hair-do' there, just self.
My sunglasses reflecting the surrounding vehicles
I can see through them,
But you can't see me.
Break-up"So, I wanted to talk to you about us."
I lean forward. I've heard that leaning forward really engages a person to listen to you.
"I think that we rushed into things a little too fast."
He's staring at me. I can see his eyes are watering.
"I want you to know that I think you're an amazing person, and I feel so honored that you want to be with me. You've got everything, you know? You're the perfect guy. I just think that we rushed into things a little too quickly."
"Ok." He begins to fiddle around with the straw sticking out of his coffee cup. The silence is killing me. I know that sometimes silence is a good thing, but not now.
"This really sucks, I know," I look away for a moment. It's killing me, really, because I can see that he wants to cry. I want to cry. It hurts me to hurt him. I really don't like hurting people. I've been in this situation before, except I was in his spot. I was the one being dumped, and my dumper, I suppose you could call him, was probably a thousand mil
When beautiful things go unnoticed,
when beautiful things are ignored,
when beautiful things are dying,
there may not be one to save them.
When beautiful things are crying,
when beautiful things will die,
when beautiful things are diving,
there may not be one to hold them back.
But I caught this beautiful thing,
and I kept her from dying,
though she was hell-bent on her ending,
I held this beautiful thing in my arms.
And she closed her eyes in wonder,
at the world I pulled her into,
as she now was as visible as a spirit,
but as immortal as legend.
For she was now my Keeper,
and I held her in my arms,
and she kissed my cheek as I held her,
and all I could do was blush.
When beautiful things touch your soul,
there is no accustomed way to act,
and I felt my heart beat one with hers,
and I cared nothing of the rest.
For a beautiful thing had touched my soul,
like nothing ever had before,
and she wished to hold me longer,
and I wished to hold her forever.
Young LoveI was so young
when I first heard
the beats of my heart
pulse lightly upon my ribcage
My toothpick bones,
to the powerful palpitations
And I was still young
when I heard again
the throbs of my heart
pound forcefully upon my ribcage
My metal bar bones,
to the butterfly-wing beats
So you better hurry, boy
as my ribs are becoming
thick as steel
and you’ll soon need a metal cutter
to reach my heart
(And I don’t want to become damaged in the process of being loved).
how to love a girl who can't love herself.get lost under the sun, then
fight the break of dawn.
i am nothing in the dark,
so show me
walk with me,
to the secret place
where i met you
(those turquoise city dreams)
when the sun goes down,
when the moon shines,
(girl of the ocean, let's go
somewhere only we know.)
please, i beg you.
winter me gently, because the earth laughs in flowers, and
red red roses, they're so beautifully
from the back of my throat, i promisethe world is made of talking trees and cloudy water,
and the way you look at me
i'm no artist but i think i've painted your voice at the base of my neck
it's not something you can come back from
and tomorrow won't be a victory any more than it will be a loss
they don't make maps for a place like thisI'm stuck somewhere
between great rollings hills
and a sweet-calm sea,
but the air doesn't smell
of salt or dandelions.
Only this heavy
cloying breeze that sticks
in my throat and fills
my lungs with the sharp tang
of musk and pine
reminds me that I'm
not far from home. And
in the distance there
is a rolling clamor;
a whistle crying long and low.
But there are no signs,
Though I've wandered days
through this strange
traipsing across smooth plains
and sharp plateaus, I've
never crossed the
same path twice...
One thought rings true in
this foreign land:
dear, don't be alarmed
I only lose my bearings so thoroughly,
only become so
What Shall He Be?Oh what shall he be - the one to steal my heart?
Many a man is there in this vast world,
But what sort should I desire?
My sisters have oft said to see him in my thoughts.
To know him there and appease my dreams.
I am slow to act, for what reality could compare to a woman's dream?
But, alas, I do believe
That even I find myself dreaming of him now and again.
And so you ask, what sort of man is he?
Well listen close, for here I shall tell of what sort he would be:
He should be tall and graceful, elegant and fair;
With sweet golden locks of his curly hair.
And have blue eyes that sparkle in the light
Of the sun, bright, as does his smile shine.
His tender words and gentle touch
Would so sooth my heart and troubled mind.
His strong arms would hold me fast in the darkest nights
And chase away my fears 'til dawn.
His sweet lips would kiss me tenderly, lovingly just so.
He would have a heart of pure gold, and be loyal and good.
And looking into his eyes, he would see my soul
And I, giving my
to hell with goodwill (que sera sera)his tale-weaving tongue
tastes of crisp linen
drenched in bergamot
locked in by lips
of brown sugar that bubble
a blueberry melody
on his siren songs
drunken on an unearthly state
i drown my earl grey eyes
refusing to abandon the atrocity
that is his bedspread
his vesuvius temper
keep me on the verge of tears
on the ledge of limitations
i know all too well
i can never repel his touch
his gaze glazes over my beehive body
and i break open
raw and wild
sucking on the saccharine serendipity
of seeing this scene
in some long lost dream
his lambent limbs
though scathingly swollen
spread far and wide
such is my
i am peeled
past my quivering
he polishes and pencils
past my profanities
his life oeuvre is
to have me obliterated
come what may
the desolation of this delusion
will one day leave me
to inferno with goodw
Sleeping VolcanoWhen you kiss me
thousand little needles
pierce my skin
delight and pain
both burning calmly
like sleeping volcano
slowly consumed by
heat and fire
and I bleed
poison and nectar
embraced by your need
and even if
we grow distant and old
fire burns out and lava turns to stone
my blood keeps
screaming for your lips
I won't forgetI will always remember
you quietly waiting in the corridors
and opening doors for me to pass through
you drifting in and out of office spaces
and as we walked with matching paces
your smile would quietly etch itself into my memories
of what we were when we were not together.
I will always remember the feelings I wanted to forget
as I walked the limits of darkness every night,
my loneliness like a silhouette
that knew no respite
from the resounding cries
of the kookaburras in the trees
weeping for the heart that wanted to be free
to be with the you
who could not be with me.
I will always remember the voice inside my head
uttering a love that could not be said
across the oceans and the miles
that stretched like a chasm before us
but it was never a distance we did not surmount--
each night a transgression of space and time,
a compression of our imaginations and our minds.
I will never forget these slivers of a past
that used to haunt us with the pain of our non-existence
in a reality we'd
The CoJoined SplitIt was the strangest thing
Sitting at my computer,
Room fairly cleared out,
Alanis Morissette blaring out of my computer,
And he walks in uninvited,
Just as she's singing about it.
And memories blend with reality –
Out of my peripheral vision
I saw half him and half him.
But that's all it was – a blending of two things.
Two things joined
Two things apart.
Together and splitting.
I had the mental image that it was
Him, not just him.
That's just the way it was.
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More