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Love is a PhoenixI have seen nothing more tragic,
Than watching love die.
Enduring it’s painfully fade,
At stubbornly clings to life
The slow death of a love,
That’s filled with years of life.
Or the sudden snap,
As it blinks away in a lover’s eye.
It doesn’t go easy,
And it doesn’t go fast.
It goes out fighting,
Because love was made to last.
It is a brilliant flame,
Drowned in water.
It clings to the air,
With all its dying embers.
Yes, I have seen no sadder sight,
Than watching love as it dies.
But I have been blessed to gazed upon no otherworldly scene,
Than watching love be born again, anew and free.
The Devil's WayMake a bargain, sell your soul.
Condemn it to the deepest hole
That ever came of fact or thought.
For such a price ought can be bought.
Just sign right here. This dotted line.
Cut the last ethereal twine
That ties your body and your mind.
Don't you wonder what you'll find?
Be free of all your earthly toil
And later you will surely boil
In tar as deep and thick as night
From which escapes no saving light.
So what's your choice? It's time to choose.
What will you gain? What will you lose?
Sign right here and you can say
"I lived my life the Devil's way".
Ocean's CallRays of the morning Sun tear the veil of mist
Ships slumber by the shores, waiting to be awoken
Ocean whispers while they slumber of her beauty unspoken
The wooden bodies by her waves are longfully kissed
The beacon closed her fiery eye, the Sun laid her to sleep
But the slumber of the ships will soon and slowly break
When the ships have spread their sails, then they'll be awake
Not because of the chiming bells, but by the Ocean's weep
And the arms of safe lands will not embrace them anymore
When they hearken Ocean's calls and her secrets hidden
One by one, they will leave their safest home - the shore
But perils lurk in dulcet calls of the Ocean so enchanting
Nevertheless, the ships will leave, for freedom is not forbidden
They shall sail forevermore, mesmerized by the eternal chanting
The broken cupThe broken cup does not signify much,
Other than I dropped it
and I ought to clean it up.
It is not an allegory
for my last relationship;
Just a gift from a friend
From which I liked to sip-
And there's coffee on the floor,
In the carpet, down my dress.
Does it have to be a metaphor
For me to be distressed?
Why can't we just drop
A damned cup of damned coffee,
Without it being a brooding realisation
Or a life-epiphany?
HeartHello, you’re new, shall I show you around?
You will feel at home here, I assure you,
You know this place, it is a sacred ground,
It may look cluttered but there’s room for two.
You will notice that there are just four rooms,
It seems ‘small’, but I choose to use ‘cosy’,
Left is cold, right is warm, by both life blooms,
Your bed is central, should you feel dozy.
You could stay forever, if it’s your will,
And I would like you to stay with me, please?
For now you are here to leave is to kill,
Keep my beating and fleeting heart at ease.
My Muse Has Left MeWhen she departs from my grace,
My palette dries in her wake,
Devoid of livelihood for now,
With dull words to fill my tray,
For now I paint a portrait,
With no wings of my own,
I am yet to be grown,
For she alone floats me high,
She alone carries the brush;
Strokes colours unto the night,
Filling the empty artist with,
Her sweet kiss of silvery light.
So I lay now in wait,
Under rainbows left gray,
To taste the honey of her life,
Dripping like nectar from rose-soft lips,
Pressed tight as a clamp unto mine,
Breathing into me a laced love letter,
Sighed: To the artist; From: The divine.
Can't believe I couldI can't believe I could fall for you,
but I can't get rid of an impression,
you would understand meanders of my soul,
and take me safely home.
I can't believe I could think of you,
and I can't accept I could like your view,
but when it comes to the truth - I do,
and this complication is incredibly new.
A breakthrough giving rise to an new age,
before I fall offstage.
Gothic CreativityGoth Creativity is a very dark, amusing thing to have,
But you criticizing, using horrid language, makes my heart halve,
You see, Goth Creativity isn't always death, suicide, or depression,
It's almost always about love, romance, and the use of nonaggression,
But I apologize, we may not be friends, for you are stereotypical,
I already knew that, but ignored, that, of me, is typical,
You're probably contemplating, on what you will do next without me,
I do not care, now without you in my life, my creativity has been set free,
Looks like you are alone, now, and wish to have never done the deed,
So now, you just watch your wrists bleed,
The measure of the lost memoryAge is but a fraction,
But a story not yet told,
But a sentimental value,
But something we cannot hold.
Age impedes our victories,
Age stands in our way,
The young remain incapable,
And the old will seldom stay.
Age is not a birthday,
Not a frame of time from birth to death,
Not a number that can be ever told,
Not a number told on dying breath.
Age can not be measured,
For none can seem to find,
That age refers to the memory,
Of the thing within your mind.
And whence you forget what your mind holds,
The age is lost as well to the abyss,
And the hourglass drains the last grain of sand,
And the pure void, ensures pure bliss.
ArtistWhat skill with your hand you do lightly draw,
connecting lines to form dazzling dreams,
without being able to make a flaw.
Sparks fly in your magic, persistant eyes,
creating a new world in your image,
with confidence that reaches new highs.
Your efforts always seem unrewarded,
the public turning a cold, blind eye,
with nothing to keep your ego fed.
But what dif'rent message is seen in scribes?
Nothing but a meaningless textbook here.
A school's reading has no creative vibes.
A generation that does not read out,
only wants to see words in the pictures,
though there are those who read Poe's works about.
Though literature can on
Hadal OblivionFrom vastest depths of the forgetfulness,
The wail of the banished memories
Resounds, bouncing off invisible walls of nothingness,
And their painful intensity – sonance, greatly varies.
Oh, millions of darkest memories cast out
To oblivion, gently caressing them and yet...
They are starving; on the edge of life; bleeding out.
Although kept alive in emanation of agony, grief and hate.
Many want to banish those shards
of their lives. In the end - banishing themselves.
Stripped of those shards of glass, containing memories,
We are nothing – especially not humans. Without identity,
We may find ourselves lost in the overwhelming wor
Sexual AwakeningMy heart kept pumping
But it drowned in its blood
Waiting for someone
To save it from its flood
Yeah, I did that once
Now my patience is dead
I waited and waited
As my heart just bled
Now my patience is dead!
Now I paint the town red
With that sexy new paintbrush
I just met instead
To rephrase what I said
I paint it in my head
When I picture the masterpiece
We can create in my bed
I’m awaken by perfect chaos
Of tranquil vividness
I believe that this is the outcome
Of my restlessness
In silent chaos I’ll hunt down
The prey of exquisiteness
I’ll lure them in
As I prepare to entrap
Then go for the kill
Just scaredYour words were scaring me,
What can i say?
Whatever it is, is nothing to stay,
Let me walk for that i shall,
I wont ever even be found.
The Imperfect LineWritten by Josiah Shockency (JCS)
Life is an imperfect line,
We all have ups and downs,
Positives and negatives,
And even smiles and frowns…
It’s a pleasure to be born,
And your life’s a treasure,
But there are stains that won’t budge,
While having all pleasure…
ANGER! DEPRESSION! SADNESS!
Life, what is life anyway?
With all this love and hate,
Mixed together into one,
A huge stain on your plate…
JEALOUSY! STRESS FROM MADNESS!
With bullies in life of school,
Mugs and thugs in cold streets,
With enemies that lurk on,
Seeking for one’s defeats,
FEELING IGNORED! LOSING HOPE!
Bills to pay, mone
A Pretty Little Box For YouI ~hehe~ have a little box
I think it's about the right height
To fit little you inside
And shut you in there tight
So when you feel you're ready
I'll be waiting ~hehe~ in my place
To make you a box so pretty
I'll make it frame your little face
It would be so fun to measure you
But little one do not fear ~hehe~
What a sad thing it would be
Should laughter disappear
~Hehe~ I will tell you anything
There's many things that I know
All I ask in return ~hehehehe~
Is to make me laugh, you know
It's the greatest gift, it is
In the whole entire world
Laughter's the best medicine
I am ~hehe~ sure you've heard
But when your laughter decides to cease
I have this box for you
And ~hehe~ If you really want
I'll ~hehehehe~ make you two
i can't imagine this world
Without smiles, laughter, cheer
What a sad thing it would be ~hehe~
Should laughter disappear....
When We were YoungWhen we were young
The world was big.
Innocence and treachery lurked
Around every bend.
Angels and demons walked
Hand in hand.
We were Fearless.
When we were young
The sky was invincible.
The moon hung limply above,
An opaque and opalescent white,
Forever a symbol of love.
We Were Intrigued.
When we were young
There was now color to rival
The dark blue of the ocean.
The ever-tumbling mass of
Dancing, carrying dreams
Of heroes and villains in far away lands.
We were exited.
When we were young
Our eyes were the gateways to our souls.
Our emotions danced on the edges of ou
Secret SorrowShe found the meaning of life,
Then she swore she wouldn't tell,
But when you gave up on the fight
She damned it all to hell.
She screams out loud her silent plea,
You enter right on cue.
The you that's hiding in her dreams
And whispers, "I miss you."
She cries to herself, at night, alone,
But it's so hard to sleep
When your pillow is a heavy stone,
Drowned by the tears you weep.
And though the bear is not much help,
It's the only thing she has,
So she clings on to its velvet pelt
As she will until the end.
With teary eyes she snuffs the light,
As rings the morning bell.
She found the meaning of life,
Then she swore she wou
The world is broken.
The incessant wind,
The pelting deluge,
The cresting wave,
And with it
The music is drowned.
The world is broken.
The tired tongue,
The fearful bird,
The passionate heart,
And with it
The music dies.
The world is broken.
The trusted promise,
The giver of love,
The salty tear,
And with it
The music quakes.
The world is broken.
The faithless heart,
The poet's mind,
The pen on the paper,
And with it
The silence is no lo
Mislaid InnocenceBurn and salt the broken ground,
Once the sight of sacred sound;
All that remains to be found
Is forsaken ground that's now hell-bound.
With hate and sorrow, the soil's imbued,
The dirt that's buried holy truths
Is left for weeds to shake and fuel
The silent tongues that know the truth.
The innocence-deriven eyes
The witnessed the sulfuric lies,
The children's' thoughts remain inside:
Consequence causes the soul to hide.
Their furrowed brows will question why
So many dreams were left to die;
Why angel's wings, once meant to fly
Were torn away and cast aside.
The silent thought cowering inside
Is the whisper on which they rely
Aviator ShadesYou Know the world, it sucks
And your personal life's screwed up,
And now someone pissed you off,
The monotony won't stop.
But there's no need to fight
'cause the summer sun is bright
and you're gonna party through the day
in your aviator shades.
The music's blaring right,
Wanna Rock and Roll all Ni-i-ight,
The sky's make-memory blue,
Stuck in the Middle With You.
The laughter is contagious,
Reality is vanquished,
The music's really sounding great
Behind your aviator shades.
The scent of spray-on tans,
Screaming, "Stick it to the Man,"
And the sand between your toes
As the surfs edge ebbs and flows.
Someone's quoting Monty
Quintessence of RadianceThe water caresses my legs
As I stand on the edge of the sea,
And watch the sun come up,
Rising from the blues and the greens.
And the world has yet to awaken,
And the moon's at the edge of the sky,
And the world behind me is silent,
And I think, "What a beautiful sight."
The stars, they continue their fading,
As the moon gently slides out of view,
For once, it's the truth that I'm speaking,
It's not as beautiful as you.
I stood at the edge of a canyon,
And the wind whipped my hair in my face,
I leaned, and I glanced a thousand feet below,
And felt that I was trapped in space.
And the blood was roaring through my veins,
Devout IndecisionThou shall not kill, thou shall not cry,
Thou shall not scream, thou shall not lie.
Tears of innocence fell from grace
But sins committed were not erased,
For the pearl white rose is stained with blood
From murders done in the name of love.
The rosary scattered when your knees hit the floor,
You cried for a savior but he was no more.
Then you saw his face; saw the tears in his eyes
And the scars in your hands gained by his petty lies.
And another player then entered the stage,
And your soul moaned when HE whispered your name.
HE took your hand, pulled you from the floor,
The savior sobbed as you reached for the door.
As you reac
Brain WaspsBrain Wasps
I am on the verge of tears. Why is this so hard? I think furiously, twirling the cylinder of Chapstick around in my fingers. I shut my eyes tight and try again.
I reach out to set the Chapstick on the nightstand beside my bed, but seconds after I release the tube I have to grab it again. Wrong, the brain wasps tell me, you have to get it just right.
I briefly consider hurling the thing across the room, but I know that I’ll just have to get out of bed to pick it up again. I am trapped in my own compulsions.
I know it’s stupid, and that’s part of what’s bothering me so much. Why can’t I just p
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`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More