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Rebuttals.Such beautiful blasphemy
Such coaxing condemnation
What detrimental images
Dance through my imagination
How tasteful this temptation
I'm so delightfully damned
Such a fantastic failure
Was the lion and the lamb.
How succulently sick
And excelling expectation
Was the act that signed and sealed
The prevalent promiscuity
So promisingly perfect.
The scent of skin and sweat and flesh
Such dear denunciation.
Who knew that from the soul could come
Such a pagan premonition?
That such an act is alone
The minds own emanation.
That such an act so oft' despised
Is the seed of inspiration,
That such an animalistic act
Is its own education.
And if I am despised and burn
For such an honest demonstration,
I shall grin and laugh and dance
But never offer explanation.
And if they threaten you and I
With vulgar confrontation,
I will stand beside you and
Defend our our righ
Even EdenThere was once a garden so beautiful, so pure that time itself did not dare set foot in it. The fruits were full and brightly colored, and their scents hung in the warm air with a sweet flavor that would reach out and cling to your clothes and linger on your tongue. The grass was thick and cool, with no rocks or thistles to stab at bare feet, and no insects to nibble on bared flesh. The breeze was gentle and cool, perfectly contrasted by the warm air. The sky was in a state of perpetual sunset, with the tip of the sun lingering over the western skys, casting the most exuberant shades of reds and oranges, greens and purples across it, and mixing with the moon that sat, fat and jolly on the other side, casting its alabaster glow down upon the garden.
In this garden, there lived three people. The first was a man named Eden, and he was the keeper of the garden. He over saw that the fruit grew large and sweet, and that the grass was safe and long. He kept the leaves on the trees green and t
Because Of YouThe mountains quake with uncinstrained fury
and the sky hacks its disbelieving lightning laugh
while the clouds growl low in the hills.
They spit on us,their deluge of tiny,
warm droplets that pour down around us.
Let them hate that I love you.
The demons in the fire cackle and click
as they lick out with their burning tongues
hissing their cinder-like words
and blowing this way and that,
hoping one will land upon our bare flesh.
and leave its painful mark.
Let them hate that I Love You.
The restless western wind and the cold north one
moan and whisper to one another
in astonished insult, as they wrap themselves
around our bodies and squeeze, but to no effect.
Let them hate that I Love You.
And they all plot against us to steal me away.
The lightning blinds me
while the fire tendrils grad hold of my wrists
and the wind caresses my neck head and neck,
and runs gently through my hair,
whispering for me to come away.
I do not hear them.
I do not feel them.
All I know is that you arms are
Swear NeverYou were there when I swore I never needed anyone.
When I swore there was no such thing as love.
When I swore I would never cry.
You were there when I swore they would never get to me.
That I would never care what they thought,
That I would never look back.
You were there when I swore they would never break me,
and you where there when I was proven wrong.
You where there when Never became Now,
and then you swore.
I was there when you swore you had never seen someone as perfect as me.
when you swore you would never forget me,
never leave me.
When you swore you would never let me go,
would never stop until I was happy.
And then you swore you never lied.
The JokerI know the secret God wanted to keep,
And I laid down my hand and said, "Read 'em and weep."
Then he looked at the devil, who nodded his head,
Then looked back at me and smiled as he said
"In knowledge, my child, you win yet you loose,
You are cursed with the will to seek for the truth."
The devil leaned forward in his fit, silk black suit,
Downed a shot and said with aloof,
"He's right ya know, kid,
You're faced with a choice,
Break or bend.
Live or die.
Silence or Noise."
I shook my head, no. I did not understand,
As god stood and left, the devil folded his hands.
He stood and he circled the table and sighed,
"I like you kid, do you wanna know why?
Even here, even now, with now way to win,
You're kicking and screaming, you fight to the end.
You'd think you'd have learned that you're not always strong,
That," He sneered, "you are human,
And you Can be wrong."
And then, my dear friend, he started to laugh,
And with each sickly hiss his voice sizzled and cracked.
"Let me tell you someth
PonderingsCaught amongst the rampant race
Staring into heavens face
Wondering if there is a place
For you amongst that empty space
Something kind of like a star
Constant no matter where you are.
So perfectly above the bar
You envy their right to be so far
So daintily far above
The crooked world your supposed to love
But what right have they to sit and judge?
A star knows not of life and love
A star has no urge to kiss and tell
Has never stood at the gates of hell
Has never had to sit and dwell
On just how far he might have fell
A star knows nothing of win and loose
A star fears no hangmans noose
They just sit there, high and aloof
And stare back at the darkened roofs
A stars have a far worse fate
They dwindle outside heavens gate
While they always contemplate
never will they participate
So when next you search for something true
Do not look to the endless blue
For although stars act like they do
In truth they know nothing of you.
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
By the LakeSat beneath a Christmas tree in late-March.
The ground is damp but pliant, it pretends to accept me
and then sneaks its cold fingers through my clothes
to dampen my spirits further with its chilly undertones.
I stare at the river, plump with soon-to-be April showers.
It does roly-polys over the smallest of obstacles and goes on.
It reminds me of what I should be able to do.
It runs as I grind to a full stop, and consider my life sentence.
The sky is blue; not like me, but bright and crisped;
Its been blurred by an amateur around the edges with cloud
But they don’t threaten me with rain just yet so, for now, we are friends.
The sun is missing. No one knows where she is.
She could be dead, by now. At the bottom of the lake.
Could have slunk there in a midday sunset.
She could of drowned her sorrows in the ricocheting tides
of a man made dam and its loosened throat. She could be.
She is not, she is hiding.
The sun hides from the world but leaves a blue sheen behind
to let everyone k
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
ConfrontationI shed a tear
The damage will be severe
Run away in fear?
I'll fight until the coast is clear!
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
My MonumentI am staring at a wall.
A blank, empty, barren wall.
There are cracks in it.
The white paint is chipping.
The spray can in my hand is cool,
and it cry's rebellion.
I hold my breath and stare at this,
and wonder what to write on its
No. As soon as the word is written it becomes a lie.
No, to etch it on yet another lifeless surface would only furthur mar it's meaning.
No. For then the wall would be sure to crumble with time.
No. I need to forget it all.
I stare at this wall.
But it's not really blank, is it?
The chipped pait that leaves the
unblemished stone visible
The tiny, hopeless flower
that struggles to peak through the cracks
that crashes against this wall
Moans out "forever."
and the spiderweb cracks
that sprawl across the lonely walls face
humbly challenge, "remember."
I am staring at a wall.
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More