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We Will All Know PovertyHearts fooled, fouled, full
Arteries throb, clogged with shadows
With truth, no room for the other
Who is demanding
Who is begging
The self, cut in two
The self can see
No more truth
Clogged with shadows
The good life
All needing now
Gorging on each other
Becoming the other
Poverty, the bifurcation of self
A well heart wealth
Shining Under the SunOntological definition,
Why has life got to be such as mission.
Just let those labels go, dance with me and go with the flow.
The Will to Life or the Will to Power?
Choose the sweet life.
Not the sour.
Self-determination has got to be earned.
Look into you heart.
See what you learn.
Be still in nature.
Let yourself go we are all connected.
Zoom out and see Self-symmetry
Return to your roots
There's no limit to me
Mandlebrot and Julia
Lovers in infinity
Transcend Reality become divinity
Ego nature kills your soul.
You're the subject not the object.
You're the whole.
Don't give into the madness of society.
Be at peace and come with me.
Mental constructs are guides to life.
Don't believe in dogma.
It leads to strife.
The meta-physical we cannot know.
Until our demise.
We reap what we sew.
Love, compassion and not blind hate.
Wisdom not ignorance.
These are goals you should make.
Never forget that we are all one.
Floating on a ball under the sun.
Life the universe we should
Homogenised identityA curd festers on the top of a glass
Floating above the homogenised
Relative and pointing
At the curd
Relative to the curd
Fighting to sink
Under A Gibbous MoonIt was a dark evening, the light of a starkly gibbous moon shone ominously onto a lone Arkham building. A place rooted firmly into one of the more undesirable districts of that cursed city. The light trickled through into its Georgian interior, as if afraid of the dancing shadows it threw forward like devilish spectres. The pointed ears and peaked form of something alien to the world were cast darkly onto Howard Phillip Lovecraft by the softly tortured light. He sat reading the "The Cask of Amontillado", muttering to himself, strange musings punctuated by the curling of his lips. The cat's shadow disappeared and the scene seemed twisted for a moment, silent but for the screams of another world that could be heard echoing in the dark circuitous passageways of his mind.
Lovecraft stared stoically at the aged paper before him, pensive as he ignored this all too familiar experience. He closed the book, self indulgent self hatred and adoration of his erstwhile peer an
Tautological Transposition: As Do IWhen will the will be willing
The mind, like an arrow, goes forth
But strays from its path
Only when true will it happen, peerless, the will
Being fickle and unpredictable, choosing its own path
The path of affectation and the willed path, the duality of man
The nature of it
All contradictions that define
A man of two minds, desire and the desired
All things being equal but different:
I can breathe, yet I do not.
I am existence, yet existence is without me
Arrows fly, dulled points stray
They do not connect.
The great between
Oh the will of it all, the one and of the one
No two exist, separate but connected vessals
I want and I do not
I believe, yet I do not believe
That this mirror stares into
A reflection on the only path, the chaotic path
Self determination and fate, a coexistant possibility
I believe, yet I do not believe
Arrows fly, arcing to their end,
No matter the desired, no matter the outcome:
They always strike their target
They fly, de
Bedside Manner (Romano x Sick!Reader)
Waking up abruptly is usually for an especially good or bad reason. Maybe you have woken up to your alarm going off loudly in your ear, or from a pleasant dream.
In this case, it was because you woke with the sensation and an unseen assailant has carved open your belly and personally torn out your intestines, leaving behind barbed wire in their place. You can say with absolute confidence that you've had nicer awakenings.
Dive-bombing to the bathroom, you managed to get to the toilet and assume the vomiting position before your body shudders, lurching forwards. You groan in pain and disgust as last night's (you know now) undercooked chicken makes a grisly new appearances as she retch, your whole body feeling like it has recently been boiled and stuffed into a freezer, at differing intervals. You hug your duvet to your chest, eyes uncontrollably watering due to being violently sick. You keep retching, the back of your throat burning and itchy from excess saliva. As you wipe your mouth wi
Hunting„Mom, mom, look what I found. This flower. It remembers me of dad...Oh, no, don't start crying, I am sorry, I just did... I miss dad...”
I like this place, the sun is shining down between the big trees. Flowers and moss is at the ground. This whole place is shining. Golden. As if the sun fell down and made everything shining so beautiful. “I like this place mom. The grass looks so green and it is so tasty!”. Between my legs a butterfly is flying. A yellow one. It reflects the sun and it seems almost unnatural. This is a perfect day. That is a day that makes us remember why we live.
The deers, a mom and her son are in a wood. Nearly left behind, no humans are there. A truly peaceful place..
“Run, run my son, I'll come after you, don't stop, run!”
What? What is happening, I can't remember, why do I have to run. Run, run, I should, listen to my mom, why? Why?
a loud noise fills the air. All birds stopped singing, all animals hide. Even the smallest don'
Sunshine, rain, wind, hail, or snow, she was there. This colorfully dressed girl walked her dog down my childhood street every day, no matter the weather. Shorts, skirts, shirts, long sleeve shirts, tights, leggings, dresses, boots, flats, never flip flops though. Her hair never the same twice, always different in some way. Her dog on its long leash but always staying close. I saw her often, walking home from the bus stop. The leash always got caught under the dog’s legs, but she just laughed and smiled every time and untangled her pet. She was always smiling, humming or wearing big purple headphones, sometimes with an umbrella. Occasionally she’s spot me and wave, and I waved back. Her age was unknown to me, but in my young naiveté, everyone was old. I’ll always remember all the hues and shades she wore.
But one day, it was different. There was no color, no music, no hum. Just a girl in black, trudging along with her dog. I saw her less, and her look nev
Carpenters and CradlesAutumn, Year 758 of the New Age
The Great Oak, Glenmore
Princess Glenda, Faulkner (NPC) and Donder (NPC)
Glenda's mother always used to tell her silly stories of monsters. She never believed in them, knowing full well the only beasts were stags in rut and stray foxes.
But she thought twice as she lay beneath her favorite wisteria tree, fretting that the chill autumn rain mussed her mane and dampened her curls into a soggy, grayish mass. The sound started out much like a newborn's heart-beat; faint at first, then it grew to a dull roar.
The princess bolted to her feet, shooting from the glade just in time to be thrown headlong into the grass as a monstrous bellow shook the ground.
Glenda scrambled to get her footing, eyes as wide as the opening sky, opened to see the giant set ablaze.
The Great Oak. It was on fire.
Horror dawned upon the doe as soon as the smell engulfed her- charred wood and smoke, swirling up into the clouds with a scream as half of the oak tumbled, the sickening smac
It Isn't Easy “I don’t get it.”
She leaned her head back so that she was looking up at the sky. “What don’t you get?”
I waved my hands to try and string my thoughts together. “How…how can you just be so accepting of this?”
She laughed and turned to look at me. I’d always wished I had her eyes, especially when she smiled like that. “Oh trust me, sissy, I’m not quite to the point of acceptance yet.”
“But you’re so calm about it. I mean, if it was me, I’d have been about to beat someone up.”
“I was pissed off, that’s for sure.” She paused a moment before continuing. “But being angry is just so draining, you know? Plus, it’s just too easy.”
I glanced at her then, confused. “Easy?”
“Yeah.” She gazed up at the sky again, wavy ha
In Roman Times"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," declared the preacher.
The warm sun was starting to go down. Evening was closing in, yet the crowd still listened to the preacher, captivated by his lessons.
"Blessed are the pure in heart," he continued. "For they shall see God."
Some distance away, two women stood apart from the crowd. They wore the attire of wealthy Roman aristocrats. Veils shrouded their pale skin from the sun.
"Mother, this is the third day you have dragged me into the burning sun to listen to this warm Jew," complained one of them.
"Oh, Julia, aren't you delighted by his words? Don't they stir such a passion in your undead heart? I could listen to this man forever," said Penelope.
"He has a way of putting things, I admit. But it's all the usual Jewish nonsense. Kingdom of God, and all that. I'm a Roman. It's really not for me," replied Julia.
"You should not despise the Jews. They believe in just one god. Many of the philosophers agree that there is only on
Reliving a memory is like capturing a moment in time, over and over again.
It's like painting a canvas without referring to a physical source for inspiration, but rather utilizing a mismatched chain of events strewn together in your mind in a way that appeals to your favorite memories.
A family BBQ, a group of your best friends gathering for a celebration, or the feeling you felt when you leaned in for your first kiss.
Moments in time that you want to relive again, but never turn out the same way they did in that very moment. And therefore, the best you can do is mentally construct the scene to be as perfect as the moment in question.
Drinking beers with your best friends while discussing your futures; you make a promise under the moonlit starry summer sky that no matter where you go, your friendship will always remain intact.
As you pass on to another memory, you watch as several of your close relatives; uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents, gather around and re-tell their own unique
I think I’ve been living under a rock for too long. Nobody recognizes me anymore.
Last week, the bunnies struck again. One of them started stomping on the face of an old woman while screaming random passages from Revelations. In a separate part of town, they started a drunken fight in the middle of the street and accidentally sliced the throat open of one of their own.
They’re everywhere, the bunnies. They’re an infestation. They hide their faces under masks, so they can do anything. Then they do anything. They do the most blood curdling blood sports of which any human being would not be capable. I wonder if these are human beings.
I see the bunnies everywhere. They walk down streets. They see other members, and sometimes they attack. That’s just their nature, I suppose. They kill and eat their young. I saw one of them carving up some guy with a switchblade and yelling obscenities I had never heard before. I raised my gun, I shouted at him, and he wouldn’t
Humble me SensieHong Kong in 1978. The set of a new movie: Monkey hand. Dragon paw. During a recess in filming a stuntman approached the star martial artist. "Sensei, I wish to challenge you. Humble me and make me a better man".
The Sensei was no good man, "I put two of you down yesterday. Will you never learn," he spat. As his challenger was stood head bowed the Sensei launched at him with a vicious side kick aimed through his head at his neck, an attack that could cripple a man.
The challenger allowed gravity to do his work, as his body fell forward towards the ground. At the bottom of his roll he tackled the Sensei he had shown utmost respect for, with a scissor assault at his single standing leg, forcing him to the ground.
The challenger used the momentum to launch himself back to his feet. He said to the Sensei's amazed eyes, "humble me Sensei," as he brought an axe kick around and down upon his chest.&
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
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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