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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
Dobry uczynek-Co pan robi?-zapytał chłopiec mężczyznę, który siedział na ławce. Łokcie oparł na kolanach, z ust sterczał mu prawie już do końca wypalony papieros.
-Wiążę węzeł-odparł i powrócił do wykonywanej czynności. Sznur był gruby na końcu zawiązany w szeroką pętlę, jegomość dla sprawdzenia pociągnął za koniec powrozu, pętla zacisnęła się natychmiast. Facet zadowolony z efektu, uśmiechnął się półgębkiem, wypluł niedopałek papierosa na trawnik, przykryty cienką warstwą śniegu, po czym natychmiast wyciągnął następnego, wsadził do spękanych ust. Zaczął obszukiwać kieszenie w poszukiwaniu zapalniczki bądź, zapałek. Wreszcie wysupłał pudełeczko z zapałkami, zgrabia
Not Drowning, But FlyingHidden deep within the jungle, far removed from the outside world, there lay a village. On the night of the Festival of Colours, the villagers would paint their bodies in all the raiments of the Earth and Sky and dance long into the night. They continued in this way until the Outsiders came. They were men in white cloth, who led cattle and cut down the trees so their animals might graze. Then there came hunters, who carried rifles and stalked wildlife for their flesh and hides.
A boy called Bharu lived in the village. His mother had come from the Outside and even though she had taught him their language, she had given up that world to join the village. However these Outsiders did not change, they offered the villagers weapons and medicines, but the boy was afraid. When his father called the villagers together, he told them they must accept these Outsiders and the gifts they brought. Bharu wept, for if his people joined the Outsiders, they would be themselves no more.
He ran to th
ManiI can remember the first time I saw it, my first dead street. The streets once filled with life are now filled with corpses, the ‘Mani’ has already eaten through their flesh, they are nothing now but bones and little bits of flesh the ‘Mani’ didn't get his filthy teeth on.
Explanation might be in order. It all started years ago, a pandemic brook out, it was a parasite that bred itself on the human body, it started as a small parasite moving through the air, they were unable to filter it with masks not even full body suits, because when it was still in the air it was the size of oxygen.
Nearly everyone was infected and it traveled fast, faster than they could believe.
The parasite developed in stages:
First stage, the ‘Mani’ attached itself to a host, it primarily focused on the brain to start developing there. It would breed and grow bigger, it felt as if something was feeding on your brain, although in fact it wasn't feeding yet, just breeding
Who he is.He started out the size of a pebble. He cannot rely on himself, so he relies on another source, who steadily supplies him with what he needs. As months pass, he gradually develops so he is able to thrive. Nine months later he is unleashed into the world. Through the years, he does as is expected and does so without a doubt. It is at the age of fourteen years that he began to think of himself. He reflected. He discovered the truth.
He realized he has to cease his charade of being the person others want him to be.
He cannot do so to the extent he would like. Still he must introduce himself by the name he was born. He cannot dress the way he desires to. Constantly people try to control who he believes he is.
But he knows who he is.
He is not the girl he was officially born as. He is a guy. And he struggles to try and prove it to a world that generally disapproves.
(Req) Scotland x Blind!ReaderHe is distinctive.
You close your eyes and breathe in that scent- although Allistor smokes, and heavily, at that, you can detect other smells beneath the ubiquitous tang of cigarettes. You like the way the aromas mix together, tobacco, aftershave and a sort of pine, wood-like smell, like freshly carved furniture that makes you think of outside. You can tell when he's approaching just by scent along, and when you tell him so, he merely snickers softly as he wraps his arms around you. The smell that reminds you of home. Even when he's just stepped out of the shower, his signature scent naturally clings to him, just as much a part of him as his accent or physical features. Sometime if he's away, you will slip on a shirt of his, just to feel like he's still around. It's kind of goofy, you know, but it's your little secret. Who has to know?
You like the way he says your name- you've never been that fond of it, yourself, but he has a way of saying it that makes you melt. It's usually a soft
The Fall Of The AngelsThe Fall of the Angels
Lucivar, the Shining One. The Prince of the Morning. The Light of Dawn. These were his names when I knew him in the days before the earth was formed. Lucivar, Beloved of Heaven, chief of the Angels of Light. He was my best friend, my brother, my dearest companion.
He was beautiful; shining white hair that flowed down his back, enormous pristine wings that were soft as down and always immaculately groomed, luminous eyes full of joy and wonder.
He was gentle, mild-mannered, soft-spoken. I loved him fiercely, as I suspect many of my other brothers and sisters did. He was the favorite of God, and much time passed during which he was in rapt conversation with Him.
I remember all too well the day I finally opened my eyes and saw the fearful flaw lurking insidiously beneath that perfect exterior… Vanit
BaptismOn this plain I walk a little farther , though somehow my skin is half underwater. I dive into the ocean, but my mouth fills up with sand. The water was never really there… I have water in my hair, though there is none on the dying grass or in the air; It’s spilling out of my brain. It’s hurting...
Play me again, play the notes in my mind. Play the strings that run along my face. Hold me down under the ripples until the bubbles come up a different color. Sing to me the ocean waves and I’ll flow downstream into nothingness. It’s peaceful here; I lay myself down once more. It feels good to be alone again... This is my home.
Do we live only to die? Or maybe we’re only half alive? I’ll hold my breath for another few moments, to discover I’ve been holding it all my life. I can’t breathe... I want to breathe... Water falling from the sky, water falling from my eyes, water running down my thighs, cold as fate’s bleak lullaby…
DesertWith merciless rage the sun scorched the earth to a brittle hardness. All around was the headache inducing chirrup of cidicas as they squatted on the single tree. The tree was withered, preserved by the burning sun. The only life in this desolate place was the cidicas and a lone vulture, his feathered cape pulled close to him and his head low, like the harbinger of death.
The earth itself was warm to the touch. Cracks ran across its surface. It had once been mud, and the heat had baked it into a great plain of brick, as hard and unforgiving as the rest of the landscape. The once huge water hole was now only a muddy dribble, and the bones of an elephant remained, pecked clean by the vulture. A rock, like the tree had been bleached white by the sun’s blazing gaze and was the only other piece of landscape. The desert ran on and on, straight in to the blue horizon.
The great dome of the sky was so blue that, straight up, beyond the great eye of the sun, was almost black. It wa
A Story of LoveA boy sneaked through the crowded streets, looking for his next target. Deformed, filthy, and covered in rags, he was a frightfully ugly child. He was a thief, among other less honorable professions, and today, he looked for a pocket to pick so that he might chance a meal that night. This boy, scarred by the world and her cruelties, had become a cruel being himself, thus scarring himself further. His heart was ruled by hate, malice, and fear. Violence was his ally, and distrust his companion.
Walking silently along the crowded streets, he saw a well dressed man in white cloth, with a silver ringlet around his head. he was trying vainly to hand out invitations to wandering people.
“Please, come to my banquet,” he called out to each passing person. Despite the man’s welcome, the people either ignored him or scorned him. The boy snickered quietly to himself, for he knew he had found the source of his next meal.
Creeping up to the man in white, he pulled out a hidden knif
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.&
LithiumA single trickling rain drop
Like gossamer silk strands
Gliding along my third eye
Whispers wind's secret caress
I exhale. Lungs releasing-
Pressing translucent memories;
Fragment of a fragment
As water kisses rose petal,
Drifting down stream's curtain
Pretty little curtain.
Where the wizard lies.
He smiles up at me
With his monocled brow-
Sipping on warm tea
And fingers quacking casually
To the rhythm of his notes
This is a safe-zone. Free-zone.
Innocent eyes sparkle,
Imploring it to be true. I breathe.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More