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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
Immutable DevotionBound and determined; words that burn me in places that no person should ever experience. "Bound and determined" she says, as though she has any notion of the turmoil; simmering behind every smile that I force for her comfort. I don't think she even realizes how her flamboyant optimism sears me; char upon char, until my remnants are tissue paper tears. Scars layering scars, penetrating so deeply, that my soul has become a leper.
She waffles on; her words distant and hollow, as the ocean of my defeat silently swallows me whole. I can't help but admire her benevolence; formidability that is nothing short of impregnable, if only I had her strength. I'm not a pessimist, though I am a pragmatist; guaranteeing failure in this nefarious skirmish that I did not choose.
For her, I keep my silence; for her, I soldier on. Though I bite my tongue through the copious fusillades that incessantly barrage my feeble and cumbersome carcass; I know I am a coward at heart. If not for her, I would have
Ghosts taught me to think in magicIt seemed worthless, we knew best but for some reason there was always another day to fix everything, even the day it self.
Our anger, the nerves, such exquisite toxins. Our mortal lives waste and waste... always so late, too late... going for more time, more money. Pitying more loss, more cost. Devouring all out of control... like there is not enough.
Things happen only when a question is raised. Like a rotting-soulless that needs blessing to rest in peace. Naive optimists, they are misguided. We lie a lot. Humans... right? What a lie, such an excuse... just flesh. And the worst part is that lies cant change anything. A smile cant cure laziness or bad choices.
Stay real, my friend. Because... Can you remember the last time you stopped and reasoned? Or the last time you spoke words like „Do it tomorrow ” and then „Time flies...” ? It makes no sense, so think about it tomorrow.
Remember that we are around for you. The tortured souls in your room or behind the gla
What We Thought Was World PeaceI have spent so many years making my way to the top of the legendary mountain to have my one wish granted, world peace. There are so many people in this world that deserve better, and we should all be equal.
I reach the mountain and was greeted by an old man, “What brings you to my mountain?”
“I would like to make my wish. It is just like the legends foretold; I have spent a year of my life climbing up the throat of the world, and now…and now my dream will come true…”
“Now, you should know that the wish you make is final and can’t be reversed. Be careful what you wish for.” The old man told his words with great respect to me.
“Th-the time has come.” I was getting nervous, but at least I knew that there was no wrong way this wish could go.
“Make your wish, young one.”
I clapped my hands together and bowed, “I wish for world peace.” My words were final. And I was proud.
He gave a long sigh an
Old man? "Old man?"
"Could you please tell me of Them? Of your favorite project?"
"Heh. Yes, I suppose I could tell you of them. But you heard this story many times.
Don't you get bored by it?"
The one referred to as Old man is smiling the smile reserved for the quirks of the
young "Alright, alright, settle down." He says "Well, as you know, first I-"
"I don't want to be rude." Said the young one "But can tell me about how it started with Them?"
"Hmph. Oh, alright." Says the Old man with only mild irritation in his voice."Well, at first it was just a hobby, you know?
Something to pass the time. But, as I kept them for longer and longer my interest in them grew: A sociable species is
nothing new, and neither is adapting to your surroundings." The Old man's face spread with a slow grin that was
barely insane "But a species that adapted it's surrounding to itself, not the othe
Winter's Cold TouchI walk to the front door of my house; the cold wind gives me shivers. I grab the golden nob and crank it open. A gust of warm air hits my face, prickling away my goose bumps. When I enter, I strip of my heavy coat and boots to keep the house from my wet clothing. My feet touch the tile and sends jolts up my spine due to its icy resemblance. I walk to the kitchen and warm some water in the microwave to make hot chocolate. I wait as the whirring of the heater turns on, warming the house. The water is done; I drop spoons of starchy powder into the smooth hot wavering water. The exes floating powder entered my nose; I take in the scent of sweet chocolate, but soon close the lid. The couch at the end of the room is beckoning me. As I drift to where it sit, I pass the glass window and watch the meek raindrops beat against the glass. Slowly, I lower myself onto the couch and cuddle with the cushions, which were lightly sprinkled with a cold that soon dissolves by my touch. As the house fell s
El humano y el gato. El gato y el humano. El reloj de pared marcaba las tres de la madrugada. Su monótono tick-tack no le estaba ayudando a dormirse y, a cada movimiento del sonoro segundero, sus nervios crecían más y más, incitados por el imparable correteo del tiempo. Sin poder soportarlo más, Naviel se levantó de la cama con la torpeza de quien ha estado bebiendo. En el escaso espacio hasta llegar a la puerta pudo tropezarse con una lata de cerveza vacía y con algún cojín al que anteriormente le había declarado la guerra, cuando su enfado y el efecto del alcohol todavía eran recientes.
Desarreglado y con bolsas bajo los ojos, el joven salió de su desastrosa habitación para dirigirse al jardín interior de su casa -o, mejor dicho, de la casa que compartía con sus tres compañeros de banda-. Subió las escaleras que se dirigían a la terraza y, una vez allí, saltó un pequeño muro. Así, pudo sen
Escala de coloresTodo parece tan poco interesante, visto desde aquí. Desde mis ojos. Vengo de un mundo lleno de destellos en la oscuridad e historias que contar, y ahora me encuentro esto.
Una exclamación me llama torpemente, como si hacerle caso fuera lo más sensato. Eso es lo que hace la gente. Pero yo miro y miro... y no veo nada. Es todo gris. Impersonal. Frío. Distante. Hasta las luces blancas de la entrada me parecen pintadas en la pared, de imitación, como para dar el pego.
Entro y me encuentro lo que ya conozco. Pasillos, focos reflejados en el suelo, puertas, escaparates, muñecos que parecen personas y personas que parecen muñecos. Todavía no sé distinguirlos muy bien. No les pongo cara. Los veo todos iguales... Grises. Negros. Blancos. Qué más da.
Todo es tan igual, tan repetitivo que me pierdo aunque siga todo recto. Todo distrae, todo engaña y todo grita con todas sus fuerzas para llamar la atención.
Be your own life's MichelangeloBe your own life's Michelangelo
I just had 16 years old, and I just lost two of the poeple I cared the most about : My grandparents. It's the first time that I loose someone I old dear... I don't really know how to react, I always had a tendency to look in the past and grief... This didn't help this habit of mine at all... Once again, I though about what I could have said, or done. What I did, and said, and what I couln't now. Me, that was always kind of the phylosopher, I should have use that time with them, to ask, talk about, what they saw life as... I could have, I should have... I can't anymore, and it hurt me, that I have been so naive to think I could have the time later.
I was always the kind to let myself floating in the river of life, and then, complain about what life had taken me...
It's some month that I use this to shot poeple out...
One day, when I was walking in the city center, I saw a young girl in a street, she seemed to be painting on a wall. Intrigued, I began
One Thousand ClocksI sat in my old desk chair behind the counter, staring at the people walking past the storefront and completely ignoring me. I leaned back and the chair creaked loudly, I grumbled in reply.
“Should get that fixed...” I mumbled under my breath. What would be the point of getting it fixed, though? Why not just buy another chair? I stood up and the chair creaked again. I kicked at it, but it just slid across the floor on it’s wheels a short distance, before hitting the wall.
Slowly walking out from behind the counter, I wandered around my small clock-shop, tweaking hands and tapping glass faces. Some clocks weren’t ticking anymore, in fact there was a large wall in the back of the store filled with clocks that were unusable. The batteries hadn’t run out, they were just not functioning. I couldn’t bear to get rid of them, though. Each clock told some kind of story, and each one was special. A cough rattled my frail body and it t
Limbo"The enemy will be here soon," thought a knight standing guard at Harod castle. He looked at the bleak utilitarian walls and considered the crumbling mortar that held them firm against artillery. The castle had seen better days, and was ancient in design.
He walked along the parapet, regarding his comrades stood there in the freezing winter cold. The air washed over the walls, chilling all comfort from his pale bones. "The enemy will be here soon," he thought as he continued along his forlorn path.
He patrolled around and around, up and down, an endless mechanical nature slowly moving in solidarity with his limbo bound comrades, frozen-dead. After a time an archer on the battlement above cried, "the enemy is here". The knight thought to himself, "The enemy will be here soon."
The castle guard stood and watched for hours in horror as the trebuchets were slowly brought into range of the crumbling castle walls. The fortifications fell
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
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