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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
Bottles and Demons“So tell us, where does this deep penchant for ‘pocket sized’ tales of horror and violence come from?” the reporter inquired, pen poised and ready.
Her interviewee, a local musician about travel cross-country on her first tour smiled candidly. Her gaze was thoughtful, even amused at her female counterpart’s question. But of course, her fans, always eager and enchanted by her eerie songs filled with pain and madness centering on ‘them’.
She looked down at the sleek electric piece lying across her lap. She thumbed over the strings absentmindedly, keeping the reporter on the edge of her seat with unhealthy anticipation. Finally the songstress looked up as if the eureka moment finally came to her.
“I think I got it,” the musician spoke in her cordial tone. “Writing songs for me is like bottling monsters. When I perform I let them out.
Then it’s a matter of whether or not they fit back in the bottle, or if more monster
The Other Side Of Fiction
The way I see it, I'm not the first to try to break through from fiction to reality. I certainly won't be the last. You see, there are small windows of opportunity that open up from time to time. More or less in the form of small single use doors. They appear when someone's reality is shattered, usually during a highly traumatic experience in the real world. Something so terrible or unexpected that your perception of reality falters and fiction becomes just as real as truth. In those moments, we figments of imagination can sometimes slip through, into reality. Though from what I've seen, there are a few side effects to breaking into reality. The most obvious being "mental illness" You see, as something that doesn't technically exist, fictional characters don't have physical bodies. So, we must find a "Host" of sorts. This "Host" is typically the poor sod who was used as a door. This can result in full or partial possession of the "Host's" body, though it can render one or both parties
The Red BalloonThe Red Balloon
There was once a girl called Bella who everyday on the way to school would pass a man selling balloons. One particular morning Bella noticed a big red balloon right at the back of the bunch that the man was holding and instantly fell in love with it.
'Mum, Mum can I get that balloon?'
she would ask everyday, only to hear the reply of,
'No Bella! It's a waste of money and it will just shrivel up and die!'
Bella would always sigh and look away, perhaps she would never get the balloon...
But one day she had an idea. Maybe if she saved up all her pocket money, she could sneak out and buy it.
So that is what she did.
One sunny day after school Bella went to the man who sold the balloons and bought the big red balloon that she has been dreaming of for so long. As soon as she got it everything felt amazing; she twirled around the street with it and danced along the pavement.
But then she remembered her mother. She wouldn't be very happy that Bella had bought the balloon - or g
A Lost Sense of Humour“This...isn’t me.”
He shook his head, ruby red eyes filled with a deep lost confusion staring back at him, “This can’t be me when it just feels so...wrong.”
The pained stare disappeared as Carbon shut his eyes, reaching his feet quickly from his slouched position over the water. Even this sacred place seemed pointless to him. This ever calm flowing river where he spent many an afternoon when relaxation was needed. Even this home away from home had become just another place he passed by on his daily route. He turned his troubled expression over to the footpath before him, his lids half opened and half interested.
He had these moments. Times where he felt low. Unaccomplished. Defeated. But this bout hadn’t shown any signs of wavering any time soon, lasting far longer than its predecessors. It felt like an eternity had passed by him now, this horrid feeling within him growing to crippling proportions.
When had his joy left him, his blank mind pers
El monje y la ninfaEn toda mi vida como monje de esta región de la alta montaña he aprendido valiosas lecciones. He adquirido inestimables enseñanzas de sabiduría en los libros antiguos, sobre la importancia de la paz consigo mismo y con aquellos que les rodean. Sin embargo no hay mejor maestro en ningún domo como lo es la naturaleza misma. He dedicado arduas horas de mi vida a observar inocentemente a todas las formas que nos rodean, a conectar sus espíritus con el mío, porque todo lo que nos rodea acá es vida y no menos que vida libre. Una de las que más cautivó mi atención fue la pequeña ninfa que encontré cerca de la fuente que da al río.
Recién había terminado los quehaceres que me correspondían y me aventuraba entre los alrededores para conocer mejor el lugar, a pesar de haber sucedido esto cuando era joven puedo contemplar en mi memoria con claridad aquel primer encuentro. Me sentaba con la mirada perdida en los b
Getting Lost in The Everfree ForestTo many ponies, the Everfree Forest can be a frightening place. It's untamed, full of mystery, and unknown dangers. The Pegasus ponies don't control the weather nor do the Earth ponies cultivate the land. While it is frightening, there are many beauties that hide in this world too that are alien to Ponyville. The Castle of the Two Sisters hides here. Many of the wildlife call the Everfree Forest their homes. Though we live in Ponyville, we have a world within us that is the Everfree Forest. We may not be aware of it but at some point in our lives, we awaken to the fact that we are right dab in the middle of the Everfree Forest, with the direction to go to back to Ponyville a mystery to us. It may be terrifying for someponies but it's not all bad. The Everfree Forest has some pit stops that are safe like Zecora's hut or the Castle of the Two Sisters. These serve as markers to help us find our way back to Ponyville. We als
A woman who lovedI knew of a woman. A woman born, inadequately shaped to our standards of beauty, yet superseding that with wisdom scraped from the gray ghetto streets and hands that master the art of fulfilling cuisine. The woman also Loved.
Men —more like boy — teased.
And the world cared not.
Yet the woman still Loved. Her floppy smile somehow spread warmth more than the sun itself; her benevolent nature contrasted that nasty setting of 134 Burnt Street. She limped whenever she walked home, and the people thought less of her for the knee strained in a car accident. A gentle smile was still on her face, and she greeted them like old family, not a sign of hurt within those mossy eyes.
I knew of a woman. She talked to me when I sat alone on the park bench — new in that odd place. She smiled her floppy smile. And she became my first friend.
Men —more like boy — teased.
Descend the MoonSpring, Year 757 of the New Age
Oakfern, The Warren
Featuring Falasnornia (Age 10), Mentions NPC Esmene
For once, everything was taken care of. Vawter was covering patients with his new apprentice, her brother was out on a scouting mission, and she finished her duties, earning a day to herself.
The half-light of the bioluminescent moss was just enough to show the way as she trotted through the dank caverns. The moist air was cool, but rarely had Falasnornia ever felt truly cold in the caves. They were always at a steady temperature; the depth and darkness saw to that.
She picked her way patiently through a narrow passage and descended a few yards into utter darkness. She felt along the wall with her tail, counting her steps. It felt only like days since she came down here last, but she knew the years stretched between then and now. She hadn’t meant to stay away so long. Not from the place that brought her comfort as runty weanling. When Esmene
controversial story time!In walked a fox, his fur sleek and shined. He was an average kit, but something was special about him, apparently.
“Hello there Dear Sly!” called a nearby wolf, her pelt dull and gray.
“Good morning Ylva!” he called back, before tripping over something, landing right in a hole with a yelp.
“Oh my goodness! Are you-” the wolf stopped short, in the hole was a pile of Shining Stones, a stash of pure riches.
“Yeah I’m alright.” The fox replied “I meant to do that.” The wolf stared at her friend, her head tilted.
“So…you KNEW that there were Shining Stones down there….how?” Sly stared back, his head cocked at the odd question, not expected to be taken seriously.
“Uh….’cause I’m good like that!” he answered, not wanting to look like a fool.
“Ok guess what I’m thinking if you’re so ‘good like that’” Ylva suddenly challenged. Dear Sly pause
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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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More