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Seven daysI killed Polaris, king of the night
snatched up his radiance, his brilliance, his light
I sailed the sea, on a column of ice
melted in fire, as everything in time
churning and burning, in a fiery demise
Believe what they say, it only took 7 days
just as easy for us to throw it all away
and one day the scholars will write
and the people will say
if only we knew, what we now know today
an egotistical lie, fed by the right
self-rightious and blind, engrossed in their minds
from this vantage, way in the sky
I think I'll manage, to pluck from the vines
a thing of such beauty, no words can describe
from the moon we're marooned, in an endless night
to float in space, and drift through time
that's why, that's why, I shine a light.
Marching themeI've spent these days, wide awake, and ready to move
And my daydreams they say, don't stand in one place, like the mountains, that are in front of you
And a wet wind blows, cold and through my window
And the sky unfolds like, the Sistine design, and it's all mine, it's mine, all alone
I've burned every bridge, I've ever been across
And my trail of stones, have become an unknown, and now my mind, my body, is lost
And if you keep on thinking you have the foresight
To see what will happen for the rest of your life
I hope you've got the gas money, and a ready swiss army knife, because honey, you're being taken for a ride
Now you're nursing your heart, like you're setting a bone
And no one's signed that cast, it's not your fault you're on you're own
But it wasn't broke, now not too long ago
is it a deadly sin, to want to start again
was it written in some ancient manuscript
that you must give up every limb for some pigs in a pen
I don't think it is, you know the pieces never fit
And as the
I am Red-ShiftedIf everything you touched, would just turn to gold
like King Midas you'd find, you are not as bold
when the walls all turn to glass, what good is to hide away?
when every thought that you've ever had, will make you the perfect prey and,
boiling water, how you love to bubble and spray
but in the winter you will freeze, and in the spring you'll melt away
in the middle of the sun, atoms twist and roll
like airplanes fall from the sky, like the strands of spirit in your soul
if I could play them, the sound oh, it would be so strange
I'd pluck all of your strings, and symphonies of detuned machines would, spit and fade
in a muddy meadow the sky, oh it seems to fold
like flower pedals time is wilting, and it seems to always go too slow
in cities made of rusted metal, and bodies made of murky mold
when the dust has all started to settle, all of our songs will be so old and,
spoiling sunlight, how you treat the world to your sovereign rays
but in the winter you will freeze, and leave your heat
Spoken in brailleWhere are my eyes, are they glazed over with ice
where is my skin, has it now grown paper thin
if I were blind, would I still feel the light
or would I speak in braille, and never sleep at night
her hands were so cold, then they melted with mine
her mind was so old, but her lips never lied
with hair spun of gold, for me to hold in my sight
I can't help but fold, for her beauty isn't mine
I can't lay face down, in the grass
when all I hear, is the sound of broken glass
when I kick my feet, I feel nothing beneath me
just the dreams in which I'm dying, trying to comfort me.
The perfect disguiseMy boy, now you're not so young
now you're the only one at fault
for the things that you've done
no mother to hold your guilty hand
and put the pill on your swollen tongue
but you've never need those drugs,
to make you feel like you were numb
this is your sentence, the gavel is down
so now how do you like, the piece of shit that you've become
red with the hatred of wasting away
blue with the notion of waking each day
white as the ghost that's haunting your fate
black as the ice, as you're turning the curb
you slam on the breaks, but it's too late to swerve
your life is all flashing, in front of your eyes
now's not the time to be questioning "Why?"
so, so long to the good ole days
it's just the ticking clock, on your antique microwave
the songs that you've written, and then threw them away
you might as well burn, every last god damn page
and when you open your eyes, in the dark of the night
and reach over your shoulder, to turn on the light
you know that it's over, and you never said yo
The Monarch, The DeceiverWhere are you my lone monarch, my deceiver?
Who knew something so beautiful, could turn out to be such a monster
Maybe she gets it from her mother, or perhaps she takes just a little bit after her father
But I was the believer
Cut out all the rest, had a cavernous chest, hollowed out like a cadaver
And I still taste of happier days, but their never so frequent, and the bad ones are clearer
and as her trumpets roar, and they roast her boar
over the flames, of her elite disdain
the rain it pours, the rain it pours, the rain it pours
So take this dream of you, and shut it in a cupboard
Dig a hole in the earth, and throw me down it
Because it's not worth the words, written on this paper
To give credence to you, all you faux who sayers
So self-righteous and wrong
What gives you the will to carry on
When you take what you know
From the books, so many dead poets wrote?
And now I've grown to be the monarch, the greatest of great deceivers
Learned to carve out your hearts, with a cutting board,
MygeetoThere are no more secrets to tell, that the bombs didn't say,
on the day they swept away, what remained of the liberty bell
and in Mygeeto, the angels sing, for the darkness, and the light it brings
and no more will men weep, on their knees, in the cold and cracking streets
no more will they die, no more will they need
hand in hand, brother and sister, together for eternity
and we will stretch up and into oblivion
much longer than this earth, and it's short lived historians
no paths are written, and no plans are given.
The feel of steelSo I see you sleep on a bed of lies, sir
I can feel it in your tired eyes
but haven't you heard, oh what's the word?
is it a catatonic dream, are you still in that deep sleep
or do you hear me in reverse?
and everyone else is, so clean
in their skin, your reflection is, so bleak
and as you rewind your life on the microfiche
do you ever seem to think, of stopping on a single scene?
you've blurred the line between life and death
just like the day that we first met
inside my mind is running thin
out of ideas, how to start again
and now black holes fill your skies
to suck what is left of your waning time
you hold the brush for your design
just remember you can paint, even if you're blind
and now you're just as real as the feel of steel
as your blushing body needs time to heal
and the whites of your eyes, have turned a timid teal
under the salty tears, of your magnetic fields
to keep away, the stray rays of hope
that pass your way, when you're alone
and everything is not real
the air you br
Rosa Belle StoryI love the way you make me feel, like everything I've ever felt, none of it was real
In the back of your mind, you must see me every time
In the front of your lungs, they must hum with my sighs
What's become of your life, what's begun, cannot be right
When you sum up the time that we were in each other's eyes
Does it not come up to line, with the answer, we are in love?
Is it the gravity? Or the lack of it?
Is it the travesty? That you and I aren't with
50 years later will you still remember me?
Will you still write me letters, when my body's frail and weak?
I love the way you make me feel, like love's the only thing in this life that's real.
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
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
SightStars in the night sky
I see beyond that and through
Greatness into darkness, I can fly
Here above the earth I can see the truth
There is an angel that will love me until I die
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
jackal grinMy orange peel
lips split: the beams
a deck of cards
nana’s worn porch,
and fingers weaving
through grass blades
when the light is
soft and warm.
(have you f
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
elizabeth essexelizabeth how you taught me these lessons
to which i would aptly listen
and how you would always have questions
but i never would chance it
for so long i've tried to encode you a message
oh, how i have been so tempted
but now when i recite this passage
these secrets i must tell then
this casket now you've buried me in
beneath this stone, with rose and emotion
but my heart still beats, though underneath it
and when i die, i'll still be but a reflection, in her eyes
way in the farest heavens
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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