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UntitledI've stepped too close to your fire. and singed some hair, how may hearts aflame.
My only memories, a kindling, my thoughts the billow, my roots ungrounded; but it is spring now, and soon i shall see my new colors.
Part 1. Still a work in progress.
Spending TimeThese years pass like no other. One would believe that time begrudges; spending it so nonchalantly as if it was a poorly made investment.
Perhaps my bank will accept my watch as a deposit. Or perhaps i shall invest my time in these pages, and when I want to withdraw back into my head, back in time; I shall be the richest.
Angelic wings(Its a bit jumpy, i had some idea where i wanted to go with it.)
She holds a coffee cup in hand
as she waits for winters frosty kiss
Her hoodie, always pulled over her knees
She sits up, looking at the night sky
each star a suspended snowflake
each star a loving soul, embarked to find home in the eyes of the created.
Snow fall like tears, crystallize, become angelic
and her wings known to all under her.
A sparing gift, so willingly given.
Her eyes a majestic beacon of hope.
Stare into her star-lit eyes.
For winter has no hold over her,
follow to her now, her star-lit eyes
and now again, be free.
and as he snuggles into her hoodie,
know of her love and kindness
she may not see her wings,
but we have seen her eyes.
Natures BlessingsThe rain drips from the tips of leaves, preciouslife, so fickle to stay.
The grass below holds the dew of the midnight rain, on the tip of the blade it holds. Unrelenting, to quench the soils thirst.
In between, the birds do fly, softest feathers gently kiss the earth, as the wind whispers apologies of broken trees. the sunflower bends to the sky,
Its brown eye stares into the sun, the pedals flutter to wave hello to its distant cousin.
Each sun beam shines on the flower, the sun beaming with pride.
When the wind pick up, a supportive friend, as the red breast takes flight.
She is destined to learn the skies. And the wind is proud.
Pens and PuzzlesHow do we piece together a puzzle?
when the edges are worn out and torn.
so forlorn are we, under the cratered moon
so where do we begin?
Search for the tape, the safety pins, the gauze,
thread the needle,
stitch it up,
Dress the wound
Pressure the cuts.
We carve out puzzles on our skin too difficult to solve
never trying to resolve them
they become more complex as the maze races along our wrists
But we soon forget why we were running.
Eyes become the pens and pencils,
tracing our mazes, and in the confusion, they give up.
As we gave up the resolve to finish our own puzzles in our head.
Delusion becomes meDelusion becomes me
it echoes with the listless duty
of confining me
within the horrid tyranny
of my own fiction.
There will be no coup
no revolution nor rebellion
no cries for reality
nor exuberance of freedom
only the echoes of duty.
The monotonous drown of forgeries,
atrocities, and apologies,
the dying screams
of impoverished souls
of fancy and fantasy,
the rapacious shouts
of fallacious joy over
the births of new yet
lovely children of fate and belief,
more loudly the gunfire
these shouts are meant to cloud
horribly loud in themselves
though they quiet some of the screams,
and finally the repetition
of my own whispers
,my own words,
repeating the implication
and imagery of every sound
as is my duty.
My duty t know
every tragedy and ever
The Sounds Of A DayThere is a man
who wakes every morning
to the sound of ticking,
tick tock tick tock
as he rises
combined with the steady creak
of truly worn bones.
He continues on
drowning the perpetual noise
with his monotony,
both hair and teeth
and two laces
with little bunnies of top.
He walks the empty hallway
to the rhythm of children's laughter
and closes the door
just as it turns to tears.
He arrives at work
brazenly ignoring the serenade of clicks
by a chorus of staples,
cli-click click click.
He is hard to seduce
but soon succumbs to it
wielding his own instrument
just in time for his solo,
rasping upon the stapler
long and hard till
he's finally released.
He runs to the elevator
Indie Wraps Around My EarsIndie Wraps Around My Ears
i like indie rap because it’s art
trapped under a stigma of astigmatism
which is probably why my favorite rappers
wear art frame glasses to see miss
and conception. or somethin’.
i like indie rap because i see myself
in the dudes who weren’t popular enough
to make it into the main’s ear,
soundwaves, or bloodstream
but those other weirdos
wearing sweater vests
with a gold cross linked round necks,
bow ties and nine fifty fitteds.
i like indie rap because i can whisper
broken assonance confused for direct rhymes
and snort lines and hide behind bars
and listen to prison songs
without ending up under the jail.
i like indie rap because i can repeat words
and look cool so words slice through eyes
like swords through irises
because i swore that i’d write
what sounds right and how i’d want
even if you don’t understand how i pen.
so even if my pupil can't pin
down these tones, rhythm, and space
we know tones sigh l
Relief. Relief, oh sweet relief
Miles and miles away
Now, like a nice warm bed
It floods me like the Nile,
Nourishing the irrigation of my veins;
Oh relief, tears of joy
And I will only be honest in this once -
I feared you had left already,
And I had not known you well enough
To understand this.
Today, I am happy
QuartzI am your enigma
I am all that you despise
I am all that you adore
And I never leave your side
I consume the world around you
I am every step you take
I hover just below you
And make your heart ache
I am everywhere and nowhere
I am alive and I am dead
I’m in your head and in your heart
The monster under your bed
I am the caresses you crave
And the kisses you desire
I am the love you deserve
The attention you serve
So I’m not so pure and clear
And I don’t have a golden sheen
My cheeks aren’t sweetly rosy
My purple grace is not mien
My skin’s not milky or sublime
I’m not even shiny gray
I am just a fragile crystal
Almost black from decay
All I could sayIs take care
No harm will be wish upon you
No hatred thrown at you
I will not run after you like I used to
I will not explain myself anymore
I told you enough
So take care
Almost and closeWhat is death but the lack of beauty
that I find in you and me,
the trees that accompany my poetry,
the sky that feels lost,
vast and knowledgeable as it is,
in front of my pleas?
Don't blame the music
sometimes, only it could seal my wounds
and stop the bleeding
but I've given some thought
to the new slate, a pristine name -
I could let my next reincarnation
bring truthful fulfillment
Confused sadness.So much pain --
Even though I [thought] I was prepared
Like - like watching old letters burn
That you kept from your parents;
Like a child pulling helplessly
on the string that once held
their favorite toy;
Or the empty food bowl
with the hungry dog beside it;
Or the woman who watched
her other half
sail away, knowing
she would never see him again.
I thought I could handle it
And I'm still trying
But there it is inconsolable sadness
A slow burn ripping me,
A freight train gutting me,
Splashing me across the tracks;
I just want it to stop -
Please don't go away
I don't want to lose
Hermes' Wings Need to be ShinedI'm replacing my eyes so I can stare at the ceiling
and watch as the cars' shadows run past
my window; I'm sick of this bed. I'm tired of this sickness.
I'm tired of being called diseased like I'll get you sick,
stay away from me.
You never left. You never left me alone.
I want to be alone, away from you who sends me endless messages
a day saying how I've done you wrong and caused you so much stress
that I've depressed you, and yet you still come to me with your
"baby, I need you"s; and I can't lie,
I've stretched myself far enough "baby", what you need
is to find someone else who will be your mother
because I'm done "baby"ing you.
I will not rock your cradle, or your world, or
your rocking chair when you get old 'cause god knows
I'm ailing from that motion and I'm just waiting 'till
I'm kneeling before toilet water because I've been struck with sea sickness.
Maybe I brought you good, but god damn it this
this is no good for me to be tied up by your threats of suicide;
Ice And FireCan one care too much, that one may lose himself? I would rather be lost in snow and trees, than be lost in your eyes. Not that they are cold, nor harsh, but to gaze into them and see such beauty; How did your soak up such warmth if not stolen from the Sun?
It may be cold and below freezing, and you may be away, but as time continues, chosen paths may change, and as far away as you may be, I tilt away from you, my heart still slightly frozen. Yet you still radiate such brilliance, and find away to warm my heart.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More