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If I Could Turn Back TimeIf I could turn back time
Is that a song lyric? I don’t care.
But if I could, it would be before you were lost to us. Before you got that monkey on your back.
I would go back to when you visited us. So I could see you more than once a year. So it wouldn’t be at a wedding where you were quiet and out of place. Back home, where we just laughed and played and talked about nothing.
If I could turn back time, I would want to know what happened in your future.
I would sock you in the face and hug you while you’re down and not let go. I wouldn’t listen to your shocked stutters or confusion.
I would just sit there, and cry.
If I could turn back time, it would be to those days.
Before you were troubled and long dead before you were buried. It would be before your parents broke apart and mourned. It would be before your siblings would huddle together with their pets, the husbands and wives, their little children, and cried themsel
Yes and No“You want to be alone today?”
I want to be alone...
So you don’t have to see me break
So you don’t have to watch me snap at every little thing
So you don’t have to hear me cry
I want to be alone...
So you won’t have to see that look in my eye
So you won’t have to find the despair hiding in my pupils
So you won’t have to cringe as I yearn for the boy of frost to finally come
“Are you sure?”
I don’t want to be alone...
So I won’t have to fear of what I might do
So I won’t have to hide in my room, hoping you won’t come home early to find me like this
So I won’t have to remember what I lost
I don’t want to be alone...
So I don’t have to hope and hope for someone to come along
So I don’t have to wait anymore
So I don’t have to wait for the boy of frost anymore
I still hope... I still pray...
That maybe he’ll finally come along
Change It AllI want to walk in the snow
I want to gaze at the stars
I want to capture the moon
In a land so full of heat
Buildings upon buildings
And artificial lights oh so bright
The three of which I want to grasp are always out of my reach
But even if there weren’t these hindrances
Even if it snowed all year around
Even if the moon wasn’t an illusion through the eye of a camera
Even if all the street lights vanished so I could watch the real stars shine
I wouldn’t have anyone to share it with
For my own is just busy, busy, busy
As he lives far away where they do get snow
No brother or sister
The only one I have can’t even crawl on her own and is just as far away
As I’m too broken for even the cold man for whom I wait ever patiently
A happy family always awaits them at home
Where the arms are waiting to embrace
Where there’s always a new and exciting story to laugh at later
Where you’re never alone
Not for one s
Do Not WantI dont want to stand
Because I know Ill collapse
I dont want to walk
Because I know Ill take the wrong path
I dont want to run
Because I know Ill trip
I dont want to fly
Because I know Ill fall
I dont want to be guided
Because I know youll let go of me
I dont want to be carried
Because I know youll drop me
And I dont want to be loved
Because we both know youll lose me
FailureI see you when I close my eyes
You’re smiling, yet not. You’re far away and I can’t touch you. I can’t speak to you.
Because you’re not really there
You’re a ghost
But I still see you. In the darkness of my dreams. It’s the only way to find you.
They gave me a way to bring you back. It was a dream, but I wanted it to be real. There was a way to bring you back.
The darkness said I had to do something. Something I wouldn’t normally do. It’s been so long since that dream, I can’t remember what it was anymore.
Did I do it? Yes
But did I do it right?
The darkness said I had done wrong. You were slipping away, back into its cold clutches. You were all alone back there and I could do nothing. I was useless.
I AM USELESS.
The darkness gave me a way to bring you back.
And I failed.
Come To TermsYoure really gone; dead
It became real the moment I saw the urn resting comfortably in the folds of flowers
Its not true It cant be
It became real again when I saw your siblings putting up the table of you- who you are
No- who you were
They each carry bits of your dust with them around their necks
I wish I could have one, too. But I knew theyd never let me
Im not your sister or brother- not your mom or dad
Im your cousin. I guess thats not considered close enough
Page 248Miss Mallory was in the library as usual
The ghostly silence of the library was musical
Again and again she searched for a new book
A black tattered novel was what Mallory took
"I don't recall reading this one" she said
There was no title, but a red symbol instead
As she opened it, dust exploded in her face
And the black book landed on a random page
Page 248 was blank, not a single word to be seen
"What's this? How odd. Whatever does it mean?"
She placed her palm onto page 248, very curious
In Mallory went as the book snapped shut, victorious
Falling, falling, and falling, into some unknown void
Her mind was losing it, her precious memories, destroyed
Swiftly and silently, poor Mallory disappeared in a wink
And onto page 248 was her life, written out with black ink
The black book flew back to its dusty home, the top shelf
Where one day, a curious soul would grab to read for oneself
An advice for the readers: "Beware of page 248! You ought to!"
"Don't be hungry for a book, for this book
Suddenly SPIDER!Big hairy scary spider just ran at my naked feet.
I screamed and lifted my toes and now it's under my seat!
And now I'm scared to move
And now I'm scared to stay
Where did that hairy scary
Emerge from anyway?
Memory LossMemories... my soulful melody
Intertwined within a grand symphony
Though the experiences remained ever-lasting
I neglected to reflect upon their meaning
As I continued on, living in irony.
Nonchalantly, I continue the journey
Unaware of the terrifying reality
Truth begets hate, then understanding
Abolished of my stupidity
I will come to terms with my destiny
Clinging not to fear of dying
Yet regretting what I am becoming
Something fading into obscurity...
PortalThe birds are about
The clouds are out
So let's go and find
Some sort of mind
That does not care
But to where we want to go
And golden sunshine
Paint the way for us
Let's see where it takes us
To a faerie field
Full of daytime wheels
We can spin to wherever
Acrid blossom bells
Wave goodbye our cells
So let's not disappoint
And in their bright wave join
As our minds overflow with chance
Our feet are lively
Our smiles are wide
Do not hesitate
But to smell and taste
Like children's memories
Cruel mares can slumber
With all the other
But far aflutter
That picks at our aspirations
Storm fronts behind
Their intent unkind
So let's keep running
And never stop shunning
The past for all its pain
Our purpose so delayed
Become battle calls
To challenge in our midst
The devil's wrist
Nipping at our heels
To try and peel
The veil from our pictured
A Message to HeavenDear Great Grandpa, I wonder how you are
How is heaven, do you remember me?
No matter how many stamps, you are too far
But at least my letter is for God to see
Its been years since you went away
But maybe you will read this somehow
Because it is too late for what I want to say
But back then I knew less than I do now
Dear Great Grandpa, I have to ask you
Because you never seemed to talk much
And I guess I was the same too
I want to know about your life and such
They say in November your first breath was took
How was it growing up in the changing past?
For that world is just black text in my school textbook
And I only know of the eight years that were your last
Is forever lost wealth depressing as the name?
Was it like an apocalypse when the whole world fought?
What joy you had when the chains wore out their fame?
Did the future fantasies come faster than thought?
How did it feel to live in new land?
Or when the colors splashed on the screen?
Were the sparkles and fashion beyond understa
Mister FoxA gentleman, Reynard, they say,
Is quiet where he walks,
His silent smile will change your day,
That’s why he’s “Mister Fox.”
And should you listen for his pace,
His quiet, sooty socks,
Are soundless, still, or in his race,
The feet of Mister Fox.
Coming to the wedding door,
With timid glee, he knocks.
Who hasn’t invited him before,
That charming Mister Fox?
A cunning lad, always so mellow,
I know to knave who mocks,
The kind and somewhat silly fellow
They know as Mister Fox
Some afternoons with tea and bread,
He sits down at the docks.
Admirable, his coat of red,
And red is Mister Fox.
He has no need for petty things,
Like gold or diamonds or stocks.
More precious are the songs he sings,
The sociable Mister Fox.
After your feet slips off the stirrup,
And you fall on the rocks,
What friend comes by to help you up?
Who else but Mister Fox?
Sometimes his wolfish claws aren’t neat,
Or his grin has teeth of crocs;
But no-one’s words are soft and sw
Romance del MalqueridoEra por el tres de mayo,
y apenas amanecía
era por el tres de mayo
cuando esto acaecía.
"¡Antonio, abre la puerta,
Antonio, córrela abrir
pudiese ser tu padre
el correo o la Guardia Civil!"
"Que no es correo, mi madre
Ni es mi padre querido
Es la imagen terrible
de tu yerno, el Malquerido"
"Calla, Antonio cállate
Cállate que no vá contigo
Retírate a tu habitación
Bien dices que soy malquerido
Me malquiso esa tu hermana
Mirándome con desprecio
Me quiso muy mal tu hermana
Que para mi no tenía precio.
Ahora deja que pase
Que he de teñir estas telas
Teñirlas de carmin profundo
Con la sangre de Manuela"
"Mira que dices, Felipe
que a mi no me lo dirías
Cura que dices Felipe
que tu foso te cavarías"
"Yo me cavaría mi pozo
Tal como estoy, con gran gozo
Mas te dejaría, Felipe
Tal como eres, envidioso"
Diciendo esto el Antonio
echó mano a la navaja
y de un golpe certero
hasta el corazón le taja
CrossroadsIf you came to a crossroad without signs, which one would you follow?
Would you walk to the left, where there are pretty flowers decorating the roadside,
To the right where you can glimpse little traces of glimmering gold in the cracks,
Or would you walk straight ahead on the dusty path full of pebbles and holes?
If I told you that things aren't always what they seem to be at first glance,
Would you think me superstitious, shrug if off and walk the path you like,
Pick the path that seems to be the most pleasant and entertaining to you,
Or would you stop and consider what I might be trying to tell you.
If I told you that a guide informed me of the roads you stand before,
Would you believe me if i said those pretty flowers on the first path are poisonous,
And the gold in the cracks will poke into your soles and tear up your feet,
Or would you believe if I said that the rocky road is not hard to walk on?
If you came to a crossroad without signs, which one would you follow?
Would you belie
The Weirdling Bard of AlgonquinosCome gather 'round the fire,
kind and honest folks,
to join in warmth and fellowship;
perhaps to laugh and joke.
Such plain and simple pleasures
are the things that mean the most,
in these times of bitter strife,
afflicting fair Algonquinos.
If you've a quaff of wine to share,
with a lonely poet and bard,
or perhaps a dram of whisky,
for the years and roads are hard-
we'll pass the wineskin, and share the pipe
and savour the comforting woodsmoke smell-
so children young, and children old,
hear the story I would tell.
Eight centuries before the Bluecoat King,
lived a prince of his earlier line;
who turned from his destiny to answer a different call,
that he simply could not define.
He saw his inheritance a throne of ruination,
should the peoples stay their present course,
wisdom and learning replaced by pride in ignorance,
and wildest superstitions endorsed.
Hatreds knife-edge keen, and harvests lean,
and every transgression paid in hot blood-
teachers and builders, and those who strive
TexturesThe world is made up of all textures
There are those we can find with the skin
Ones that are easily seen by the naked eye
And those we can find only by the soul within
The ceramic cup is smooth and glossy
A honey scent sways from steaming tea
Those that drink with pinky out feel classy
Tea feels warm and like a welcomed embrace
When I touch your face
When I grasp your hands
I feel the sweet kindness inside
I know where the concern stands
But when you touch my own face
When my hands would be enveloped by your own
Can you feel the scars inside?
Can you feel the pain that brings me down?
The ceramic cup became rough and worn
A scent is gone and steam faded cold
The one that drank lost their class
Tea having disappeared in days of old
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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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