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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
Another Piece of LiteratureI'm surprised you even look at this,
this collection of phrases and words
Most probably you'll have just glanced over it
who reads but geeks and nerds?
Browsing all the newest arts
who would pause to scan
something that when compared to visual art
is much, much less than?
For it takes mere seconds
to look at a painting and fave
But if it takes minutes to read
many people would rather not slave.
No one can read an essay
in a few moments or less
though such an essay had taken so long
to write and think and express.
For reading this far I admire you
you are not like the others around
you took the time to read this
piece of literature you found.
But alas! no one else would care
to give only a minute or two
to read through a different kind of art
and maybe even give a review.
Literature is less noticed,
pushed aside more often than not,
and when one says "art"
few think of poems and one shots.
I hope this poem has helped
and maybe even was able to sway
you to think more of words
and view ar
The MusicianThere once was a musician, who lived beyond the sea,
one of the most profound in music that there could ever be.
A slender man with black hair and a lovely face,
he could sing and play music with impeccable grace.
Leaving his audiences with a melodic tale and tears to trace,
he soon became famous, forever leaving his commoners place.
There once was a musician, who lived beyond the sea,
he passionately poured his soul into his work as many agree.
He was so very young and handsome, talented and smart,
it was no surprise that many loved him from the start.
Until the day he found a woman he could give his heart,
promising each other under an oak tree to never be apart.
There once was a musician, who lived beyond the sea,
they married with rings inscribed "Forever will I love thee."
Although he was very busy, for her he was always there,
he'd do little things to show her how he really did care.
Such as holding her tightly while playing with her hair,
and giving her a locket which she would
71. ObsessionAbout nymphs, I know without fails
You have probably heard countless tales
Already, so why should you hear mine?
What could I possibly refine?
Now I'm not Ovid, I admit
(Would be sev'ral cent'ries late for it)
But stay and listen to my story
I promise you won't be sorry.
Let me tell you not about love
Surely you know enoug tales thereof
So how about obsession instead
And a night painted crimson red?
Once upon a time it began
When during a full moon night a man
Could not rest in Morpheus's arms
He wandered off under sev'ral charms.
Not awake he followed the trail
Laid to his feet by Selene, the pale.
Into the mountains she guided him
Where the world was so rough and grim.
The feet left bloody stains behind
Tracks which an Oread did then find.
She follwed them to the mountain's top
Where finally the man did stop.
The mortal man she did pity
So alone and far from his city
Caught in this obsession for the moon
Unaware his feet turned maroon.
The nymph thought and worried her brain
waterfallshe dreams with river fingers
as the skipping stones skip by
and the ripples on her eyelids
speak of cerulean skies
as the sunlight glimmers through her
finding gold streaks in her hair
songbird melodies delight her
in the smiling summer air
she’s a mirror, slow and quiet
she is grace and depth and flow
but she yearns for force and fire
and a way to be her own
cattail irises shed oceans
and the water lilies wilt
while she drifts in languid sorrow
duckweed tresses lose their gilt
words and rose thorns clog her waters
rocks and tree roots drive her stream
out of misery she rises
with her blossom eyes agleam
tranquil streams awaken torrents
rushing footfalls stir up spray
and she glows with newfound glory
in her cascading ballet
GoJust run don't look back, you already did that enough times to give yourself whiplash. Drop everything and just start running, it's your turn to finally start getting what you want. So don't just sit there and do fuckall like you always do, do something else for fucks sake. No matter how much it hurts don't stop, it'll get better; it always does it just takes time. So get the fuck up and go.
*Serpent*Compliant serpent coiled in basket
Hypnotic head with lethal bite
I look in horror, fear arises
Sways in time from left to right.
Tourist trick, maybe that's true
Captive audience forced to view
I feel sorrow for serpent's plight
Something suggests it's not quite right.
LIRIA CRUSADERSIn this world, it is not like your own
For in this land sat a king on a thrown.
Though this man had a kind face,
Behind the castle walls, peonage took place.
The king thought himself a powerful man
And enslaved the entire Zotairak Clan.
The Zotairaks’ leader, whom once stood tall,
Now sat under the king as his personal thrall.
This way of life lasted for many centuries,
Building up some rather terrible memories.
Finally one day the Zotairak leader had enough.
He rose up tall and yanked off his cuff.
With his mighty voice, he roared to his clan,
“Come brothers, come sisters, and come forth woman and man!
Together we will fight back for our land!
We will be free of this pain, free from this misery!
We will break from this evil penitentiary!”
So the battle began and soon turned into war
Ending only when neither clan could fight anymore.
Though, this war was far from over. This they all knew.
The Zotairak retreated across the sea to Feiaras to plan their next move.
The Outcast's TaleThe Outcast’s Tale
You do not see me anywhere,
But that does not mean that I’m not there
I’m the one who observes, that no one sees
I am the outcast, now if you would please
Come closer now, and I’ll tell you a tale
Of a girl, who in the school was hailed
At homecoming and prom, queen above them all
Admirers would watch she walked down the hall
Beautiful was she, pale skinned and fair
And in loose flowing curls she wore her golden hair
She possessed such poise, refinement and grace
You could see it in the smile on her angelic face
Her looks would turn heads wherever she went
Some even believed she was heaven-sent
But with all her looks and all her charm,
Her words were poison, she easily harmed
Those who were different, the misfits and geeks,
The nerds, goths and gays—to her, they were all freaks
And certainly not as good-looking as she
And for that alone, she set her cruelty free
The girl, I’ll call her Lorie from here on,
Woke up early, just after
Here in my house,
in my grave,
Colors of red and shame,
circle me and make their fame...
on my sinful frame.
It streaks my face,
It winds up my arms like lace.
It snakes around and around,
on my legs and bloodstained gown.
As it covers me,
I see it's glee.
As it sears,
As it burns,
it smiles with sickening yearn.
At my nearing end?
At nothing done to save and mend me?
No answer it lends,
such a wonderful “friend”.
My little friend,
lets me ascend,
on my decision's bitter end...
over and over again.
How stupid was I,
to let the knife drive and fly,
into my chest's sky?
How did I not see,
the slow and painful glee,
of what death wanted for me?
I was stupid and blind,
the right is long gone to find.
Now, with only my mind,
loving and kind,
We must find God who shined....
on my cords of strong bind.
I scream in my head:
“ I know I did something wrong,
I know I don't deserve your warm song,
but please prove me wrong!
Take me into your arms wher
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
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
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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