wisdomwalking from creek bedwisdom by spoems
to sacred spring meadow
i know less
save that which is always
nameless red sandstone.
We Failed..But Who Cares?Everything we built has collapsed..We Failed..But Who Cares? by audioscarz
We were everything..
We failed to last..
You broke my heart..
And you think I care..
Look in my chest..
There's nothing there..
If everything was perfect..
Why did you throw it away?
I thought we were forever...
Looks like you couldn't stay..
Holes for EarsI live in fear,Holes for Ears by tigerbar
because I was torn ear to ear.
Or rather my ears were torn off,
after being repeatedly told off.
Or maybe I was told, "I'm off."
It's hard to remember and hard to know,
because I can never hear again.
Unless my ears regrow.
But the holes that are left
left better access to my brain.
Hopefully by seeing straight in there,
I can better diagnose the pain.
But instead I think I see just mush,
thoughts and firing and lots of stuff.
But I don't see love, I don't see sane.
I just see stuff you call my brain.
I wish I could still hear,
but I can still see your smile.
And if they tear out my eyes,
you'll still be smiling for a while.
For as long as I can remember your eyes,
I can remember the brightness in them too.
And as long as I can remember your laugh,
I can remember what it's like when I laughed too.
So even if can't hear or see,
can I please keep all the memories?
The memories of a time much sweeter.
When life was fresh, my world much cleaner.
When I could see, before sig
Golden drips of salvationPowerful you are;Golden drips of salvation by Diamonds-Dont-Shine
Cutting with a razor
The light into my life.
Silence, when beads of gold
drip onto my floor.
and I turn my head up,
but flinch when I see the reflection of life’s truth-
Which conflicts so heavy with my own.
Cyhydedd FerFrom amid the green branches' barkCyhydedd Fer by NathanielFlyingOwl
Comes the song of a meadowlark
Cyhydedd Fer SonnetClouds blocking out the stars and moonCyhydedd Fer Sonnet by NathanielFlyingOwl
I wonder if dawn will come soon
As each day grows ever tougher
It seems I can only suffer
Darkness dominates the hour
And I pray for spirit power
In pain I gaze upon the skies
Longing so much to become wise
Trying to keep my heart alive
To see God above do I strive
What strength would He want to give me
In the face of my destiny?
How can I survive in the black
When honest hope is what I look?
epiphanyI lay in wait, dead of nightepiphany by Serendiipitii
a metronome does not keep time with my steps
but I am the music all ears here
when they finally fall asleep.
what am I?
black sheepbaa baa, black sheep, have you any wool?black sheep by Serendiipitii
no sir, no sir, not even a black soul.
they carried me to pasture, far away from rolling hills
tore my coat away, nary a word, watched the clouds spill.
I shan't be a meal, the daughter loves me too much
small miracles never cease, and I take them as such.
my brethren surround me, plump as newly sprung buds
wondering what will be their fate come the summer floods.
but I am the black sheep, with not even a black soul
and I will survive the floods, not to land in the farmer's bowl.
london.london fog, you crush my dreamslondon. by Serendiipitii
replace them with the density of reality
and all that it forgives.
london fog, you picked me clean
loaded the barrel with the cigarette smoke
of your dearly departed, fired into my belly
I felt the embers of your legions burn into me
watched the crown cascade through history
you fooled the roses, torched the throne
gave way to the spirits of the sky and let loose
your unforgivable torments to the peasants and pious below.
london fog, I forgive you
placed in your towers, lucidly dreaming of peace
it had no place in King Henry's courts,
orlando.I am bleeding with you,orlando. by Serendiipitii
sinking with despair, overwhelmed with grief
you are as I am,
the same skin
the same heart
the same earth.
we are family,
long lost, millennia removed
and yet I love you,
and miss you, though I never met you
the fire that consumed you, shining
like the Roman pyres
the same beauty
the same timeless energy
the same love overflowing.
too short was your spark,
a blink between two stars
The pouring cupAnd every patron will tell you, should one ask about the engraving, " ah, the Man of Barrels", with a fond tone, a slight smile, and a quick sip of their cup, before a hearty refill.The pouring cup by oviedomedina
They will boast, with glee, jumping on the benches and the tables, none protesting, none quarreling, about knowing the man behind the story:A sire who talked to all, drank with all, laughed with all, traveled it all, slept it all, and dueled them all.
Bards will praise him, the one who spilled all his tales of endless trekkings, acquaintances, rivalries and romances into the ears of drool jawed boys who would later sing his blushing- faced cheer.
Still, none will tell of the moment where his lips where damned by his bubbling blood, and his impudence punted him into the dungeon and the shortlived, ending, screams.
The Lady's ChoiceNight edged toward dawn and the windshield of my old, white chevy van was crusted over with a solid layer of grime and wet snow. It was only half as filthy as my jeans, stained orange with the dust of cheese poofs and smeared from my very last chocolate bar. I'd been sitting in this same spot for going on thirty six hours and there was no change in the house I was watching. It sat above me on the hill, an upright bastion of middle class goodness, all wood and brick facing with a white picket fence. I gave it the finger and went back to my cheese poofs.The Lady's Choice by Zara-Arletis
Half a bag later, the door to the place swung open and out walked my quarry. Evelyn. She was tall, long legged with curves in all the right places and blonde curls so bouncy they'd make Shirley Temple green. And damn her if she didn't turn toward me just as the sun crested the hill, framing her in the perfect light like she was an angel descending from the heavens. Of course, a woman like that was always in the right light.
Our VoiceSong is born in our bones, our veins intertwined since we take our first breath. We can feel our lungs flutter under five gossamer gusts of air, can feel our skin come alive in a domino of one mind waking after the other. Time is not the same around us; years pass between these opening lines and yet they are instantaneous, the same moment, the same heartbeat.Our Voice by Porsheee
This is something we discover only in the waking of our legs. The miracle of our connection is one we forget, one that has been hidden from us until we discover each other once more—and then it is the same song we sing, the same veins, the same breath. Once more we are whole, and only in the way we are together.
The click is deafening, but we do not hear it at first; only in its echoes do we find it, until we eventually hear its call in full, the chase at its peak. There we are, satisfied, snug in the crevice of what we have found, leaving behind what we don’t know for what we do. But no, the song is still only in its
A Downpour Like No Other (1/3)Should you find yourself traveling the I-90 as it cuts through Wyoming, fifty-or-so miles past Rapid City, you might notice a stray off-ramp, the only for miles and miles, cordoned off with concrete barricades and sand bags. Should you glance past this blockade, all you’ll see is a road long-since eroded away, terminating no more than a few yards beyond the barricades in a crag of jagged asphalt.A Downpour Like No Other (1/3) by Razgriz-3
Beyond this, in the land below, there is nothing - no ancient road being consumed by nature’s ravenous jaws, no creaking, distant ruin of a once-town, not so much as a plank of wood standing out against the flat yellow-brown of the landscape. There is only sparse, dead grassland.
On some nights, though, when the warmth has been sucked from everything, when not even coyotes scuttle across the dirt, when the moon above is full in the sky like the skull of a man, things can be seen. Glimpses of what can’t possibly be - not in a land so barren. Flickers of firelight, hazy glows t
The Reluctant Centauress: Chapter TwoSometime in the deepest part of the night, Wilhelmina had a dream. She lay on her belly in a bed, her arms over her head, which was turned to the right, facing a featureless gray wall. A throbbing pain radiated from her lower back.The Reluctant Centauress: Chapter Two by Alveric2
She couldn’t move. Her body, in the grip of an overwhelming lethargy, was simply too heavy. As soon as she realized this, Mina began to struggle, but it did no good. She couldn’t move a muscle. Something terrible was happening, but all she managed to do was groan.
“She’s coming around,” said a man’s voice.
“Good, we can begin.”
The second man’s voice was especially cool and unsympathetic. It aroused in Mina an even stronger fear and a second groan.
“Miss Blake, I know you can hear me,” said that same voice from very close to her ear. “I want you to listen very carefully and follow my directions exactly. Remember, your future depends o
Who was she fooling? (female!Loki)Nothing.Who was she fooling? (female!Loki) by TheLadyDothReadTooMu
That's what Loki feels.
Ask her a year ago, before the war, and she would have said murderous rage. The kind that turns men into unfeeling monsters, tearing down everything in the way of vengeance. Of closure.
But now, she feels nothing.
Even the love she'd once had for her mother had dwindled into mere toleration and perhaps, admiration.
She hadn't been able to save them.
She couldn't save anyone.
Who was she fooling?
What good was being the most powerful magic-wielder in the whole of Asgard when she couldn't use it to save the people she had loved most? What good was it to be a Princess of both Asgard and Alfheim and be unable to use that power to prevent the people she could kill for from being snatched from her?
She had known. She hadn't seen visions (it wasn't in her blood) but goodness, she had known. She'd known something was wrong as she'd worn her armor, as she'd hugged and kissed Sigyn and their sons and told them the
The Lady and the Bronze Mask: Part SixteenWe examined the gas bottles and set three of the men to putting our ideas into effect. Then Millie and I sneaked the Sharps onto the deck, while Larson resumed watching the stranger. The range had closed by several miles while we had been below. There could be no doubt now that we were in fact being pursued.The Lady and the Bronze Mask: Part Sixteen by Alveric2
During the same interval of time, the sailors had, as surreptitiously as possible, constructed a snipers’ nest of sail protected by spars and planks. I followed Millie inside where we took up our posts; her with the ship’s best telescope and me with the fifty-year-old rifle.
“Have you thought about communication?” I asked.
She nodded, then tapped my left shoulder. [That means you missed left, one tap for each yard. Right shoulder means you missed right. Head tap if long and if you miss short…] She slapped my butt. [If you hit or are very close, I’ll tap you between the shoulder blades. &
Breaking a Cold Heart: Chapter TwoWeeks had passed since Ritzka decided to join the Lord's small group, and as much as she hated to admit to it, she enjoyed every second of it. Most of the time when they traveled, she played with Rin and kept her company. Jaken became more comfortable with the female, going as far to occassionally perch on her shoulder from when she had once set him there. He would never confess to it, but Ritzka believed that he enjoyed that spot.Breaking a Cold Heart: Chapter Two by Whacked-Muffin
Even the great Dog Demon grew on her. He never spoke much, which Ritzka still hadn't grown accustom to, constantly trying to start up conversations with him. There was just something about him that peaked her interest.
Ritzka gave a goofy smile, thinking about the time she had spent with them already. She was completely lost in her thoughts, trailing behind the group, that she failed to notice when Sesshomaru stopped, and ran into his back.
She let out an 'oof!' When she collided with him, and fell onto her butt. "Oh... sorry." She mumbled, rubbing her butt.
Just Another NightJust Another NightJust Another Night by Mugiwara-no-Eli
A dark vapour filled the room. It swirled and twisted, rasping the backs of throats and clawing at eyes.
She stood watching. The words that rang in her ears lost themselves in the loud beat behind. The demons in the smoke leered and filled her ears, filling her mind.
She nodded, it was all she could do. The ringlets bounced on her ears, her cheeks. She ran; there was no time. The smoke swirled filling her eyes as she tripped over the discarded trash thrown carelessly behind the bar. She reached for the bottle.
He sat in the corner, his eyes closed in lazy ease. He filled his lungs from the glowing ember, allowing his breath to escape into the fog, clouding his vision. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed it.
His gaze flickered towards the bar, through the defensive blanket of smoke. Mira. Wasn’t she looking lovely. He pulled the smoke into his body again. Yes. She was stunning tonight.
Malibu. Rum. Sambuca. Absinthe. Words. Dangerous ones at that. Ru
Ode to Founder's LibraryOde To Founder's Library.Ode to Founder's Library by Mugiwara-no-Eli
You're domed roof collects our learned
thoughts as the cloche does a plant's moisture.
The silence you inspire drips down the walls
and makes the sounds of pages the flapping of
the great eagle, the tapped keys a powerful engine
the treading of floorboards a heard of exotic creatures.
Rectangular, a word that describes the whole.
Shelves dominate your walls, sometimes high, sometimes low.
The former, their innards lost, stare balefully down,
cursing the capture of the ladders which had once given them purpose,
now gone for the sake of Health and Safety.
They hate their replacements, looming between desks,
preventing distraction, the giant bodyguards of Sige,
silence incarnate, and servants to Minerva in all her wisdom.
As the sun's bright shadow passes through arched windows
still the desklights shine should the weather prove as fickle as
the contained nature of man in this scholars' womb.
Shall I pass through the heavy wooden amnion like a blinking infant
Don't be so judgmental....You taunt and you tease,Don't be so judgmental.... by Jokerman03
You judge me with ease.
I'm stereotyped and placed,
All judged on my face.
The color and ink on my skin,
Slowly drawing you in.
You don't know me, you don't know my life.
You and your assumptions are causing me strife.
It's my choice to stick a piece of metal in my flesh,
I like it, I'm not going to second guess.
This is my life,
My tale to be told.
And I'm gonna tell the way it is until
I grow grey and old.
To The Death.I may hurt.To The Death. by Jokerman03
I may bleed.
But these are things I do not heed.
I may trip.
I may fall.
But I will always stand tall.
I will win.
I will not fail.
I will fight with tooth and nail.
I may be bruised,
I may be battered.
But I am never beaten.
No matter how much I hurt,
No matter how hard it gets,
I will keep on fighting to the death.
SCP-3802 | Growable KaijuItem #: SCP-3802SCP-3802 | Growable Kaiju by XeruFury
Special Containment Procedures: Both instances of SCP-3802 should be contained in their lowest dense form in a completely empty concrete room. Room should be routinely checked for bug infestations or any other life forms that the subject may possibly feed on. Any personnel handling SCP-3802 should be at least two (2) meters in height and capable of fighting off the SCP-3802 instances in their smallest form. SCP-3802 must be guarded at all times by four (4) Security personnel armed with [EXPUNGED] (see: Amino acid weaponry program) that should in theory destroy huge amounts of SCP-3802 growth enzymes. Research is impossible at this time.
Description: SCP-3802 is a pair of two anomalous aquatic creatures that hold several extraordinary capabilities, including the capacity to survive infinitely on land and, apparently, the ability to grow infinitely instantaneously immediately after consuming raw m
SCP-3998 | Father SlaughterhouseItem #: SCP-3998SCP-3998 | Father Slaughterhouse by XeruFury
Special Containment Procedures: If seen, subject must be sedated immediately as a prisoner of war. SCP-3998, once contained, may be thrown into a normal cell once thoroughly checked for contraband. This cell needs no special adjustments for SCP-3998 except for the requirement that it be as far into the chosen facility as possible. No tests are required to be done on SCP-3998. Any personnel attempting to access Father Slaughterhouse must be a known atheist. Any attempts by SCP-3998 to 'convert' any personnel should be met with solitary confinement for two (2) days. Three (3) Security personnel must manually guard and patrol around SCP-3998's cell at all times; all of these guards must not believe in even the concept of God.
Description: SCP-3998 is known as Father Slaughterhouse, the leader of the Hand of Judgement gang, a known hostile force to SCP. SCP-3998 has orchestrated well over twenty (20) conta
Aftertale: The Story after UndertaleAftertale: The Story after Undertale by R3dArkang3l
This is a plot layout of the after story of Undertale.
I really need the help of other people please
-Why call it Aftertale? So many Fanfics called Aftertale.
* I am well aware of that but some of them have been short and not good ones that I have read, confusing ones and not so romantic ones. So I am stepping up to the plate and taking it by the horns.
+This takes place after all the monsters were free from underground. This will be mostly based around 10-11 years later.
*Read it an you will find out.~
-How big is the city? Tell use about it.
*There are some tall buildings. Not skyscraper sixe but close. There’s also a huge bridge for cars and people to walk on. Also there is a beach on the edge of the city.
-Are humans and monsters at peace with each other?
*When they first emerged, no. After quite a few years, yes, there are some people who are still ignorant about living with monsters. Some humans try to cause trouble
The Serpent and the HareThe Serpent and the Hare by FireEmber345
A long time ago, away from the wild, in a rabbit farm, there was a mother rabbit and her five children. She was so delighted when her kittens were born many months ago. It brought life back into her world. She hasn't been the same after her mate's demise. When he defended the rabbits from a dangerous adversary.
It was a dark hazel snake called 'Dragon.' He entered this land for a hunger for hare meat. Her mate did not let him get inside. As a price, he died from the venom when he was bitten and was dragged away. She remembered screaming for her lost love and the snake stopped, turned to her, then disappeared into the brush, with her love.
Now it was up to her to protect her babies. As it was said before, there were five young kittens she gave birth to. There were two brown ones, two speckled and one pure white one. The white one was the only girl in the group and seemed to be the most curious out of all her children. She had named her sons Floppy, Fluffy, Fuzzy, and Furry.
As for her d
Broken SelfWalking this pathBroken Self by DraganTheMighty
with chaos in my mind,
King of the poor,
Slave of the blind
I'm lost in the crowd,
I'm trying, I scream,
I can't be so loud
A uniformed lord,
The golden new world!
No one cares for my broken self!
Who will try for my broken self???
I want to change my way,
I don't see the day.
Walking this path
with rage in my mind,
Last of the poor,
No more behind
It's the day I'm found,
They will feel my scream,
Today I'm aloud
A naked lord,
The fallen new world!
No one cares for my broken self!
I'll take care of my broken self!!!
I want to change my way,
It has to be this day!
I want to change my day,
It has to be this way!!!
Save Each Other (Original Song)Another battlefield, another day to fightSave Each Other (Original Song) by XeruFury
Another good friend gone, where wrong is always right
It's the hell we've come to live in, and we've called it all our own
But when chemicals collide, you feel the aching in your bones
Nobody ever asked us if we wanted to live this way
Lying here forever, hate the way we've changed
It's the world they planned to give us, not really our own
I swear I'm lost in the desert but I will find my way home
I was lost out in the open, dead inside and broken
I'll follow the road I know
And the voices in my head told me I'm better off dead
I shut them out and now I'll find my way home
I'll find my way home
The broken children crying, and the end is so near
Try to keep you from dying, you've nothing to fear
If you would cry on my shoulder I could comfort the pain
My life is like a desert, your touch is like the rain
We've been saving each other from cracks in the glass
Learn to live forever, for
Ours to KnowLike faded pictures all in a row,Ours to Know by JeffreyRebowlski
Who are these people that they show?
They’re familiar; I feel it in my soul,
I must have known them long ago
I’d re-arrange them if I could
If only I understood!
What’s their significance to me?
If the future is not for us to know,
Why do our minds torment so?
If the future is not ours to know
What are our dreams but future echoes?
Windows into other worlds,
Each capable of change
I can't be sure if I've known them a long time,
Or maybe their not such good friends of mine.
Will either meet, or have met or will again.
I'll wait patiently until eternity comes around the bend.
Succeeding Where People Told Me it Was Impossible Many people will tell you something is impossible and that you shouldn’t even try. It's a message that many of use have heard for most of our lives and have taken to heart. It's a message that many of us have allowed to define who we are as a person. I am here to tell you don’t have allow that to define you. It is possible to succeed when other think its impossible. Even if those people are professional individuals, telling you that they can still be wrong. Depending on your drive and commitment, you can do anything.Succeeding Where People Told Me it Was Impossible by ExcaliburBlade
I am one of those people that was told I would never graduate high school. Specialist in early childhood development repeatedly told my parent how unlikely it would be that I would have the mental capacity to be successful in a normal school setting. I was speech delayed, had ADHD, dyslexia, and other learning disabilities that made even the most well-informed specialist doubt my mental capacities. Ma
Lack LusterLack LusterLack Luster by Mugiwara-no-Eli
I hate being in my early twenties.
You’re not clever enough, not old enough, not experienced enough to gain the experience you want to get a job. Hell, most internships need 3 years’ experience of interning. So you can’t get the experience you need to go ahead and make something of yourself. Forget jobs. The J-word no longer exists for you. It’s a speck of light that might get bigger once you hit thirty. But I’m twenty four. I’ve proven myself time and again in student jobs, internships, paid and unpaid. What do I need to do? Where did my friends and family members sell their souls to get ahead to the places they have reached? What game did they play? Did they cheat? Should I have been a worse person and cheated my way through life? Or do I just wait for thirty?
My current internship is coming to an end. It looms before my eyes like the great maw of Nothing, coming ever closer, faster some weeks, slower others. Its great fangs of u
Farewell ForeverHey,Farewell Forever by ecapatar
So I am going to make something plain and simple to you right here and now.
I am not going my way to make conversation with you anymore.
Because so many times it has come to my attention that you do not care what I say. Now, it is my turn to return the favor.
If this isn’t what you want, fine. Prove to me the way I have been treated will change my newly established ways.
Or if it is simply me who is your problem, farewell forever.
Make BelieveDearest friend,Make Believe by ecapatar
I was wondering if you would like to play a game of pretend with me. You could be the pretty Barbie doll and I could be the Ken doll. Together, we could hold hands and feel our make believe love through our plastic skin. Not only would we be perfect in every way, everything would be.
We would own a Dream House with flowers up front which would never die as well as a shiny convertible up front. We would have everything we ever wanted. Life would finally be simple as we sit inside our pink-walled home (your favorite color) as we would on the cushioned sofa watching the never changing television screen. At last it would just be you and me with our painted on smiles and designer clothes, incapable of moving away from each other.
A Writer's Journal: Catachresis“The slow leaves recall a child who gravelyA Writer's Journal: Catachresis by Frank-Jaspers
Dreams vague things he cannot understand.”
Jorge Luis Borges
Catachresis, also called an implied metaphor, is the twisting of a word from its proper application to an improper one.
More specifically, we may define four basic types of misapplication:
Stretching the meaning of a word or phrase to its limits.
Replacing an easily understood word with an ambiguous synonym.
Replacing an expected word with a half rhyming word.
Using an incorrect word when there is no suitable word available.
I will speak daggers to her, but use none. Shakespeare
Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon’s purse. Shakespeare
… take arms against a sea of troubles. Shakespeare
The voice of your eyes is deeper
A Writer's Journal: HypallageBut, in truth, I have wept too much! Dawns are heartbreaking.A Writer's Journal: Hypallage by Frank-Jaspers
Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
Acrid love has swollen me with intoxicating torpor.
O let my keel burst! O let me go into the sea!
Hypallage (also called ‘transferred epithet’) is the transfer of an adjective from one noun to another in a sentence. For example, ‘the insane man must have eaten a mushroom’ uses ‘insane’ to correctly describe the man. However, if we were to say ‘the man must have eaten an insane mushroom’ it would be an example of hypallage.
The best creative use of the device comes when an unexpected connection can be derived from it. In particular, a person’s feelings or actions can be connected to nature or to inanimate objects in a brief, energetic sentence without resorting to metaphor or personification. Example 3, below, demonstrates this.
A Writer's Journal: The Use of Repetition 1I celebrate myself, and I sing myself,A Writer's Journal: The Use of Repetition 1 by Frank-Jaspers
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. (Walt Whitman)
In the next two journals, I will be covering a large number of devices in a small space. I do not believe these devices are difficult to understand, although they may be very difficult to master. Most writers employ one or more of these devices regularly, and some of the very best poets —Walt Whitman, for example— use them obsessively. If you pick a random poem by Whitman you will likely find one of these devices used in it.
Some of these devices are used to bring a lyrical quality to a piece. Some are used to reinforce concepts with variation. Others are used to demonstrate various shades of meaning a concept or word can have in relation to other things. Whatever the intent, the results can be highly effective.
Linguistic Treasure HuntAs announced in an earlier journal, my New Year's resolution is to improve my English (second language) through creative writing. One of the, in my opinion, most effective ways to improve not only your own creative writing, but also your general language skills is to read. A lot. I often note down unfamiliar words, phrases or things I've learned or want to remember in a journal. Instead of just sharing random words, I though I use this opportunity to feature four stories I enjoyed and one journal entry of a group I think is amazing, and share with you what I've learned from reading them. Obviously, the linguistic treasures I find are quite subjective - but hopefully still inspiring for other non-native speakers as well.Linguistic Treasure Hunt by Kathleanore
You'll find a collection of the featured stories and the journal with a short description of my own at the end of this journal!
Go check them out!
Shiny new words
You just can't know too many, can you?
"...cold seeped mercilessly t
Bookman's CrusadeTo write is to delveBookman's Crusade by Jack-Gow
Deeply into your soul,
With a pen as the helve
That makes you whole.
Is to delight,
Filling the night
With glorious light
Finding words to excite
Despite those contrite
Outright blights who fight
And spite the sight of might.
For no knight
To recite and ignite
The backbiting benight.
To write is to invite
The world to right.
To write is to mellow
Saying what you must
So you can love each fellow
Until you are dust.
World FusionIn a very old city,World Fusion by LadyLouve
Made of dusk and dust,
Lived a man, kind and bitty,
That played a violin with disgust:
Iii, Iii, Iii, Iii
"Everyone plays a violin
And I am so upset
I am so very tired!
Something new must I set!"
Brrr Ooom Brrr Ooom
He found a plane
He got a ride
And so the bitty man said
"New music I'm goin' to find!"
Brrr Ooom Brrr Ooom
He got to a new land,
Made of sun and gold
And there within the sand
He heard a different sound
"Boom Da Boom Da Boom"
"Who is there, making that noise?
Sounds like elephants passing by!
Please come with me, please enjoy
As we travel, as we fly!"
Iii Boom Da Boom Iii
They played together,
To a new land
Brrr Ooom Brrr Ooom
Suddenly they heard
A terrifying sound!
From the depths of Earth
Came a powerful howl!
"What may this be?
It's so natural, so strong
We certainly agree
To invite the player to join our song!"
Iii Boom Da Boom Wooooh Da Boom
And so this new player,
Surprised but happy,
Joined the travelers
HopeHere is a world that vexes us soHope by SAASANTMTHEE
It's cold and it's lonely and refuses to grow
And as darkness hangs over there's just one thing to know
And that's hope
Here is a people that now looks away
So introverted are they that the living could not stay
They're all so divided and despised for what they say
And it's saddening to know that this is the world today
But just that one thing is all it takes to keep anguish at bay
And that's hope
Here is a community with closed eyes
That has become so blinded that it can just despise
All that vehemence is directed unto the social ties
Despite how many just want to lift the veil from the lies
Or wipe away the blanket that has covered us our entire lives
Clean the slate of an oppression that's taken us by surprise
There's nothing surprising those who've lost their gaze
For in this short time, counted not in years but in a daze
So many choose to live for themselves outside the rotting haze
But realise that this is just the first to lead the phase
Milling Golden RiceGolden rice could save a million lives in third world countries,Milling Golden Rice by badspoon
But we aren't sure if GM crops are ethical
We know the AIDS virus kills people without discrimination,
But we allow a Church leader to say condoms are sinful
We watch on the news as people die in natural disasters
Then turn off the news, it's depressing.
This piece does not contain a poetic sense of right and wrong
Today I asked my father 'What is the worst thing you've ever seen?'
to which he replied 'Women being raped while being fed into saw mills in Bosnia'
and that, dear poets and dear judges, is why we need world fusion,
to mill golden rice.
FireWe are stuck in a dark hole.Fire by Strong-suit
It is deep
it is filled with loneliness
it is empty.
This is our brain without inspiration.
But when an idea is pondered upon,
it is like striking a match to dry wood;
everything becomes en-flamed with its furious being.
It consumes, it swallows a mind whole,
but we like it.
Although sometimes we become hurt by its power,
we are given the power to spread its light to others.
This idea has the fighting strength to crush an empire,
the will to destroy a man
the audacity to seduce a lover
the knowledge to teach others
and the power to inspire
and spread this flame to others.
We, we the scribes and
the writers and
the journalists and
the poets have the power to control these flames
to record them
and manipulate them into
a manuscript that is praised throughout the centuries,
a letter that fuses world powers together
a poem that makes two into one
and a telegram that causes unrest.
We bring many together for a common cause,
and can tear them apa
Why? (Japanese version with edits)なぜ？Why? (Japanese version with edits) by InaT01
La leyenda de Bluuberwolf: OrigenCuenta la leyenda que hace mucho tiempo, cayó un cometa a la tierra, en su interior se encontraba la descendiente del Sol; una pequeña loba de un blanco deslumbrante, con melena y cola de intensas llamas de los colores de la vida, sus ojos, contenían la oscuridad y la luz que se encuentran en la galaxia.La leyenda de Bluuberwolf: Origen by Bluuberwolf
Aunque su presencia era fascinante, no era más que un cachorro, aun le quedaba mucho por ver y aprender; se dice que ignoraba completamente su origen, pero sabía cuál era su propósito, proteger aquel planeta a toda costa.
Así pues, como cualquier otro ser en un lugar desconocido, su curiosidad despertó y empezó a investigar; no tardó en darse cuenta del gran poder que poseía y el cual aún no sabía controlar. Por esto, comenzó a tener problemas con los humanos y a menudo escapaba de ellos por miedo, pero en su interior sabía que debía conocerlos mejor.
En una de estas veces, una chiquilla fue tras ella,
EquilibrioGocce di uominiEquilibrio by byronycal
tagliano il mare, pochi
la risacca, un brusio popolare
Il vento accarezza
i piedi bagnati, di chi
in bilico, osa un pensiero
fragori di foglie, sono
speranze o fiori di carta
Baciato dal sole, stringe
il gregge delle certezze.
Winged Life - Kapitel 1Ein weiser Mann sagte einst, dass es keine allgemeine Dunkelheit gibt, nur Nuancen von Schatten, die in einer Symphonie der Angst und Schmerzen einen Teppich aus Albträumen weben, der dazu neigt, Kinder zu verschlingen.Winged Life - Kapitel 1 by Fucal
Früher hätte das Kind verächtlich geschnaubt und laut verkündet, dass es sich nicht vor der Dunkelheit fürchte, doch nun ließ es jedoch Kopf und Flügelohren sinken, da ihm nun klar war, was die Worte bedeuteten. Es war nicht die Dunkelheit, die mit dem Untergang der Sonne kam, sondern die innere Dunkelheit, die sich in die Herzen schlich und die durch keine Sonne erhellt werden konnte. Für jeden sah diese Dunkelheit wahrscheinlich anders aus, setzte sich aus Phobie, Schmerzen oder Ablehnung zusammen und schuf sich ein Nest im Herzen eines jeden Kamishibas. Von dort aus regierte sie, nutzte denn Körper als Wirt, den Geist als Nahrung, die Seele als Spielzeug. Brauchte den Wirt zum Laufen, den Geist, um sich zu vermehren u
Dear Future Lover IIDear Future Lover,Dear Future Lover II by MysticFay
You will see the sun in me when no else can
And feel warmth in my laughter, the heat of us together
You might want me to kiss you and forget, don’t worry
(I’m good at that)
Breathe into my lips, I’ll exhale your escape
But if you find, you want to know me more
That you want to waste your precious time
Being less a lover and more a friend
I won’t know what to say, I won’t know what to do
If you look too closely, you will see the fear in my eyes
And hear the dull thud of my heart
And my shrill intake of breath
If you reach out and touch me unguarded
You’ll cut yourself on my jagged edges
I could hurt you, then bathe you in anxious tears
You will see the ugliest parts of me expressed by the scars on my skin
And the worry lines around my sleepless eyes
And how my teeth have clenched themselves to bits
You could be carried away in my rolling seas
For the sun you saw in m
Under a spreading chestnut treeAcross the ages of history, I loved you and you loved me,Under a spreading chestnut tree by letmechooseaname
Through pain and agony, we endured and became free,
Seasons passed and suddenly, my sad life turned into a melody,
Peace never lasts in history, my cup was full but now it's empty,
After many casualties, everything fell in misery,
You didn't see the best in me, you stole my heart and destroyed me...
"Under the spreading chestnut tree, I sold you and you sold me"
The painter of sun-crossed womenThe painter of sun-crossed womenThe painter of sun-crossed women by Rafarocs
was finally brought home yesterday.
He was like the moonlight,
with his long gray hair
with his silver beard of dust and soot.
He was never loved as a person
only as moonlight,
only as solitude.
And he worshipped no one,
though he often spoke of love
within his paintings.
It was raining
at the hour of his last farewell.
He exhaled his stamp of cancer in the canvas,
and his watercolor puddles dimmed
The painter of sun-crossed women
finished his last sketch in desperation
and he left his paintings
to whoever had the walls
to hold them up.
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