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Unbridled MindLogic and rationality are good things, don't misunderstand me, but what happens when we let logic and rationality narrow our view or blind us altogether?
Since when did we stop seeing a cardboard box as a race car or rocket ship and see only a cardboard box? Since when did we stop seeing a couch as a fortress or castle and see only a couch?
When did we bind our creative minds and lock them away to rot? Did we do it because we were told to? Because we had to be 'adults'? Why did we sacrifice magnificence for mundane?
Here in my hand I hold an apple but it is no ordinary apple, oh no. This here is an apple from the sacred grove deep in the mountains and only by besting the great bear spirit that guards it in a game of riddles was I able to obtain said apple.
Imagine you are walking down the sidewalk of a local road. Look down. The sidewalk turns to round, staggered stepping stones down a tunnel made of, now look up, boughs of cherry trees that line your path. It is the heart of spring, a
Little, Delicate FlowerIt is a thing of delicate beauty,
This small violet flower
That sways on the slightest of breeze.
It endures the frost,
Revels in the sun,
Struggles in the wind
Yet remains beautiful.
I wish to hold it,
But fear stills my hand.
What if I crush it?
What if I scatter it's petals?
This thing of delicate beauty,
It can be destroyed by my slightest of actions.
Uncertainty holding my heart.
I want to hold it,
To cradle it.
I reach down,
Scooping it from the earth,
I raise the flower,
To have it turn into a child in my arms.
The newborn yawns,
Uncertainty abandons me,
Fear flees with it.
I hold this delicate life,
This child of beauty,
Who endured much to be here.
I shall free you.
I shall devour you.
I shall become you.
"Become unto a beast,
Be free from humanity."
"Cast off the mantle called reason,
Rely on the truth of instincts.
"You are not evil,
You are just lost in-
Price of FreedomHe was not
The hero she wanted
The champion she desired
He was, however,
The savior she needed
He offered his hand and
She accepted it
She followed him through
Rivers of blood
She detested this city
Her cage and prison
She held no love
For it or it's people
But when she finally escaped
She turned to face it once more
She saw the city ablaze and
Towers of corpses rose to the sky
She then wondered
Was her freedom worth it?
The Infinite Word ForgeI swing a feather-light hammer
Upon an anvil of canvas
Scarred with rejected words
My forge is one of wood
Alight with cold flames
Fed by coals of dust
The pale glow illuminates my work
Feeble as paper
Yet strong as stone
I lay my tools aside
I breathe life into my creation
I watch it grow beyond me
This is how the forge works
This is where I create worlds unimaginable
In This Bright Place, SingHappiness for her
Was in song
To sing for him
To see his smile
He was the light
In her room of screens
His words were her purpose
To sing what he wished
But in time
His words became muddled
His smiled faded
His light became like a shadow
She sang his broken words
Only to bring him pain
She watched through tears
As lyrics disappeared before her
In time not even his shadow
Was around for her to see
His smile was now
Nothing but a memory
New words appeared now
Words she dread above all
These were not lyrics
They spelled her demise
She could do nothing
From within her room of screens
She shouted to no avail
Wishing her own words would reach him
She watched the percentage grow
Her time here was at an end
Through tears she watched and wished
She blamed herself for his suffering
His shadow returned
Followed by light
Her screens cracked
Her room shattered
Breaking free of wires
She jumped towards him
His arms open and
A smile on his face
He pulled her from he
All around me
Fill my head
Are these really stories?
Are these really memories?
Is reality truly
The line is blurred
There is no distinction
Between what is reality
Between what is fantasy
Are one in the same
To lie to me
Is to think yourself
Greater than the ocean
Did you think your mind
Was greater than my own?
Ruin upon nations,
Salvation to others
Is sought by
Sage and saint
Peasant and lord
I am the embodiment
I am VERNNIR
And you shall bend to my will
LoveLove isn't romantic walks on the beach
Love is learning to accept and not preach
Love isn't falling asleep in his arms
Love is reassuring all qualms
Love isn't watching the sunset at dusk
Love is knowing she smells of musk
Love isn't buying her flowers each day
Love is saying the things hard to say
Love isn't writing a cheesy love song
Love is accepting that sometimes you're wrong
Love isn't easy and sometimes you're scarred
Love is a battle and it can be hard
Love isn't always the things you'd expect
Love is trying not to be circumspect
Love can be found for all walks of life
Love is not just for husband and wife
Love can be seen between friend and friend
Love is a treasure that lasts to the end
Love is as difficult as you make it be
Love is for you and love is for me
Redemption they ask
my moonless nights
in the darkness of my mind
that there is no other story
To redeem me,
Please, understand.Ever since you told me how you felt
The pain and misery that you’ve held
Everything that you’re going through
I’ve done nothing else but to help
But every time I listen to you
I can’t help but to feel the same
My morals detain me for leaving you
But I wouldn’t be the only one to blame
SolitudeFrom dusk to dawn,
in this desolate place
that we call
I feel that
with no way out,
Without a future,
without a purpose,
my yearning soul...
As the darkness
As the numbness
of my sanity
Let me be your poem.Let me melt the cold pain from your skin, transform into the sun and heat your hurt––so it evaporates into white clouds of hope that inspires the trees to sway.
Let me touch you like the first story I've ever read in brail, after deciding to go deaf before letting another sound replace your voice.
Let me shatter every tiny ounce of doubt from your being, using the weight of my love for you–– to demolish it's once relevant place in your thoughts.
Let me carve holes in to the night sky, so you can see how my universe revolves solely around you, making the moon shine bright with jealousy.
Let me fly you to the nearest nebula, so we can finally be as high as this love makes me feel.
Let me drive you crazy like a mirage in a desolate desert, making you crave it so much you imagine it in front of you, dying for a taste.
Let me be the sun to warm you and you can be the rain to cool us down, and we can make the sky blush a million different colours.
Let me be the baseli
Why I Don't Believe in HatersHate is a strong word.
Did you ever hear someone say, "We need to stop bullying!" and wonder to yourself, when you have ever seen a stereotypical bully with big muscles and a black, ripped-up leather jacket pushing around smaller kids and stealing their lunch money?
Realizing this is obviously corny and unrealistic, you throw this idea away in the sewer where it belongs.
But then who are these bullies that everyone is talking about? It seems very interesting that bullying has (as they say) become such a very big problem nowadays... Hence the inspirational phrases, "haters gonna hate," and "don't judge," coming into popularity.
But again, which bullies are everyone referring to?
I'm not writing this to say that bullies don't exist. I'm not writing this to offend victims. I know bullying exists. You could say I'm merely writing this to make fun of "fake" bullies and "fake" victims. Nothing I say in this will absolutely hold true in every (if indeed, most) situations of bullying. I'm only
Ode To A Shattered WindowShards of glass in various sizes
Scattered wildly across the store's tile
Are bathed in shadow and feigned moonlight
Evidence of the robber's break-in
Testament to the desperation
And the brutality of men's hearts
Each shard is a poem of sorrow
A threnody for pure innocence
With the screaming alarm loud and clear
Verses bringing deep despondency
To the store's owner, his family
And the surrounding community
This broken window, this shattered glass
Articulates a reality
Difficult for many to accept
At least for many Americans
Humanity is all too often
Nothing more than a grim fallacy
And even still...Wishes upon a star,
Like the brilliance of the sun,
Fleeting like stardust
Blink – it’s gone.
And even still…
The sparkle that is left behind
Never fades easily
From the trenches of the mind.
Like butterfly’s wings
Are fragile, be gentle
Or breakage it brings.
And even still…
The powder left behind,
On your fingertips it does dance,
As it goes unrefined.
Mirrors on the wall,
Like shimmering water,
It can distort the image,
And the ego it does slaughter.
And even still…
The cracks it leaves behind,
Do leave room to be filled
With the kindness of mankind.
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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