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I know...Lucifer is one lonely beast...
he'd kill a priest... to have a feast...
and while he's simply standing tall...
the trees might fly, the skies might fall...
Slaughter your doubts! Slaughter them ALL...
he's not your father! spare your soul...
Just beat the drum, let's start a tune...
No one is hurt, we're all immune...
Your tears are dry, your fire's wet...
Yet death is not your safest bet...
defining SMS as Stopped Making SenseSome nights, the moon seems crystal clear
with a pinch of bloody Mary smear
you try to catch it but alas
it seems far through your steamy glass
you scream, you shout then suffocate
and cry as you reiterate
and as your soul tries hard to seep
the angels laugh, the demons weep
with a pinch of verbs from your past tense
Some nights, the moon Stops Making Sense...
Seems not...Seems like the smile of yesterday...
Is now a million miles away...
Seems like the warmth has turned to ice...
And seems like winter's here to stay...
Seems like the time like grains of sand...
Is slipping through our weary hand...
Seems like we're doomed to pay the price...
And seems like we're too poor to pay...
Seems like the game of you and I...
Is clearly ending in a tie...
Seems like the gods have rolled the dice...
And seems like we're not meant to play...
The Great War...I'm cold daddy, I'm cold,
my stories were not told...
I'm cold daddy, I'm cold,
my blanket has been sold...
I'm cold daddy, I'm cold,
my tune is turning old...
I'm cold daddy, I'm cold,
it's warmth I need, not gold...
the great war
is asking for an encore...
the great war
is filled with blood and gore...
the great war
is knocking on my door...
the great war
is here, and I'm no more...
action reactionYou'll burn your flesh to aggravate my pain...
You'll smudge your voice to denigrate my stain...
No matter where I'll be... I'm near...
No matter how hard I'll try... you'll always be dear...
my pain has always made you sneer...
That's it... my life's not yours to smear...
I'll sow my terror to water your fears...
I'll spread my madness to harvest your tears...
No matter where you'll hide... you're dead...
No matter how fast you'll run... I'm one step ahead...
your fear is now my daily bread...
Bang Bang... that's it... you're done... you're dead...
if onlyIf you could be back for a while
Then maybe I would once more smile
and maybe I would jump and scream
for I finally caught a dream
I'd wet your lips with my own tears
I'd kiss your skin, fondle your ears
I'd hug you, feel you, smell your hair
then let you leave again... I swear
I'd sing you soothing lullabies
and make you live as my soul dies
I'd even go the extra mile
if you could be back for a while...
Simon Says...Simon says: love me to death...
Simon says: be there for me...
Simon says: take a deep breath...
Simon says: kneel on one knee...
Simon Says: Don't say a word...
Simon Says: Handle my shit...
Simon Says: Go Fetch the bird!!!
Simon Says: Roll Over!!! SIT!!!
Simon says: now go away...
Simon says: cut me some slack...
Simon says: Just go astray...
Simon says: Never come back...
Quite a filthy game to play...
Soaked in useless words to heed...
We'll all leave at End of Day...
What a lonely life to lead...
Parasitism at its best...
Game-like shaped to lure the wise...
So allow me to suggest
Renaming it "Simon Lies"...
fletchy likes to play...what if we played a brand new game
you've never played before?
though at first you will find it lame
I'm sure you'll soon adore...
let's play a game of sounds and screams
where silence makes one lose
and you and I on separate teams
with voices to abuse...
we'd scream and shout and even hum
but mean nothing at all
And spill out all the words that come
to our mind, to our soul
we'd howl some profanity
for everyone to hear
enjoying the insanity
and letting go of fear
we'd slay each other with remorse
with prejudice and loath
so we'd move on or go to source
yet not be torn by both
nothing to say...I don't feel like writing anything today...
I am sick of trying to verbalize how much I missed you...
sick of trying to verbalize how much I still love you regardless of how long it's been...
I'm sick of even trying to say anything at all...
cos if it's not understood yet...
then it will never be...
so regardless of how much I miss you...
how much I still love you...
and how long it has been...
I don't feel like writing anything today...
IcarusWho are you, and what am I?
Remember me? I touched the sky
I flew too hard and burned too fast
Dreams like mine, they just don't last
I touched the sun on feathered limbs
I satisfied my wildest whims
But I burnt out, and I fell down
My body wasn't ever found
But don't remember me for how I failed
I embody all the dreams that've sailed
So who are you, and what am I?
Remember me? I wasn't afraid to fly.
Death is a GentlemanDo I have a reason to fear Death?
He is kind and he's quiet,
He listens as well;
He'll drive you to Heaven,
He'll cart you to Hell.
His vest is embroidered
With little white curls
He puts flowers in His pockets
Which He gives to the girls.
He likes to eat chocolate,
(Or so I've heard)
And He keeps in a cage
a little pet bird.
His skeletal horses
Always look proper;
His wine is uncorked
and untouched by the stopper.
His shoes are so polished
You can see yourself in them,
His laces are always tied
Just below His pant hem.
His bones are quite sturdy
And never look brittle;
In fact, I have heard
He quite likes to whittle.
He makes little horses
And little toy men
Which He gives to young patrons
And smaller children.
He tells jokes on occasion,
But He's always polite;
His laugh is infectious
and His chatter is light.
He sweet-talks the ladies
and jokes with the men;
He makes your time worth it,
He won't see you again.
His hat is quite tall
and His suit's always pressed;
And He'll try for yo
Once again all alone
I suppose I must deserve it
I'm clingy and annoying
Obnoxious and dense
Rash and silly
Lazy and obsessive
Sometimes I hate myself
I want to draw people in
But only push them away
I cry so much lately
Because everything hurts
Maybe I'm not meant to be happy
I force my smile
I fake my laugh
Does anyone notice?
Does anyone care?
It's not "Like Me" to be so
Depressed? Upset? Angry?
What is 'like me'?
Someone tell me
Because I don't know myself anymore
Once again, as before
I'm all alone
Meaning of lifeThe meaning of life
Life is beauty
Beauty can be a thing you like.
I like fish.
Thus Meaning of life is fish.
Barefoot Today I ran barefoot. It's the only way to run. You don't know freedom until you've run without shoes. Without soles weighing you down. Or laces tying you back. Run without inhibitions.
Today I ran down hills and across busy streets. Feet pounding against hot asphalt. Running through cool, damp, grass. Balancing on curbs. And jogging along walls .
Today I ran down crowded sidewalks, shoes in hand, not returning glances. Silent questions hang heavy in the air. They watch me as I make my way down the street. I zig-zag past trash bins and over recycle bins. The hurdles of city life.
Today I cut across lawns. Made my way through parking lots. Past schools, silent, empty for the summer. Ran past yards with inflatable pools and grills waiting to be lit. Through hopscotches drawn in chalk. Pink dust clinging to my feet.
Today I ran barefoot. Ignoring snide remarks and odd stares. I just ran. Leaving ever
Description of a PoemThoughts on paper,
Emotions in ink.
Verse that shows
What the artist may think.
Not just words
That rhyme or not.
It's a writer's emotion,
Their deepest thought.
To write great poetry
So deep and true,
It must come from emotions
Deep inside of you.
What you feel is what you write.
It helps to let it all out.
It's the perfect outlet
For those who don't scream and shout.
Do not be afraid
To let the world know.
Say what you think,
And let your emotions go.
A Great Artist...A Great Artist
A Great Artist is not someone who gets the Attention
It is not about the Shock and Awe
What really does it mean to be a great artist?
The Answer is within Every Person's Creations
Putting the most Effort into every piece of art
The Determination to never give up
To be Honest and Hard Working
Practice to amplify ones Ability
A great artists is more then Pencil and Paper
It takes Heart, Determination, and Pride
To put a whole being into the art
To work beyond the limits of what they were told
Taking time to give friendly Critique
Learning how to Improve Ones Skill
To be a part of the Community
To Be There when No One Else will
To help the Great Artists
There is a Community for them
The Community Offers to the unseen
That Community is UnseenArtists.
A Soul's PassingPlace me not, within this ground
To hear no more, a mortal sound
Encumbered by earth, a twisted soul
Covered by death, in this devils hole
I scream, I cry, to no avail
A pity screech, a desperate wail
In this wretched place I be
No more to hear, no more to see
All mourners turn and walk away
Interned in darkness and forced to stay
This knoll is now my resting place
Dried tears are etched upon my face
Six feet under is now my home
No more to wander, no more to roam
A stone is laid upon my head
My body blanketed with a flower bed
Please visit me, although I'm gone
Our bodies wither, but the soul lives on
In hearts of loved ones, for ever more
Dreams to keep and minds to store
Our lives are given as a gift
To help restore and give a lift
To those who shared our living days
In many forms and many ways
So I Rest in Peace with knowledge known
Of eternal slumber and seeds I've sown
I close my eyes and say farewell
To what was once my human shell
TortureSometimes torture is physical,
It is being pinned against the wall by the bully,
It is being spat on. It is being laughed at.
It is going home and washing the rotten food out of your hair
And the tears from your face.
Sometimes torture is emotional,
It is being ignored by your family,
It is being used by your friends. It is abuse.
It is curling up in bed at night and crying into your pillow
To muffle the sound.
Sometimes torture is mental.
It is self-inflicted and ties you in knots,
It is insanity. It is fear.
It is running when you have nowhere to go and hiding
Behind something that won't cover you.
All torture is pain.
Don Quixote...Truth is there for all to see...
and you're blinded by a dream...
slam the door and let it be...
where the hell's your self-esteem?
no one's here to love you back...
look around, you're all alone...
you're following a wrong track
fighting for a fictive throne...
there are no maidens to save
this is just a counterfeit
stop claiming that you're so brave
and admit your own defeat...
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More