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Seasonal Stream of Consciousness PoemWow, Suleiman sure was an interesting guy
It's a shame the Ottoman Empire fell
Would have been neat if it was still around
I wonder if the Janissaries would have still existed if it was still around?
Oh, It's finally snowing outside
Hopefully it will stick
Doubt it will though
It always seems to heat up or the ground is already too wet and it melts the snow
Oh yeah, Christmas is in a few days
I should probably get presents for everyone soon
I have no idea what anyone wants though
I guess I'll have to text Aaron and Clint individually and ask what the other might want
I'll probably end up getting them games
Especially since they can usually afford everything they need
Mom will be tougher
Window-shopping may be my only option in that regard
She never talks about what she needs beyond help around the house
And then getting frustrated because she has too much on her plate
Maybe if she didn't start so many different projects at once then that wouldn't be an issue
Feh, I shouldn't get into t
State of AngerThis anger takes control without my consent
Taking the helm away from better judgment
Looking for those who choose lives of ignorance
While readying a harpoon of rage and disappointment
That will only lead to petty conflict
I try to rein it in
This monster of bitter feelings
But others simply goad it on
Thinking it nothing more than a joke
That leaves me with wounds and scars
It boils within me
Always ready to vent itself
Like boiler steam escaping the pipes
Scalding flesh to the bone
And revealing tender nerves
But it is no hulking behemoth
That pounds and roars with fury
But more of a chained-up beast
Seething its feelings of frustration
Rather than those of hate
Poetry of FictionSolfesol, great Solfesol!
If only you were here
Full in form and imbued with strength!
Yet fate has locked you away!
No, not fate, not truly
Men locked you away, the children of Gaea
Ignorant, wasteful, and numerous creatures
Fearful of judgment that has yet to come
They should be fearful, this much is true
But not of you! Not their protector! Not their noble patron!
They say you're too powerful, a monster to be
That is their justification for sealing you away!
I know the truth, however, and fear not to say it
They fear not you, but the sadness they cause you
The disappointment of a parent whose children have run astray
You always showed kindness, compassion, and wisdom
Showing the way to truth and great progress
But even as you steered men forward and ahead
They would destroy, abuse, regret, and learn little
Yet as they failed, you always showed pride
You taught, you forgave, and punished with fairness
Despite the flaws that others deemed damnable
This is what shames them most of all
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
By the LakeSat beneath a Christmas tree in late-March.
The ground is damp but pliant, it pretends to accept me
and then sneaks its cold fingers through my clothes
to dampen my spirits further with its chilly undertones.
I stare at the river, plump with soon-to-be April showers.
It does roly-polys over the smallest of obstacles and goes on.
It reminds me of what I should be able to do.
It runs as I grind to a full stop, and consider my life sentence.
The sky is blue; not like me, but bright and crisped;
Its been blurred by an amateur around the edges with cloud
But they don’t threaten me with rain just yet so, for now, we are friends.
The sun is missing. No one knows where she is.
She could be dead, by now. At the bottom of the lake.
Could have slunk there in a midday sunset.
She could of drowned her sorrows in the ricocheting tides
of a man made dam and its loosened throat. She could be.
She is not, she is hiding.
The sun hides from the world but leaves a blue sheen behind
to let everyone k
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
ConfrontationI shed a tear
The damage will be severe
Run away in fear?
I'll fight until the coast is clear!
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
That Which Has Not Yet BeenIt is such a splendid feeling when one forms an idea.
Even more so when they bring it to life.
They give it a soul, a body, a mind, a belief, a personality, a goal, a past, a present, and a future.
But then, when it is ready to be brought to life, it is vanquished due to events beyond its control.
It may yet live another day, but till then, it must sit and wait.
A story yet to be lived is right around the corner.
It will forge bonds of friendship, of hate, of respect, of contempt, and of family.
It will remember what was lost and lose what was remembered.
But new goals, new dreams, new allies shall be found.
The mind and body will change, but change is what it will seek.
Though it has yet to live a day, that day shall indeed be lived.
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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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