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DemeanorThe frame of mind
we have inside
can change the way
we see today.
A gloomy cloud
can cause a frown;
the sun above
fills us with love.
The outside world
changes us within,
but it should be
Our self inside
can change the world as we know;
we just have to let it out,
and let it roam.
Today was a good dayI slip,
into the vacancy of the cosmos,
where the sun,
a burning cyclops eye,
I soar, and,
when I return,
I speak of my journey
around the stars, behind the moon,
to a place where Pluto
is no bigger than my thumb,
and a star can be crafted
into a beautiful diamond ring.
DoubterScattered, fragile dreams,
destroyed, on the ground
no more. Alas,
reason shot them dead-
a spray of skeptic bullets
coming from our mouth, our mind,
our friends, our enemies.
"Nothing is impossible
but everything is distant."
REALity IS reLetIvE"Eat healthy," mom always told me. "Eat healthy, because I don't want you to have a heart attack in your teen years." And I always listen to her, even after my teen years, and eat healthy by barely eating at all, and having a cup of herbal tea once in a while like she says. Because mom's always been here with me, walking where I walk, sitting where I sit, following me with her advice always handy, and I don't want to disappoint her while she's here.
But at the same time, I know she isn't-is she? I saw her dead all those years ago, I saw her lowered in the ground, her calm face looking up from the shiny black coffin, which lay on the green tarp they use at funerals, and I put a blue rose on her grave, which cut my finger, and I knew she would never be there to bandage me and kiss my cuts and scrapes.
Or did I? Because after the funeral, she joined the others who walk with me, one of the many who speak to me, and told me to make sure that cut didn't get infected, to put some Neosp
Ashes to AshesI stood in the middle of my soft forest clearing, soaking in the pleasant night as I waited for my guest to arrive. Ignis isn't going to be late, is he? I wondered, running my fingers through the creases of my brown dress, and looking up at the moon-less sky. No, he's never late; he always comes when least expected, though, according to Tempus-
"Terra." The sound of his smooth, light voice made me turn my head, and there he was, standing at the leafy entrance of the clearing. He wore a silky black tuxedo and shined black shoes, along with a red tie to match his orange hair. A perfect smile was stretched on his face, and for a few seconds we simply stared at each other, he with his green eyes, and me with my dark brown ones.
"I'm here," he said finally, walking into the clearing and towards me, stopping about a yard away from the place I stood. I resisted the urge to smile in delight; he was comp
RFS- Part 3She snapped her fingers, and the chain immediately released the grip on the Streamer's windpipe, returning to normal size around his neck, and he collapsed on the ground on all fours, gasping for breath; he was mostly breathing up sand, she noticed, which caused him to break into a coughing fit after a moment.
His breathing slowly quieted as air refilled his lungs, and soon the sound of his breath mixed with the light breeze that had picked up. She turned away from him, thinking of the right way to answer his question.
"You know I was asleep, brat; don't try to deny it," he snarled quietly, causing her to wince a bit. Even when they'd met four years prior, he'd liked to call her "brat". "You still have that stupid sensor in your glasses, don't you?" he snapped, starting to stand up.
Soon he was at full height, towering about a foot above her, and she looked up into his eyes, calmly meeting his glare. "Yes," she said, straightening the glasses, which sat on the bridge of her nose
Broken RecordInsanity is doing something with a lack of reason
A deranged state of mind; everything's an illusion
Doing it over again, expecting a different end
Almost like a broken record that you're trying to mend
You set the needle back, hoping for a tune
But only vast, empty silence fills the room
They say the broken record would never be fixed
But still the insanity continues, leaving you transfixed
A different result you expect, from setting the needle back again
But never did it hit you that the attempt was vain
Endless trying, never succeeding
Perhaps it was just the insanity speaking...
Different is GoodWhy do people seem to think
That its good to fit in?
That being different is evil
That not conforming is a sin
All people that conform
They are sheep, you can't trust them
But one who dares to be themselves
Now there's a hidden gem
Just think of who you'll meet
When you decide to just be you
So many fascinating people
And friends who love you true
Those who have a dream
Or a passion, or an art
They bravely face their fears
And can truly touch your heart
If you just be yourself
And love to live and learn
That is truly beautiful
And you help the world turn
Being different is good
Despite what people say
I'm different and I like it
It's easier that way
Ruba'i of MichelRuba'i of Michel
Rulers fell since history
Times change and stay the same
I look outside and still I see
But they claim it's in freedom's name
Everyone may be to blame
I head for my room silently
There can be only one thing true
In my privacy I am really free
Nobody can interfere with me
When I tell my honey
I love you
And I do
La Main de GruyereLe pieu rubicond de mortalité,
À l’assaut de mon membre fermenté,
Affine la flasque main de gruyère,
Pour lever ses croûtes et cratères.
Sur l’épiderme fondant et bulleux,
Les cloques claquent leurs corps fibrineux,
Suintant la bistre et laiteuse liqueur,
En une superficielle douleur.
La pâteuse meule anthropomorphique,
Laisse germer cinq doigts analgésiques,
La pasteurisation est amorcée,
Je vois, sa voie lactée cailler.
To My Own Worst Enemy (Writing Prompt)He's knocking on my door again,
He whispers, "You can do that another time."
"Just put it down a minute and then..."
Before I know it, it's a quarter to nine.
I must refuse him, I must --
or else I'll never get anything done.
Before it collects any more dust,
I must force myself to run
To the finish line, and don't give in!
Tell the procrastinator inside, "No way!"
I can finish, I can win!
I will not waste my time -- not today!
No LimitsSet me boundaries if you wish,
but it won't do a thing.
My imagination is always going far,
past almost everything.
Borders, they won't hold me
back from what I think.
I have to many ideas in my head
and I'll have to spill my ink.
I might mess up the first few tries
of saying what I know.
But practice always make prefect,
and I think that's going to show.
I want to go past my borders,
beyond an empty sheet.
I want to cover it with writing
that makes you want to think.
So give me boundaries if you wish,
but of them I will break out.
I have too many ideas to hold back,
and with them I'm going to go all-out.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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