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What the Gods Are.What The Gods Are.
We are the Oceans, We are the Seas
We are the Music, We are the Breeze.
We are the Spirit, We are the Way
We are the Night, We are the Day.
We are Lust and We are Love,
We are the Rain that falls from above.
We are the Laughs, We are the Groans,
We are your Comfort when you feel alone.
We're Beauty, We're Charm, We're Youthfulness too,
We are the Birch, the Willow, the Yew.
We're the Heavens above and the Earth below,
We are the Truth and the Lies you sow.
We are the Smiles, and We are the Strife,
We are Death and We are Life.
We're Sex, We're Tears, We're Alcohol too,
We are your Friendships both old and new.
We are the moon and We are the Sun,
We are the Sadness and We are the Fun.
We are the Healing and We are the Pain,
We are the Good and We are the Bane.
We are the Hunt and We are the Breath,
We're North, We're East, We're South and We're West.
We are the Curses and We are the Blessings,
We are your Energy and with you when Resting.
We are Time, Space and Every
Short Random PoemWould you hold me till the morning light?
Making sure that Im alright.
Would you dry away my tears
And scare away all my fears?
Psychic WarsWe were all psychic once, we all had the Gift. Our world was utopian, with telepathy our people were kept in balance. Hate and love never got the best of us. Then as technology progressed one by one the people turned from the gods and lost their gift.
With the loss of their Gift, many people became violent, killing without remorse for their actions. Within time those with out the gift became jealous of those of us that still had it. This jealousy engendered spite, which became lies, and then fear. The remaining telepaths became the source of ridicule and hate.
When the Gift-less became leaders of our world, they made laws against us, massacring us and starting a civil war, those with telepathy against those without.
However we were not without help, as they had progressed so had we. With time our powers grew, we could invade minds if we needed to, we had gained the power to mirror empathy and had gained minor precognition. A few of us had even gained the ability to move objects with ou
Prayer to AnubisAnubis, my saviour, my protector, my guide.
Protect me from those who would wish me harm.
Fiercely guard those that I love.
Watch over me day and night.
And when I pass from this world judge me fairley
TrigulWe were silent, for he was here.
The dark lord of filth and carnage.
Millions were dead in his name.
Our people were martyred by him.
He still roams in that white palace.
Possible storyHe looked as though he was in his late thirties, but his eyes knew no age. That deep azure looked through Kazukis youth and pierced his soul. Kazuki felt his heart flutter in his chest and for a moment he was breathless. The man smiled warmly, stood from his stool, walked through the crowd, and sat in the seat next to Kazuki. Onamae wa nan desu ka? he asked. His voice was as sexy as his eyes and for a moment Kazuki was dazed, but he snapped out of it to answer the mans question. Sera, Kazuki demo eigo wa hanasemasu ka? The man nodded and said smiling, Of course I speak English, it is necessary for my work. By the way my name is Tsuyoshi Tanaka. It struck Kazuki as slightly weird that this man shared his fathers name, but maybe it was the sign from the gods that he had prayed for. Forgive me if Im wrong but your Japanese right? Kazuki nodded. Youre from America though right?
A Poet's EchoCan poetry be felt in the blood, in the veins
with each lyric being harmonized through dreams slain
Each epic speaking of places both far and nigh
With each melancholic elegy seeping pain?
Can verse performed by thunderstorms in the sky
Be what compels us to express our hearts, to cry?
How many poems have been written using tears
As ink, written until our souls have been bled dry?
Have decades of weeping filled the seas with our fears
And our nightmares penetrated mountains likes spears?
Can a poet's echo resound beyond the chain
Of mortality and fate's tyrannical leer?
The mosaic of life.The streams of color,
flowing and endless.
The mosaic of life never ends,
all it does is start a new panel.
One to be filled in by you.
Poem for Lou ReedTruly singular, an outsider’s outsider,
He learned well life’s hard truths, and was walking proof that
Your thoughts are only as deep as your faults.
Subjected to psychic savagery in his youth,
His mind took on an ever-changing persona
Always shifting between fame and failure.
A misfit, a hustler, a rake, a transformer,
A rogue, but not a charlatan, an objector,
But not a coward, never a coward.
An expert spinner of verse, he possessed a knack
For feel, impact, attitude, style; he always knew
Which words were those worth the listener’s while.
His means and his methods were fittingly erratic:
He would spend his days crafting curiosities
Only to then neglect and forget them.
What was important, though, wasn’t his works or quirks,
Nor his talent for causing a storm at a stroke,
But what he and his friends set in motion.
They would, unwittingly, forever change the way
We’d hear the sounds the mind thought it already kn
I Am: 2I am only the friend you talk with in class, the neighbor you only wave hi to, and the student you pay no attention. I wait and
I wonder when someone will come and question me, question the things I do and why I do them for
I hear this floating voice that belongs to no one and
I see a shape that resembles a person and
I want no more than to mold and sharpen that image into someone... but
I fear that will never happen for
I am only the friend you talk with in class, the neighbor you only wave hi to, and the student you pay no attention.
I pretend to actually talk with my friends, face to face instead over wavelengths of the internet; hear their voice and see their smiles and stupid hand gestures! I felt...
I feel like they're really there. That people I've never met are with me in my room, sitting next to me- and I really want that. I know
I touch them; emotionally, that is.
I worry about that, actually. I'm happy to know that I've had an impact on people I will never know. And more tha
The Beginningons ago, before time and space,
Was born a set of twins who took its place.
One had eyes of daybreak and hair of sun,
The other, hair of night and eyes of blood.
Born to Laelia, Singer of Light and Love,
Husband to Laelius, God who rules with a fitted glove.
‘Twas a difficult birth, screams echoed through the empty world,
But Laelia was never alone or so the story told.
Lucifer was first, life entered with hollow cries,
Laurentius was next, his smiles greeted by butterflies.
Both welcomed with joyous celebration.
Excited Laelius, humans, his creation.
The Twins then never left each others sides.
Except when heavy choices caused morals to collide.
I miss youIf there could be any way
That I could just reach your hand
And hold it tight in mine
Is it so far away
I just seem to be unable
To catch it
I love you
The moon's full now
And keeps me awake
All along the dark night
The stars get weaker every time
I look above at them
And you aren't there
I love you
It's been too long
Your eyes are fading from my mind
I can't remember them in detail
Your face's lines
Are blurry when I try to see it in my head
I love you
I miss you too much even
My tears are all used up
My eyes are dry as the cold wind
Blowing around me
I'm frozen to the bones
I miss you
Why I Hold On TighterThe gunshot echoes penetrating the air,
Increasing tensions in military warfare.
Knives that puncture and slice apart,
Fists of rage that damage skin and heart.
Explosions and smoke so sudden and fast,
No time to recover from the devastating blast.
A moment frozen in time after the disease diagnosed,
Tears falling on a body lifeless and comatose.
Car horns and screeching wheels on the pavement so loud,
Two victims of a crash of the rain from a cloud.
Though all of these things do not fill me with fright,
It is to you, my dear, they make me hold tight.
Vulnerable YouthPaper hearts from bright pink tissue meant for presents,
fanciful butterflies from orange dashed cardboard,
five petaled flowers danced around the sentence
of simplicity, ultimately to discard.
Tender thoughts from censored, guarded minds,
boldly do the simple stubby fingers strive to hide
the gift from Mommy, so that she can't find
the secret depth of the darkest snide.
The gentle pressure of acknowledging gestures
even the meaningless thank you cards
meant to send you on emotional adventures,
only to be shredded on cynical hearts' shards.
But it is the thought that counts,
those sweet little eyes haven't yet been renounced.
NeedlesThe meat is cold from bloodless lust
My organs are damaged
Path be taken down range-
-And end with chilling wall
Forest of needle spires climb
My height cannot ask
Deem the stars they point-
-For reverence physical
Destroyed as winter comes
Invested into my stock
I am bought and brought home
With no escape from the lock
Needle sew a coat of iron
Black with the char left by
Remembrance make me a scion
And kindle a soul inside
Lids have shut and no key breaks
I cannot see between blades
Cut the night to ribbons-
-Now banners to losing way
Imposing in my blindness wait
My feet are icy cold
The forward march is death incarnate-
-Though I am numb to catch
A fabric stolen mask and clothe
The boundary pointed shed
Once streamers bleeding dry wove
The semblance of disjointed ends
No try can match the mind at work
For ochre has my pallor drained
This raiment bears a doubting murk
Through glacier impassive face
My asking wanes with setting freeze
The armour frozen bites
A pleading body already w
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More