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BlockThe words aren't coming
The flow has stopped
The spindle runs thin
The flowers cropped
The letters dropped
Hand on her chest
Wishing she wasn't
Entwined in this mess
The honored guest
To maritial ties
All too late
To bid her goodbyes
StructureI'm not a fan of structured poems, at least
When they're imposed on me, like subtle frames
Of written code which keep each line the same
The trapped voice a bird that yearns for release
Allow the flame to grow, please free the beast
Don't snuff the candle's fickle, frozen flame
Set meter and rhyming, you are to blame
Rendering my creativity deceased
But for you, I'll accept the forms you wish
Consume, swallow words with a grain of salt
My heart, wrapped in paper, I'll give to you
In a stanza, a line, or a swish
Of reason, confining words to a fault
Just don't think you're the only one who knew
Lucid - WIPI'm lying here on a table. Nothing but the sweet hum of machinery, both around and within me. They'd mentioned something beforehand about my hearing. Something about sensitivity that wouldn't hurt in higher decibel ranges.
My hand twitches to touch my new ear, but it remains limp by my side, paralyzed. I think they'd mentioned something about the risk of muscle atrophy in low-gravity environments. Something like that.
I'm hearing my heartbeat now. It's strange to hear such an organic sound in this sterile environment. If I cut myself, would I still bleed red? Or had they replaced my blood with a substitute? Was it still red, or another, foreign color?
With a slight click, a bright light switches itself on from overhead, illuminating the capillaries in my eyelids. Still red...
Squinting, I try to turn my head, but my neck won't obey me. As if reading my though
Ghost of the PastEver been haunted by a ghost of the past? You know, those recurring memories of a time long gone, the ones that float uninvited into your head? Maybe it's triggered by a memento, or a visit to a sacred place, or the mere mention of a name. The moment relives itself in your head, then disappears, leaving you with only a scrap of cloth or a pressed flower to remember.
But what if these ghosts aren't really ghosts at all? What if they're still living, breathing creatures? Maybe you never see them anymore. Maybe you live too far apart. Maybe you see each other on a daily basis, but you both pretend the other no longer exists. Maybe you're enemies, or even friends. Either way, you've both made an unspoken pact to never speak of the moment again. In a vain attempt to smother the memory alive, you flood it with fresh oxygen, fresh consciousness upon which it can feed.
Is it better this way?
PerfectionistsA writer in a group of artists
Is hardly a place to fit in
In a glance, one can admire a picture
But writing takes much longer to sink in
We've all learned our native language
But not all have picked up a pen
Yet sketching is somehow extraordinary
Simply because not everyone can
We can both stare at a vase for hours
Yet come up with an empty slate
And our details of realization
Rarely come sooner, but late
For despite our apparent differences
Our goal is the same: to learn
And only by way of practice
Can this mastery of skill be earned
LifewishA mourning dove hobbled across the road
And I wondered, "Why didn't it fly?"
Does the pleasure of crossing the pavement by foot
Outweigh the risks if it should die?
Maybe the bird remains ignorant
That a passing car could lead to his demise
Unsure of the dangers in the world of man
With no sense of fear in his eyes
Or perhaps he is simply cocky
As he struts across the road in pride
Knowing all vehicles will stop their procession
In order to let him pass by
But I, for one, think he enjoys it
In the way a human walks instead of drives
So the next time you see a bird walking
Maybe you should be the one he walks beside
ScrapVersion 2.0 is ready
The beta is complete
Its release date is tomorrow
And I've heard it will be l33t
This one's fully moddable
No need to deal with flaws
And it's piracy-protected
So you can't break the law
The calendar is built-in
You'll remember all your dates
And the autopilot feature
Will ensure you won't be late
It's compatible with everything
The computer, the tv, the phone
And it'll download all your contacts
So you'll never feel alone
But if you choose not to upgrade
You'll be alienated, at best
Your communication will be archaic
And your accuracy, second-guessed
This isn't really an option
Conform now, or be scrapped
Humanity is overrated
Believe me, the entire brain's been mapped
We've discovered all your problems
And fixed them, one by one
Even those pesky emotions
We've sparked the revolution
NephelaeToday is a sad day.
Why is the sun shining?
I thought the sky was supposed to reflect emotion
Like a heaven-mirror
Answering the prayers of the living
In the form of precipitation
Are the clouds our gods now?
They are notably absent
In this clear sky
An expanse filled with light
Ten Little CosplayersTen Little Cosplayers
Ten little cosplayers, all waiting in line,
One bought VIP tickets, and then there were nine.
Nine little cosplayers, staying up very late,
One forgot their coffee, and then there were eight.
Eight little cosplayers, fangirling about Britain,
One chased a Flying Mint Bunny, and then there were seven.
Seven little cosplayers, fighting with sticks,
One got injured, and then there were six.
Six little cosplayers, arguing during the drive,
One was left at the last rest-stop, and then there were five.
Five little cosplayers, going out the main door,
One saw the sign for Ramune, and then there were four.
Four little cosplayers, playing in a tree,
One got stuck up there, and then there were three.
Three little cosplayers, fixing their costumes with glue,
One finished early, and then there were two.
Two little cosplayers, laying in the sun,
One was asked for a picture, and then there was one.
One little cosplayer, realizing the con was done,
Got ready for next year, and t
Der RadlerEr radelt rauf den steilen Pass,
Trotz aller Mühen hat er Spaß.
Er setzt sie ein, all seine Kraft
Und endlich hat er es geschafft.
Die Aussicht und den Sieg genießen,
Dann vier, fünf Bier hinunter gießen,
Und bald schon ist er wieder munter.
Er macht sich auf den Berg hinunter.
Ganz ohne Kraft, er fährt rasant
Und schließt die Augen ganz entspannt
Der Unfall war nicht zu versteh’n,
Der Laster war doch gut zu seh’n ...
Can't Circumvent the CircusMonday, mother awakes actors;
mild-mannered touches shoulder-shake children
imagining illness in
front of food, to toothbrushes, behind
bus benches, on an orange
engineered elephant entrance;
can’t circumvent circus routine.
Tall GirlThere's this tall tall girl who my best friend knows,
With long long legs, and big big toes,
She has long dark hair and a sparkling smile,
With a single stride she can walk a mile!
She's the tallest thing that my eyes have seen,
More Babel than babe and only eighteen,
And knowing these facts I can hear you all cry;
"Why is she so tall, please tell us all why?"
The story of her height and her pretty high head,
Began long long ago in her Mum and Dad's bed...
"That just sounds rude, I didn't ask you for porn!
Just get it to the part where the tall girl's born;"
Well so it's been said, by those that would say,
That the tall girl was born in the usual way,
But the doctors mistakenly used for a cot,
Some Miracle Gro in a big plant pot!
A week went by and not one did twig,
That this rather young baby was growing quite big,
Nobody noticed ‘till the girl had reached three,
And she rescued a ladies cat from a tree,
The townsfolk stopped and they suddenly saw,
The height of this girl and it
Class of HorrrorsOne should beware this class
for this class is torture
One should avoid this class
for the teacher always fails you
One should hate this class
for it is just hard
This class is horrible
for everything is bad
The Internetthe internet is cool
the internet's no fool
the internet is fun
and im almost done
but im already late for school
Because You Know You're WrongRoses are Red
Violates are Violate
If you say they are Blue
I will get Violent
Cancelled Plans I bet you didn't know it,
but being born in Texas State
messed my life up quite a bit.
"Jesus Reincarnate" was to be my fate,
But God couldn't find three wise men.
It would also be an eternity's wait
To try to find a virgin.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More