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Burnt PopcornI cremated a bag of popcorn in my microwave...
and it's honestly not that bad...
but each individual piece tastes like a memory forgotten,
smokey and warm, like campfires in autumn...
if I close my eyes while the soft skin of the piece melts on my tongue,
I can imagine the crinkle of fire and the sparks of fallen ashes...
the miraculous image of twirling smoke against Orion's Belt...
And the harsh, reawakening sounds of pulling the individual black pieces of wood back into the center, raking the powdery ashes into a circle, and realigning every smokey brick...
And even though we never shared a campfire before, I really would like to...
to be able feel it burn my lips when we sit too close, and to have your arm around my waist as you lean into my hair....To hear you sigh as the night lingers on, in the beauty of firey autumn winds....
All this, from a cremated bag of popcorn smoking up my kitchen...
Please....Remind Me...Falling through their split-laced curtain,
Their venom-gilded web,
I extend my hand towards their bitter cackling,
Trying to hold on to my existence .
They are my blood,
They are my family,
But every glance is two-faceted,
And every remark is double its original worth.
They will never accept me,
They will never understand,
And the metallic sharpness,
Creates acid from their lips,
And the stinging denial,
Gives birth to underlying hatred.
I dance between both worlds known to me,
But I'd prefer to be in only one.
I lie through my teeth daily,
I put on a show and pretend,
And I constantly remind myself I am stronger,
I will survive their sickening trials .
If I know that I am stronger,
That I can do this until I am free,
Then why do I find myself holding myself together at night,
Crying in the corner of a chilled shower tile,
Wondering why I never feel like I have a future,
Where they will accept me for what I am doing and have been doing
A Therian Curse or BlessingWhen I'm near you,
And close my eyes,
I can feel my claws,
My phantom tail weighing on my spine,
The twitching ears perked,
The flattened ridge above a small nose,
I can imagine everything,
And it feels so weird and amazing and startling and perfect in the same second.
She may have called me a freak, but what I am is more than that.
I am not human, she cannot call me that much for my spirit.
I am feline trapped in a human masquerade,
My slitted irises burning under frosted glass,
And as I close my eyes,
And let you trace my jaw line,
Let you pull back my hair and chuckle,
I'm stuck between two worlds…
One is telling me it is better to shrug off this human skin and be my true self.
The other is telling me that I was meant to be yours in this way,
that I am stuck between two worlds to befriend you…to be here for you and you for me….
For if I was truly feline, I would not be able to speak to you.
I would not be able to laugh at your jokes,
Or play with you the way
This Is MeI am not sure of much anymore,
As I sit here under a softened light,
And muffled tunes of music drift into the air like smoke,
I simply sigh and ponder over everything….
What is it when you cannot be free…
When you are trapped forever, eternity…
Tied up and caged in,
Masquerading in a human skin…
If I swim long enough,
Within the depths of feline thoughts,
A bitter hatred and anger,
Boil resentment for those against my kind…
Are we not all living our own stories to tell,
Can we not all be free?
It is only nature for there to be control….
For someone to stand up and crown their own brow…
I suppose to say we are all equal would anger so many…
Are we not all living our own stories to tell,
Hurtful RecognitionsWhat torturous hearts we have...
where we fall in "like" .....
with those who are already in "love".........
What tempting memories pass under my eyes...
knowing the truth of reality...
but refusing to recognize it....
What a troublesome world we live in....
when you give and give and never receive what your heart....
Lost in the StaticShadowed figure and prickled brick,
Sheening metal and shocking screams,
Chipping paint and whispered pain,
Barbed lightning choking me
Distractions, distractions .
Clawed hands gripping denim,
An urge to wander to just walk .away
Shaking my head .tangled hair .
Shadowed figure .I'm the shadowed figure
You'll never notice me
Disintegrating in the static
Falling apart with no aide .
A heartless smile
A painted star
A lost dream
Shadowed figure .that's me
You'll never know,
Because I'll just walk away
From what I don't want to see .
Don't want to hear
Don't want .to fall apart .
I would rather get lost in the static
Hide, cover my ears, comforted by nothing .no one
I'm just a wanderer
Why why .why?
Did He Just Say....The words drifted in the air,
Like silver sugar lacing my smile,
I feel the skin around my eyes and neck warm and tint with red,
I cast down my eyes and smile,
There they are,
His fingers in my hair again,
Tapping and playing,
But all I can hear are those words
Dancing through my head like perfect hallucinations,
But he said them .he did
."We could be" ..
Your Feline Shadow...Go ahead and tell me,
Your darkest deepest fear,
Whisper it, type it slow,
And never let them hear
Because you know how much I care,
You know what I really mean,
And because I care so deeply,
You're secret's safe with me.
Go ahead and tell me,
Who you really love,
Whisper it, and type it slow,
And never let them know
Because you know that I still care,
So I'll never tell you no,
I'll support your whims on hand,
And never to let go.
So go ahead and tie the string,
Draw the face of my true soul,
Tickle, laugh, and trick me, boy,
But you have to know,
That these games make it difficult,
They make it oh so hard
I care for you,
And yet you're not sure..... who you care for
And I can't let go
I'll be here,
Waiting, smiling, laughing, and playing as always seen.
I'll be here,
Hoping, trusting, caring, and saying what I mean
And you'll be there,
Swaying to and fro,
Never knowing who to love
I'm your feline shadow, boy,
Denial.I know I'm in denial,
Saying I don't love her.
But I still say it all the while,
Because I have been hurt.
I know I should stop this,
I know I should just face it.
But I can't face up to this,
I can only run away from it.
I know that I still love her,
I would take her back in a heartbeat,
But as I can't have her,
I lie to myself, looking down at my feet.
I know that I still love her,
But Denial is my only friend.
Bitter SweetSo ends a tragedy years in the making
So many smiles I wasted time faking
Everything now is a bitter sweet end
So is this how we move on my friend
Gotta say I just don't know how you do it
How you amass all the strength to get through it
Aim to commit and alone here I sit and
I'm scared to death, that I'll gladly admit
One for the money
Two for the show
Three to get ready
Four to go
Five and I wonder
Dead or alive
Six and seven
I'm in heaven~
The Desert RoseWith eyes the colour of the cloudless sky,
And hair like mighty dunes of sand,
She moves elusively and yet with such grace;
It is a dangerous sort of beauty.
Her eyes snap sharply into mine,
Whenever my gaze lingers a second too long.
Her stare traps mine own in place and so
I stay there frozen with fear... or is it awe?
I would love to tell myself
That such a flower is not meant for me,
But I would only be lying to myself
Because I love the thrill of the game.
I truly do admire her spirit,
Like the Great Pyramids it stands tall,
Against all odds,
Never bending an inch...
A fascination overwhelms me even now.
Can I even hope to keep up,
Or has the game already been won
By the Desert Rose?
It.How do you tell someone they've lost it?
That talent that they pride themselves on,
Or maybe you have to tell them they haven't got it.
That one thing they think they should focus on.
My friend wanted to be an actor for so long,
But how are you meant to say, "You can't act."?
My friend's talent for poetry is seemingly gone,
But how can I tell my good friend that?
It's not that they didn't once have the talent of course,
Or maybe they didn't, and were doomed from the first.
How can you tell someone that they just haven't got it?
And where did it go, once it had been lost?
Our Poor JesterOur poor Jester bit off more than she could chew,
I suppose it was inevitable, being the human in the crew.
It happens to all of us, and we all must start anew,
But still, our poor poor Jester, you have us, your crew.
Now I know you might not want a Reaper's comforts,
And well, even despite my best efforts.
The touch of death is hardly the greatest of comforts,
Even though an Angel's pity is one of the sweetest of desserts.
Callous hands and callous ways, coupled with a callous tongue,
I cannot help but feel I'm to blame, at least if only for some.
Please know, none of it was intended, I never tried to depress you,
Guys, it looks like our poor Jester has bit off more than she can chew.
Don't worry though Riddle, we have people to take care of you,
The perfect person, an Angel for comfort, and of course Sarah too.
Our poor poor Jester has bitten off more than she can chew...
But as long as we have breath in our lungs, we will look after you.
Humble Mediocrity.I see the truth in your web of lies,
It's hard to see when you use your eyes.
Problem is, I'm a liar too.
I knew exactly where to look for you.
You're living one of your lies,
As you watch through the eyes,
Of humble mediocrity.
I'm here because someone has heard your plea.
You look at me and you scream for help,
Whilst saying nothing at all and not wanting to tell.
But that's not why I came,
I'm here because of what I became.
I came because I know what you can do,
Because I was once someone just like you.
I was once like you, living a lie.
Which is why I'm here - to silence your cry.
I came because you are a danger to me,
As you watch through your humble mediocrity.
Takes one to know one and I like my privacy,
So please forgive me because I am sorry.
As I look into your dead eyes,
With the potential to see through my lies.
I killed you for you saw my grand life as it really is
- Humble Mediocrity.
I Belong Inside a NovelI belong inside a novel
where I can roam within the crinkle of a page
and find foundation in the spine.
I belong inside a novel
where I can cast spells
with Harry Potter,
pick up a gravedigger’s manual
and hide a Jew in my basement,
fall in love with an angel.
I belong inside a novel
where I can nestle in the letters,
letting my blood flow in the ink.
I belong inside a novel
where the story stretches beyond the ending,
living on in the minds of many.
MasksWith big smiles she greeted her friends,
Drowning in the crowd of people.
How many claimed to be her loved ones?
Hundreds? Thousands? She lost count long ago.
They welcomed her with jokes and laughter,
and she replied with hugs and kisses,
Pretending not to see the cracks in their masks
Or the lies in their voices.
She knew they were hiding something,
She heard the whispers behind her back,
Saw the greed behind their smiles,
And sensed their hatred long ago.
And every day she felt another part
Of her soul breaking away.
At night she tried to fix it,
Trying to reattach the broken pieces,
But as the time went by she realized
That the harder she tried, the faster she broke.
And so she continued what she had once started,
Acting cheerful, while breaking apart,
slowly creating her own mask
To hide her true self.
Until one day she met you,
The girl who refused to wear a disguise,
A big grin in your face,
And true kindness in your words.
Your left hand you had outstretched,
In your right you
Get Over ItGet out of my dreams!
You said it was over so why don’t you leave?
I don’t care where just get the hell away from me.
They say all’s fair in love in war,
But we both agreed the love wasn’t there,
So why the psychological warfare?
I don’t want much, just a bit of peace,
And I can’t do that
With you on my mind.
Hell, I can’t even say it’s your fault.
It’s me who’s remembering,
It’s just unconsciously.
Whoever said love hurts is a liar,
It only painful when it’s taken from you.
The Truthful RealmIf I were to look through a different world,
I could see you smiling softly,
Your hand stroking something orange-furred and sleeping.
On your left is a golden-eyed tabby,
Her tail striped with three dark rings,
Her whiskers long and patience thin,
But heart, greater than the sun.
Sitting there beside you,
Is what I feel to be
In this alternate world,
Where spirits run true,
That is where I am
I look up to you,
I feel for you,
I forgive your every sway,
And I feel envious of this other realm,
Every breaking day.
Because if I were to be what I am.
I'd be with you most afternoons,
You'd come home and I'd be there waiting,
Waiting just for you.
And around my neck would be a ribbon,
Golden with my name,
And you smile as you placed your palm upon my brow,
And chuckle when I purred.
I am often envious of this other realm,
Where spirits run as they are true,
Because what my therian side is telling me,
Is that I belong with you
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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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