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a liveI only feel alive in barren lands,
Where nothing else can take responsibility for my heartbeat.
Hot, sticky fields of tall grass, and
Tiny wild flowers like toys in a snake playground.
Honey hair in braids, and
Cottage smelling milk.
Here I am a virgin forever.
But virginity is lonely,
As barren lands, snakes, cottages, and pledges of integrity often are.
The Birds and the BeesHot weather has come.
Summer has come!
And the lovely little lovelies unfasten their sepals.
Their petals spring forth in bloom,
swelling and flushing with color,
engorged with eager expectancy,
even smiling at the moon.
The bee boys gather, ready to lather
Rigid with lust,
they fly from their husks,
their honey-cave prisons,
their walls tacked with the sticky sweet memory
of last summer's infidelity.
They hover and buzz between the blushing flora,
examining, imagining, but not conspiring.
They sting in solitude;
every yellow-black fellow to his own,
and to each: all.
There is no need for your rhetoric here.
There is no need for your sweet talking, cat-walking, jabberwocky here.
"dimpsy darling baby rabbit"
"creamy fowl" rose clouds of creamy, foul persuasion.
Small game still knows when they are hunted.
Lord Byron died st(r)oking his own passion.
They begin their infringement on the petals,
tickling and taun
I used to be uniqueI used to be unique.
Kool-Aid hair dye and all.
Boys wrote my name on bathrooms stalls.
I swore at teachers.
I drank vodka behind the bleachers.
I puked at football games on cheerleaders.
I had black eyes and cigarette burns and soccer thighs.
I used to wear my shirt undone.
I used to have fun.
Now I own a 6 room house,
a 4 door car,
a water-dispensing fridge,
900 pairs of shoes
a self-inflicted curfew
sexually transmitted virtue
and many, many cats.
All this between walls painted in 6 muted shades of deja-vu
from whence I commence my pin-cushion voodoo.
I sleep in pajamas.
I set an alarm clock and my snooze allowance never exceeds 4 minutes.
I spend my mornings yawning
through thick oatmeal,
undressing in the dark,
having nothing to reveal.
I work in a bank
in an office
on a phone,
making friends with dead ends.
I come home to wash, rinse, and repeat,
undress in the dark,
Come HomeIf my ceiling were a two-way mirror
You would see a tangle of limbs and mouths
of beer, some mine,
Atop the shrine you built for me.
You would see me
Under a blind black sky
Although quiet inside, counting sheep, backwards.
Over and under and under, but breathing,
Hunting and seeking, but mostly just teething
Fired by a lake of dizzy barbiturates.
Your absence instigates me to recriminate.
I set fire to Magnolia State and become a patch of real estate.
For every one of those wiry claws there is one set of ecstatic applause.
And I live to please.
Because at least on my knees
There are hands in my hair
And the devil knows you're never there.
The swinging door.
The open sores
Will scab with the lake
And it all becomes readable:
The sun is astringent and the red of my blood
is contingent with the nearness of your bare back love.
SpringIt all can happen in the hour
Between the night and day:
The dead world is brought to life
As spring blisters awake.
The Earth inhales, its breath a surge
Through pores of ragged ice,
The claws of winter thaw and loose,
Surrender their device.
Crystal thrones melt with the bones
Of kingdoms spoiled by doom,
Now ivy weaves itself around
Like dressings on a wound.
The sleepy Phlox also ascends,
Now feels it has begun,
Breaks through the gauzy sheets of snow,
Climbs sun-drunk to the sun.
Within an instant all the world
Is changed from grey to green.
Though soon is red and brown again;
As it has always been.
And weeping willows mourn for death,
The Fall they can foresee.
For in the ripest apple sleeps
A worm with sinful dreams.
I did spend timeI did spend time
throwing my body over couches,
sighing deep from the belly
to sad music and murky martinis.
I was so heavy
I would crash land
at the bottom of long-necked bottles with
red stained lips.
But I have finished that crying now.
I'm standing, whole, in heels, somehow.
Calloused and glittering.
And I'm feeling rather cat-like down here off the wing.
Devils have romanced angels since the beginning of time,
charmed them stark raving naked in organized crime,
and they've all gone tumbling down, skirts in the air,
into forests of red fingernails, lost and impaired.
I met some new friends there.
And in this forest of frost
the burning between my legs has returned
stronger than stronger than stronger than
And it's become my new master.
In this forest of frost
I am the snow queen.
ima wear my black hood now,
ima wear my white boots high
find me some low-flyin angels
to join the dark side.
If an angel hears meIf there is an angel near me, I pray to remember me, and I know it will, at see my love for you.
Although I also know... that between me and her, the sky only have dark clouds...
I will pray, I will seek, I swear, I will find it, even if I had to look in a million stars.
In this dark life, absurd without you ... I feel you've become the center and the end of my universe...
If love have any limit, I would cross it for her, and in the vast emptiness of my nights, I feel you, and I will love you ... like I could love you for the first time, when a kiss was a whole lifetime...
Feeling like I lost all my mind... for you.
I understand that your kisses must never be mine, I realize that I will never see my reflection in your eyes. But despite that ... my heart ... instead of love you less, loves you even more.
The two is just one single soul: The scent of her hair, the murmur of her silence...
Her smile like a sweet tale... the sweet honey I tasted on your lips.
I thought you and thought you
Young LoveI was so young
when I first heard
the beats of my heart
pulse lightly upon my ribcage
My toothpick bones,
to the powerful palpitations
And I was still young
when I heard again
the throbs of my heart
pound forcefully upon my ribcage
My metal bar bones,
to the butterfly-wing beats
So you better hurry, boy
as my ribs are becoming
thick as steel
and you’ll soon need a metal cutter
to reach my heart
(And I don’t want to become damaged in the process of being loved).
from the back of my throat, i promisethe world is made of talking trees and cloudy water,
and the way you look at me
i'm no artist but i think i've painted your voice at the base of my neck
it's not something you can come back from
and tomorrow won't be a victory any more than it will be a loss
These Bones (I'm in Suicide With You)we're lost without words
in the ache of the brightness.
these bones are old
we are lost--
i'm lost without you.
(but i haven't a clue what you do with me.)
these bones aren't gold,
so what's worthwhile
about them to you?
we are carbon
blood, blood, flowing blood
that clots in cuts
and runs rivers in veins
and stains, how it stains,
carpet and floor and hands
i'd be more
than all the good
i do for you.
i'd be lost without you
but you don't need me
and i'm in suicide with you
for too many reasons
and too many times.
but my only question--
is my love
even if i lie?
What Shall He Be?Oh what shall he be - the one to steal my heart?
Many a man is there in this vast world,
But what sort should I desire?
My sisters have oft said to see him in my thoughts.
To know him there and appease my dreams.
I am slow to act, for what reality could compare to a woman's dream?
But, alas, I do believe
That even I find myself dreaming of him now and again.
And so you ask, what sort of man is he?
Well listen close, for here I shall tell of what sort he would be:
He should be tall and graceful, elegant and fair;
With sweet golden locks of his curly hair.
And have blue eyes that sparkle in the light
Of the sun, bright, as does his smile shine.
His tender words and gentle touch
Would so sooth my heart and troubled mind.
His strong arms would hold me fast in the darkest nights
And chase away my fears 'til dawn.
His sweet lips would kiss me tenderly, lovingly just so.
He would have a heart of pure gold, and be loyal and good.
And looking into his eyes, he would see my soul
And I, giving my
how to love a girl who can't love herself.get lost under the sun, then
fight the break of dawn.
i am nothing in the dark,
so show me
walk with me,
to the secret place
where i met you
(those turquoise city dreams)
when the sun goes down,
when the moon shines,
(girl of the ocean, let's go
somewhere only we know.)
please, i beg you.
winter me gently, because the earth laughs in flowers, and
red red roses, they're so beautifully
I won't forgetI will always remember
you quietly waiting in the corridors
and opening doors for me to pass through
you drifting in and out of office spaces
and as we walked with matching paces
your smile would quietly etch itself into my memories
of what we were when we were not together.
I will always remember the feelings I wanted to forget
as I walked the limits of darkness every night,
my loneliness like a silhouette
that knew no respite
from the resounding cries
of the kookaburras in the trees
weeping for the heart that wanted to be free
to be with the you
who could not be with me.
I will always remember the voice inside my head
uttering a love that could not be said
across the oceans and the miles
that stretched like a chasm before us
but it was never a distance we did not surmount--
each night a transgression of space and time,
a compression of our imaginations and our minds.
I will never forget these slivers of a past
that used to haunt us with the pain of our non-existence
in a reality we'd
TnM- del odio al amor solo hay un pasoTnM- del odio al amor solo hay un paso
Fred: Thomas porque quieres enamora a mi prima
Thomas: Fred la amo aún ella no me conozca yo la amo
Fred: bueno Thomas solo te aviso no la hagas daño por favor
Thomas: no te preocupes no la haré daño nunca
Un Romance o más o menos...
Marie: me puedes dejar de seguir por favor
Thomas: no hasta que admites que estás enamorada de mi
Marie: eso nunca
Jazz: pero Marie porque no te acercas a él no es malo
Marie: eso parece pero después te rompe el corazón
Jazz: Marie solo porque te rompieron el corazón dos veces no signifique que todo son así
Marie: no es verdad a mi primero me ilusionaron después me rompieron el corazón después me engañaron
Marie: porque me hace esto todos *con lagrimas en los ojos*
Marie: Lucas mi amor y que hacemos hoy?
Lucas: Marie necesitamos hablar
Marie: de que amor
Lucas: creo que tene
Rocky Mountain Love Poem
It's by far the hardest thing I've ever done
to be so in love with you and so alone...
welcome to my morning
welcome to my day
life in the city can make you crazy
can't see the sun for the smog
but if I had a wish that I could give you
I'd make a wish for sunshine all the while
lady, are you crying, do the tears belong to me
please, close your eyes and rest your weary mind
I promise, I will stay right here beside you
we'll talk of poems, prayers, and promises...
things that we believe in
together we'll reach for the heavens, and hope for the future
I tell you now, I've seen it raining fire in the sky
yet fear not, my love, I'll walk in the rain by your side
I'll cling to the warmth of your hand
I'll sing you the songs of the rainbow
sorry, love, that I must leave you once again
I'm searching for answers to questions unknown
kiss me and smile for me
tell me that you'll wait for me
hold me like you'll never let me go
you fill up my senses, dear one
and though I must leave f
Old hauntsSomber rays of sun drift oer the cornice,
Melting in its exit, dreamless and breathless.
Flora, but not fauna, stretch arms along the floor,
Barricading gates and blockading fallow doors.
Its cold, laying hands on these stone castle walls.
Footsteps resonate, caught in these yawning halls.
But, at night,
Voices not my own echo down through the rooms.
Whispers round the bell do battle with the moon,
Asking it to wait.
Wraithlike breezes from the North rattle papers, feathers shake.
Theres scratching, clawing on the headboards. None sleeping, none awake.
Whittled wands cast little spells, spawning lazy earthquakes
And grapes on the vine listen to three witches wait for long lost mates.
Somber rays of sun plunge into windows, retreating to the precipice for fear of waking
an anxious, thrashing,
of restless widows.
They beg the sun,
Asking it to wait.
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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