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The Legend Of The Lone RiderLone rider perched on thy hilltop
Protector of the land you call your own
Hero of justice, Wielder of might
Your mystery to be told is a treasure to behold
Riding on thy noble steed
Breed from the strongest of beasts
Mighty wild uncontrollable, untamed
Faithful only to your reign
Legend speaks of you ,the mightiest of men
Roaming the fields with thy speed unmatched
In pursuit of evil to slay, innocence to save
Rewarded with nothing but fear and reverence with thou is lashed
Where thou comes from no one knows
Beyond the mist -mysteriously appear
With a sword as sharp as your mind
leaving nothing but dust at your hind
Shadow of death for those preying on the weak
Messiah for those you save from a ghastly fate
Thou words echo in every valley
EVIL DOERS BEWARE!
They say your sword is as mighty as thy word
But no one sees it and lives to tell the tale
A mystery only legend speaks of
Slayed an entire army with mighty gail
Oh lone rider! So fine thy mystery to behold!
No doubt your story will
These WordsDrowned in words of sorrow
Left with no hope for the morrow
piercing my heart like an arrow
are these words you have said.
I realized it was all a dream
and hence carried with the stream
to a darker place
where all my hope has been deemed
Slouching against this cold wall
wet are my eyes
beaten and battered a rag doll
casted away with lies
All my dreams shattered
and all its pieces scattered
and the darkness around me gathers
into this soul that has been battered
-by these words
A Soldiers LamentRunning headlong into the fray
Seeking retribution for which i pray
reconciling myself to stay
till the end of this fateful day
I slayed so many, not for fame or glory
But for what is dear, for a future bright and sunny
And as i parry, remember for what the weapon i carry
For all at home, dear friends and family
Now that the day had ended
Redemption is all i wanted
From partaking in this charade
Please wash away my bloodied stains
Now my wound's have healed, but scars remain
an eternal reminding, for sins that are blinding
An intrude on my inner sanctum
By ever soul ive killed on random
These scars are my regalia
the essence of war embedded in their core
like a parody mocking my existence
another reason for my exitance
from this blood stained page of life
Don't Look BackDont Look Back
There was nothing for you here
You lived in perpetual fear
So, move on and don't look back
There is no potential that you lack
People hated you, people hurt you
Yet you stayed and witnessed this charade
As it took your soul away, scared you
So now i tell you to bade goodbye
And don't look back, don't look back
I'm with you every step of the way
Holding your hand, leading you out of this fray
Wiping your tears off, reminding to be strong
helping you out for no matter how long
so you will always have a shoulder to cry on
So move on
And don't look back
Find a better life, away from this strife
Away from this shit you once called life
And let this prayer shield you from grief
Move forward, turn a new leaf
Don't look back
Don't look back
Just CryI know you've been holding it in
And for me that's even a bigger sin
and when there's a silver lining so thin,
there's nothing else to do, so,
Your friends have left you, you've dissolved to Abyss
How could it ever have come to this
So take this heart felt kiss and give it a try
I would say big girls don't cry
If i said that, it would be a lie
you've been hurt, and it gives you more reason,
for now and every other sad season
And I want you to know, that I'm
With you every step of the way
On this ugly path on which you stray
and with your head on my shoulder, I pray,
For you to be better on another day.
But for now, Just cry,Just cry
The StreamThe stream flows, so calmly, devoid of worries.
It flows around my feet, so subtly, so gently,
caresses my shell, drifts past me
reflecting my life as it passes
It flows slowly but surely
like the times as they change
cleansing my ways
reincarnates my soul
Let me be this stream
carelessly flowing, everlasting, pure
forever facing the sky
unlocking the shackles restraining me
never worrying about another lie
The sun sparkles on its surface
rays of light dancing to its command
in all its youthful embrace
im lost in its grace
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
Is it work tryingis it worth standing up, just to fall again?
is it worth crying, just to wipe the tears off in vain?
is it worth working hard , just to go unnoticed?
is it worth living, just to die in pain?
life is short, i agree.
but in that time is making a really difference worth it?
is it worth it when people will eventually forget?
forget about your triumphs, your hardships, your failures?
things that mean the world to you,
but less to others than the roadside stray.
while you fret and enter the fray of life,
millions pray for a better day.
is making a difference for them really worth it?
for the answers, one must ask themself
"do i live for myself or for others"
thus i say
finding a purpose in life is really worth it.
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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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