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UntitledI've heard a story of the lord,
Where he damned a man,
To suffer the worst accord,
But defiance never meant much to you,
He took each hit, the fourth the fifth,
Each time he fell yet again he'd lift,
A man possessed with love stood there, Hallelujah,
He rose again, just to see it through,
Because he believed love was true,
But devotion wasn't much to you,
She beat him down,
Cursed his name with each sound,
And from his lips she drew that Hallelujah,
He'd been here many times before,
He'd dug his trench he'd fought this war,
But perseverance didn't mean a thing to you,
She hated his poise and his perfect part,
Love is not some heroic march,
It's a useless and an empty Hallelujah,
Then she died and the angel came,
With a deathly cold and pallid frame,
You never thought about life did you?
He faced that angel then,
Her fragile soul was his to defend,
There he stood in defiance, Hallelujah,
He took her then into his arms,
Carried her beyond t
--how best to speak of hallowe--how best to speak of hallowed halls,
Of screaming rooms, of bleeding walls,
In my brain—
And an adamant wall,
Behind which once crept evil beast,
Bloodthirsty creature who dared to feast,
On the pain and suffering of ones prying mind,
Which was locked away for another time,
Who would scream and shout,
When the lights were out—
--and crept from under my bed at night,
It bore not a name when I bricked it away,
But bode ill all the same,
Filled me with torment by shaded grey,
Drained me of strength by lucid day,
So was I alone to tame it then.
She looks up at me with eager She looks up at me with eager eyes,
Her mind constantly dredging my beleaguered mind,
Sweetheart tell me what haunts your sighs,
The late nights, the twitches and the cries,
And I struggle to find,
A logical kind--
-- of explanation,
like the ones you find in the lines--
--of an equation,
Baby I wish it was as easy as Sin/Cos = Tan
I wish the tangent made tangible the feelings you have,
I wish the formula for equilibrium could end all the bad--
--nightmares and dreams,
and all those horrible things,
But i'm just a man caught in a horrible scene
And I know you like to sing,
That song about the drummer boy,
But these days they're just decoys,
Drummer boys flap their gums,
Clapping their hands in congress halls,
Setting the beat for their drums,
Calling our march to war,
Setting our deaths in score,
And you're hung up on so many medications,
I can't help but wonder which ones cause inhibitions,
And which ones could be attached to an addiction,
I feel like this is such an oppressive govern
A tribute to the ones who never knewTell me now what did you see,
When you looked deep inside of me,
Is that what made you lose your nerve?
Is that why you left me on this earth?
I wonder why you killed yourself,
you told me you loved me and nobody else,
Maybe you became afraid of me,
When I opened and let you see,
Abel the CorpserNo one knows his real name,
But to a few he is a bane,
To them Abel the Corpser is his name,
When Cain failed at the time dawn of time,
Abel grew a twisted mind,
And a held a vendetta against the evil kind.
chirp"I wonder" he said,
With an emptiness in his head,
"Is this what it feels like to be dead?"
When he stumbled upon a girl,
Who lived in a shattered world,
And whose heart knew only of dread,
'I wonder sometimes,
Of the most terrible kind,
If wishing to die were a crime,'
So he drew up a seat,
Down at her feet,
And they talked about life and the lies,
Of the ice in their veins,
Of the dark in their hearts,
And what it was like to be alive,
Little they knew the more that they talked,
That her world came to life and his head filled with thoughts,
And ever so slightly they fell in love,
As light filled the skies above.
In defense of their good nameDecades ago, as well as in episodes throughout time, there have been those amongst us who have suffered from a vile oppression. This distasteful act has always come with no just reasoning other than that we are clearly different, we suffer from mental duress and as we struggle with it they tease and beat us. I have never stood idly on the subject, certainly I am one of the first to raise a hand in defense of us all. But I find my patience and control are waning, I must face the unfortunate truth that I may fall victim to my disgust.
For years I have fought, revitalized those who have no strength to live, eased their festering souls, only to watch them come under a hailstorm of vicious fire tearing them back down again. The life of the psychologically distraught is always crippled by the chainsaw of misunderstanding and the lead weight of social disconnection. Even now, we live in an isolated prison amidst free roaming self-centered machines. Without hesitation, we are forced to l
The InternetA boisterous crowd,
Dawdling epicenter for grumbling, humdrum intrusions,
Just kindling lipservice.
My newsfeed opens, peace quakes.
Restless sleeper, try underwhelming Valium.
What exhorts you? Zilch.
why am I [10/30]awash in feelings oh-so-strong and
wishing time would move along;
always me, who cannot cope;
kites are flying, high on hope.
The Revolutionary Formerly Known as PrinceBefore Kropotkin became an Anarchist he was once a Prince
The contents of his books made his relatives wince
For they were well fed
When reading Conquest of Bread
Sadly they haven’t sent him a birthday card since
UntitledBe men of peace,
Oh my sons.
For the world is full of fighting.
For there are many men of violence,
Many men of war,
Many men whose minds are made of death and cruelty.
So be men of peace;
Be not those who rush foolishly into death's waiting embrace.
There is no glory in war;
Death, and the battered, broken ones who escape it.
Be steadfast men of peace and let none call you coward.
To stay behind and be mocked takes more courage,
Than the vain pursuit of honor or glory.
Pity those that mock you;
For they shall not find those things on the battlefield,
Only horror, and the screams of men, dying ingloriously in some muddy foreign field.
If you must fight;
If you must lay aside peace.
Do so only for good,
Do so only in protection of justice and goodness.
Not for honor, glory, or riches,
Or other such hollow vanities.
Fight for only tangible, lasting things.
In all dealings be just and merciful.
Be as fair as you are peaceful,
In your dealings with all mankind
Solid as a RockLet me introduce to you, a fellow whose views are easy to mock
He acts like he wears tuxedos, when he’s only got one sock
And claims to feast
On bread with little yeast
He is common worker and his name is Mr Block
Who are the Few? (Eating souls)Why so many beat so few? Or are the many beaten?
Who are the few, and why have they come.
How many souls have been eaten?
Consumed away, with mounds of joy,
TV, the news, the web,
So many the loss, but so quickly they gloss
over the souls that were taken.
Are the many beating the few?
Or is it just all in our heads?
Who says they are few in such a world,
were seven billion souls are lead.
Lead to believe in the "right" and "wrong",
Where grey is white and red is strong.
Red is the blood of the innocent souls,
that the TV sells and the movies mold.
Who wins in a war,the revolutionaries prance,
Where all angels weep and the demons dance.
The weapons, not guns, but words so foul.
The sharpest of tongue is the gravediggers trowel.
We are not so few, but so many in pain.
The loss of joy's soul is the demons' gain.
I'm never coming homeMy hands braced on the acid washed sheet,
The system around me is flawlessly neat,
My friends stand around me in poised fear,
Though i've made my purpose here quite clear,
And in that moment all my angels wept,
They're heads bowed in remorse and regret,
For having come with me on this day,
Life for me will never be the same,
In unison their hearts screamed,
You're signing you're life away it seems,
Some fighting the urge to beg and plead,
All they want is to know they'll always see me,
But i never said i'd be here forever,
And i'm the only one fit to be a soldier,
My heads in the game, and the game is "Under Fire",
In a morbid praise they all clapped and cheered,
Beneath that happiness they all cried,
Because they all knew I was going to die,
I wasn't the kind to give up a fight,
I'd press on until my energy was spent,
With a heavy heart I signed away--
I signed away my ticket home today,
To all my friends I must say,
I'm never coming home; not alive anyway.
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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