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Schizophrenia.I am happy.
We are happy.
We have medication.
It will be our emancipation.
Recipe for Modern News.Recipe Ingredients:
4 Parts Depression.
2 Parts Heartbreak.
2 Parts Dashingly Good Looking People.
1 Heaping Pile of Politics.
1 Major City, with at least 5 Years Experience and a Network Capable Of At Least 360° Of Coverage.
Untold amounts of Bias.
Untold amounts of Lies.
Take 4 Parts Depression, 2 Parts Heartbreak, mix generously with a heaping pile of Politics. Stir Generously.
After the first ingredients have settled, mix in 2 Parts Dashingly Good Looking People, leave emotional and chunky, it gives better flavor.
Stick in any major city for 5 years at 360° of coverage.
After done covering for five years, layer indiscriminately with a copious amount Bias and Lies.
Continue to serve as your vox populi see fit.
Patient 0 or Patience.Patient 0 Or Patience.
(Title as of yet undetermined.)
Patient 8: Placeholder
Sometimes I really, really hate being a greeter for a mass mega-mart chain of all you can want or need stores. You have to be smiley and cheery to even the most miserable, sick, and angry human beings you can come across. Like today for instance, A lady came in who looked as though she'd be ready to be hung out to dry or stuffed and hung on the wall by a taxidermist. I smiled, as the rule book says we're supposed to do, and welcomed her to our store, just like the rule book says we're supposed to do too, and she looked at me with the scariest bloodshot eyes. My friends tell me that I don't scare easily but seeing this old lady come in with eyes that could just of easily been dripping blood, quite frankly, terrified me. It doesn't help that when she asked for help getting a cart, she sounded remotely similar to Dr. Claw on the old cartoon Inspe
Her.Her lips, electric.
Her kiss, restarts my heart.
Looking in to her eyes is to look into forever.
Her hands, molded to fit mine.
Her laugh, brings happiness and joy.
Her hugs, warmth.
Equinoctial Solace.Equinoctial Solace
The cold winds wander now.
The autumn comes quietly to us.
The yellow leaves fall.
Tops of trees under
a foot. Shards of bright pottery
Broken and crushed by the shoe.
Old dry grass, browns. Plants sleep.
Intimate nature reveals,
her hidden secrets.
Cuddle, carressed in cotton.
Sheets rustle as leaves skittering.
A chilled breeze peeks in.
Rain bows the sky quietly and softly.
A bright stars fall full of grace.
Sleep in late, dream freely.
Back to the beautiful sky.
Lazy birds skim barren treeline.
Chirp "hi" to an early sun.
Only passing through they
continue on their way south. A
new warmer home calls.
First frost forms over
rusty blades of grass. Nighttime
seeps from the brightening sky.
Divine, sun and moon.
Eternal, their chase. Never
a win, or loss. Tied.
Opaque fog rolls in;
clearing a dimmer path for
the might of winter's chill.
... Untitled ...The music box and broken mandolin play.
Tea-cup tears fill broken dreams and yet, somehow life goes on.
Cats crying while dogs sleep, stars drift in circular patterns over our head.
Air flows beneath bird's wings, the rain bowing forming colors in the sky.
Fruit sits idly by as the sun shines down and cotton clouds drift..
The lone tree's leafs, cold to the touch, hang on.
A sweet voice calls us home, reminds us of mother's cooking.
Clip of Seven.Clip Of Seven.
The clip of seven.
One for each.
Use the clip of seven and take me now.
Clip of seven, take me.
Let the blood flow from the seven holes where you puncture me.
Take the pain, and make it go away, clip of seven.
Seven messengers, messengers delivering seven sins.
Envy for the things that are.
Gluttony for the things that we have and devour with a hunger.
Wrath a hate so strong you can feel it burning inside of you like a flame.
Sloth, a tiring slowness that makes your life grind to a halt.
Lust an emotion for things that you wish you could have.
Greed of the things that you covet and hide from prying eyes.
Your pride is who makes you who you are, yet you always wish you had more.
Clip of seven.
Deliver these messages, make your message quick and fast.
Quick and fast so that I don't feel you deliver the message.
Take my Envy, with my right hand.
Take my Gluttony, with my left
Shattered Dreams of Childhood.My friend and I enter the store, carts lined up like herded cattle waiting for a push through a processed toy line. I bypass a limp wheeled cart; it looks on at me as if moaning Pick me. Im the most used and Ill treat what youre going to buy with the most care. Truth be told, I really hadnt come in to the store to buy anything... just to remember what it felt like to be a kid.
I pass through the Early Kids section, baby bottles line the walls like flowers waiting to be plucked of their nectar. The music in the store reminds me of my local grocery store, dull, monotonous and having absolutely no drive. Youd think theyd play something that'd bring childhood memories back to you, but I guess not.
I enter the first aisle... the first aisle I have no interest in what-so ever... flamingo pink Barbie doll boxes line the walls. Barbie dolls, prepackaged femininity for $4.99. Each and every single one of them... selling themselves out like a prost
Angel's With Broken HalosI am dead to the world today.
(Nature's finest creation?)
Unhappiness and sickness dwells within.
(Eternity awaits for nothing.)
Angels with broken halos looming overhead.
(Fate screaming within the darkness that is my soul.)
Chanting "This is the end!"
I cast my eyes aside.
(Turning from my fate, not willing to accept it.)
Crimson flows from the cut, down my arm, smooth and undisturbed.
(Day dreaming, remembering memorys.)
Pain, hate and anger, dripping to the ground.
(Lights, up within my eyes.)
Laying down, sleep drifts in from an unfamilar air.
(Rest is for the weak.)
Sleeping, on the cold, lifeless soil, with eyes wide shut.
(Eratic and sporatic dreams floating, euphoric blood soaked pleasure begins.)
The Family Has Been InformedBullets that are too far away to hear back home
But words that will forever ring just as loud in my ears
Delivered from the lips of a uniformed man
The sympathetic sentence any mother fears to hear
I turn away as if ignoring his presence
Will make this unwanted reality go away
But he repeats that he is sorry for my loss
Those words are the last thing I remember of that day
I find myself looking out of the back yard window
On the swings in the garden I still see my boy play
I am bringing drinks out to him and his brothers
Under the sun, on the grass, on endless summer days
Those memories like photographs in frames on the wall
Now show my son with a wife and child of his own
A husband and father torn from their loving arms
In to the mass grave-in-waiting of a war zone
His old bedroom was already a shrine to him
Even before his blood soaked deep in to the desert sands
We waited for him to return from his first tour
Knowing the boy we’d said goodbye to would come home a man
Young JanuaryI saw her at the local supermarket
She could have been no older than ten
She was buying some refreshing beverages
To quench the thirst of herself and her friends
On this summers day they had waited outside
Lacking patience they were shouting her name
‘January, hurry up we have to go home!’
From the shop young January soon came
Rushing past me at the speed of her childhood
My lonely heart skipped a beat or two
Either from her soft brown hair that touched my arm
Or the smile she gave as she passed through
Did I hurry through my shopping on purpose
In order to catch young January up?
Fumbling my loose change as I left the store
The cashier complained I’d given her too much
I feel everyone’s eyes boring in to me
So away from the store I swiftly fled
Knowing fine well that I should just return home
But something made me follow the girl instead
Pretending to read the receipt in my hand
I watched closely in the corner of my eye
Which way would young January be walking
31. FlowerYou, my love, are like a flower:
Delicate petals in heavy gale
Facing shower after shower
Of icy rain, snow and hail.
Delicate petals in heavy gale
Caught in winter's deadly cling
Of icy rain, snow and hail
Still you'll bloom in spring again.
Caught in winter's deadly cling
Facing shower after shower
Still you'll bloom in spring again:
You, my love, are like a flower.
The Laughing BoyThere once was a boy who smiled alot,
We called him the laughing boy,
because its better to have a name than to not.
That boy laughed and smiled wherever he went,
I wish that he was still here,
I just wish that his spirit hadn't gotten so bent.
He was battered and beaten but still he smiled,
His smile spread happiness wherever he went,
Imagine what could be if his heart hadn't been defiled.
He was battered and beaten just a little too much,
He has countless sad stories,
And now he's cold to the touch.
There once was a boy who smiled alot,
But now his eyes are empty with despair,
and of happiness, now he knows naught.
LegacyIt is always the damn same song.
Always are the wrong people strong.
Why do they think that your way is wrong?
You’re asking yourself what is left when you’re gone.
Your whole world starts to spin.
Their skin and nerves are very thin.
Want to use you like a soldier made of tin.
When you know the only thing you can do is win.
Want to sort out because you differ.
If you don’t do as they say, they’ll get stricter.
They don’t want to see you as the victor.
The only thing left will be a picture.
When everything you see and hear is a conspiracy.
And everyone thinks that you are crazy.
You are unique, only once in this galaxy.
The words you say and things you do are your legacy.
The Cold, Hard TruthThere are no happy endings,
the fairy tales all lied.
Cinderella is still a slave,
Snow White, the Beast, and the Mermaid died.
Sleeping Beauty never woke,
Because Philip never kissed her,
Alice didn't find Wonderland,
the Rabbit must have missed her.
Peter's still in Neverland
with the Lost Boys, growing older.
The Snow Queen's heart didn't thaw,
the world keeps getting colder.
Rapunzel is still in her tower,
her long blonde hair gone gray.
The captive princess has lost hope,
there was no prince to save the day.
My Spyro AnthologyA Spyro Tanka
Caring and faithful
Yet relentless and mighty
Destined for greatness
A Cynder Tanka
Gifted black dragon
Turned away from the dark side
Our hero's lover
Though swift, lethal and fearful
She hates her bad self
A Dragonkind Haiku
Civilized and meaningful
Home to all of them
A Spyro and Cynder Acrostic
Special and so
You never know what he can do with his
Of fire, electricity, earth, and ice
Along with a former
Nemesis from the
Nightmare to our hero's
Dear with so much to
Endure as she
Rages with wind, poison, fear, and shadow
A Malefor Acrostic
Means to bring
A dark age
Leaving us for dead
Evil spirits living
Forever in a world
Of empty space
Ruled by a corrupt
Spyro's Dark Destruction
He was cute and sweet when you first knew him
Now that he has grown
His strength is unknown
On his enemies with huge obsessions
The fire he breathes is filled with aggressio
Judy, with her box of matches, obsession with matchlock pistols,
And her passive resistance to hatchways with over-intricate latches.
Jennifer's cerulean crystals are ultramarine in the dilatory sheen,
Of the lacerated foil-like car-crashes she watches for sensual sensations,
Mindless-stimulation, pulsations, compliant undulations:
The discreet and susurrant sounds of agreeable vibration.
Joni strokes bones and licks tendons,
She's an inlet for suggestions, an anchorage for connections.
In the absence of relevant utensils, she stencils outlines:
Sketches of Skeletons bereft of Flesh but bejewelled with Carrion,
A decay that elevates Jennifer's day from the Realm of the Mundane,
Through new levels of punishment, discipline and pain,
Again and again, new pain. (Cool down with a hot carbine).
Again and again, into the Realm of a Dark Mind.
A Dark and darkening Realm of reverse hitches, slo-mo sex scenes,
Death games, blue flames, quick-fixes for itches and slow-release endor
Assembly LineThe sun will still rise and it will still set
No matter what that day you've come to fret
Whatever happens, the world keeps spinning
It doesn't care about the pain you're in
And nothing really ever goes as planned
Some things you will just never understand
And the road to heaven may seem like hell
But in the end, just think of the stories you'll have to tell
Everything might be alright when you're not fine
That's just another day on the assembly line
Snow Warfare DreamsSnow Warfare Dreams.
Tiny white unique soldiers floating down from Heaven's gates.
Each and every with it's own path, tempting the fates.
Bundled up and warm, I gaze upward.
Watching and contemplating my next move against the on coming horde.
Daydreaming of hot chocolate, and a little vibrating ball of fur sitting contently on my lap.
His golden eyes shut, deep in a nap.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, the white warriors have fallen to my size eight and a half vehicles of mass destruction.
Soon I will be home to make my daydream a true life vision.
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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