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Literature
The Writer's Hymn
Night comes like a thick fog rolling over
Sheets feel cool beneath like breathless sighs
Drowsy lids close and before too long below cover
Separated from the waking world and with newly opened eyes
The mind begins to work its magnanimous wonder
Color spills out in sheets, rolling through streets
Voices and pleasant thoughts lying bare to ponder
Beauty beyond normal recognition and colorful treats
Entire people and personalities coming slowly to life
Somewhere new and vivid, so egregiously stark
Cities build from ashes and the waking pains of strife
From nothing into my dreams where reality does not bark
Its harsh discordant realisms and broken hopes and dreams
In my dreams reality is a place most horrifically boring
Tied from the mismatch perceptions of people, stitched with seams
And at times when focusing on reality, it merely leads to snoring
No crushed men or jealous cracked head cases
No broken women or angry bitters gods
Nor for feet the untied shoes and lost laces
Or the hands t
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Literature
raindrops and ugly
Rain came down from the sky hitting the ground so hard that they splashed water out of puddles and shook them with ripples.  They thumped a dark mass sitting on the street corner and the water climbed down strands of hair, droplets rolling over her lips like tears coming down from somewhere else.  The rain fell like light fell on angels, pouring over them and rolling down their soft flesh, like it rolled down the sides of her face and over her finger tips, dripping slowly to the ground below.  A sigh caught on her lips as she opened her mouth and rolled gently into the air, her breath the tiniest of fogs.
Thunder creaked through the atmosphere, through the spaces above and the light it carried came crashing down in the distance.  Life was supposed to be good, at least that was what people told her all the time.  It was supposed to be a beautiful thing, and one of the most beautiful things in it was supposed to be love.  Becaus
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Literature
The Burnt and the Burned
She stared at the fire as it raged through the building, watching embers climb up into the air and flit off into its center.  Blood on her face, hair stuck to her mouth and arm held close to her side, hugging it with the other, metal of gun under her finger tips.  She could smell it, the fire raging like a tempestrial storm that swept through everything and everyone in sight.  It was almost like she was paralyzed for a moment, paralyzed by the chaos, the destruction and the rage that burned inside of her.
Death was a kissing god; a kissing god and he kissed her skin up and down with a warmth that spread through the room.  She felt more like a little girl, that little girl falling from the rooftop and on her way down to the earth, crashing like some little angel into death's cold clammy hands waiting to catch her and take her away from the world.  But somehow she had lived, somehow something changed and instead of meeting death, she live
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Literature
Elov
I stare outward in awe of love
In awe of its very existence
Not because it exists
Not even because it defies all rational beauty
Nor am I captivated by it
Solely for how it always seems to feel
From the wondrous heights of bliss
To the extreme dysphoria of lows
What brings me in awe of love
What intrigues me so intently
Is the continual defiance it shows
Every time any attempt to define it
It is part rational
Part vividly irrational
Sometimes just an emotion
Other times an entire state of being
Love is so terrifying
It causes us to lose our breaths
And so full of wonder
It leaves poets in a panicked frenzy
For it conquers the unassailable
Where the greatest weapons fail
And it builds in the darkest places
Boldly and in the face of fear
It hurts so much
That even bleeding to death may hurt less
It exhausts so thoroughly
We'd nearly rather face the desert alone
It cascades like water through the skin
It is thin like the air we breathe
It is thicker than the blood in our veins
It is harde
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Literature
stone
A bird is born
it shouts at its birth
it screams for simple things
to feed and to be noticed
and it is fed
and it sleeps
Slowly it grows
and over time its belly fills
it knows no hunger
it knows no emptiness
only joy
only peace
And then it learns
for the first time to fly
and it fills with such great bliss
that its wings expand
and it soars
floating
Time passes and it grows
its wings expand
to encompass the sky
so it shifts along it
like an invisible river
its currents entangling together
So it goes
and it sees the trees it grew in
the places it has eaten
the things it has known
and then it flies away
it soars so ineffably high
Towards the sun it soars
to brightness and joy
but its wings tire
it grows weak and weary
and it falls again
towards the ever darkening ground
Night and day pass it
slowly it comes to strange places
it witnesses death
for the very first time
and it does no understand
what is happening
But still in triumph it rises
into the brilliant blue sky
and it stares at the
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Literature
as if never once
Words and thoughtless things;
silence, inexhaustible silence;
tempered feelings;
broken - anguishing: this;
shuddering: the sweet caress of life;
the cold clinging size
of the shadow that clings
beneath the warm shape of flesh;
footprints that follow behind
no reverie: only real;
"Wake" it screams the word
wraps about broken sides
and anguish climbs unhindered;
ignored, cold and frightful
it climbs and is unnoticed;
Death has met me
and met it have I
Met and left behind
like grace unwound
never meant to be revered,
twisting back through things;
Compelled by the deepest
darkest empty nothing
to be filled, full
climbing from the abyss
once more urging
awoken like dull natured things
no prepossession
Knowing only quiet
knowing only all sound will dull
to barely an ache, from atrophy
untended in the space
unremembered in time
Though the vivid comes
like euphoria and Venus
and Aphrodite
like bliss and joy
the sacred and serene
it leaves, always;
what exists
what is left
is only a metaphor
w
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Literature
Never dies
Is there anyone out there that doesn't need it?
If there is well - I wouldn't want to be them
I want to be in - and surrounded by it
I want to know what it feels like to share it
Wrap arms around and completely care for it
I want to believe that when I wake in the morning
No matter how much horror and madness is going on
No matter how turmoil this world is facing
I want to look around and see it exists
I want to know that when I hold you - you still feel it
If we could be half crazy - and I mean all of us kids
No matter how old never grown past the thought of this bliss
That a moment could be a balm for all the hurt in the world
And no matter how many bombs they drop - that this will never stop
I want to know there is cure for the sadness in all of our hearts
And that there is someone out there from which each of us never parts
I want to drink the sky with my lungs and keep climbing the rungs
And know that when I fall your words come out sung
A voice in the darkness that cuts right thr
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Literature
all
All that I could ever dream of
since I could first dream
was of being free
The only thoughts that ever crossed my mind
were the wayward ones of a dreamer
to be lost in the expanse
And since that first moment, the very first
I have spent every waking moment after
lost in spaces so wide
All things have their place
and mine is to be forever wandering
forever in the grip of joyous silence
That the tenderest, loudest sound
that I will ever share
is the beating of my heart
That those few fleeting moments
when my eyes are captured
fallen upon by wonders
There are no cages, no walls and no roads
only one single, glorious
endless, expanse
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Literature
joyous revolution
There is nothing more frightening than knowing that all you have in this world is these wings so very dark.  These wings so very dark that define the very essence of your every waking thought, that you have become something so cold and calloused, so empty and devoid of care for all things.  That there is no sadness inside of you, no tears and no joy.  You are empty beyond reproach and there are holes in your black shadowed wings that are beyond repair.  That forever is a moment that will stretch onward for all eternity and you will be within it, cradled in its eternal embrace.  But you are nothing, not there, always in imperfect derelict.
Knowing just that, is enough to want to change.  If I only knew this, for just the briefest moment that turning away from you would do this, what in all of this existence would I not give to see just for the shortest span of time, a single smile from you.  You who all existence is i
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Literature
the widow run
why is the sky filled with clouds that leave iridescent trails
and the heart either so red or deep charcoal black;
somehow a torch light grows into a burgeoning flush
that rumbles in the deep tunnels of the mind:
it is only her bliss, an eternal fervor
that scatters a helter-skelter spark
that patters like footsteps heard only in the dark
that could be coming from any direction
and the heart a light-bulb flickering on and off, because;
the skin smooth temperatures rising and falling
and the breath caught and suddenly released at the memory
neurons booming to life at the flicker chasing random paths to it
all in the span of a half a second
as the thought of bliss passes through a name:
the thought suddenly a window
engendered from nothing at all, the definition of sudden
then gone, like a light being chased through a maze at midnight
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Literature
if only to daydream
We slept like liars;
We became shadows because we understood it
We crawled around in the night
In unreal worlds and fell in love
So in love that we never woke;
Then we forgot because we didn't want to know;
It was not long until we remembered
That the truth was all that was good;
So we stayed awake afraid to sleep:
Like a bleeding limb we lay
Watching others being real;
and then slowly remembered, why first we dreamt
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Literature
why are you the sun
Why are you the sun;
The sun should never stop shining
The sun should never cease being bright
It's light should never stop blinding
Never cease to hurt the eyes, or take away your sight
Be there even when you try to shut it out
Nothing is like the sun
Warming even in the very depth of cold
Brighter even than the snow
There even in the days of young, even in the days of old
Illuminating even the crow
Covered in darkness and filled with doubt
Why are you the sun;
Bleeding down through blackened clouds
Not afraid of any sharp sound
Using the windy trees as shrouds
To draw upon the ground
A parade of leafy shapes, a thing of beauty, no screams or shouts
Nothing is like the sun
Carving joy in the endless pain
Making darkness leave only shadows
Never smiling once in vain
As if pieced together full of hallows
So why are you
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Literature
midnight
the sky settles down
moon breaks for a run
to escape the insanity
of the waking world
helter skelter white,
in the middle of a sea of stars,
fades as the dim light
rises over the horizon
the creeping secrets go back
inside of whatever bottled world
they climbed out of
in the wee witching hours
she picks up a porcelain dream
all "ballet dancers ribbon-ed shoes" hanging off
presses it against her face
ties the silk behind her ears
her lips come up a deep color
pressed against supple skin
not very tasty the tongue says
lips smack in a kissing motion
the morning sink roars like a dam
waterfall spilling in her hands
she breathes out
then drowns away the nighttime terrors and wonders
she breathes deep
ties a forget-me-not around her wrist
hoping it'll last until midnight
she exhales, face suddenly made of stone
when midnight comes again
she'll slip off the silk ribbons from behind her ears
she'll spill whatever is bottled back all over the floor
smile and let the life fill her eyes
until one
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Literature
they're like candy
the harder I reach out for the impossible
the harder it is to grasp
as if I'm breaking all the glass
and it's cutting up my fingers
the blood on the wall makes it slippery
i'm not climbing anymore
say hello to the parade
the smell of all this iron
is weeping from my veins
if only it were flowers
but pretty soon i'll know the secrets
dying men carry to their graves
its shooting up like buildings
falling from the ground
hoorah for all the headaches
without them there would just be no sound
i'm trying to wake up
but the fish just keep going back to sleep
i'm swallowing a pound
but there's just too much flesh left
and merry-go-rounds still work
but i'm tired of being dizzy
tomorrow doesn't breath at all
but it's okay, because I keep stopping in my sleep
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Literature
5am
5am is when god wakes up
he lends a helping hand to sleepy eyes
shushing slow building tears of exhaustion
cleaving the last lumbering ties
of the wakeful world;
he crushes ill thoughts and sadness
makes the heaviest head sit soft
on pillows, even with the madness
gentle sounds fill the air
it doesn't matter if they live only
inside of the sleepy head
accompanied by a gentle song and no longer lonely
the body heaves itself from the floor
stands back and then lays down
breathing steadies to a rhythm
thoughts no longer threaten to drown
the mind as it lulls
perhaps listening to each raindrop make a tap;
5am is when god wakes up
and even the insomniac takes a nap
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Literature
dear Cosimo, could she be a
The boardwalk                           underneath my feet.
                              skips
I like to imagine it's the boardwalk moving
--and not me, as we meet.
Wooden beams lay exposed to the air, rot
ing away...
                                                                  p
Wood has splinters sticking         u
reaching out towards
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EuphoricDissonance
David
United States
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:iconnigzblackman:
Nigzblackman Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2011  Professional General Artist
thx for stopping by~!
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:iconmikandra:
Mikandra Featured By Owner May 12, 2011  Student Photographer
thanks for the watch
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:iconredssexygoddess1318:
RedsSexyGoddess1318 Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2010
Thanks for stoppin by
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:iconxxkikimichelle7x:
xxkikimichelle7x Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
hey you were asking about me writing love on my wrist i took a picture and posted it if want to see it.
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:iconbirdsbirdsbirds:
birdsbirdsbirds Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2010
you are a good writer!
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:iconsoulkreig:
Soulkreig Featured By Owner Oct 14, 2010  Student Digital Artist
Great writings ya got there! =D
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:iconwooden-flashlight:
Wooden-Flashlight Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the visit.
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:iconashitauchiha:
AshitaUchiha Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2010
HEY.

How is your life? c:
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:iconeuphoricdissonance:
EuphoricDissonance Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2010
So so, so, so, so. XD
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:iconashitauchiha:
AshitaUchiha Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2010
So. It's so-so, so-so, right? Or just so so so?
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