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TickingTick tock, the seconds pass,
But for what?
Moments leading to more limbo.
Ashen second to more grayness.
A neverending sludge of perpetual jadedness.
When will it end?
Will it end?
The suffocating tedium, unabated.
Forever haunting, permeating time and space
With its monotonous tendrils,
Gripping reality to a standstill.
A vicegrip upon the very essence of chronology.
Tick tock, the seconds pass,
But for what?
FogThe shifting haze, drifting figures
Here a lover, there a friend.
Out of reach, always there
Specters forever haunting.
Wisps of time forever gone
Never seen by worldly eyes.
Ghosts beheld only by the walker.
A fog swirls, things are hidden
Those far away invisible to the eye
Looking forward, only darkness
Never known until its past.
Each step, a fleeting instant
Out of that darkness and into the fog
Everyone, everything, lived in but a moment.
Oh, that the specters would follow
Keeping company along this journey,
Instead of being left behind.
More shadowed with every step.
HoleWondrous majesty, churning in the sky.
Power of the mightiest gods.
Who can withstand its might?
Behold! Rivers spiral inward, never escaping.
Smothering blindness, death to all
Oh, you Awesome Beast, never ceasing your banquet.
Cannot you quench your eternal thirst,
Or satisfy that insatiable hunger?
Woe to any who embrace your touch.
For they will feel your tremendous crushing weight.
BEGONE you slavering tyrant!
Let them GO from your mighty grasp!
For your darkness is no friend to creativity!
To the primordial sea that gives life to all.
I pity you.
You cannot sustain yourself.
Oh! How radiant you were in a distant past.
Spreading warmth and light to a multitude.
But how you disposed of it all.
A mere shadow you have become.
Feasting upon others, a slave to your own destruction.
For if only you had the grace to die
Like your fellows, humble as they were.
Yet all you do is dabble in Dark Arts,
Consuming all in your fight for power.
Your greed denying to others
The very life you disca
RipplesRipples spead upon the lake,
Moving water in their wake.
Oh so gently, lillies move
To the beat of ripple's groove.
Plip! A drop. More ripples form.
Move the reeds they now adorn.
Cover rocks but for a moment,
Making wet in their enjoyment.
More drops fall from twigs and leaves,
More the quiet movement weaves.
Weaving with it's melody
Web of life and harmony.
GrayGray skies to the horizon, clouds block the stars
Air stands still, nothing moves, quiet fills all.
A figure sits amid stone pillars, contemplating
The road he must take in his journey
Alas, to the left lies shadows and thorns
And many perils mark the way
Yet a gentle breeze invites the traveller
Speaking of brightness and healing touch
To the right, many clouds, flowers dot the path
Yet deep within their petals, a mournful smell
Like hidden tears and silent sobs
Sounds of regret and pain everywhere
Which the path that's to be taken?
Pain and darkness for the wisper of truth
Or slight beauty in the way towards gray
That never ceases, bringing fog
Go for the thorns, towards the shadow
For in the hard time, you'll be strong
Go towards promise of the sweetness
Of no regret, and of ever-joy.
CompassI'm so lost, I cannot find
My way through this maze
Do I go left? How about right?
Or maybe I'll go upward.
Oh no, a dead end, now what?
Maybe left in the intersection.
No, that's another dead end too.
This is so confusing.
Onward, onward, though this maze
Let not dead ends laden your soul
Persistence, Courage, Wisdom too
Let these be your Compass guides.
Look a new path! A new place!
Onward, Onward, don't stop now
Close are we to getting out
From this tangled up place.
Compass, point me! Lead me out!
That way's North, let us go east!
There it is, the exit now,
We have made it out, Hooray!
Thank you, Compass, for your help
In our time of greatest need.
Thank you, Persistence, Courage, Wisdom
Thank you, for all your support.
WordsWhat was that, what did you say?
Little known are those words here.
Peace? Laughter? Ever-joy?
I know not those words, I fear.
Sorrow? Pain? Misery?
Those are words I know quite well.
Deep chains bind me, force feed me
These words chase me as from Hell.
Hope, you say? What is Hope?
No more pain and grief for me?
No, Hope does not exist in this place.
Hope is not a thing to be.
Scorching Fires, Choking Ashes
Play me as a worn out drum
Pounding, striking, never leave me
Pain to much to be endured by some.
BEGONE, foul demons! Torture me not!
Desist the torment of my Soul!
Scatter now, and let me be!
Let my life be one and whole!
Peace, quiet, tranquility
Are these things I'll never reach?
Hope you say? What is Hope?
Tell me now, I do beseech.
Turmoil, nothing else I knew,
Hope, a word of nothingness.
Seek a new Life? Pray for strength?
No more will I know distress?
What was that? What did you say?
A Change of Mind!The small arachnid, I called Fat Sid, crawled across the ceiling;
Its size was disproportionate to the fear that I was feeling.
It jogged its hairy, leggy way, and passed the ceiling light,
Glancing down at me disdainfully, in my immobile plight.
I couldn’t move, was hypnotized, with glassy eyes did stare,
As Fat Sid suddenly did speed and went to God-Knows-Where.
I searched the room, with trepidation, the chairs I overturned,
Looked in the smallest nooks and crannies, whilst my stomach churned,
My legs were quivering, I was shivering and then suddenly felt hot,
I wanted to find Sid, to get quite rid, but then part of me did not.
He couldn’t help his eight-legged form or hairs that grew abundant,
But the fact he would not hurt me was of little or no comfort.
I shook the curtains and cushion covers, but the blighter was not there.
Then I went into the hallway and searched thoroughly each stair,
And all this time, I thought of questions. Was he as scared as me?
I was a raging
Piano ManHey Piano man,
play me a song.
I had a hard day work,
Home ain't no better,
Music has been gone for too long!
It can be of something, anything,
that has a beat and a tune.
Please Piano man,
just play a song...
He first creates the mood,
with some love and romance .
You laugh and smile,
stand up and dance,
giving it a big chance...
His fingers hit the keys of passion,
and the many heart breaks and pain.
You can't help but to feel the cravings,
to make this night insane..
Slowly crippling you,
falling into a hole..
His fingers play on the keys,
that greatly snatch and save..
Next song, Next beat,
sings the grand piano.
Next move, Next show,
his fingers picking up the heat..
“Hey Piano man,
play me a song!
my passion is dead,
my heart just broke,
Music is mean to me!
It can be of something, anything,
that isn't burning with untrue infatuations!
Please Piano man,
play me a song!”
The piano man listens,
and gives you a tune.
Filled with dark, despair,
true signs of bitter
Tiger Lilley is the Bestdedicated to my sister from Down Under
Tracey Henderson/Tiger Lilley
Tiger Lilley was my first stuffed animal, a plushie one would say
Of one thing I am certain. She was a present on Christmas Day.
I can't remember if she was for Christmas or my Birthday,
But I was small and she was cute and we would play and play.
Tiger might have been a little stuffed, but she was also mighty.
You see to sleep with me she always took a little flight every nighty.
We would go to bed at the very same time each night,
But the very next day she would be nowhere in sight.
After a while I grew older and no longer needed Tiger Lilley.
But that darned stuffed animal stayed with me, I know it sounds silly
As i got older I started a to write a magical story,
And there was character Tiger Lilley in all of her glory.
She is alive again and now I will never forget her.
In my imagination she just keeps getting better and better.
Spider's a little bitchLittle Miss Muffet
sat on a tuffet
eating her curds and whey
along came a spider
who sat down beside her
and frightened Miss Muffet away
good for the bitch
she thought me a snitch
so I went on with my day
she fell in a well
and down to hell
and the devil took her away
and just this one time
in this simple little rhyme
I will not be a snitch
for the sake of that bitch
With sincere love ~ Spider
Laws of Nature (Poetry)Laws of Nature
A poem about one of my D&D characters, Spiro Agnew the Mage
It’s my natural curiosity
(Nothing about sexuality)
To distort and create,
Making clerics irate.
Calling me the Butcher,
Bodies, organs will rupture.
My scalpel is sharpened,
My skill has hearkened
The lost and the damned
To my experiments planned.
Chaotic Roguish death,
Fighters with fire breathe,
But beware my first success.
Far worse than the rest,
Timmy the Man-Kraken,
Hostile violence, not slackin’.
Screw the laws of nature,
I rewrite them with legislature.
I’m the mad doctor mage,
Going to make a hemotophage.
Walkenity Feels GoodLook into my eyes, listen to my words.
You are falling into a deep trance.
You cannot help but fell deeper and deeper.
You will be so deeply entranced.
All your thoughts are becoming a blur.
It is getting harder for you to think.
All you want to do is show your ever growing love and affection to Walken.
Because you love Walken.
You wish to serve him.
And to obey him.
Like a good Walken should.
You love Walken so much.
And you've always wanted to be like him and to serve him.
Walken loves his Walkens and Hessians/She-Hessian so much.
And they love him back.
You shall be one of them.
But please...don't resist.
Resistance will only cause pain.
And you don't want that...do you?
Of course not.
You want to be eternal, hypnotic, and Walkenful.
An enchanting Walken or She-Hessian.
Ready to serve their new master.
You want to please Walken, don't you? Of course you do.
To Those Who Love SestinasTo Those Who Love Sestinas
To reach you I will speak your language
And kneel, though it causes discomfort,
Press my thoughts between your ancient vise
That requires me to write a poem
With so much form and repetition
As makes it seem the verses contrived.
Writing a poem that sounds contrived
Shows a limited grasp of language,
Corrupting lines with repetition,
Putting readers in great discomfort,
Turning them quickly from the poem
To another more comforting vice.
When writing poetry, my advice
Is to stay away from things contrived.
Allow the words to fill the poem.
Allow the poem to form language
And ease the ponderous discomfort
We feel at hearing repetition.
You see now how this repetition
Has become the line’s strangling vise?
Am I alone in my discomfort?
Is the absurdity I’ve contrived
An oddity in English language
Or a convention of this poem?
To tell the truth, my kind of poem
Is deficit in repetition,
Is filled with figurative language
That frees me from the foul devi
Problem Solvers"Time! More Time!" the teachers cry
As six by ten seconds fly by
"I started in the afternoon
How did it get this late, so soon?"
"Why!? Why!?" principals sigh
As two in three students fall shy
"I know we did, all that we could
Why is it not being understood?"
"How!? How!?" the district asks
Can we solve for [tool] in [task]?
"What can we use across the map
That gets our grades up to the cap?"
"Whoa! Whoa!" the gurus say
Let's look at this a different way
"A problem underlies these facts
and do the math"
Unfortunate FredThis is a tale of Unfortunate Fred,
who lived in Varburg and loved to bake bread.
An annoyance he was and the townfolk have pled,
that he is to leave to cure all their dread.
Fred walk'd to the tavern with a note to be read,
"Serving to all except those named Fred."
He did not care, he went on ahead,
but Madelle, the tender, her face had went red.
She gave a loud grunt and angrily said,
"I told you to leave, or off with your head!"
Fred was brave, but he did not tread,
he quite enjoyed his head be embed.
He made his way home, did Unfortunate Fred,
and went to his room to sleep in his bed.
Yet he began to think he was misled,
something he forgot but did not retread.
The 'morrow came, folk absent of dread,
for Freds oven burnt over, with sight of him dead.
The Night Before SkypemasTwas the night before Skypemas
and all through the chat
not a creature was stirring
not even Zark at that.
The tyops were quiet
The chat topic cleared
And there was no talk
of Bob and Pho's beard.
From Robit's end, silence
From Clorin's end too
And Tiny was not heard
speaking to WQ.
When suddenly, lo!
A Great Thing came forth
And Anne exclaimed
Go look at the Source.
For Hussie declared
That an update should be
And so it was made
That was His decree!
And DM and GC
and Yoss, Al, and Psych
Cheered at the good tidings
That came there that night.
And Rissa came dancing
Doc quietly nodded
Even JA was happy
for the good that was brought..ed
And so they all said
on computer screens bright
"Happy Updates to all
and to all a Good Night!"
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More