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HumanCould I ever be,
Less than human?
Is it possible,
That I'm not a person?
What is it like,
To have a soul?
Will I ever,
Is there a way,
To be whole?
What will it take,
To gain a soul?
Do you yourself,
Understand the ability to love?
When will you cease,
Is my hurt not enough?
More Sublimination: To -------Do my real friends-
Talk behind my back?
Berate my flaws,
And virtues I lack?
Do my real friends-
Then be rude;
Treat me like sh-t?
Do my real friends-
Tell me "Shut up!"
And be mean?
Do my real friends-
To everything I say
And reject me entirely?
DO MY REAL FRIENDS-
Call me names
"Shut up!" or
Act passive -
And act fake?
Real friends don't
Treat me poorly.
Clasp my ears,
In the air.
In my empty,
From far away,
To reach me
And fill me up.
Drift me to you,
So we can
Burn out stars.
Let go and
Your Canvas HeartYour heart
Is white and pure
Like my canvas.
I want to ruin it.
For the passion
Of first love
And initial attraction
Thinking you're mine.
Of sweet times
Buried in snow.
For growing envy
As I leave, tossing
You in the sea.
For the waves
Pulling you down,
Making you stay.
Into a new person.
I've painted your canvas heart,
And ruined you.
You are the remains of a rainy day.
EscapismI'll just crash and burn
Faster than the Hindenburg
"Oh the humanity"
Sits on the tip of an iceberg.
Like the thing I most fear
Your breath whisp'ring on my ear
At the though of leaving me here
Quitting is my only option
Like a combustion reaction
On myself for asking
For a second chance
To go back to Wonderland
Where I can
The madness done by my hand
Synapses fried, left for dead
From the world I most dread.
USxUK Forget-Me-Nots pt. 3Matthew stood in the living room, holding his phone to his ear, listening to the humming of a dead line, the only noise or thought in his dead mind. He stood there, for who knows how long, not bothering to count the minutes.
Eventually after he collected his senses, he flipped it shut and threw himself into his couch. "Oh, why! Why must Arthur do something irrational and stupid like that! Uggh then he brought up the dresser incident I was looking "
He had never meant to say yes to Arthur's scheme, but then Arthur just had to bring that up!
"Dresser incident? What were you looking at? And who are you?"
Matthew jumped. He hadn't realised that his pet polar bear had entered the room, Klondike bar in hand. "AWWWAGH! I'm Mah-aah-theeew!" he whined. "And you shouldn't eavesdrop on people's conversations, Kumichi!"
"Kumajiro." It corrected in what could only be described as a deep squeal. "And it wasn't much of a conversation, seeing that you were talking to yourself."
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
The Final Problem: Peter Steiler the ElderPeter Steiler, the elder of two.
What a trial were the well-to-do!
At the Grosvenor, folk never thank you when you
Pass them the menu.
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.
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.
...Because I was bored.I'm tired
And I can't think of what to write!
I take a swig of Mtn Dew
And try to think.
My stupid siblings are making a racket.
I call from my computer
"Maw-aw-awwm!" they whine.
To face my wretched enemy-
My blank screen
And my even blanker mind.
I can hear the cosmos laughing.
Chides me and tells me to turn down
I turn up Adagio instead
And get an eyeroll.
Back to it!
To thinking what to write!
I cannot think at all!
The laughing gets louder.
Quickly I type
And post in on DeviantArt,
And I did it all...
...Because I was bored.
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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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