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The Angel who can't flyShe doesn't know how to live
without the constant fight to keep her head over water
The struggle is her Safeheaven
An Eden which
her fragile feet.
She can't touch without scarring
Still she yearns for a place to belong
an Utopia for angels
But her wings are to heavy to fly
when she spreads them she can
AlgizHer hair looked dark and tangled like tree branches as she stood at the moonlit clearing.
The creatures in the ground sang poems carved in runes in the bark of the evergreen pines.
The trees on the hills were adorned with Orion and her face was obscured by a veil of shadows.
She felt the bedrock crackle as it embraced the fire within the planet traveling in space.
Saplings quivered in the gale while the clear greys and evening blues melted together.
Shooting stars like sinking ships of light drew evanescent lines over the treetops.
An elk with the Pleiades in its eyes came from the woods as it heard her whisper.
It crossed frosty sedges with the shining streams of prayers hanging from its horns.
It wandered the cold earth and found buried sadness with every step of its hooves.
The uprooted human followed invisible tracks and sought answers in the soil.
Down on her knees on the frozen ground, her breath turned into clouds of vapor.
The Moon and the trees studied her in the embrace of th
Passing of the AngelsEverything remembered was fuel for the sparkling machine,
like the boy whose hand he held underneath the sky of India.
His pudgy grasp promised great cities, country lanes
and crowds of smiling faces.
Cupping the flower of the world inside his palm,
he breathed whispers of plans and hopes—
when the boy became a man, he made them all come true.
Ten thousand miles of ground passed under a mentor’s feet;
no dogma or ideology ever took the place of simple words:
I’ll take another step.”
There was an old river-man who had one wish:
“Please come ride my boat with me.”
So they sailed down the Minakami,
eating flavored rice balls the old man’s wife had made.
Prayer is not for asking, but for telling:
You say, “By God, there is no other option.”
The gears of the Earth move when such a sound is made.
And the machine we ride isn’t cold or hard or mindless;
it’s made of Christmas Eve and Halloween candy
and little Gold
A Dying old WomanHer skeletal remains left imprinted on the bed
bodily fluids of plasmatic yellow sugar cane
had stained through the sheets and into the frame
the vast wealth of her knowledge had been lost with age
the visage of shaking muscle tissue over bones wrapped in too much skin
was the only image imprinted on the land lord who came
he came and he knocked
and his nose hairs burned with the stench of what had remained
nothing left but empty veins
wire hair and bones saturated in dark decaying flesh
under the hot sun of a long summer day
her fingernails looked like wood chips burrowing from under the skin
her sunken yellow eyes glazed over life and sin
and anguish held from so deep inside...
it all seemed very innocent
until the grandchildren no longer came
until the siblings squabbed amongst themselves
as to who was responsible with what had remained
now there is nothing left to say
nothing left for the casket to lay open for all to see
because after the math what was left was a pile of old bones
MultiverseClinging desperately to reality the unknowable knows the gravity of what we do not see or perceive in this infinite sea of possibilities. Still grasping firm to discern as it yearns to learn to return to a time or place before being concerned with how to be reborn into a world it knows and is confirmed in and known in in turn. Entangled between fabrics of temporal mathematics and dogmatic moral fanatics in choral their horrible quarrel systematic in nature to cater their material god trapped static by a celestial equator in the erratic pre-protohistory of the arterial abroad of existence if not a mystery much greater, a fraud.
I think therefore I am yet am crammed into detention theres no mention of my creation and no attention to my nook between dimensions. You took a look in your history book but couldn't find the one between those binds about the mind of a man that god shook from his grand plan. To be or not to be is beyond me to understand, I am the meta-absentee the sages pretend
Only Within OurselvesIs it courage in the face of fear
Or fear in the face of courage
That compels men to desperate acts
Of self-serving ignorance
A means to an end
To fix the things that seem so incomplete
Until they are completely broken
To find answers to the questions
That stand unanswered and unknown
So that the mystery of life may remain
In the shadow of humanty's soul
Written on the hearts and minds
Of those who seek the secrets of heaven and earth
To avoid the fires of hell
As if the meaning of life could be
Written in a book
Painted on a canvas
Performed on a stage
Sung in a song
Or bought in a store
Only within ourselves can we find ourselves
That is why when all other questions fade away
There is one that never loses its taste
When time becomes irrelevent
And all that's left is dust
"Who am I?"
"Who am I?"
Im a cirrus cloudThere are many clouds that live up in the sky
the most familiar ones are the puffy and stormy clouds
mostly everyone knows what they mean
since the clouds like to show their personality
i think people are like clouds
sometimes on how they act match a certain type of cloud
i got some cumulus and others as well
im not sure what i really am but i took a guess
im a cirrus cloud
that lives high up in the sky
small and not very seen
but they say they look kinda pretty
they look very nice up there
however told that snow might come down along the way
that could be me, if you mess with me ill whip up a snowstorm
but that is quite rare, since im not seen much
because so, ill just stay above there
and look around other people's clouds
maybe ill be seen by some people
and make some fellow clouds along the way
FreefallingI took the final step, away from Heaven
Leaped off the edge, close to the pearly gates
Salvation isn't for me, but I will know freedom
As I plunge feet first into the fire
No one can save me, I've made my choice
Breathless, I gaze at the beauty below me
For the first time I can feel some sort of happiness
No more pain, no regrets, a feeling of belonging
Knowing it will end only makes me savour it more
The sensation of total 'aloneness', without a need to share
Detached from everything, while feeling one with the world
Total enlightenment, light above and fire below
I close my eyes, ready to face my destiny
Trapped inside the flames for all eternity,
But I don't care, I will endure the hardships
Nothing can hurt me, because I ceased to exist
A champion's tale.Another step down the road.
Another fight to win.
Another story that was written.
And I wouldn't have wanted to be with anyone else
The legend of the Champion.
The legend of the team.
That is why we are who we are.
We are helped by our friends.
Led to a new level of achievement.
That is how it works.
Life may lead to battles,
But I am safe with my friends.
I have learned with them,
And it allows a great way to live
Body, Soul, Spirit.
Let Eros be Lord
Let Aphrodite be sword
Let me find beauty in lust
Let me find beauty in the self
Let me find beauty in union unfettered.
Sacred fire, holy pyre.
Sense, Reason, Intuition.
Let Athena be owl
Let Hermes be serpent
Let me be Moderation
Let me be Fortitude
Let me be Prudence
Let me be Justice
Let me be Katharsis
Let me be Illumination
Let me be united with the divine Nous.
Four hallowed elements, four sacred steps.
Material Rite, Mental Rite, Unitive Rite.
Let Helios be gold
Let Hekate be silver
Let me offer sunbolon
Let me chant sunthemata
Let me ensoul statues
Let me bind to you a god
Let me purify with a touch
Let me form sustasis with daimones
Let me be reborn like a solar phoenix
Sacred offerings rewarded with divine light.
on old sanzu - absolutely true fictionlast fall i stole my friend down by the tama river. we sang. we danced. we skipped dead fish like rocks and watched them get swallowed by the undertow. we got sick off of bad chinese food and went skinny-dipping and then a week later she drowned herself.
her uncle was a yakuza, i think, but he really just wanted to be al pacino or something. anyway, she loved him a lot. maybe that’s why she went down the way she went down; cement shoes. not real cement, but it was the same idea. she had two cloth bags with yellow-painted cinderblocks inside, and they were tied to her ankles like the prisoners’ chains from o brother where art thou.
in my mind’s eye i can see her, limping dreadfully close to the edge of the current, her left hand gripping at her breasts through a loose t-shirt. kneeling by the wastelands, elbows in the gravel, crawling forward out into the water. angry like a dermis under wool, all teeth and salt and sand. sleepy, submissive, sublimated.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More