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Somethings are like a naked city sidewalk
exposed and punished without a soul stepping on it
forlorn and left to crack under the strain of the elements
A slow defeat by neglect
Somethings are like flowers in a run down lot
they grow despite what happens around them
how they puzzle me so
for they cannot do otherwise
Somethings are like dust
brushed off, and disposed of to simply exist elsewhere
to make things cleaner for another few hours
and then... does it create a commune somewhere?
Somethings are like the rain
falling when everyone, almost, wants it to stop
and giving the earth much needed nutrients
only to vanish as the skies clear.
somethings are like garbage
with no capitalization and no remorse
to have once served a purpose,
and given the ending result, left to smolder and languish
by lw end -
I remember you, the night's I felt the yearning denied,
the way I shouted, the way I cried, the intensity it wanted to beat inside,
so long, so often, an empty house, an empty soul,
a way to breathe, a way to grow old, a way to seethe, a way to grow.
I dreampt of the flower, I couldn't hold, I cherished every tear,
that I could feel drip through my fingers,
Sadness meant I felt something, so much, so far, so strong,
I couldn't, I can't, how can you explain?
The kind of irradiation of the heart,
thousands of degrees,
and the sun is no equal,
nor is the mystery of the moon.
I wonder now, as the entirety comes to bear,
through me, clutching at my hair,
this cage around my heart beckons,
with rusted bars, and thick steel locks.
I wish there were a way to breathe,
out from thousands of misdirections, and lost causes,
the greatest yearning I've ever felt,
holding a bleeding heart in my hand.
I caress this thought, try and remember that sound,
hold the barest, smallest, f
Every lie I've ever wantedEvery lie I've ever wanted
Has come from deep inside
every hope ever encountered, ever smile ever countered, rebounding glares off the walls are offered, pacifying words are pilfered, our language is smothered in kerosene and cyanide gathered in cigarette burns, we walk witless and injured.
Nothing quite so hideous as a lie unfiltered, debauched jagged reality, defying leaps of integrity into that grand unknown, the truth not shown, dice shaken, tossed and thrown.
Our brains scattered, debased, defunct and strewn about the floor, the remains of a half-assed score without hesitation, a life half lived unworthy of recitation, recounting nothing and blinding empty light unshaken, a life like sizzling twitching twisting bacon.
Life is not an invariable constant remaining unchanged, unrestrained. There's more to the story than what's broken, busted and banged. The greatest entropy is a mind deranged, hopeless perspective in a cage, caught in a maze. There's better ways t
When Stars CollapseThis is how you bespeckled my bones
with bewilderment: you kissed hushed heart
whispers and slumbering secrets
into my fingertips. You infused awe
into my joints, causing me
to ask how snowflakes got their
shape and how long would it take
to get from the Sun to Capella.
You taught me that energy is neither
created or destroyed; stars do not die.
Eyes washed with emerald sorrows you
told me that they evolve, they change
into something entirely different,
or not so different.
I now know we are made of the same
particles as someone or something else.
We began someplace together.
We're made of so much more than "star-stuff",
we are made of each other.
The Breaths Between Usi'm minutes away
from the collision site
the breaths between us
and the lost time
clock guts, sprung
our hallway uncoils
his walnut lean
i'm seconds away
from the before
of our near-miss
the beads of air
and the imperfections of
in a rumored heart
a stuttering mass
this broken belled
has lost hold
of the lives we live
its skullsong rings
the same vibration
In a world with no mercy
Day after day
Until the end
The day I die
And then maybe
I'll find some peace
I am me. Who are you?I am fragments
of every person
I've met; every
memory made; every
bond formed and tie broken.
I am an orchestra
of people's opinions;
each snide comment
each casual remark
each passing compliment
I am a library
of forgotten lies
and fake smiles
and empty promises.
I am a sky of hope;
filled with stars
which carry the wishes
of the people I have encountered
I am never alone
for their influence will forever
taint my soul and
remind me of their hopes,
dreams and pain.
This is who I am.
Who are you?
on remembering to breathe:i.
you can't hold it in for forever.
your lungs weren't
made to bear the weight
of this world, they weren't made
to left unexpanded
and unexplained -
it is not phenomenon that wakes you
when paralysis hits in the
night, it is physiology telling you that
not everything happens on automatic, okay?
(at least not for always)
you're born like a time bomb, with
only so many beats of
your heart in place to tick away day by day -
your words, they're the same.
there's a time limit
on your tongue, so say something that
means something - use words
that dig in and rip out hearts, use words that
curl around your fingers and worm their
way into your soul.
use words to make something
beautiful. something remembered.
never leave three things
left unsaid because they can be three
words that mean everything -
i'm not telling you to save your breath.
i'm begging you not to waste it.
sing. sing enough to take your breath
away because even though
it leaves you gasping, it fills up that
That rebuilding trust is difficult
Would be an understatement of the highest order.
It's a lot like relearning how to walk.
With each small step,
I keep thinking I'll fall--
And I may--
But I haven't yet.
My heart and left leg
Throb in protest,
But there's a certain joy in progress
That keeps me moving forward.
Blooming Through CrevicesBlooming Through Crevices
People are characters;
their personalities are not to be cracked,
but to bloom.
Codes and signals
Setting our sights
On how to see
Through the cipher.
Optics opting for options
As opposed to conscious.
Ardor replaced by harder
To break through exteriors.
But mortality is only one facet
Of the entirety of humanity.
It is a compass of one being,
But merely a piece of the puzzle
That makes up human composition.
let us not break through empathy
with deductive methodology
but rather with the rhythm
of a honeybee whistling along the hymn
of the wind whispering in the leaves.
humanistic, holistic ideologies
is what the standard can be.
it is the notion of being a metaphor
rather than being something to decipher.
because there are more stars and galaxies
in poetry than there will ever be algebraic
expression curls up with ambiance
under the window pain of a picture frame
because we write more about
A cure for hateA cure for hate
Is ascension, contaminate the sickness with the light of archons
and angels gleaming from the inside of our throats.
Twisting our lies, into the flies spewing forth
with rainbow lice burrowing deep into the black ice.
Is a moment of disbelief, stricken on our faces,
as the immutable stone turns to ivory mirrors,
we see the conditions collapsing around us
decay, and the brutal decisions to coerce doves into vultures.
Is realization, collecting in our dustpans,
sweeping up the cooking oil splashed on the floor,
left over from a bubble bursting like a pinata,
blinking and open mouths swallow entire rabbits.
Is a well spring, yearning forth from the divide,
the connection that fills with butterflies fluttering
ignoring the swarms only to rise above the mess,
and weaving a tapestry of shining threads in the sky.
A cure for hate is only to turn around and look
gaze and see the ruin of crushed flowers,
putrescant smell, and have the unnatural urge
by the grace of gre
Keep in Touch!
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