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Toeing the LineI walked on the chalked line,
Watching carefully my every step,
The world dancing chaotically,
The voices a wild cacophony.
The white-chalked line stretched
To a light far beyond the grassy hills,
Which illuminated the land around,
Serving as a guide amidst the chaos
Of the discordant, shouting voices
And the sky in its overcast grave,
Dividing misery amongst its subjects.
Though I walked determinedly,
The line seemed infinite in course,
Extending well past the horizon,
Growing thinner at each timid step.
Before me, and, indeed, behind,
Rows of people walked with fear
On the chalk-strewn line to the light,
Which streamed from a distant window,
Penetrating the tangled darkness
And evading our desperate hands.
I walked for miles and several days,
The line glowing by the light from afar,
Trudging wearily along the line,
With feet and eyes deprived of rest
And mind in constant disarray.
It struck me then, at the hour of doom,
Light and line lacerating my lumbering limbs,
That this line led
Plateau of ShadowsI wander into the plateau of shadows
A dreadful eternity of isolation
The storm gathering overhead
Enter a world of strange sensation
There is no solace in this place
Only destruction and destitution
Fear and desperation fill my face
The storm clouds deepen in darkness
The screams of buzzards echo infinitely
Skulls scattered on the arid ground
Ghosts crying mournfully to God
In this land, no hope is to be found
No light penetrates the vapid clouds
Shadows silence the once vibrant trees
Death, with his omnipresence, surrounds
A crowd of tormented people rush to their end
One thousand weeping souls all stand alone
Tyrannical thunder erupts through the valley
Grim looks on their faces as they accept fate
One thousand graves being dug by the sea
A whiff of the odious odor of death
The shadows pass from the withered ferns
I kneel down before my hour of doom
From this plateau I will not return.
Time's GraveLike paper adrift in the howling wind,
Time eludes our groping hands,
Escaping the hook of our fishing poles,
A spirit passing from land to land;
Appearing as a bountiful harvest,
A feast for the belly of a gluttonous snake;
But strikes like hunger from a virulent drought,
Leaving only regret in its pestilent wake.
The birds stay ensconced in their homely nests,
Opportunity having landed and flown,
While men sit in the comfort of the cool shade,
And holy men are turned into stone.
Some men live in windows, others in dreams,
With only bars of steel standing in sight,
Sunshine faces walking past like a breeze,
Giving rise to the full fury of fright.
The peach on the table is rotting to its core,
A putrid stench lingering from its day-old decay;
Sloths lounge about on the bark of tree limbs,
As the ground is being filled with fresh graves each day.
An endless cycle perpetuates itself,
The uninvited moon peeps over rooftops,
Summer and winter are one and the same,
And swaying gently are th
Flow of the City StreetsA leaf drifts along the dirty gutter,
Meandering aimlessly with the trash,
But carried away by the cool breeze
In the infinite flow of the Earth.
Nameless street signs lie ahead,
And the road diverges in thousands of directions;
The leaf mingles with the lingering sewage
And the scattered lumps of stray leaves,
Which once descended from varying trees,
Unified now by their vapid vagrancy.
The leaf is trampled by a stampede of feet,
Its limp, crushed body still floating away,
With forlorn faces beholding it indifferently
And passing by with lackadaisical eyes,
Bespectacled by gray-lensed glasses of sanity,
Atop heads driven hastily by instinctual legs.
The sky overhead conjures overcast clouds
As the leaf embraces mother Earth's benign apathy;
Dirge from a lonely man's saxophone fouls the calm air,
Nebulous with city haze and dully rising smoke;
The leaf, stumbling into rainbow-colored litter,
Is pushed further onwards by the brotherly win
Beauty's EvanescenceThere is a beauty so foreign to this world,
That words alone fail to do justice,
A beauty which many have sought in vain,
And because of which, many have resigned to loss.
I have endeavored fruitlessly to find
This mysterious beauty which is so sublime,
Encountering it only in fading moments,
Its presence so celestial, yet ever so transient,
Slipping through my fingers like sand on the beach,
With only infinitesimal traces in its leave.
In wild flights of fantasy it stands nearby,
Awaiting my presence in its elaborate recesses,
A choir of cherubim chanting, beckoning to me,
My grasp closing in upon the lustrous silver crown,
But I'm left behind in my squalid surroundings,
Where black and white mesh into a dull gray,
And all I can answer with is a hollow heart.
I once traveled to the edge of the world,
With net and pen in my frail hands,
Desperately attempting to encapsulate
Those rare moments of impeccable harmony;
I ascended hills towering over the horizon,
Enraptured by the loveliest
Ghost of a ChildThe ghost of a child lingers,
Standing before me with untainted eyes,
Covered by rose-colored glasses,
To which the world appears fresh;
And its hardships are voyages,
On which we have yet to embark.
This child, it haunts me
While I'm awake and in my dreams,
Pouring nursery rhymes into my thirsty ear,
Silently rebuking my every action;
He sits across from me patiently,
Unaffected by the sway of time.
His unblemished, curious face
Follows me where'er I go,
Untarnished by my personal demons,
Observing my descent into darkness;
Though his mouth raises no protest,
His eyes instill in me a deluge of tears.
I see in his eyes a far-off magical world,
Where fascination takes hold of the mind
And imagination reigns unchallenged,
A world free from the excesses of sin;
His bright blue eyes offer invitation,
But my twisted fantasies lie elsewhere.
This boy, whose childhood was robbed
At a young age by a string of fiery words
Catapulted from a loved one's cold lips,
Owes his gruesome murder to some
EnigmaSome men cannot glimpse at the shadow
Which walks with them, side-by-side;
For what mysteries lie in that silhouette
Unseen by the blind eye of the sun?
Shadows and silence embody odd fears,
Reminders of the darkness buried within;
Thus the caverns so oft go unexplored,
Light wins the war and takes the throne.
The radiance of our gay apparel
Would seek to fool the world;
The luminous masks, then, bind us
To dance in the sun and shun the night.
Distraction tempts even the most abstinent,
Leading them astray from their cloudy paths;
Hiding the shadow which looms close behind,
Replaced by the blue glare of the screen.
A mirror cannot look past our naked skin,
Under which is embedded the skeleton key,
Holding passage to that dark chamber door;
Discovered only when the flesh is rotted.
So often are our minds unsolvable puzzles,
Their pieces scattered in hopeless disarray,
Left in the shadows where few dare to venture;
And so we remain, to ourselves, enigmas.
Masquerade BallCome one, come all
To the masquerade ball
For a night of merriment
To be had by all
The ball poses a picturesque scene,
With porcelain masks and swaying dresses
And painted smiles with china doll eyes,
Laughter escaping their pearly white teeth
Over sips of flowing red wine.
All attendees dance harmoniously in unison,
Creating quite a spectacle to observe,
With wailing music that inflames the passions,
Against the backdrop of a stunning glass palace.
The glass serves faithfully as a mirror,
Reflecting the scene in its entirety,
And allowing the seeker to observe
Their unmatched kingly and queenly beauty,
Enhanced by the magnetism of the magnificent mask,
So that the world may stand aghast in awe.
Cologne and perfume coalesce in the air,
Avarice gleaming in starry eyes,
And bills drip from pockets and mouths,
Golden coins spinning on the ivory floor,
As stains of red wine appear on suits and dresses
Wholly composed of a luscious green fiber.
The night concludes with cheerful partings,
Ticket StubA ticket stub lies discarded
On the darkened bedside table,
Coated with stains from buttered fingers;
Used and then carelessly disposed of,
It marks the start of nightfall.
A night of laughter and cheaply bought thrills,
Of widened pupils and candy-strewn floors,
Of iridescent lights and burning rubber--
All rest in the stub left to decompose.
The theaters have emptied,
All of the players in bed;
While the spectators have flown,
Scattering stubs in their slimy trails
For the broom-bearing sun to brush away.
To home do the night birds depart,
The flock left in ruins for the solace of sleep;
Minds anticipate the coming of day,
And all that remains is a blank ticket stub.
Don't be a memoryA picture hung on empty walls
A voice of reason amidst fools
A sunbeam in the darkest times
A poem when the words won't rhyme
A shadow in the burning light
A comfort in the lonely night
A warmth when all around is cold
A constant youth as we grow old
A word upon the vacant page
An exit from this mortal cage
A note sung out in silence deep
A rainstorm hiding tears I weep
A pristine rose atop the thorns
A dew encrusted web at dawn
A shelter from the twisted lies
An ebb between the surging tides
A perfect One amongst the flawed
A faithful truth remote from fraud
Much more, besides, you are to me
My love, don't be a memory
Why Aren't You Here?Breaking inside, I really need you here.
Looking around, shedding a tear.
No arms to run to, no lips that should be kissed.
Nobody to block out the question: Would I be missed?
Cause there's nobody to stop me, nobody to care.
Still looking around, nobody's there.
Alone in my room, I lay on the bed.
Nothing to hear but the pounding in my head.
Curled in a ball, I wish you could hold me.
Bring back my light, darkness is all I see.
It takes over, I slowly close my eyes.
Tossing and turning, nobody hears my cries.
Close my eyes tighter, pretend to feel your touch.
All I want is you, is that really too much?
I want to feel safe and know the safety is real.
I want to be able to show you everything I feel.
Looking back now, going through time.
Back to way before love came in a rhyme.
You said you wished you could hold me and never let go.
I want that more than anything, but I shouldn't let you know.
Maybe, just maybe I'm falling apart.
And I need to lie against your chest, listen to your hear
Antithetic SubsistenceLet me burn
as I turn to
May 29th, 2010
I cannot break
around my neck
like a noose.
I choke on
my own guilt.
Do the mistakes
that I have made
cause others to
I am descending
and I know not
where this ends.
July 9th, 2010
ApocalypticWhen the sky falls and is
When time begins to go
When the ground cracks and
When oceans drain and so do
When cities fall and so do
When the world starts the count
When all the people begin to
When peaceful is no longer
The end of days has now
An apocalyptic end we cannot
Watch as all the world comes
As the end has come to claim
DepredationDrain the life from me,
for my eternal flower
has withered away.
No nectar dwells within
and you have ceased
to blossom in my heart.
You are entangled
like an unruly weed,
and I would rip my
own heart from chest
if it would but rid me of
the discomfort you breed.
July 12th, 2010
as I await
I close my
June 1st, 2010
The MelodyI could be your melody
help you write a symphony
succumb to the memory
live out the fantasy
like a song inside my head
remembering the dreams
folding into everything
As we rewrite the rules
I could be that melody
won't you write me that symphony
succumb to that memory
dreaming a fantasy
As reality repeats
Scared to approach
but I break all the rules
folding into you
I could be a melody
write for you a symphony
succumb to my memory
find my own fantasy
I'm on a roller coaster
The music pulls me closer
There's nothing left to say
better out of the way
I could sing a melody
backed by that symphony
broken that memory
created my fantasy
I could find that melody
a whole new symphony
let go the memory
I am that fantasy
Glass HeartScattered around her feet
are shattered dreams
Like broken glass,
shiny and sharp.
Be careful not to stray too far
or you'll hurt yourself.
She can see so far
but nowhere she can go.
Don't want to bleed out
more pieces of yourself.
Scattered around her feet
are shattered dreams
Like broken glass,
A broken glass heart.
So shiny but so sharp
Chamber of FearsAlone I sit in the ancient chamber,
Where spiders spin webs of sorrow,
And the windows are boarded and nailed,
Deterring light from shining in,
As I wallow in impenetrable darkness.
Dust teems on my unshakable limbs,
The hand on the clock drums incessantly,
While with anxious eyes I watch time's escape;
Outside a parade passes in reckless fanfare,
Its effusions of joy infiltrating my deaf ears,
And fading away as quickly as it came.
Cracks between the boards offer rays of hope,
Which dance beneath the gluttonous clock,
Reminding me of the long-gone golden days
And her pale, wide-eyed, and undiluted beauty,
Entreating of me to take a stroll outside;
My slothful heart leaps in boundless mirth,
And I almost spring from the prison chair,
But my stay is permeated by incurable shyness.
Slowly but surely, my mind starts to decompose,
For in this lonely chamber I've met no repose
Dreaming of an end to this interminable isolation,
My eyes suffering drought after tides of tears;
In this old cham
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More