Nightlook, how the raven flies a sable figure in the silent blue night. they say it was a creature of many wonderous colors once. I disagree. the deep night has always been blue to me. Blue and black, and ever so white Filled with a brilliance lost to the light.Night
The Sky is FallingThe sky is falling! In all it's silver-striped glory Tumbling, tumbling Golden over sable Round and roundThe Sky is Falling
The sky is falling! Along come the sun Stars, moon so bright. End-over-end flutter the dew-flecked clouds
Lightning, thunder And wind, all a-whirl As everything meets a warm embrace. The sky is falling.
Fly for usTake up the chain higher yet beyond the height of this ancient pit to the incadescence high above past the lips of this deep despair through the gripping darkness the chilling fear. take this chain and soar heaven high on wings of brilliant steel, of the purest light let not this cage of iron hold you bar you. Break you. Take our lost hopes our forgotten dreams cherished mem'ries of bygone days Higher yet. Dream-bound far flung flight. fly, fly to the joys that we yet hear that haunt the dreams of ourFly for us
UnspeakableEmpty words slip from the soul unheard To tumble forward down the slippery slope That leads ever down to the underworld, Unnoticed by the world at large this night.Unspeakable
Follow them down into the eternal demise Awaiting all of the unseen, the sanctity of Fragile lives crushed to dust beneath the heel Of society’s boots--all those for whom truth twists.
Mere language ceased long since to express the
Brutal pointlessness of continuing on when form Has long since faded to the realms of insignificance, The final death from which there is no return.
Sans
Save Me From My WorldWe've lost all hope In this modern world This modern Marvel's Eaten our soulsSave Me From My World
And we're gonna die We know that
For a fact Yet something keeps us Spinning round and round and round
Can you believe that I'm living a lie I'm living a lie Can you concede that It's all just a lie I can't find my way back
Back, to where we were To where they are Those so-called hopeless people Yeah, we scoff, we snicker Yet still they linger How can it be we're all the same?
Because those people They've got
Song To The Fallen AngelSong to the Fallen AngelSong To The Fallen Angel
What sad songs you sing, my beloved; That your tears may fall frozen on stone-cold hearts, And voice on deaf ears;
Where can your tears fall on? The hardened hearts of those around us offer little solace,
For what tears are shed roll of their granite face I would say and see that they fall on the hearts of the broken, the downtrodden, So that they may seep into the cracks of their broken stone hearts Your song, your lament, Echoes from ages past, from bygone eras &nbs
Dear StrangerDear Stranger,Dear Stranger
Hello. I am writing to you, because I have always wanted to write to a stranger. I suppose it’s a peculiar thing to want. But why not? A stranger doesn’t know anything about me and I don’t know anything about the stranger. No judging. And it won’t even matter if you read this or not. Nothing will tie me to you and nothing will tie you to me. I will be one of your dreams or perhaps a nightmare. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I suppose, if I really put myself to think on it, it’s because it’s safe. It’s like dry humping. The motion is all there but no cont
Bad Dreams and Bad Sleeps.
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"Everything should be as simple as it can be, and no simpler."
- Albert Einstein
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"Everything should be as simple as it can be, and no simpler."
- Albert Einstein
What has inspired such writing? Though the emotions felt may be normal, the thoughts and delivery behind them are indeed worthy of praise and my interest. Why do you do this and what is behind such surreal poetry?
--
"What is life's blooming for thee? Doth thine heart open for love's sweet whisperings? Or do thine ears hear the glorious song and sonnet of Life? What and when doth thee bloom into this image of glory and wholeness unto our Creator?"
-Arjjea Deonnas
It's a bit vague, and I apologize. I'm still trying to figure out why I work the way I do. Though if it helps any, I believe in a form of minimalism; the only ornamentation an object needs is its theme.
Thank you very much for the bits of insight, and your interest.
--
"What is life's blooming for thee? Doth thine heart open for love's sweet whisperings? Or do thine ears hear the glorious song and sonnet of Life? What and when doth thee bloom into this image of glory and wholeness unto our Creator?"
-Arjjea Deonnas
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The only thing worse than living, is dying.
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Nyk
Check out ~ekg His words weave the mundane into magick..
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Member of ~dark-writing
\"I Tell You: One must still have chaos in one to give birth to a dancing star!\" ~ Nietzsche
What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire deviant life, that there's something wrong with the story. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.
You take the blue pill, the story ends. Your browser closes and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland. And, I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.
I offer only the truth, nothing more.
Take: The Red Pill
Take: The Blue Pill
--
The Angry Deviant
Random Deviant
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