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Nietsche Meets a Dragon
My walk has been long,
Many verses has my song.
Have seen so many places.
I’ve worn so many faces,
I once was a grown up child.
Lived in forests running wild.
Why obey mothers?
Why please others?
Misunderstood by all,
Too deaf to hear the call.
All was well when others fell,
Throwing mud and drawing blood.
I burned out, saw with frustration,
That I would win no better station,
That biting, clawing and mindless negation,
Led me no closer to salvation.
So I sold my life to the shark.
And embraced the ocean’s lonely dark,
His wisdom I will not forget
He showed me how to foil the net.
“See… you cannot simply cease to swim,
“Life’s based on more than whim.
“Purpose of being is to be alive,
“Avoid the net and take a dive.”
After years I felt the ocean’s pressure,
I longed for air that was light and fresher.
One day, passing fields I heard a squawk,
Looked up and in a tree I saw a hawk.
Sold him my soul to fill my desire,
To be so l
I take a walk; in my hand a little stick;
Every bar makes a little click.
Mansions behind bars like a jail;
Are they rich enough to leave on bail?
Front gate is massive, high and wide.
Would ringing the bell get me fried?
The hinges resemble medieval pikes,
The top is lined with golden spikes.
I never had much luck with this type of gate.
Tried, judged and found lacking was my fate.
It seems to be built for others, for shining stars;
Not for the huddled ghosts behind the bars.
Those that enter are the few we like to show,
Those that succeed, achieve and glow.
They are who everybody wants to be;
Their glory distracts from misery.
But their example as lulling as it is,
Makes my bile taste just like piss.
What do they know about my life?
That rejection cuts like'n knife.
As the door opens for the clean,
I wonder if they've ever seen.
That besides the pearly gate,
A dirty hobo works on fate.
I think they can't see anymore
No glance at me or the second door.
The other is for people who have
Gravity is the force that pulls on mass;
At least that I learned in class.
This law fell like an apple from a tree.
It's fundamental; it is key.
All matter gravitates to this field's peak;
But is it also what I should seek?
I feel the pull, see its allure;
Dreams would become true there I'm sure.
Halfway in the vortex I get to think,
What's the chance of a bigger dream beyond the brink?
What will I forfeit by just drifting?
Right here, right now my fate is shifting!
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
Feels so stupid… why fight and push?
I drift towards heaven so why should I move?
Why leave comfort and a future I can prove?
I think I have the answer:
Gravity is my cancer.
It weakens and binds me to a fate;
Thoughts get heavy, the soul has too much weight.
Gravity makes kneeling kings.
Gravity knows no wings.
Gravity is binding.
Gravity is blinding.
I have to fight against this force;
Have to pull my weight just like a horse.
And suddenly this field dies down,
I'm surprised an
The guard searches my pencil case.
Blood shot eyes and tension in his face.
He fingers his gun and I'm not sure,
How much he thinks I can endure.
After the body scanner in the narrow corridor.
Orange clad ghosts keep shuffling on the floor,
Transparent lockers, bullet proof glass,
Nobody speaks as we go to class.
LaPierre tells us about sums and to do a simple fraction.
He smiles and clicks rounds into his double action.
He puts it down and I stare into the deadly end;
He calls it his lady and the shotgun his friend.
Next is history, a tale about taxation,
About the bullets that shaped the nation.
Mr. Heston cleans a Smith & Wesson.
This scene won't help my fears to lessen.
Only good guys with a gun can stop bad guys with a gun.
Ain't no fun but a nations' paranoia beating the drum.
From fearing mortals dreaming to be heroes it grew.
It's so simple it must be true.
But grandma told me of another time,
When childhood was innocent and not a crime.
A time with brawls but no guns or ammo,
Early in the morning I see her on the shore.
Her figure so thin, her hands are sore.
Sent out to catch the fish,
Needed for the evening dish.
Her hands are cold,
Her line is old.
Slowly she threads the hooks,
Wrong bait it's from the looks.
I see a "Could tell you but I won't",
She thinks it's a good one but I don't.
"Another time perhaps" hangs also on the line,
"You wouldn't understand" she thinks is just as fine.
As she drags the hooks through the dirt,
I see what hangs from every third.
"Tell you another day."
Her boat drifts on the bay.
She casts the line and waits.
Heavy words are used like weights.
What she thinks with eyes so distant;
I cannot say her eyes are not consistent.
I can see sorrow,
Fear of tomorrow,
Tension and a forced smile,
All shattered and somewhat vile.
A ruffle on the water, the line stretches tight
She reels it, unhooks what comes to light.
Stunted fish, desperate and starved,
Kills'em with a bludgeon crudely carved.
It's her catch and will keep her alive;
My Lady is a Pulsar
My lady is a pulsing star,
Her light brightens the sky so far.
Theory has it that she shines non stop,
But I only see her when her light's on top.
A black sky with a light so frail;
She turns, spins and whirls her double tail.
What a coward she is to hide in a night so very dark,
She is unique... she is my spark.
I'm a shooting comet and my game is speed;
I wish I could just halt and fill my need.
We comets burn but harbor frozen hearts;
We cross the sky like lightening darts.
Comets are not really bright,
I'm not sure what causes her flickering light.
Her moving tails are quite hypnotic,
I dream of them. See them twisting, so erotic.
I would change my orbit to get closer to my pulsing star
But her light and darkness are at war.
I love her light and hate the lack thereof;
What a pathetic definition of my love.
In a second attempt I contemplate her tomorrow.
Will she become a singularity filled with sorrow?
I'd rather see her burst with light,
I wished she would win her fight.
The Invisible Bridge
One step from the edge I wonder…
How did I get here, I ponder.
It would be easier to leave,
And keep untested my belief.
The masses won't allow retreat,
I see their spit I feel their heat.
They are my mentors, my family and friend,
Can't believe they all came to see my end.
The test is easy; find the way,
All I see is the cliff… and grey.
They want to guide me I am sure,
And their words could help me to endure.
To give advice is why they came,
But their advice is not the same.
Some want me to use the rope,
Some suggest mere belief… and hope.
They are my teachers, should they not speak as one?
It would be easier, I would obey and done.
My nerves are worn.
NO! This is not the way!
I breathe deep and bring my fears at bay.
I banish the crowd; right now they don't exist.
I look down and see the mist.
I listen to my heart and feel the truth,
The path, obscured by the eyes of youth,
That no two moments are the same
This path is unique… and mine to claim.
It's shiny and made of brass,
It has a cover made of glass.
Within a needle always true,
points the way to heaven's view.
I watch it spin and wonder
What awaits me up a yonder.
You ask why I'm not yet gone?
Why the feat is not yet done?
I think the compass is at fault,
I'd wish the needle would just halt.
Instead it spins and spins,
And no single corner wins.
One day it will stop and only shake,
It's the signal for my misery to break.
I will be free to pursue my fate,
But what if I'm too late?
Alas! The needle is still moving!
And the pain in my legs' just proving,
That I stood here far too long,
Worrying that my direction could be wrong.
Fact is, it's quite clear,
Indecision is the fear
Of getting nowhere near
Of heaven's view, I hold so dear.
My MasterTo be young means to have a master;
the few without head for disaster.
I too had to learn and looked for knowledge;
his trust I earned and went to college.
How hard it was, as I remember now;
he cut my claws and made me bow.
How proud I was.
He made me see my flaws.
I often dreamt of going,
but never could, always knowing
I' d lose for good what he'd been showing;
that my very soul was glowing.
I learned the secrets of the sky;
exhilarating it was to be so high.
He taught me that and to be clever.
I will honor him, for now. Forever.
The saying goes: What flies high must fall.
I felt the woes, I flew high and lost it all.
I didn't crash, I do still fly,
but I listened to my master and heard him lie.
His final secret was to fly above them all.
I did and lost myself and that's my fall.
I saw the black cancer inside his chest
I saw his vanity, always above and best.
Once the mountains spat him out,
he couldn't reach a single cloud.
He cut his wings and lived the past,
when he was hig
lost my voice.I wrote "I love you"
in the sand at the beach.
The tide swallowed the words
and drowned them
before I could speak.
On WritingWrite for today
And like it’s all
That’ll be left of you
Never write for popularity.
Write with clarity, but
‘Don’t make everything said’.
Write a million things;
An ode to the voice
Inside your head,
An elegy for the living,
A carpe diem for the dead.
Write to tell
To just keep
They’ll find a way out.
Don’t write for approval,
That way misery lies.
Poetry can’t be judged,
Not properly –
Write for yourself;
Doesn’t matter if it’s
Good enough for
You’ll never be Shakespeare.
But he’d never
Have been you;
Pour your heart into it,
That’s the best
That you can do.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
Loving A Guy Who Cannot Love Himself.Firstly, tell him that he doesn't necessarily need to be the “strongest” man in the world,
that if he cries, you won't look down on him for it,
that you won't call him weak.
Tell him that he doesn't have to like sports, or fishing, or football, or any of the “mainstream” things that boys are “supposed” to like.
Let him know that liking art, or dancing, or singing or acting doesn't make him gay, doesn’t make him any less of a man, it just makes him who he is.
A human being.
And for goodness sakes, tell him that blue does not have to be his favorite color, than he can indulge in pink, or purple or even magenta!
And to the girl who take on the task, remember please, that it is not always the Knight who saves the Princess.
No, this time, the Princess may need to save the Knight.
Do not pour your problems onto him, rather, balance each other out.
Be a shoulder to cry on. A friend to be there. A love that never leaves.
Perhaps more than often,
I Fell In love Inside of a DreamI fell in love,
inside of a dream.
And woke up,
with a broken heart.
But it wasn't my heart,
that was broken.
It was his,
and I'll never see him again.
That long haired, pale skin,
blue eyed boy, will forever remain,
a figment of my imagination.
So close, yet so far away.
And I will never be able to apologize,
for my mistake.
unrealistic ideologies of an
are toxic; breathing
is a chore. there is a
in the combined effort
of necessity’s unlovliest
we are the forgotten.
we are the tangled limbs
and childhood stories for
a more sensitive future; we
are the longing, we are
we are measured
in the people we touch;
and I will love you
in the UV light of
hide and seek paranoia.
I love you in the red shimmer
of harbored dreams, I love you
in the in
ShatteredIf I found you, on your knees,
trying desperately to collect the shattered pieces of your heart-
I would kneel beside you and help you pick them up.
I would not cast a blind eye,
and pretend I had not seen you.
If I saw that your hands had been cut,
by the very shards of hope you were trying so hard to gather-
I would take your hands in mine, and hold them until the pain subsided.
Then I would kiss every wound- no matter how big or how small,
until I was sure you would be able to use your hands again.
If you were crying from the fear that you'd never be able to pick up everything,
I would hold you until your tears stopped, and I would comfort you with gentle words.
But I would not lie to you- I would never lie.
The heart is a frail thing- once shattered, it can never be fully repaired.
Parts will remain missing, and the mended hope will always bear cracks.
If we found that we'd gathered all that we were able,
and that there were a fine powder remaining of what we could not collect.
On Breaking Apart Your Dreams For a GuyTwelve months ago, we swapped rumors about
the hottest bad boys; counted the number of freckles Tanya,
the Queen Bee of Beverly High, didn't cover with her polka-dot skirt;
and discovered our favorite song on a blog we both wished
we owned. "What do you think we'll be doing this time next year?"
I asked over peanut butter cookies from a bag
and a commercial break between late night movies.
You giggled, pondering, and said, "Hanging out in our dorm room.
You'll be snuggled up to the flavor of the month--
a basketball player, no doubt, or a starving artist--
and I'll be green with jealousy, like always."
When Dirty Dancing came back on, we rocked along,
shag carpet burning streaks across bare feet.
This morning, listening to my roommate sing with the radio--
some country ballad you'd never approve of--
I remember your laugh and the dark, curling fingers of hair
at the nape of yo
My foot taps, I can't sit still,
To continue work escapes my will.
Got no time, only quarter past noon.
Need the dime but will be fired soon.
My hand spasms and grips the table,
My arms under tension like a cable.
I just want to SNAP!
Here it goes.. oh crap!
I stand relieved; the tension gone,
Seeing the mountains my heart calls home.
I grab the glider and expand my wings.
I fly up to join others to fly like kings.
I flow with the world just like my mind;
I sigh in relief, no longer confined.
Got no time to think about tomorrow,
Don't want to linger on such sorrow.
Life is here and now.
Don't ask why, just ask how!
So many things that should be done,
Don't wait or your time's gone.
I found what dissolves my shape,
I no longer subscribe to daily fake.
My spirit is a fountain; it floods the sky,
My spirit is a mountain; it will not die!
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More