|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
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,
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.
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!
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
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
the only letter I've ever wanted to burni.
if you want to give someone the silent treatment,
the first step is shutting up.
things made much more sense
when I was younger.
I thought there was one path,
each choice a stepping stone upon it.
in reality there are a million roads
intertwined like rope.
I got lost
I chose you.
promises are easily broken.
I knew that,
but it still hurt
spending friday night
shivering in the rain,
choking on cannabis perfume
in a dirt parking lot
your face never graced.
and I hoped against hope
you might appear,
but I wasted my wishing
on ungrateful you.
you died before taking your first breath.
I took a chance
and I should've known better.
you can give somebody all you have
and nothing can stop them from
throwing it away.
you've made this bed,
now lie in it.
you slit this suture,
you're the goddamn reason
I gave up on the month of april,
and soon enough you'll fall on your own blade
like some drunken samurai.
if you want
Die AloneI take apart her heart
And lay the pieces down
In a circular form.
Let her bleed a work of art.
I forgot I’m crazy.
I’ll whisper my secrets
Only if she promises
To die here alone with me.
.What do you want to be when you grow up?
They ask it like a dare.
As if letting your unlikely dreams
slip from the safety of your mind
could bring their own
a little closer to reality.
car crash on an empty roadit happened before
we did. it was more a person
than you or I or that boy
in the park trying
to convince us to
stupid. it happened
before your smile
cracked the sky in half, before
our laughters slurred into
a dissonant song, before
your fingers traced the stories
lying on my face before I knew
just how many pieces of sunshine
were trapped in your hair before
the walls became the ceiling and
I wasn’t claustrophobic.
things I remember:
the red blur of your room like
God was experimenting with the
symbolism in modern art, the
tri-tone shimmering of your eyes
like the surface of the water, the way
you defined perfection as a scale of
women ending with a less than sensible
me, the way you always moved like
you were dancing and no one was there to
RelativityLooking in the mirror
through the mirror
seeing a stranger,
My chest swells and my heart lurches
This girl isn't me, not at all
She looks like someone
but not me.
A movie star, a homeless person.
Even when I look at photos
no memory comes up
no allowing for the thought that I have a body
Or that the cold of my fingertips,
the throb of anxiety inside my ribs
I see my arm, an armband
A scar, a vein, a ring that has no meaning
But it did, to this girl in the mirror
Even if memory fails
Existence is relative
Dizzy Girl,you can't cure sorrow. The drops
on the windshield are swallowed
by this traffic's color and you
are just the driver.
Other people pass
with paint blearing,
though I do wish
there was an ending,
questions spark in halos
of low street lamps as you veer
toward the center,
recollections are ceaseless.
She will be at your left and the gust
through the tinted window
will be humid,
you taste her last spirit
in the smoke and
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;
Keep in Touch!
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