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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,
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
Stop putting words in my mouthYou shove your fingers
down my throat,
and insert words
I never spoke,
in desperate hopes
to make me choke
my pearly gates
that feeds me
swallow the universedecay remembers you --
fever breath and ocean-eyed ghosts,
secrets that smoke with poison desire.
we wake only to drink, to devour
the naked voices of dismantled stars.
glass kisses turn into granite lips
and pillars of salt; a haunted embrace
melts into the cracks of the universe.
Love is not blindLove is not blind. It can see clearly.
It looks past the boundaries.
It defies the judging stares of society.
It is a force to be reckoned with.
eight.sometimes i feel
life's been played like a puppet
on a tangled
[yet still i'm lifeless without you .]
eidolon longingbreath salts open rooms
that entomb my idle hants.
in gloomy aberrance.
when the pulse was flaunted
remain the pursuit
of lanterns haunted.
questions flung like
furtive surface glances
ghost through iris eyelines
with an epiphany;
this search sparked
full body shudderings.
shuttering every window
and portal alike,
a light threatened by
the tending toward pulsatory spikes.
aorta, i spied you
spidering open your eyes
sliding the pursuit of dawn
through your dim sight.
with the sun, beat,
you forge forward for
warded window panes,
a rhythmic wonder repeat.
but eyelids live locked,
a careless cage holding
in this socket shock.
tock and tick that slick swindle options;
your image a lit blossom in a bottomless pit.
i’m reaching, but god, this
isn’t possible when
you’re this obstinate;
i am a fossil you’ve discarded
with hardly a sniff.
snuff me out, i’ll sputter devout and wish
my cardiac espousal had been more
seven.my nights for the last weeks have
consisted of liquid
poison, smoke in
and the chilled sound of
wake up with my
head half off the sidewalk,
surrounded by shards of
and a faint touch of
[ill pick myself back up on my own two
feet.. and stumble back;
she had come seeking a riotshe found religion in silence.
there wasn't a prophet's bone
in her body, not a holy cell of skin, but
somehow she was something
to believe in. she called herself a woman, not an angel nor
madonna, and the crucifix on her tongue could
not make her hold her words.
they called her witch and called her
goddess, made of something
such as marble, but she said she wasn't one
to be revered -
icons made of glass were
made to break, she claimed she was not
born to die;
(silence is found in the loudest of tongues, for speaking is an art
not all have learned-)
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;
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More