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Novel Bound by Shoe StringsThe plot is unknown,
The future left untold,
But you won't write alone,
we'll just let it all unfold...
In this novel bound by shoe strings,
we will write only the best scenes,
Tear apart the suffering,
and carry ourselves into infinity.
Happily ever after is, in fact, real,
but happiness is only one thing you feel,
we must cope with how we must heal,
and strive for the everlasting serenity,
Love is but a fairytale,
A ship that will forever sail,
an emotion, that will never fail,
In this novel, I just wrote a calamity.
The plot is well known,
The future is now told,
and we wrote it all in stone,
a stone that is always hard and cold...
My Idea of PerfectionYou know I show my interest in the things that you say,
and everyday you greet me with a smile stretched across your face,
I like the color of your hair under fluorescent lighting,
and the difference between when we argue, and when we're fighting.
You put your hand in my back pocket as we walk along,
You tell me sometimes it doesn't feel right, but I know that it doesn't feel wrong...
The sky will never be grey...
so long as you choose to stay,
The sun will sometimes shine bright,
and the sky will never change to night,
so long as you choose to stay.
You think that your laugh isn't very easy on the ears,
you know I find it to be just about the cutest thing I've heard in years,
I like the way you say my name, unsure of how to say it,
You know your way around a guitar, and I love the way that you play it,
Remember the time that you slept in my bed all day long?
This is just my idea of perfection, and I know nothing can ever go wrong...
The sky will never be grey...
so long as you choose
I Need MoreMy love, why do you try to hide
the smile that keeps me warm?
I need more than just the cold.
Sweet love that has disappeared,
where do you go when you feel worn?
I need more than what feels old.
Brother that I think so dearly of,
why do you do what you do?
I need more than what I'm told.
Dear one that thinks highly of me,
why can't you tell me the truth?
I need more than I can hold.
Metaphorical AngelsThere's a color for every season,
A mood set by the regularity.
There's a truth behind every reason,
you just get it metaphorically.
You fly like metaphorical angels,
soaring high in the heavens,
yet you're so down to earth.
You're the mood of this season,
Sad, but happy to see it's you.
I'd call you, but I don't have a reason,
and I don't think I'd get through...
You're like the metaphorical angels,
when you're around, the stress lessens,
you're just so down to earth...
for any of it to be true.
You can't say that you don't
smell the smells of this season.
You can't say that you won't
give me at least one good reason,
for turning out to be better than I had imagined.
You're turning out to be better than I had imagined.
You say you're no metaphorical angel.
Tell no lies and ask no questions,
Bring me down to Earth.
I'm only speaking metaphorically...
Stylized PortraitsYou love him more than he'll ever know.
But didn't you say that about the other guy three days ago?
How emotions change when we don't really know them.
Oh, how it must be to live in a world
where one relationship only lasts a week.
I love you, baby.
You say the sky is my limit,
so long as I stay within it.
No one lives past the surface.
No one lives where we know they don't live.
But what else is out there?
I keep secrets closer than any enemy or friend.
I keep them safe inside, where no one can get to them.
You can take all of my friends and enemies,
but I've always got my secrets.
And you don't know them.
Stylized portraits that portray the evil as the innocent.
The quality of the art is not always a matter of opinion, but a matter of intent.
Did you make this to express yourself?
Was it as shallow as most? Or was it deep like some?
I never know what's really going on.
Just My OpinionYou're the curse that slips from his lips,
and skin against my finger tips,
You cloud my spectacles,
And forgive me if I say it,
but you are the being of perfection.
Just my opinion.
Sometimes I'd lay by myself,
to get the feeling of being alone.
I would randomly pinch myself,
to make sure I was alive.
I still don't believe it.
Just my opinion.
I never met anyone with the same name as me,
until I worked in retail serving the old women.
He was tall, skinny, and not too handsome.
Darker, maybe latino.
His name was written on his mechanics' uniform.
The "O" in the middle stared at me like an open eye.
He wrote me a check, which I needed his license for.
I got to double check, to make sure he wasn't a "fake",
Like the ones I'd found on myspace.
They want to be different.
All of them want to be different.
Just my opinion.
The decade that served me most was the decade I loved the most.
I like my years like I like my men:
Fun and short.
It's already twenty-ten.
I always hated the number 0,
UnderstandShe spoke in terms I couldn't quite understand,
She told me she understood the likes of socialism,
And how capitalism will make our classes more divided.
She spoke in terms I wouldn't quite understand,
She told me how everything is unfair under our "Conservatives",
And how they don't care about anyone but the rich.
She spoke in terms that I knew weren't right,
But she made me feel good to believe what I believe.
I didn't feel self-conscious, or the least bit worried,
I knew that somehow she couldn't quite understand.
Wendy Was My GirlWendy was my girl. She wore her hair in a bun. She kept her natural blond hair, and when it was grey, she kept it that way, too. She liked the cold, and she liked the snow. She never liked to get a tan. She took her shoes off at the door. She never asked for anything unless she was asked first. She was quiet, but she was polite. She never thought about herself when someone else was in need.
Wendy would talk about herself only when asked for her opinion. She listened to every detail, and would repeat them if asked. She never forgot a face, and especially their name. She always forgot her birthday, but always remembered mine. She could never forget our anniversary, though I did.
Wendy told me all the stories of her childhood, the ones I wasn't there to live. She told me stories of her high school, the one that was our rival. She told me stories of right before we met, in college, Junior year.
Wendy met me in a coffee shop in town. She was the one that I knew I wanted to spend my life wit
In The Middle Of EverythingI'm as sure as your sailboat floats,
that no one suspects or even knows,
the ground on which I have walked.
I'm as steady as an old bridge,
loosely fastened to the old ridge,
that no one has ever walked...
in a hundred years or so.
So high in the house of your ghost,
that I can see the east coast,
And see the angels coming from beneath.
I speak like an old machine,
not so clear or pristine,
But I beckon for you from the east.
Forget how to tie the ribbons in her hair,
And let's go get some fresh air,
It's the shortest songs that hurt the most.
I've sent a message to you from afar,
But I can't see you where you are,
but we're in the middle of everything.
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
I Like ItYou ask me what I like with those blank eyes,
But I can't get through with any amount of tries,
But here it goes, just one last time:
You know I'm a sucker for green eyes,
A sunrise, cloudy days, and her old ways,
I like the storm clouds, thunder sounds,
Underdogs and morning fog from a mountain top,
When I'm laughing and just can't stop,
Green trees and bumble bees, smiling from ear to ear,
Those three little words that I almost never hear,
I like choclate bars, compact cars, and shooting stars,
Neon signs and all straight lines, silver spoons and afternoons,
I like the tunnel lights, and grander sights,
A colder place, and warmer days,
Video games and funny surnames,
I like foreign lands and foreign tongues,
The feeling of being forever young,
Kite string and the left wing,
Cold soda on a dry throat, pine wood and maybe oak,
Or a nice place for my feet to soak,
Rock music of almost any type, the feeling of creating life,
I like wood smoke and anxious hope,
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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