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Letting GoIt's like a little girl
cupping a feather in her hand on a windy day
She holds it between two fingers, telling herself
that she's going to let it fly away like the creature it came from
fly away and dance in the wind.
But fingers don't seem to want to let go- they preen over the little grey and yellow patches instead
and avoid the bits that are matted with red.
The little girls knows
what that red is, but she won't let herself think about it.
It's like when that little girl
takes home the feather held carefully in her pocket
and places it
in an old
under her bed,
where it sleeps until a few years later
when she finds her forgotten treasure,
climbs to the tippity top
of her favorite climbing tree
and finally lets the feather fly away.
It makes her cry
how it gets stuck on every branch on the way down.
It's like a 10 year old boy
fingers rigid around a tree branch
while his feet hang down in the air.
His friends aren't even there to egg him on,
To a Best FriendFriends know when you're happy
Best friends know when you're faking it.
Friends ask you questions
Best friends answer for you.
Friends are friends
Best friends are sisters.
Friends know your past
Best friends dictate your future.
So, to my best friends, the one who knows me better then anyone,
You're the Downton to my Abbey,
You're the Doctor to my Who
You're the apples to my honey,
and my life would stink without you.
You're the sonic to my screwdriver,
the weeping to my angel,
the doctor to my companion,
the hero to my sidekick,
and all the brightest starts in my galaxy are your's.
You're the Leah to my Luke,
the Star to my David,
the Ladder to my Jacob,
the Artemis to my Holly,
and the Max to my Flock.
You're the Katniss to my Prim,
the Britain to my America,
the Fez to my Bowtie.
The spring to my step,
the sole to my shoes,
the light to my eyes,
and the beat to my heart.
and though you can be
The Goliath to my David,
The butterfly in the GhettoMost beautiful things stay
away, out of reach.
On the other side of the fence,
where the world’s still a good place.
Butterflies don’t live here.
The bird song is a distant echo
just out of reach.
But there was one,
a yellow butterfly floating over the fence
like a ray of sun.
It leaves a trail of gold behind it,
as it flutters down,
to land on the cold grey ground.
So out of place,
like a dot in a sea of stripes.
Just like me.
Go, I told it.
here’s not a good place.
There’s no such thing as a good day
in the ghetto.
But it stayed
for a moment.
like the feeling of hope,
warming in your heart.
Then fluttered back over the fence.
backlit against a turquoise sky.
Some day I’ll follow,
cast off the barbed-wire,
cast off the pain.
cast off the chains I have to wear,
just because of who I am.
אני גאה להיות יהודי
I’m proud to be Jewish.
Sparta story, chapter 5Chapter 5
Caleb tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak groan. Surrender? But-But- we can’t surrender! Asher was trying to stand, and eventually Akalia walked over and helped his to his feet. He stood behind her, glaring at Nika, which would have been a little more scary if he didn’t have blood running down his face and matting his dark hair from a large cut on his forehead. “Of course you do.” Nika responded, smirking. “But you put up a good fight, for a bunch of little kids.” Then he melted back into the shadows, leaving the kids to figure out whether or not he was being sarcastic. All three of them were bedraggled, but Akalia was in the best shape. She was bruised and looked as though she’d been put through a meat grinder, but didn’t have any broken bones or other large injuries. Caleb, on the other hand, had a broken nose, that was sending rivulets of blood down his face, and about half his face looked like one massive bruise
Sparta story, chapter 4Chapter 4
At midnight, the two boys jumped nimbly down from the top bunk and shook Akalia awake. Asher clasped one hand over her mouth, although he knew she was highly trained. Better soldeiers then Akalia had given themsleves away by panicking when they were woken up. But the 8-year-old girl shook herself awake without a single grown or yawn, jumping out of bed and whispering, “Is it midnight?” Caleb nodded, and the Akalia had followed the twins out the door, studiously avoiding the creaky planks on the floor. A few minutes later, the three children entered the courtyard. As Asher had explained (in incredibly patronizing tones) to his brother in the middle of a sword-fight, it was best to arrive early to scout out the battlefield, and, as he put it, “show dominance.”
“yeah, whatever.” Caleb had responded, quickly disarming his brother with a flick of his wrist. “It's hard to show dominance when your shivering like a little girl at the sight of
Sparta story, chapter 3Chapter 3
Caleb yawned, sitting up and ducking his head to keep from whacking it on the top bunk of the new bunk bed that he and Asher had built together, just yesterday. Of course, there was the constant danger of it falling on his head, but he could deal with that if it meant that he didn’t have to sleep on a pile of wool blankets that still smell slightly of wet sheep. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands, Caleb called quietly up to his brother. “Hey, sleepy-head! Wake up!” But when he stood up to peer into his brother’s bed, he found him sitting cross-legged on his bed, the blankets already pulled up over the straw mattress neatly. “Sleepy-head?” Asher asked innocently, giving a painful half-smile. He had a split lip from a rough training session yesterday and was skinnier then ever, not to mention what felt like a million little cuts, scrapes and bruises. It had been a week since the boys had arrived at the Agoge, and each of them had a g
My mind deals with
Overcomes my judgement
Today it's no different
I can't take it anymore
Observing my image but
Nothing is revealed
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
To the person who holds my best friend's heart...I know that is is kind of weird
But I felt that I should write this down.
I need to tell you what I feel
And tell you what he means to me.
He's my best friend and he's a good man.
Please, give him the love and respect he deserves.
He may seem goofy but he's very sweet.
I know this because he was always there for me when I was sad.
Now, I know that you're not bad
Cause he would never choose someone who's mean.
But I still want to tell you just in case you forget in the future;
Please don't break his heart.
He's been through so much
And he doesn't deserve something like that.
He is the kind of person who smiles even when he's hurt by others
And would take any pain for the people he loves.
I know, I've witnessed it.
I know he may seem kind of childish sometimes
But don't let it get to you.
It's just his way of expressing himself.
He's very caring and I'm sure he'll do anything to make you happy.
He doesn't look like it but he's very kind and thoughtful.
He'll put your needs before h
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
1:33 amto the angry young
hungry ocean eyes:
i do not wish to know
what crawled inside
your ribs to
i just wish you would
let it leave.
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
WonderI wonder how I got here
I wonder which way's true.
I wonder at the raindrops,
I wonder why they fall the way they do.
I've got so many questions
and so little time.
In this crazy world
I can find so little reason or rhyme.
If hope's a bird with feathers
that perches in the soul,
then I'm a lonely traveler,
walking a winding road.
But at least I've got my questions,
my answers and my songs,
for if life's a lonely highway, at least there's still wonder in us all.
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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