|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Ghosts and SkeletonsThey do not let go,
the demons of the past.
They whisper tells of woe,
never knowing that the events have already passed.
With cold hands of solid bone and swirling mist,
they hang on to the mind
as they try to reach the heart.
Aiming to break that fragile piece of muscle with only a hard twist,
they are unkind,
refusing to let you restart.
Their rattling bodies and raspy voices can push you ahead,
telling you to keep moving
and not make the same mistakes.
But that is only if you are not dead
and are forcing yourself to keep improving
and not lingering in the past for so long that your will breaks.
But very little people have learned how to control them,
instead letting regrets and ‘what-if’s become chains.
The ‘could have been’s become blacken gems,
sharpened to cut deeply into every vein until nothing but a bloody mess remains.
There is no escape from them.
There are only two routes you can take,
but how you may go about them is up to you.
Thank You for Being HereThanks for being here,
standing next to me as my best fellow musketeers.
I’m not easy to be with,
my insecurities and flaws,
making the idea that I’m perfect a myth,
the thought that I have any solid personal laws
Together, we dance our own waltz,
craving out our place in life.
You guys aren’t perfect either,
your sanity changing with every movement of a knife.
I’m your breather,
Our versions of insanity
collides and molds us,
bringing us closer together,
leaving us in pure bless
and not in the cold weather.
Our ghosts and monsters are trying to lock us inside.
I would have died,
if I was the same person before I met you two.
You have pushed my skeletons from taking over me,
keeping me true
and most certainly free.
I am alive because of your love.
You two don’t have wings of a dove.
The leather devil wings
contrasting to the angel wings you say I have.
You made me richer than past kings,
the love we share not being halved.
You made me b
Love verse InfatuationLove is friendship,
whose bond has grown
to being able to know that you aren’t ever alone.
Love is trust,
built over time to last
even when the god of time’s reign finally pasts.
Love is slow,
safe in a pocket of time,
all its own.
Love is meaningful,
the little things that are truly peaceful.
Love is deep,
faithful whispers to one another,
hearts forever bound to each other.
But love is often mislabeled,
passed off as something that is quite disabled.
The hot pain that leads some to temptation,
which is now called infatuation.
Infatuation is desire,
whose bond is missing,
lost in fantasy wishing.
Infatuation is suspicion,
green eyes jealousy
whispering tales of a possible enemy.
Infatuation is fast,
hot passions and skin to skin contact that never last.
Infatuation is meaningless,
only cold sheets and a growing black hole.
Infatuation is shallow,
only so deep as cheap cotton sheets.
Now tread carefully,
as you go through life,
often in the foggy cover of
No OneYou laugh,
and no one knows you’re dead inside.
and no one knows what happens when they turn around.
and no one knows that this is a game that you are forced to play.
and no one knows the secrets that you hold.
and no one knows that you bleed.
Under ConstructionI know I'm not perfect;
there's no need to point that out.
I know my flaws and mistakes,
my shortcomings and downfalls.
But I'm not done yet.
I working on myself,
trying to make myself better than I was yesterday or last week or last year.
Hammering out the dents,
buffing out the scratches,
replacing broken or outdated parts,
adding new pieces.
I'm a work in progress,
barely a rough draft.
somewhere in the far future,
I will be done.
All the lines cleaned,
the inking neat,
the colors working together.
Someday I will be complete.
Or maybe I will never stopped being worked on,
even when I'm lying in coffin,
my hands folded across my breast,
or my body is burned to ash and poured into a clay jar.
People shall talk about me,
my failures and successes.
People will remember me,
thinking about the moments we spent together.
Titles will be added and taken,
I will be a topic for argument.
This is all ok because it will help create a picture of who I am,
from both my eyes and the eyes o
Aren't We Ugly?Aren't we humans an ugly race?
Killing each other as if we are mad dogs,
not even children,
who are no more than ten,
They swirl together to create the monsters that we are.
There are no monsters under the bed,
there are no nightmares;
there is only humans.
There is only us.
Aren't we ugly?
The angels are running,
the demons are hiding.
The Devil is screaming,
every last one of them,
The other life that is somewhere out in space
is telling us to stay on our planet.
They do not want our sins and ugliness to destroy them.
They are asking us,
'aren't you an ugly species?'
Parents are crying,
asking God why.
A nation is mourning.
A world is burning.
Aren't we ugly?
There is no fated "end of the world".
The end of the world will come day,
but not by some unseen hands.
The day that the Earth dies will be done by our own blood soaked hands.
aren't we ugly?
LostI became lost,
mixed in a unfamiliar crowd.
I was confused,
I was quiet.
I didn't know what to do.
Maybe this was my body's way of reacting,
without any tears,
that today is the first holiday without them.
The first holiday that was supposed to be about family,
but without a complete deck of cards with familiar smiling faces.
Others were reacting too,
just in way different from my.
My father was quiet,
My aunt was smiling
with a lens made of unshed tears.
No one else who was family knew.
They didn't know.
Or maybe they did,
but wasn't thinking about the past,
only thinking about the future.
I don't know.
I only know my own confusion,
and my guesses to what two people in my family were feeling
as we walked in shades of gray with shadows of others around us.
Demons and The Devil Cry Too, You KnowDemons,
even the Devil,
That might seem strange,
and I'm sure some will protest to this.
How could those evil creatures,
those monsters whose home is Hell,
They feel only anger and hate,
they only know death.
This is where I put a halt in their questions and statements.
This is where I ask them this-
humans feel anger and hate,
angels can feel anger and hate.
So why shouldn't those who live the darkness be able to cry?
The Devil was cast out of his home,
stripped of his glory and pride,
left to rule in a world of both fire and ice.
Demons are subject to disgust and distaste from those who are supposedly good.
Yet, the souls of those who are "good",
those who are just mere specks of grain of sand on the Earth,
are coming more and more down to Hell.
The demons are crying for the hypocrisy of it all,
the Devil is crying for unfair treatment that he received
even though he was right about humans.
They cry because they want love,
the warmth that th
Being a Best Friend, a Sister, and the FutureIt's kinda funny when I stop to think about our relationship.
I have siblings of my own,
but I don't get along with them half as well as I get along with you.
I wouldn't say it's because we not related-
that seems like a lame excuse-
but I like to think I complete you,
just as much as you complete me.
You are wild and free,
with being every way the good kind of crazy.
You are loud and maybe a bit impulsive,
but you always worry about me.
You smile and laugh,
with no barriers to hold you back,
with no care about you is watching you.
Sassy comebacks roll off your tongue,
as someone thinks that they can knock you off the throne you have made.
I am calm and reserved,
rather burying my head into a book.
I am quiet and makes decisions based on facts,
but can sometimes seem a bit weird or nerdy.
I smile and laugh softly,
feeling awkward in a crowd,
wishing to somewhere else with a pad of paper and a pencil in my hands.
Innocent remarks escape my lips,
as someone boast about something that pip
Unworthy This, Unworthy That
Forgive me in the times of each day
when I come to see my truer colors.
The less suitable ones that bring down a godly smile.
My efforts to betterment have yet to cease,
and I've nob intent on making such an appointment.
They wait like thieves and murderers,
mere inches from my soul, in wake and slumber,
outnumbering me and breathing down my aching
neck whilst I struggle to breathe
the purer air I am deprived of.
Though cognizant of my sins,
they are doubtlessly committed by a guilty
consciousness which has been undermined with a
pride that bear in deep shame as opposed
to a better way to walk.
The list will be long, as you,
as with all things, are more the perfectly aware.
I am the guilty by my own confession,
and grace is a concept that is greatly welcome
and unconditionally existent in the presence of my unworthy soul.
I know not why i write what is already known to Omnipotence
perhaps a confessional to my one and only
King who spared me the eternity of fire and ice
in a realm witho
like St Elmo's fire,
a light fugitive, inconstant,
cousin to the will'-o-'the-wisp,
causing the body
to glow with life,
dazzling, in the dark night
All compounded of light,
glowing ruby with
the cool warmth of compassion?
Were there such things,
where could ugly spirits come from?
Spirit possessors, who insinuate,
fuelled by the toxic fumes of resentment
they rise from the mind's
lava pit of anguish,
from deep pools of molten wrath,
dense clouds of negative emotion
inner spaces; they conquer
torment and destroy, unloosing
mental cancers and plagues.
Minds invaded and subdued
are closed, lost to the world
where love and courage
can be shared.
The dreadful stench
of the killing fields.
The spirit violently expelled
destroyed in an anguish of terror,
nothing but rotting carcasses
many dismembered, remain.
The eye can scarcely bare to see
this ghoulish aftermath,
Yet the pattern repeats
Broken ChordMy heart alone is a instrument in God's temple
Playing songs of worship for hours and hours
But then the chord breaks and music cannot be played
Have to get the chord fixed, but too sad to fix it right now
That one broken chord; curled and twisted
Can I ever play music right now?
The tragedies of this world makes it seem impossible to play
Then nothing but tears roll down for there is no songs playing
The broken chord that used to play many songs
The broken chord that used to play songs of worship for hours and hours
My heart broken and nothing but songs of tragedy plays
Songs of brief tragedy plays in the haunting silence
Tears roll down my eyes and wonder if I will ever play songs again
But in the grace and love of my God
In all the things He can do
He takes the broken chord and just smiles at it
There's nothing He cannot do
The chord maybe plucked and no more music can be played
But the Lord himself plays His songs on a broken chord
Song of worship reenters my heart from a broken ch
The Heart of HeartsI have seen the fire that burned creation into being,
Heard the song of the universe at it's beginning.
I have known home in the heart of hearts,
I have been eternal in a sea of stars.
When we are born we know that we are one,
Yet as we grow we are taught to become,
So profoundly alone
So lost to ourselves,
We will buy anything to save our souls from this hell,
We will work to the bone and empty our shell
With hate and lies, an inability to recognise
Ourselves in each other, in each flower, in each lover.
We do so weep when we are wrenched apart
Yet we are one in the heart of hearts.
And forever, without care,
We are and will always be there.
Is more of a choice
Than a feeling
It is hard
Fear and doubts
Try to smother it
And to cover it
It takes a choice
Not to listen
To those fears
And to those doubts
It is hard
It is worth it
It frees you
From those fears and doubts
There is the ultimate hope
In something more than this world
That is true and faithful
That loves no matter what
Who is there all the time
It is that hope
That keeps me going
Day in and day out
And I would not
Have it any
Blessings in the StormThrough the shadow
Of the storm
There is light to be seen
Even though it is raining
The light can be seen
Behind the clouds
As this storm continues
I feel Your love
I know that
You still care
About my family,
About my dreams
Big or small
You shower me
That I never thought possible
Or in a way that was not expected
There in none like You
You are my Love, my Lord
And my Savior
You are my Daddy
And I am Your princess
And I know You love me
More than I can love You
You gave me
Life, love, and light
There is none that equals You
You have given me
Dreams to explore
A talent to show Your love to others
And hope to keep me
Faith to stand the valleys and mountains
Hope to keep moving forward
Love, the greatest of these, to give to others
Like You have given me
StrongLifting all the weights in the world and train to a pulp
Thinking the world can rest in the palm of my hands
Not giving a care in the world
Bench pressing the world and pouring out sweat
Studying all day and all night
Hitting those books and jogging the miles in knowledge
The world is in the palm of my hand
Sweating out with the strength of moving walls
But as the pressure gets too much; there is always aching
The strength that make one stronger than oak starts to fade
Crawling on your knees when the pressure gets too much
The pressure is unbearable and you can’t do anymore
But my God gives me faith that can move mountains
My God has no limits to His own strength
My God releases the pressure and puts it on Himself
My God has no limits
My God is stronger than the roots of the mighty oak
My God is stronger than the volcanic rocks
My God is stronger than metal chains that binds me together
My God is stronger than any superhero in 30 pages
My God is stronger even on that day on Calva
13lightning boiled my frontal lobes
i can feel it
dripping down my cheekbones,
no-longer-neurons, an ejaculation
uncertain rooted in unthought
define boundaries; far as the eye can see
but no further and sigh complacently
no more bumping into buzzing barbed wire
How to Build a Soul1 Know that you are lost
victim to a world of chaos
[don't allow yourself to resign]
2 Close your eyes
put aside lies born of senses
[explore virtues of being blind]
3 With deep breaths, calm
the turbulence inside
[stirred from workings of mankind]
4 Detach yourself
discover a new perspective
[nothing is real save the mind]
5 Circumvent your desire,
anger, pain, and happiness
[take note and leave it behind]
WingsI want to fly so high,
higher than the stars that twinkle so brightly,
as if they are challenging me to try and reach them.
No one thinks I can go that high;
they don't even believe that I can get two feet off the ground.
That what they imply,
but I know why they say I won't ever get off the ground
so I shouldn't even dream.
They have let themselves down far too many times,
digging a hole deeper and deeper,
far and far away from the sky.
They don't want me to touch the sky
because they don't want me to achieve my dream,
when they couldn't and won't even try to brush against it.
the ones that have put themselves so low,
that they don't know how to climb out.
So they lash out,
striking at others who they see as someone they could have been.
I won't let them pull me down,
chaining me to the Earth and tear away at me
as if I was Prometheus and they, my razor sharp eagle.
I will fly,
even if I have to build my own wings.
They won't be made of feathers
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