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UntitledWhen I looked in the mirror
All I could think of
Was the picture of the crying boy
Whose family's livestock
Had been killed in a car accident
We held the same expression
The difference between us
Lies in the adults
Who want to justify
Only the boy's anguish
Because at least my future
Doesn't depend on something that just
But what they don't seem to realize
Is that what is dying in me
No one can see
Unless someone looks deep enough
But no one will
Because I'm a "lucky one"
and not a starving child in Africa
If it Ever Stops Being Fun"If it ever stops being fun..."
When I was little
"...or it ever gets boring..."
I did Irish dance
"...or too hard..."
And I had an agreement with my mother
"...or something you just don't want to do..."
That she would never force me to continue
"...we can stop."
If I ever wanted to quit.
But that philosophy
when it counted
How do you tell someone you wish for a longer embrace
Without tipping them off
That something is
Shout it From the RooftopsStanding on edge
Toes curled around
Thrill of fear
On the Rooftops
But you came here to do something
I prepared a speech
They told me
To Shout it From the Rooftops
So here I am
Gray world, stories down
I cringe at the sight
Face the sun
People will change
I will change
Maybe even the world will change
If I was to be passionate
Momentum would carry me up here
Walking on a knife’s edge
Out on a limb
Asking for help
So high above
Where you all might or might not look
But the only audience
My broken pocket can afford
So audience, listeners
Hear what I have to say
We have it
Potential for change
And I had faith
That we could change
But life got in the way
Media got in the way
Crushed my hopes
So let’s make the world
The Media Can’t Twist
They don’t need much
To make us look vile
Greedy lazy selfish
Angry hurtful ha
Never Let GoLike we learn to crawl, talk and walk,
We must learn to climb.
We can only go so far
North, South, East or West
Why don't we go up?
Mount the cliff...
never let go...
If you need to fall,
While the ground isn't far
And regaining lost progress
There will come a point
After you've climbed for a while
Where you muscles will burn
And a grimace replaces a smile
Even if you just stop for rest,
Be careful, don't let go
You've put your blood, sweat and tears
Into getting this far
The fall is far
And will end it all.
No going back
no mounting again.
Never let go...
...never let go...
Hope for a Better TomorrowEven if,
when we count our blessings,
we find ourselves with very few,
the fact that we are here today
that there is hope
for a better tomorrow
UntitledMy mom gave me
Who I am.
What I am like.
She took the clay in her hands
She took the paintbrush
And guided my colors across
A little piece of her
In every piece of me.
And everything in between.
Rules of the WorldWhy is it
That we only find life
On the Edge or
I do not want to remain idle forever
But the rules of the world
Are not easy to define
Let alone break
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
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
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,
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
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