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Fear of LifePlease do not fear being beneath the Earth’s soil
For that is where the seeds of flowers grow
Be patient and life will reveal its mysteries
But only when it is ready to do so
By all means take time to search for the truth
But beware, please do not become obsessed
As we only fear what we don’t understand
And what we don’t understand is but a test
A test of faith in whatever you believe
Now stand up for yourself and you cannot fail
If life is the hammer waiting to fall
Then you must refuse to be the nail
Please do not fear being above the Earth’s soil
For that is where the flowers begin to bloom
Just open your heart as their petals do
And your life will be as sweet as their perfume
You could be the change in someone’s journey
Showing them the path from incomplete to whole
Why not give someone the gift of your love
And watch as they gently unwrap your soul
Suddenly the truth will dawn upon you
To live life without fear and you cannot fail
If life is a sailboa
The Right Hand Curse ReversedEverything that my right hand has ever written
Comes from the heart and mind of a boy that is cursed
So from now on I’ll learn to write with my left hand
In hope not expectation that this curse will be reversed
And then I shall sit in front of an open fire
Unflinching as each flame licks closer to my face
Not close enough though so it could swallow me whole
But just close enough so that it can have a taste
Of the beads of regret in my perspiration
That are forming and rolling down my furrowed brow
From a wildfire mind that is now out of control
Come thoughts that these damp morals fail to disallow
Everything that my right hand has ever written
Might as well have been scribed in invisible ink
With my thoughts being a vessel on a voyage of hope
And the weight of my memories causing it to sink
Right down to the depths of the deepest ocean floor
And left down there to rot beneath the sea bed
I thank the Lord that they’ll remain out of reach
And that none of the words I’ve
A Lonely LifeI have proof that love isn’t real
And that fate means nothing
Though I did feel my heart breaking
So there must be something
Maybe I’m alone in my thoughts
That love’s worth fighting for
Maybe I’m alone in my dreams
Just as I was the night before
Oh Lord, I don’t need no children
Lord, I don’t need no wife
Please take me now or leave me here
To live out my lonely life
I have proof that love isn’t real
That souls are worth nothing
But I felt my spirit leaving me
While my life was ongoing
Maybe I’m over sentimental
And listen to poets too much
Maybe I’ll believe in what I feel
Not only what I can touch
Oh Lord, I don’t need to smile
Lord, I don’t need no laughter
Leave me here or take me now
To a heavenly hereafter
Tragic AuthorI’m looking forward to being a tragic author
I’ll sit on a cloud with no silver lining
And become the male equivalent of a spinster
With words as my spouse and books as my offspring
At least then it is I who will control the outcome
For the lives of my heroes and heroines
And since I’ll not be afforded a happy ending
The least I can do is to give one to them
The Lord said ‘no’ to my happily ever after
Perhaps to inspire my imagination
A hollowed out heart is an ideal home after all
For my mind’s perpetual inspiration
I’m looking forward to being a tragic author
I’m such a devoted, hopeless romantic
Devoted in the sense I should have been committed
And hopeless as I took our love for granted
I dare you to keep the anguish and torment coming
As it will serve to inspire my greatest work
Assuming my heart pumps love more efficiently than pain
And my mind can refrain from going berserk
Now I sit in frustration with my parchment paper
The ink o
Age 16 Page 1Every day of your life up until this point
Has been a prologue to the tale of you
Those mistakes that you have made in your childhood
They may be many or they may be few
But please don’t allow them to shape or to shift
The person that you were born to become
Keep in mind that the night is at its darkest
In the moments before we see the sun
I see pure potential run through your being
In your soul, deep beneath your callow skin
A unique story is waiting to be told
That the world will never see again
And though it begins with ‘once upon a time’
This is not a sugar spun fairytale
Each chapter and verse now lies in your hands
And is waiting for your dreams to prevail
Seek not perfection as mistakes will be made
It is repeating them that is a sin
Learn from others but don’t let their views smother
As hindsight in such a wonderful thing
Fear no one, fear nothing, never hestitate
Don’t let them measure your wisdom by age
Now you’ve gazed upon that cover long
Target WeightI am afraid because I know
That I will never arrive
At a point where I am nourished
And emotionally satisfied
So to regulate my mood
I consume levels that disgrace
They suppose that this is greed
That assumption is misplaced
I’m addicted to the feeling
The short term stimulation
But that only makes me more prone
To those feelings of deflation
And stomach cramps and pains
Loose skin hanging from my bones
Eyes sinking into my skull
And those deathly grey skin tones
Will I ever fill the hole
Silence those voices for a while
I prepare my gut for sorrow
While I am spoon fed on denial
But life’s too much to digest
An acid reflux episode
Regurgitate my memories
Before my stomach explodes
In a culture such as ours
The blame lays nowhere but my plate
I chose the fats, sugars and salts
The impossible target weight
Now I’m afraid because I know
The end has already arrived
In the form of this addiction
To a staple we need to survive
An Ode To A SmileOf late there has been something missing
From my visage, my mien and my face
My adult self not able to regain
What it is my childhood has misplaced
The absence has become more apparent
And is there for the assemblage to see
But as it did not happen over night
The origin remains a mystery
Could it be the colour and the tone
Of my sallow skin pigmentation
From too many hours indoors alone
And within my imagination
Perhaps I should pierce my ear and nose
Rebel against a faceless system
Or indeed tattoo text upon my neck
Quoting some so-called ancient wisdom
I could iron out all of the creases
Nip and tuck on my pronounced cheek bones
But this would mean erasing my journey
So I might never find my way home
And none of these things in any case
Will ever change the person that I am
Or influence the mood of the others
Like a timely facial expression can
From limbic system to nerve and muscle
To the countenance conveyed on my face
So complex that even Mona Lisa’s mood
Took over four year
Suicide Is Not An OptionI find myself weaving the final stitches
Of a noose I have been working on for a while
I swore I’d use it by the time it was complete
If me and my sanity hadn’t reconciled
Each thread representing a flawed emotion
Which tightly woven together makes up my life
If you’re the one to cut me down from the rafters
Love, patience and understanding must be your knife
I find myself with a gun in my right hand
With only one bullet left in the cold chamber
I hand the loaded pistol with safety off
Blindly in to the hands of a complete stranger
Does this represent me opening my heart
And risking a life of abject, dismal sorrow
This God given gift of love is worth the risk
And cupid’s bullets can pierce deeper than arrows
I find myself perched on the edge of a cliff
And at this point in time I am feeling unsure
If the wind that’s blowing me towards the verge
Is real or in fact just another metaphor
That is representing all of the worries
Which try to push me to the seas
Little Bird AfraidI was singing my heart out through all of the tears
Like a bird chirping in sorrow through a waterfall
All of my friends had long since taken to the sky
And with my lungs full of air I sung out one last call
I had spread my wings out as wide as they would go
To show the world there was potential in me
But I was never brave enough to take flight with them
So was unable to become who I was meant to be
Now I will sing my song to the world one last time
In hope that someone just like me will hear my words
May they echo over the mountains and the seas
Until they meet someone’s ear and can be heard
I want to inspire others to live their life full
But in doing so I have to ask myself why
Can I not just begin my journey again
Is it ever really too late to learn to fly?
I’ve always been a little bird inside a cage
With a door that forever remains open wide
I was just too afraid to try and fly away
But now I see that I no longer need to hide
So I will come from the shadows with my bi
watercolour sky shrinking,
too late, teeth fall; pearls
from a broken string.
Blink and the moon ignites—
but the sheets are still
And wasted dreams
It seems that today,
We waste everything
And wasted time
It seems that today,
We are wasting our lives
And wasted tears
We don't seem to learn,
And so we waste all our fears!
Forgetting...what life means...
And reliving pain
Then we blame everyone around us,
For making us live this way!
Freedom is a drug,
I wish you could taste it!
But you don't have the desire,
It's already wasted!
And wasted pain
Means we are doomed to do it over,
And we still suffer the same!
And wasted girls
Never get a chance to find themselves,
In this wasted world!
And wasted dads
You wasted all your promises,
And they were all that you had!
Forgetting...what life means...
What it means!!
And reliving pain
Then we blame everyone around us,
For making us live this way!
Freedom is a drug,
I wish you could taste it!
Lost NovemberI am lost November,
with the breath of winter
at the hairline of its neck.
I am the blood orange that
sours a little too soon.
A thirty day intuition
to a season of good will.
A blip on the side of
the road that melts easily
out of sight, out of mind.
An unremembered instance
on a torn index page
of a forgotten, spineless book.
I am lost November.
Remember me the instance
when you feel unremembered too.
Artisan Craft and Copyright LawArtisan Craft and Copyright Law
As a Community Volunteer I spend a lot of time pouring through the Artisan Crafts galleries looking for art that deserves a bigger audience. I dig through every little hidden corner of the galleries looking at every type of craft, made by everyone from the most watched members to the day old newbies. And every time I do this, I have to double check it all for originality.
My time doing this had shed light on a massive problem inherent in the AC galleries: copyright violation
Now, I'm not talking about the obvious I-stole-your-picture-and-uploaded-it violations. I'm talking about something much more subtle, to the point it feels like most of the perpetrators don't actually realise they're doing it. I'm often about to give someone a DD, until I read their description and find it completely devoid of credit. Rather than getting a site-wide feature, these artists end up on my blacklist instead. It all boils dow
three-hundred-sixty-sixi am three-hundred-sixty-six seconds too late.
i wake up late
barely dress myself.
i leave late because
i forget it is winter
and there is frost
on my car. i get to school
to get a good parking space.
and somehow my work is always
turned in just
a little too late.
i am three-hundred-sixty-six minutes too late.
i leave school every day
at the last late bell.
jump in my car,
get home for dinner too late.
skip it because
one meal a day is quite enough.
i stay up late.
late into the hours.
no one knows just what i even do
when it is one a.m. and
the rain is pelting my window. sometimes
i wish i could be like the rain.
sometimes, instead of going against
the clock, i wish i could
run with the wind. float. fly.
but i am always too late.
and it seems,
i am not just three-hundred-sixty-six seconds or
three-hundred-sixty-six minutes or
even three-hundred-sixty-six hours
i am three-h
How To Get Me To Donate PointsI've been feeling generous lately, and admittedly have been donating points to certain Deviants who have started donation pools on their page. As a result, others have actually started requesting I donate points to them. So I thought I'd tell you what inspires ME to give points, and quite possibly might get others to donate to you also!
RULE # 1
Don't directly ask me for points. It's a major turn off, and I will automatically deny someone points for asking. Don't send me a personal note, and definitely don't ask on my wall. I gave points one time to someone this way, and only because I really liked their gallery. Besides, asking me feels intrusive, because all the Deviants are people I've never seen before! People on my friends list will get points before strangers. Now that's not to say a journal post about having started a donation pool and what it's for is inappropriate, but I'll get to that later. Just remember, looking a gift horse in the mouth is not proper etiquette.
RULE # 2
A Childhood in WinterSnow coming thick upon steep hills beckons,
Excited they climb, with sleds at the ready.
Daring or fearful, a course they reckon,
With each run completed, moves are more steady.
Nerves held in check, their next turn approaching,
They watch all the others, to learn their best moves.
Younger kids listen to parents' coaching,
Older ones show confidence in their best grooves.
Over the edge and down Boreas Hill,
The oldest and bravest, they take the big run.
Steepest and fastest - a test of one's will!
Intense competition and fine snowy fun.
Winter! For children a magical time,
As snow becomes snowmen, and angels with wings.
For this older poet - challenged to rhyme,
Snow is exciting for memories it brings!
kintsugiwhen you start to think you are
that you are
fragile pottery knocked over
but then repaired
with careful hands
and liquid gold
to fill up all the cracks;
think that you are not damaged
but filled with gold,
because something that has
is all the more beautiful
Wicked TongueI will open my curtains tonight
Before I relinquish my bones to sleep
So I can rise and shine with the sun
At an incline that is not quite as steep
And I will plan my daily routine
So I am not required to interact
With anyone or with anything
Other than my path crossing black cat
I am the ghost of your former love
I am the spirit of your last best friend
Remember when I said I need you
Well I will not be needing you again
Never forget I am someone's brother
Never forget that I am someone's son
Remember this when you throw your stones
And you lash out with your wicked tongue
dead dog julyI.
the summer heat lays limp in the city’s lap,
breathing long oppressive breaths.
it does not even lift its lolling head
to bark out hoarse indignancy
when a strange man brings the mail.
there might be heavy rain today,
brought by some swollen, murmuring cloud.
the world will whirl and howl,
then settle down,
to die a little more.
o, quickly, love,
press your back against the wall in fear
as the universe spreads her arms and
shuts her eyes
and starts to summon the end of all things.
come with me
to the place of windows full of speechless afternoon
hot windy whispers of half-formed solutions and resolutions,
sweltering sunlit meadows we’ll wander and then forget.
o quickly, love,
let’s to the season of forgetting
and unwind all of our harshest memories
and fill the universe’s mouth
with mute cotton.
i’ll whisper these words to you some evening
with all my exigency in the hand i rest on your arm—
Transformers: We Came in WarTransformers: We Came in War
Setting: Sometime during the Bay films
Characters: Optimus Prime
We came to this planet because ours was gone.
The quest for power consumed our home. The need for domination destroyed us. Still we live, and yet there is a piece in each of us that has been decimated forever. We will never recover what we have lost.
I look down upon this planet, and I wonder why we try.
It is evident by now that we have lost the capacity for peace. War follows in our wake. We came to retrieve the AllSpark, which has long since been lost, and we are still here. All that came of attempting to revive our planet was the relocation of the war from our planet of death to this planet of life. There is so much life on this planet. All of it we have sworn to protect. This is the promise we have made to them. But the promise would not need to have been made if we had never co
AndromedaAmongst the darkened skies
Brightened by only starlight
Field & Sea.
Gravity is only an afterthought
Hilltops become ladders into the sky while
Inferior planets stare down upon the Earth
Jealous of such simplicity yet contemplating grandeur.
Keppler only thought of science
Linear, elliptical, movement…
Mythology had no such thoughts
Neptune & Nebulas both inhabit space
Orbiting across the lonely darkness
Probably never worried about mundane things
Questioning their existence
Right now or for all eternity such as us.
Shooting stars make us joyful while
Terminator is an otherworldly spectacle
Unknown to all those hidden in their houses
Various stars await us outside
Waiting to play like we did before
Xenagogue & inviting
Youthful but ancient curiosities.
Zenith induced euphoria continues until daylight…
Keep in Touch!
Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More