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Queen UlyssesYou build me up
and break me down
I can't take anymore
My dreams have gone and
Drowned on your mind's shore
What once was love can't be found
What once ignored no more
You build me up
and break me down
I can't take anymore
My sweet love
At cold Neptune's mercy
My worries are to earthy
I'm not worthy, come home.
HesitationWe live under a mountain of snow that slowly accumulates as we drift into sleep.
From this mountain a small signet of light can be seen, if one ventures to the peak, just before the harsh wind seeks to return you to the white blindness. This light, comes from a door, left slightly ajar. A door that lives on the edge of a withered field. The cows have left the grass uneven, yet a path can be seen, giving it's origin to this mysterious door. This cold and harsh environment could never let you reach this destination. So you must sit and wonder until spring comes, and the river returns full of lively fish.
MiS PaLaBRasMis palabras
Son impotantes para mí
Pero, en cualquier lenguaje
Mientras yo miro a la prosa
Infundada. ¿Tienen sentido las palabras?
¿solamente lo tienen a uno,
que está dispuesto a asimilar la importancia
que el autor hubiese querido?
¿Si no tuviese lentes
Serían más importantes las palabras
que no más tengo que forzar para ver?
¿Por la creciente
Desbaratar la deficiencia de mis ojos
Que quiero corregir.
Las palabras pierden su sentido?
¿Que cosa nos hace leer?
Y estar prudente en el análisis de esto?
Ode to the Water BottleWhy are you not wise water bottle?
Filled with the stuff of life and
Hated, must you spend those
Wasteful years among the
Saddened and ruined things
Depressing that it's your parents who hate
the ones who proclaimed you
Now are your enemy
This pure chalice
lay in form
while the others waste into the natural cycles
when they mold into you
will they hate you so?
may the journey of your offspring
be filled with valor
you never stop growing
and only is the way up
sorry, just keep growing maybe one
will realize what he has done
but until then,
I will plant your seeds,
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
SightStars in the night sky
I see beyond that and through
Greatness into darkness, I can fly
Here above the earth I can see the truth
There is an angel that will love me until I die
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
UntitledPave me into a building and I should feel more important than ever,
Place me into a cloud and I shall feel like god.
Nail me into wood and I shall feel as I am nature.
Build me into your home, and I shall always feel warm.
Construct a monument in my honor and I shall feel vapid
Worship me and I shall feel overestimated.
Carry me and I shall feel helpless.
Tell me and I shall feel sorry.
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More