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FoolishExploding over the walls,
your personal Jesus can't save you.
Why, why, why
her demons scream in her face.
Blinding and illusionary in the dark,
but you and she can't see,
all pent up and foolish actions.
Does it loose meaning?If I say I'm sorry
does it change a thing?
Would to keep saying
that one word be demeaning?
To say it today
and then say it the next
to say it again and again
does it not loose meaning?
Should I say that one-
for just a small taste of:
anger, annoyance, bitterness,
a raised voice in a sentence?
Should I say I'm sorry?
But, still this image...I remember the days
of sunflowers and daises;
of passion flowers blooming
and the consciousness of a lotus.
Memories of wind and sun,
water lapping upon coasts
and tidal waves of revolution -
the true beginnings of a peculiar bloom.
Washing up on stranger shores,
staring at a new symmetry,
the forming of a unknown world -
the starting of quiet discontent.
An invention, a discovery, outlandish!
Growing faster, faster, fast -, fa -
to a grotesque transformation
into an astonishing reflection.
Expanding and contorting,
flowers bursting in fire and rebirth;
from marvelous and into extraordinary
but still, this image...
A Glass JarI fought with a pen instead
never thinking to use a sword.
Words flowed unbidden, non-rhyming,
the beginnings of a strange symmetry;
These words whispered across the pages,
ink constantly flowing, flowing -
rivers of words pouring out of pen
into a glass jar full of dreams.
Alas, these images of past, present
and the future of my yesterdays,
are only just a glass jar full of dreams.
Glimpse, A Glint, of possibilitiesA flash, one moment,
just a simple glimpse
one whisper full of meaning
and eyes shining out bright.
The sun catches upon a shine,
a glint, an echo, a brush,
a field of a soft golden glow
and trees of deep, deep roots.
Promise, promise, promise,
a promise of something more -
left or right, or walk off;
Make it quick! Make it quick!
Brimming full of the more,
bubbling over, flowing out
quickly take a sip from it
or the moment is gone to soon!
A moment, a glint, an echo,
one glimpse of what could be;
if only, if only but for one
moment to make a choice.
Suddenly, but oh so suddenly
It is gone.
The Wind RagedRage, rage, the wind went
it whirled about in discontent.
It never seemed to stop it's lament
and neither would it relent.
It cried and cried and cried,
having no where to hide.
It just could not seem to abide
being so very cold outside.
All the wind wanted was to find peace
and yet already had it's release;
The wind just did not know how to cease
or even remember how to be nice.
Jar of DreamsShe collected her dreams,
one by one in these glass jars.
She had a giant collection sitting,
always sitting on a bunch of shelves-
they were tucked away between books
and lost underneath papers, hidden away.
Sometimes she would take them out to see,
wanting a view of what she had once dreamed.
Never ever did she think or wanted to release them
for doing so would meant to shatter her precious jars
and she was ever so afraid that those shards would cut,
cut and cut and cut her, leaving her shredded into pieces.
So on rainy days, she would find them, take them to the window
and put them on display as she counted them all, one, two, three...
she would cry and cry with the rain always wishing, always dreaming
of the day that maybe she would be unafraid to release the precious jars
Flower's InstructionsWith tender care a seed
was planted into the garden.
It's life grew fast as children do,
from seed to bud to bloom.
Flower greeted the world with
its beauty and petals almost overnight.
The flower told the gardener,
as it bloomed it's colors:
Treat me well fair world
for I am small and delicate
Give me gentle winds of words
for hurricanes will blow me away.
Give me tender kisses of light
so that I may not wilt from harsh love.
Give me soft rains of kindness
so I may be kind and strong.
If you do these things
I'll be beautiful for life.
Desire Has WroughtDesire found itself upon lonely shores,
washed up on an a tiny island
no where to go except
in a circle around an island.
There is nothing to do but think before ,
stretch out upon sands;
come to terms, accept
what Desire had done.
Desire, Desire, the waves whispered,
expressing the loneliness of Desire
of knowing what once had been grasped
and what has been lost.
Nothing Desire thought of could deter
the thoughts of what had transpired
what desire had almost clasped
but now knows the cost.
Shel SilversteinI might have been friends with Henry Moore
I visited near his studio and garden once
We might have had tea
I could have helped Ziolkowski with his Crazy Horse
All I needed to do was show up in the Black Hills
All I needed to do was put my hand out
Just be human, be honest
We three, Moore, Ziolkowski and I would have been buds
Talking about women and monumental sculpture
The Dalai Lama might want to be a pal of mine
The Buddha would smile on us
We could sit out in front of Five Brothers
And drink Cuban coffee and laugh
His Holiness loves to laugh
But Shel, this presumption…
This one-sided dialogue…
It has been in my head since you died
We didn’t meet, but I am sure we would be friends
You and I would talk about pirates and politics
We would joke about conch royalty and cuss
You would be shoeless and grinning
I would be happy you were my friend
RevolutionChains and chains of hopeless bind the system together
No one feeling like they can change the world
No one feeling like our very existence is just vanity
No one feeling like there is anything to live for
Millions and millions of confusion in the air tonight
Fills the blue skies and enters into our hearts
Confusion and vanity is what the world runs by
Be this, do that, give this, believe that; all I can do now is raise my fist in the sky
As I raise my fist high in the sky, I shout a battle cry of life
There is only one voice that still stands out through the generations
I shout a battle cry with my fist in the sky; words that brings the world to life
Words that brings light back into the hearts of people from young to old
Revolution; time to end the misery
Revolution; time to show the world the true meaning of life
Revolution; time to show the world that true love exists beyond our understanding
Revolution; time to cry out into the heavens for love to come down
Revolution; time to rise
The Dance.You and I dance as life and death,
unbroken and ever going,
circling and never ending.
As the music dies,
and the song stops,
where our dance is paused.
My sight goes gray,
the light in my eyes dims,
and I fall down forever back.
Your face is the last thing,
I saw and remembered so I take great comfort,
that you're forever there before me as I fall down.
So the music revives,
and the song restarts,
where our dance is unpaused.
The music is all around us and surround us,
like the lives we make and take,
and the dance is going faster to bring life and disaster.
Passage to the Catacombs of TimeWhen day becomes empty
In the dusk,
When time without pictures begins,
Lonesome voices combine –
Animals are nothing more than hunters
Or being hunted –
Flowers are only fragrance –
When everything becomes nameless like in the beginning –
You will go down to the catacombs of time
That will open to those
Whose end is near –
There where the heart seeds grow –
Deep into dark contemplation
You will sink –
Already passing death
That is only a windy passage –
And freezing from the exit
You will open your eyes
In which already a new star
Has left its reflection.
The Memory of a Dead Man Walking
Suchlike the will of brimstone beasts,
Is the will of a dead man walking,
In each step is left the prints of carelessness.
Holding the half empty glass with a crack in the side,
stumbling around the dunes in the long wait to become
a savage before the credits roll.
A happy ending was for another tale for another man way
off back in the mirage of the desert that harbors those
dunes as he lies six feet under with a smile by rigor
mortis and a silent song in the beatless heart, there
beneath a tombstone that read,
here lies a memory.
Come Hell or high Heaven, the dead man walking
walks on without a goal or care for the world,
a bottle of dried up whiskey hanging loosely
in hand, gathering sand from the winds of that
coming storm. Illusive would have been his
laughter to sober eyes in that wasteland.
The Memory looks on as a shade beyond the grave,
staring straight at a man of woe, watching those
apathetic trails disappear. The glass fell into
the bosom of those lands beyond greener pastur
baby stepsit was probably
celsius met fahrenheit
in a sloppy french kiss on frozen ground.
after all the walking,
the skin of my hands started to crack and bleed;
silence, i decided,
was the solution and the cure. i dipped
my hands into its glowing broth:
warmth suffused my body struggling
to sit still.
on marched the sun,
You're just a puppetI am everything,
I am nothing.
I am everywhere,
I am invisible.
I'm in your head and won't let go.
You beg for my approval,
I am light,
but you will never see me.
But you will never know me.
You don't know yourself.
You are lost.
You know what i allow you to know.
You're just a puppet, who thinks he's alive
You're just a puppet.
Message to Gaia.Time have passed above my head
I remember when from my diary I read,
I used to look into your eye."
My dear, is the only thing
That still keeps me alive.
Can you recall
Which we call our own,
Where you and I
Used to hide
To become one with All?
I still cry them back
When I stargaze and look above,
When I hug your precious love,
When you give me companions
To forget the sadness of a lonely heart.
I amI am a merchant
and she is the sun.
Something so far
yet radiates the gold
that I long to feel.
I am a Knight
and she is the war.
The impending doom
of nautical decisions
that only death can incur.
I am a God
and she is the oblivion.
A desire for power
that only it holds
just to feed the greed.
I am the forever nothing
and she is the truth of life.
That I will never get to breathe
under the circumstances
of a love never getting.
StrangerKill me now lest I dream to deep
or to fast that I am swallowed
by all that is and was.
While chasing the white stag,
the trees melt and seas boil
the world seems repugnant.
From the land of frozen
lips become black and blue
with stiff movements of uncertainty.
From the land of the scorching,
the heart melts and explodes
while the minds discovers phantasmagoria.
And within the realm of copse,
the mind discovers the unearthing,
and there is silence on the lips.
Oh where oh where have I gone,
where is this stag and feast
taken me that I am a stranger?
Within this flow of possibilities,
a sea full of obscurity and absurdity,
there is a stranger staring back at me.
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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