|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
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.
RockHacking away at a rock with another rock will shape the rock
you are hacking at by time, but the rock you are using might also break.
This can be frustrating and you may want to give up and go do something else,
but that is when you should get back on your feet, find another rock and continue hacking.
You might never feel that the rock you are shaping ends up perfect and you will always see flaws or
improvements to be made. Passion to do something isn't to finish it, it's to work on it.
Hearts of ImaginationStanding near the horizon.
Looking at the world before me and all of it's colors.
Breath taking, inspiring, refreshing.
So many things to say, so many things to feel.
All of this was created by someone perfect.
All of this couldn't have existed.
This was created with a heart that can see perfection.
This was created with a heart of pure imagination.
Imagination is in every heart as the desire of eternity.
How can this be limited and challenged?
It's hard to fathom that all of this was limited.
It wasn't, nor was the heart of the one who rules it all.
Sitting in class, and hearing his words of glass.
Make everything realistic and meaningful he says, but be creative.
Story after story breaks my own heart; where is the imagination?
Where is the one thing I was made for?
In my room I huddle; this class frustrates me.
Papers torn across the room like a hurricane of parades.
I feel torn; I feel cold.
Where is the one thing I was made for?
It all becomes meaningless, and my passion becomes co
Ephemeral MomentsLike the sky above me
And many endless sea-waves,
It seems to me that I am floating.
In the sleep for the past.
In all splendor, in my glance –
Interwoven the butterfly flies
And it is easy to smile for me.
Today matters, but only the true appearance
And far prevail all flaps.
In view, freedom can be almost seized.
Yesterday seems to be forgotten
And the future, beyond question.
Balanced is my wish
To let go all hold.
But shall I chose the sky now
Or shall I dive into the sea-blue?
i fear you
and i love you
you have created the beauty and the life
as well as the misery and death
as adversaries and counterpoints
to your cosmic composition
according to your secret wisdom
you saw everything already
when it was only in germ
in the shining darkness
and before the world was born
even before the beginning
of all you were here
in the beginning of time, on the face of the darkness
shivered the inkling of the breath of your name
of which bright sparkle the world was given to born
according to your divine and foreknowing will
according to your magnificent wisdom
you have send us the purple dawns and dusks
the armies of the stars of the night sky
which twinkle during the long winter nights
together with the moon and the cherry blossoms
of the spring and the multicoloured summer flowers
of various kinds and the shining colours of
They say Christians never doubt
That all we do is look down on people
For being flawed and imperfect
That we think we are superior to all
Let me tell you something
It is a complete and utter lie
If anything we doubt more than most
Because we struggle not to lose our faith
Why fight for it all, you ask?
Because I'll always know
That there is always Someone there
Whose arms I can collapse in
No matter how much I rage and scream
Despite all the insults I throw at Him
Even if I walk away time and time again
He'll never leave, even if everyone else does
The Heathen in Your Midstdo not mistake his presence as a prayer
nor take his poise as an act of attrition
that he sits atop your pew
does not make him one of you
this Heathen in your midst
he has no guilt left to give
and whether you wanted it or not
is no longer a concern of his
he traces fingers along the stone
and makes your Virgin a proud young Mother
the seed of Annikki becomes the blood of Frija
such is his wicked Heathen craft
your symbols do go back in time
where neither Jew nor Christ have breath
symbols of the harvest to be reaped as you have sewn
sigils here are those that touch the Heathen’s heaving heart
do not be offended as this wicked Witch takes your church away
for were you there upon its silent pews
than he never would have come to bother you
Poet has eyeswhen the night takes its step to the kingdom of shadows
then there is liveliness between the told and the untold
then the poet has eyes seventy
times seventy or maybe even more
within all these eyes the poet has fiery look like seraphs
and equal amount of wings in mouth like cherubs
under the poets tongue is a key which opens and closes
everything on the border of the seen and the unseen
but don’t delude yourself because in reality even one eye
or hand or instinct is enough for a human being
to make bright from the darkness of this world
if it only looks within - because look
the kingdom of god is within you and it can not be taken away from you
by angels or thrones or principalities or dominions or powers
The Cross We BearSometimes we are born
with a cross to bear
and to that cross you are not warned,
it is okay to think that unfair
That cross you must carry
to your own personal Calvary
and you must be wary
that all you will feel is agony
Once the cross is made to stand
and just as though it were planned
You will face both The Dark and The Light
only you can choose which way is right
Ascend into Heaven
or Descend into Hell
Can you live with your choice?
Only time will tell...
La demesure de ce monde.La démesure de ce monde.
Nous humains sommes démons et excès :
Ce monde est en démesure d’absurdités.
Quand arrive l’automne
En éclaboussure de couleurs,
En jaunes qui s’orangent,
En verts que le rouge ronge,
Quand la forêt se fait fleur,
Les brumes pleurent l’été en allé
En langueur de lambeaux et caresses
Que le vent disperse bientôt.
Nous humains sommes anges déchus :
Les croyants qui ne condamnent l’ISIS
Font de leur Dieu et Allah, un salaud!
Est-il raisonnable de salir ainsi son Dieu?
La nuit est cette fenêtre sur le vide
Qui habite notre multitude
Sous le champ des étoiles
Notre univers n’est fait que d’aléatoire
Où Dieu n’est qu’un joueur compulsif
Qui a peut-être mal joué ses cartes.
Existe-t-il un univers plus sensé
Où le bien en absolu règne,
Où l’enfant est ce p
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.
Keep in Touch!
A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More