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Why is my heart so filled with sin?
Why must I struggle with this filth within.
Save me Lord from myself
And show me how to love.
It's a bright night.
I might write about:
Thoughts of a fight!
Then a flight from spite...
Don't bite.. You're too uptight.
But don't delight in your plight.
It's not right to skite.
What a sorry sight.
Gotta reach quite a height.
I'm not quite upright
On this bright night.
A broken man, shattered by his lover.
Fallen tears splash in the gutter.
I am sickened by this sinful world.
Why do people have to hurt one another?
Another Day - Another Night
Why do I sit at the computer all day
Whiling weary hours away?
I think the nights must know me well,
Hoping for something to cheer my soul
I fear the sleep that steals my time
And while away another day.
Frustration finds itself in you.
And if you weren\'t such a favoured friend,
I may have never bothered.
But since your friendship means so much
I will throw myself into the depths of despair,
And leave with down-turned face,
The notion of a friend behind,
Who shared my weekends kicking
A ball around a park.
I hope that we will long remain friends,
And with that hope I lift myself from the depths,
To enjoy your company as you freely give it,
And set my sights on the game.
Butterflies of Your Love
A torrent of soft wings flood
over my closed eyes,
as I see myself from the outside,
dreaming of you.
Butterflies (a million shades of white)
caress my face
and flow around me
Oblivion Rests HereOblivion Rests Here
i have gathered my congregation,
and today you witness my church.
we are spirits, wandering ghosts,
souls holding hands
falling, spreading like rain
racing down windowpanes.
we are a mosaic of loose threads
falling from old scarves,
shrapnel that fell from fireworks,
leaves scattered across mud grain,
and ashes forgotten in wildfires.
but the forgotten souls sew love together,
wrapping whispers and skin
around each other like tornadoes.
and we rain down our message
like the King himself has touched down.
strands of hair, empty fingers, fluttering arms
all find themselves filled with warmth
in free rein, the sky embracing our veins
as we hold space
with c(h)ords of culminating ardor,
vocal cords strumming chants of freedom.
we sing louder than any choir
and hold each other tighter
than any thread count could.
tactile, textile, tensile
strength, we expose entities
with tractile virtue,
healing the exiled.
send Muhammad, Yahweh, Al
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
The UniverseThen suddenly there was matter.
There was time, there was life.
From the unfathomable nothing sprung forth our universe.
Our earth was born,
she, an angry mass of volcanoes and storms.
And life, oh that miracle, rose from the non-space.
A single microorganism,
whose name we will never know,
began turning the Evolutionary Wheel.
Earth had many inhabitants.
But here and now, she houses us.
Homo sapiens, her most gifted child.
We have made her surface angry as the beginning.
Machines of war replace the storm,
death flourishes in the garden of life.
In a hundred-thousand years our plights will matter not.
If the Homo sapiens lives still, he will be alien.
His old achievements as pathetic as the discovery of fire.
Even he will eventually cease to exist.
Several million years will rob him of his humanity,
whether through death or the persistence of the Wheel.
Billions of years will pass then.
Andromeda will embrace the Milky Way,
their fervent dance sending shockwaves through their solar sys
yahwehIn fifteen hours I will be strung, pelvis
to sternum, ready to be struck
stomach aching to sing -
There was once when I was whole,
full and stretched to breaking,
I have been a giant in my own skin &
finger to thumb, you
swallow my spine in your palms
play my bones,
play my bones,
play my bones //
I am rising to throb
& thud & thrum
of pulse and breath and music
of mantra spilt-spoken,
smeared sacred over wrists
written with sweat & sex,
Muscles tensed for every chord,
Herein is the hallelujah -
You alone, you alone, you,
Hollow my belly and carve me
until I am fluted, crying out
between your hands
I have been too much to love,
every wire & tendon pulled loose
, I have been too much
& now you are here
& you play my bones
until the giant in my skin
becomes a rhythm
You move me,
spine swallowed and sequestered,
I become holy beneath you
I was too much to love:
whisper prayers along my jaw
until all your God
Tonight I k
MistakesBe brave enough to admit your mistakes
Be Strong enough to accept them
And be wise enough to learn from them
Why do you judge?Why do you have the need to judge with your signs?
Do you even know why I am here?
Am I here just because I do not want the responsibility to be a mom?
Am I here because I am not in the right place in my life where I can take care of a child?
Or am I here because I was raped and he didn't use a condom?
Don't you know it is going to hurt me in the long run after I do this?
So how do you sit there with your sings and judge people?
Little Fighters.This is the story of two boys
that lost too much.
The older one was born with a gun in his hand
and the other one had beautiful eyes
if it weren't for how they blackened with demon blood.
They knew each other
because they were all that was left.
One day, the boy with the gun
tried to save the world
and ended up to be the black-eyed one.
Then his brother picked up the gun.
The Murder of Ashley CrowAshley Crow, who painted stars
in shades of ink and blue,
forced to replenish pickled screams
in only blissless mews;
and Mother beckons, Father taunts,
for ice is worse when black,
and took dear Ashley's loss of red,
for stubborn lack of tact.
Linguistic warfare licked her skin,
and coals laid in her stride.
Boisterous tongues like sandpaper,
wore at her turquoise pride.
The air she swallowed laced with scarlet
disdain in Mother's kiss:
tallied as insecurities,
a barcode on her wrist.
When Mother Crow and Father Crow
had pecked and scraped the bone,
she flew that day and hid away,
for black had beat crimson.
Her coffin smelt of pine and blue,
her parents taunt no further,
How fit to call a gathering
Of cackling Crows a murder.
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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