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This evening.Shall I describe to you my favorite colors?
There are two of them, quite ordinary if you ask.
The first is the shade of the underside of a hawk's wings, as an autumn sunset hits the feathers.
It's liquid copper sunlight, woven by God into a glorious shape.
The second shares the same season.
It's the clear autumn sky, at twilight.
So cliche, I know, but that's what makes it ordinary.
The pale yellow on the horizon, going down the gradient into chilled orange, blue-gold.
And then that first sight of navy, that first instance of stars in the velvet.
That is the second color.
A blue so deep I could stare for hours, did it not last only a few short minutes.
They are my favorite colors.
Mine and my own.
Ordinary, and commonplace.
But fantastic and lovely.
Essay, unnabridgedThe year is 2013 and my high school, the hypothetical last refuge in the area against the undead, has been breached. After the first of the zombie scum entered the building, through a door left open by a scavenging patrol, panic spread quickly. I abandoned my friends in the crowd, grabbed my schoolbag, and sprinted with the flow of terrified people. I broke off into a nearly-empty hallway, populated by similar minded people desperately attempting to find a hiding place. The had nothing with them but their adrenalin-heightened fear; unlike me, they had not planned for a situation like this, a situation where the safety of the last haven in Frederick would be destroyed.
Unlike the sorry souls I turned my back on, I had thought through this scenario countless times. In the corner of the cafeteria, where my friends and I set up base, I found myself with ample time to think. I'd hoarded small supplies, filling my school bag not with the now arbitrary textbooks, but with survival gear.
the Companion taxGive me breath, give me life, but don't give me your validation, I know I'm right.
I know that what I feel is how I should feel, and I don't need you to tell me I should feel guilty or proud of it.
It's my essence and I'm not ashamed and I don't need your opinion of me for support; I stand on my own.
So let me breath and let me live and then I can give you my devotion and myself.
That is all I ask for me from you, from me to you.
Wild RideTry not to lose your place in your life
We'll be returning to this page
But outside the book is a world unwritten
I'm here to free you from your paper cage
Buckle up and strap in
Just fake it for a while
Remove the silicone from your fun-dip
Give me a great big smile
You've always been one to turn
Your stubborn face towards the sun
And question "why" when people said you couldn't
You'll have your answers when we're done
Outside your pages is a world
That they don't want you to see
A world of "why's" and "what if's"
A world where you want to be
By the time our time together is complete
You'll have your answers my dear
This world unwritten has no rules against it
But your answers may not be completely Clear
Find them yourself, I'm only your tour guide
I'll hand you nothing but the means
When I return you to your routine written pages
Pick your book apart at the seams.
New Age SocietyI remember distinctly
Yes, I remember quite well
It was neither the last time nor the first time
That you told me to go to Hell.
It was that middle time,
Somewhere on Memory Lane,
When I said "see you there, bitch,"
and suddenly I saw the insane.
In our New-Age society,
Where even the label-less have labels,
Children are taught from birth
Skewed, hate-twisted fables,
Of greed and strife and hidden morals
That the Only way through life
Is also through battle and quarrel.
You're twice as likely going to find
Someone pointing legislature, rather than a gun.
It's equally as dangerous,
Two-times the reason to run,
Such a major cause of so much anxiety
So much discontent
In this New-Age Society.
In this New-Age Society,
I have no memory of better times gone by
Instead I have a childhood of discrimination
Sweet Nothings'if i could, i would devour you. i would eat you whole, consume you mind, body, and soul. because i am a selfish person. i want you all to myself. no one else may have you.' he said to her, as they lay tangled in each other.
her reply came with a sleepy smile.
'there is a part of my mind which understands the intended romance in your statement. that part is wooed by it. there is also a part which insists upon my realizing the reality, the literal. you, my dear, are a cannibal.'
he placed a kiss on her head.
'well, we'll have to work hard then, to make sure that you are only wooed. we will make you want to be eaten. we will make it so that part of your mind which is literal, is quiet, so when i whisper sweet nothings into your ears, you are completely swept away. lifted off your feet by my obvious romantic intention.'
The Useless PlentyThey pass us every day. On the streets, or in school buildings, they'll nudge by us on their way to some place else. Some place, not here. But we're already there. Our minds have taken us father than their legs ever will.
And they don't understand. They try, certainly, but their have their mundane drama and appearance while we concern ourselves with whatever fills the spaces. The little cracks, filled with stray passions like windows stuffed with cloth in the winter. To keep the empty out.
This is for the girl with cuts up her arms, raised from the skin, and the boy who drinks bottles of cough syrup for the alcohol content. This is for the girl who dyes her hair to hide, but in doing so, says, "Hello, World. Here I am. Suck on it." This is for the boy who lives for his image, cultivates it carefully for the public eye, then will go home and watch anime or a sci-fy show, and doesn't care who knows.
They pass us. There is a distinction, the "us" and the "them." Within the us, there are s
Jerky“Dad, is that guy jerky?” I ask as we pull up alongside a car, towards which my father is throwing dirty looks. He ceases, and exchanges a look with my mother at the comment.
Minutes pass. It may have been days, but it does not matter, because I am again in the rear passenger seat of our first Honda. Strapped into the back, but not into a booster seat anymore; I am a big girl, and the laws are different in Canada. My father is again driving, my mother occupies the seat in front of me.
“That guy is jerky,” I say with conviction, sure that this time, I am right. I even point so they know who I’m talking about, the man in the car that caused father to growl for some reason. Again though, mother and father say nothing. The giants in the front seats simply exchange another look. The kind of look that makes me think I shouldn’t have said what I said. But I don’t understand.
Father calls other drivers jerky all the time, especially when they act like
And best of luck to the boysAnd best of luck to the boys in the band
on the rest of their lives
I wish you all well while we sit here
trying to get by
without the music that kept us alive
And let's give them all a great big hand
a rowdy applause for the boys in the band
we'll manage and make it somehow, I'm sure
sick and dying hospital patients
without the music that was our cure
A Few of My Thoughts on Atheism and ScienceFor me, personally, I have always loved nature.
I have found it captivating and breathtaking my entire life.
But once I came to the conclusion that my ideals were best suited to an atheist viewpoint nature became so much more incredible.
The massive trees, the outrageous insects, the fantastic beasts, and the thundering waterfalls; they weren’t the will of a divine being or a magical force unseen.
They just were.
Because science. Fuck you, that’s why.
And how cool is that?
How cool is it that we don’t NEED almighty intervention or a powerful deity to get all of this?
All of these colors and emotions and all of the cosmos and every blade of grass in the ground and hair on your head is just because it is.
Because that’s just the way it evolved to be.
It is so incredibly logical and seemingly random and entrancingly gorgeous.
No one put the stars in the sky, no one painted the butterfly’s wings.
Nothing told the rain the fall, or taught the fish
The SpotlightEaster Sunday, 1993, Bernhard Langer won the Master golf tournament. As he stepped off the 18th green to receive the green jacket-one of golf’s most coveted prizes-a reporter said, “This must be the greatest day of your life!” Without missing a beat, Langer replied: “It’s wonderful to win the greatest tournament in the world, but it means more to win on Easter Sunday-to celebrate the resurrection of my Lord and Savior.”
Langer had an opportunity to boast about himself, but instead he turned the spotlight on Jesus Christ. It’s exactly what Paul was talking about when he said, “We also rejoice [boast] in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have no received the reconciliation” (Romans 5:11).
It’s easy to look for ways to draw attention to our own accomplishments, making mental lists of this that are “cool” about ourselves. Even Paul admitted that he has a lot to brag about-but he considered all of it
T.I.P Thoughts 009With our morals declining and factions pulling us apart it becomes apparent that a wake-up call is required for society. We go to wars in the name of religions that at their very core tells us not to harm each other. We create laws based on the ideals of others yet do nothing in society to help people abide by those laws. Laws are there to protect us and punish the bad but obliviously this isn't working as crime runs rampant. Which comes back to my point that our morals are failing us. We take what we want. We do what we want with little regard to others. We consume without replenishing. We are a plague on this world. We need to change.
I am not saying I have the solution as I am but a man and man is fallible and can be vilified but how does one promote change in the world. I wrote a piece in my other DA account which keeps coming back to me as something that actually has merit. What would the world be like if ALL follow
Anthropomorphicise ThisAnthropomorphicise this
As huemanity developed, the concept of the Eternal Almighty was over-rationalized, not only to the point of Christianity/Judaism or Scientology, but simply to tell the hueman mind, to placate it, that the Divine Force is not something truly alien. This world was made for consumers and posturists. The age now, only compounds that age-old desire for the Housewife to be secured by the Matriarch.
StandbyI'd rather put my life on standstill avoiding mistakes
than put the lives of others on standstill making them.
Where Art Thou, Purity? (A Thought on Good Friday)
As I sit here at 2:50 AM on April 18, 2014— the morning of Good Friday— I am called to remember Jesus Christ's sacrifice for us. That He bled and died so that when each of us faced our Judgment Day, we could hear the Almighty Judge hand down a verdict of "not guilty" for all of the sins that we have committed is simply overwhelming. No man comes to the Father except through the sacrifice and blood of Christ, but it seems that much— in fact, most— of the world has turned their backs on Him. The fact of the matter is that people enjoy reveling in their sin and they enjoy not having an eternal authority figure to answer to. They are of the mindset that if they don't believe in any "God," then they don't have to pay any eternal consequences because if God doesn't exist, then neither do said consequences. That could not be further from the truth. The truth is that whether or not you believe in or submit to the Will of God, the consequences of such b
The writer in godAmong artists I believe there are a few things that unite them all. Art itself is complex thing and the making of it consists mostly of struggling to go beyond your own capabilities and postponing the wish to hang yourself. Artists make the most beautiful things; one might paint a work of art more beautiful than the reality, or sculpt something so extraordinary that you wish it were just a little bit more alive. Now some might want to argue, but written word is no different. We writers can sketch situations just as well as any painter. It is just through different means.
So I want to sketch a scene here for you. I will start with some silly lines and vague impressions.
Let’s say there was once a powerful being, an omnipotent creature, so imaginative and so creative that he had the universe at his fingertips. And If I must believe that which is written down in the bible explains that god created the world and mankind in seven days. Then we are a form of art are we not? We come for
The ProblemThe youth today does not know how to talk. We do not know how to talk to one another nor do we know how to talk to anyone outside our age group, capable of articulating but not transferring meaning with out spoken words. Yet we have profound conversations through text messages, using less than 160 words, and know exactly how to transfer our feelings and thoughts into abbreviated words and sentences so that others will understand them easily. However, they have no depth. Any actual conversation, two of us face-to-face, is awkward and harsh, unless there has been left enough time for the two to come to know each other. Upon first meeting, it is rare that eye contact will be made. Jokes and jests are made, in attempt to connect, and numbers are exchanged, maybe. That is when the communication begins. Not when two people have the opportunity to talk, unlimited words, pay nothing, but when they have limited words counts and little chance for actual connection.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More