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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 Letter to the WorldDearest friends... For a long time I have been wanting to speak my mind on something that has been bothering me... Until now, I have not had the words to express myself, and I have not known what to do to make it known... but recently I have come to realize that if I say nothing.... it is worse than saying the wrong things... I have always believed that the world is filled with good people... people who are kind, compassionate, cheerful, and honest. People who balance out the bad in the world, simply by being who they are. The angels in the world. Being good in their hearts so that they shine like a light in the darkness. Leading by example, and sharing their love with those around them to help make the world a better place. I still believe this. However, I have seen people who I have known..... I see people who I know to be kind, gentle souls slowly losing that love...
And it breaks my heart. Smiles grow dull, laughter starts to come not from that place in our hearts that feels joy bu
GayOne thing you can notice everywhere on the web, is the abuse of the different variations to describe a homosexual.
Go onto the YouTube comment section for any big hit video, and you will see “gay” dropped every other comment or so.
Just now, I read a rather long comment argument where a rather cruel individual referred to every homosexual out there as “mentally sick”
And of course the YouTube section responded with rage.
Black people have come a long way since the days of slavery.
The Homosexual community has come a long way since the religious days.
But the discrimination of either of these two examples will never stop, because we are still talking about it.
Did you ever see Morgan Freeman on “60 Minutes”?
He didn’t want a “Black history month” program running, he said that the only way to stop racism was for everyone to stop talking about it.
I fully agree to that, and yes, I realize it may appear a bit hypocritical to sit here an
Propaganda PastThis is what we where given
A man has no right to complain
A long time ago we were protectors
Given the beauty yet turned to corruption
In our hands and we covered that pain with masks
Leering at the gift that spoke
We turned on each other, lack of care
With no one held dear we conquered
Left the loss of hope for better things
Money, Fame, Glory, it seemed like the answer
Without claim we have no reason to do anything
Our purpose rising to heaven, burning like fragrance
Without hope men will become desperate
Our enemy being concealed
Delivering catastrophes on media driven frenzy
Having no power except information, a jilted spirit
Back than we were protectors
We lost love but claimed we were blameless
Now it's broadcast for all to see
Are essence poisoned and refined to sugar
That which was noble has been delivered as spoiled
If we could take it all back
If we could repair the tragedy
Let's start by leaving the shame of our past
And disregard the failures that we blamed on our f
Star-filled SkiesCool breeze,
brushing through the trees
For the chill of it all?
The silence and the darkness?
What darkness, he asks.
Met with confused looks,
yet he just gazes up.
The stars, you see,
they over shine the darkness,
which is why we see them.
And the best thing is that
no matter who you are
how old you are
what you do in life
what you believe in
who you love
who you don't
you always see the stars and the moon
given a bit of time and luck of weather.
So while others wait for the sun every day
I simply wish for the stars every night.
They Say - Don't be a heroThey say that being a hero is somewhat stupid,
that bravery enacted by those who are not empowered allow them to suffer futility in their actions and bring about a greater loss than if they had kept to themselves.
“Don’t be a hero.” They say, in order to keep people’s greater instincts suppressed
and cause those to think rather than to act.
But what the Hero themselves don’t always know is that
they have the power to succeed,
that their actions can bring about a greater future,
and that with their willpower and creative thinking,
any evil doesn't have a chance.
Being a hero isn't about thinking, it is about sacrifice.
The FactoryThe factory opens to its workers.
When the clock ticks, the gears spin.
Once the demand for the day is set, the smiths work.
One hand to focus, the other holding the hammer.
When the metal flows, the hammer strikes.
One after another, creations of man pour from the factory to the people.
The people enjoy their creations, giving them praise for such wondrous devices.
The leader comes to close.
The gears come to a grinding halt.
A successful day of production.
The clock halts and awaits the dawn of a new day.
horizon lostWe walked along the dry and stony track, high and ever higher, in the highest mountains of the world, and at last we saw the Mountain, the home of beauty, of spirit, and imagination. With green fields in terraces at its holy, truly holy, symmetrical, single foot.
The Blue Mountain, the mountain of beauty and spirit, has a split on one side, from which all the rivers of the world flow out, with all the colours of rainbow and forest, and plain and desert and sky.
In the terraced valley, the sweet and beautiful palace of knowledge and calm reflection, we lived for an era unknown. At last our unresting spirits desired more, ever more. We suddenly desired to leave our contentment. For something new, exciting.
We escaped from the valley of our confinement to peace and beauty. We escaped to our world of ugliness and destruction, and our eternal wanting greed. The fault lies not in the Universe, but in us.
We wanted because of some imperfection within our minds, not knowing that we had a
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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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