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World-WatcherBlood on the sidewalk
mingles with his tears
and the source of the drip
dripping of lifeblood onto the street
because, I suppose,
we were all too afraid to look.
Turning heads fit smoothly into our turning world
as they turn, turn,
turn to look at his blood
his lifeblood on the street
and his tears will dry soon
and he will stop
and we will stop
not for long.
And the source of the drip
dripping will return
silent and brooding and silent
and they will be afraid
afraid to look
but their heads still turn
and I want to move him
to move you
but we are both still
and turning heads find the
two teenagers on the sidewalk
spilling onto the street
side by side
hand in hand
these were the forgotten
the suicidal teenagers
that nobody caught,
because we were all
InvisibleHello, do you remember me?
Do you need some reminders?
I am the face in the crowd,
The one nobody notices,
The one who you never hear speaking
Because you never listen.
Do you remember me now?
Do you remember all the times I stood up for you,
All the times you brushed me off?
Do you remember?
I am the one who listens to you when no one else is willing.
I am that one person whose name you always forget,
Whose homework you can cheat from,
I am the one who will always remember you.
Whenever I saw you in the hallways, I would smile and wave.
Sometimes you would wave back,
More often you wouldn’t notice
You would walk on with the group of people you chose to call friends
While I sat back down in the back corner of the room
Waiting silently for class to start.
I remember you.
To Make a DifferenceThe roads are paved with soot
and the buildings laced with suspicion
and as ash crumbles beneath my feet,
a dead man whispers
something about change
and I whisper in return that I’m sorry
but I have none
none that I can spare, anyway
and the sky is seasoned with despair
because we will not change
there is no change
none to spare, anyway
and outer voices cry out
and the weak die
and the hopeless scream
and the strong reach out and build
but never change.
We are the remains of a fire that died out long ago
the remnants of what could have been great
and we grew and we grew
and we forgot
what it was that we were searching for
and the voiceless and the pathetic and the weak
everyone who can see
who has seen
something about change,
spare some change
because they have none.
And cars sweep up soot
and steam pours into the despairing sky
and the strong live
and the rest die,
and humanity goes home and prays to its imagined savior
Identity ThiefWhy would anybody want
to care about me?
I grew up loved by obligation
not by choice
and it shows when you don't mean it
but I understand, because why
would they ever want to care about
stupid and dim and silent and sad and vague
and not very good at anything that matters.
I wish I could scrape my fingertips across shards
of broken glass
to scrub away all my fingerprints.
Everyone who sees me, then, will look
and I will be different
For those people, though,
the two of them,
they each get some of my fingerprints
so that they can hold them however they like
and believe that it's me they're controlling
even though I'm somewhere else entirely
pressing broken fingers to broken paper
so as to carve onto the white space
my very own fingerprint.
Why would anybody care about me?
Why would anybody want to?
Me, without a face, without a tongue
I am my ears
and I hear you
and I heard you
but I have hands, too,
and a voice
and probably a heart as well;
PracticeLet me practice dreaming
lest I forget how.
Let me practice loving you
lest you forget I’m here.
Let me practice speaking
and screaming your name
lest you forget the sound of my voice;
then together we practice wordplay and gunshots
and resistance and politics
and bloodshed and violence
and the hate crimes that all sound just a bit too familiar -
we practice those
lest we forget the world.
But we don’t really need practice for the inescapable, do we?
Truthfully, instead of living with reality,
I’d rather dream;
but if I sleep forever,
the world will spin on without me
carrying you with it
so I keep up
and I learn
and I take in the world around me
and I do everything I’m supposed to do.
But every night,
I go home
and I dream.
DreamsWhen I was young,
I was so immersed in my perfect world
that every time I fell and hurt myself,
I bled dreams.
Back when 'stupid' was a bad word
and love was an unbreakable smile,
the wind had a voice and the flowers whispered to me
speaking fondly of the seeds that would grow into their children.
Back then, I was always singing,
and I sang of trivial things like sunshine and ice cream
and everything that I loved -
everything my world was made of.
A few years ago, though, I fell particularly hard
and all my dreams
spilled out of my knees onto the pavement.
now that soft words and wishes
appear grey and dull and meaningless
in the eyes of the world,
I fear that all our dreams
have been pumped full of red.
GlassFly with me
through the empty universe
and I will fill the sky with our love
and my heart will spill out
onto the surface of the stars
and you will smile and say that I’m beautiful
that I’m not worthless
things that I could never believe.
Let’s fill the sky together
dance across the ocean
and I’ll probably step on your toes,
but you won’t mind
and we’ll splash through the sea foam
and the droplets of soft green water will roll down your skin
and the world will be perfect and blue and beautiful
maybe not for long,
but at least for those moments
it will be perfect.
But, you know,
our world is like glass.
Beautiful and smooth and transparent
but it can cut deeper than you would believe
and it doesn’t take much
to shatter it.
I would live in this world with you
as long as you like
or as briefly;
be it for an hour or a lifetime, I will stay in our glass world
no matter how harsh and cold it be
LegacyI wish you hadn’t left me your legacy
of purple-black bruises lacing my skin
of the cracked ribs, the broken bones, the anxiety attacks,
the lies and the screams and the shouting
couldn’t you have just let me be?
did I really deserve you?
My wrists are scarred with apologies
and my mind is
with your broken mentality
and maybe I’m ungrateful
and maybe I’m being unfair
and maybe I really did deserve you
and... I'm sorry
I wish you had kept your damn legacy.
MemoryTen thousand souls scream into eternity.
We scream for freedom
we scream for the world to remember us:
did not create us;
did not make me;
the only one in charge is me
the only one in charge is you
in charge of every person on this planet
in charge of every ghost,
I don’t care
I don’t care
I will remember
I will remember
I will remember you if I am the last person left alive
I will remember you if I die tomorrow
I will remember you even if I melt into a ghost of a shadow in your mind
When fear chews through the inside of my heart,
when your tears burn holes in my skin,
when love explodes within me
like a bomb, like a fire, like the explosion of your voice as I fell
Don’t give in.
If you like,
I will memorize every angle, every curve of your face
and paint it in the stars
so that when the earth bursts and burns in the sun,
the universe can still smile.
lost my voice.I wrote "I love you"
in the sand at the beach.
The tide swallowed the words
and drowned them
before I could speak.
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
Loving A Guy Who Cannot Love Himself.Firstly, tell him that he doesn't necessarily need to be the “strongest” man in the world,
that if he cries, you won't look down on him for it,
that you won't call him weak.
Tell him that he doesn't have to like sports, or fishing, or football, or any of the “mainstream” things that boys are “supposed” to like.
Let him know that liking art, or dancing, or singing or acting doesn't make him gay, doesn’t make him any less of a man, it just makes him who he is.
A human being.
And for goodness sakes, tell him that blue does not have to be his favorite color, than he can indulge in pink, or purple or even magenta!
And to the girl who take on the task, remember please, that it is not always the Knight who saves the Princess.
No, this time, the Princess may need to save the Knight.
Do not pour your problems onto him, rather, balance each other out.
Be a shoulder to cry on. A friend to be there. A love that never leaves.
Perhaps more than often,
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
I Fell In love Inside of a DreamI fell in love,
inside of a dream.
And woke up,
with a broken heart.
But it wasn't my heart,
that was broken.
It was his,
and I'll never see him again.
That long haired, pale skin,
blue eyed boy, will forever remain,
a figment of my imagination.
So close, yet so far away.
And I will never be able to apologize,
for my mistake.
ShatteredIf I found you, on your knees,
trying desperately to collect the shattered pieces of your heart-
I would kneel beside you and help you pick them up.
I would not cast a blind eye,
and pretend I had not seen you.
If I saw that your hands had been cut,
by the very shards of hope you were trying so hard to gather-
I would take your hands in mine, and hold them until the pain subsided.
Then I would kiss every wound- no matter how big or how small,
until I was sure you would be able to use your hands again.
If you were crying from the fear that you'd never be able to pick up everything,
I would hold you until your tears stopped, and I would comfort you with gentle words.
But I would not lie to you- I would never lie.
The heart is a frail thing- once shattered, it can never be fully repaired.
Parts will remain missing, and the mended hope will always bear cracks.
If we found that we'd gathered all that we were able,
and that there were a fine powder remaining of what we could not collect.
...You struck a chord in my soul.
Now it rings in my ears,
sweet melody that deafens
screams louder now can't hear it's own
a poem about too many people and too much heart.you were my
conclusion- the last paragraph
and the last thing
i got to say.
i loved you and i
took words from
between my eyelashes and i
put them down for
you, i took you apart
a million times
in my mind and always put you
and i drew
you, soft and silhouetted
window, the pane
foggy and i thought of you
in the darkest of
times, because i kept telling myself
that you were the
light (like you
i know that i am just
a girl with
too much heart and
too weak of ribs; but
i was hoping
that you would help the foxes
hunt the hounds, just for
Permanent PretendWe live in a world of bedbugs and frostbite
of smiles and tears;
we live in a world where we blink into the sky and pretend to laugh
because the people around us pretend to do the same
and children have the best imaginations
they never have to pretend to be real.
Obligatory bedbugs bite into
as we pretend to believe in the
that we're accustomed to.
Yet smiles blend with salt water
as we cry over spilled milk
spilling from sockets in patterns that we wish
we could control.
In the end, none of it matters;
we dissolve slowly into ourselves
as the world forgets us.
But as we look into the end of the sky
we still find ourselves wishing and wondering
what it would be like
if we could breathe the clouds...
And I suppose
Obligations surround us and
the atmosphere battles our being,
and we pretend and pretend and pretend that the world is nothing,
yet somehow most of us live on in love
with our own dreams.
Still, as bed
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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