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Remember whenRemember when it all began?
When people's faces were like names in the sand
As the sea came back again
We didn't know who we'd end up with as friends
Who'd cause us pain and who'd make us laugh like no tomorrow
Would those faces be the same next week, or should we give up and pursue another?
Who we'd count among our brothers when the darker days came
Now we must part ways and hope we'll see each other again
Hope we stay the same and our new friends don't change us
Hope you all stay in touch when you become famous
Hope I can look back on this and smile.
I, for one, am glad I stayed a while
You've all been so good to me that I don't know what I'd do without you
But I'll have to. Like the rest of us.
Now know this; every time I pick up a camera I'll see your smiling faces
And even though we've come so far from the start,
You'll always have your places
In my photo album heart.
throwawayShut up your bleeding heart.
Close your hands to those around
Never speak to comfort those who mourn
Turn an eye away from pain
And do not let yourself be taken in.
Lock up those caring doors.
Turn off your ears, and to surround
Take steps to build up breeze-block walls
Push against everyone the same
And never look them in the eyes again.
Because everyone you ever loved
And everyone you care about
And those who are most close to you
Will tear your world apart
So lock yourself up
And throw the key away.
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More