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12:53 AMSitting at desk, lounging in the chair...
Semi sleepy, feeling... the flow of things. The rhythm of the white noise of the computer and its gears and parts whirring warmly...
The television as background noise in the living room... sounds like an old movie.
Leg feels like its falling asleep. I move it instinctively.
Overhead light is off. Lamp is on. Not bright yellow light- soft white light. Long lamp. Unusual shape. Dusty on top.
I glance around... memorabilia from childhood scattered about... statues of Batman, old cartoons, old major league baseball banner hanging on wall-- "Baseball Fever!", it says...
Face feeling scruffy. Ran out of razors a couple of days ago. Haven't shaved.
Car hasn't been working for 3 days. Trapped in here... feeling tired...
The World I Built From DarknesThe world I built from darkness
Isn't dark at all
It is a world of perfection
Where every mother is just a mother, every father just a father,
And every son and daughter is a great child
Where there is no fanaticism, hatred, greed, or whore mongering
Just peace, freedom, and true liberty
In the world I built from darkness, there is silence
But only when and where you want it
There is no confusion, only clarity
Emotions do not exist, but rather, rationality
The world I build from darkness, simply
Does not exist
dear diarysleep and nausea are my brothers.
the propaganda on tv
is the backdrop to my meandering.
(once the wave paves the way for warmongering traders...)
"choose us. let us, not them, be"
the ones to deliver
rape and ravage to your doorstep.
so far so bad. they coke, we pepsi. all
big boys now, hands capable of cupping
the schoolyard bullies grow up and instead of stones throw
abstractions, abstractions, abstractions.
if brainwash should shed
calculated light on the
tangle of armed hypocrisy,
let it at least be slow and gentle,
rock my brain into a rudimentary reverie
of how the earth will (never) tilt
in our favour but they
will never destroy us.
under topol-m wings.)
do not succumb
or invest your heart in this drivel.
warships make you seasick. your brothers are
sleep and nausea.
a note from an angry feministdon't you think it's strange
(and with strange
i mean complete and utter bullshit)
that some ladies don't have the obvious right
to their own bodies
that hundreds of thousands acts of rape happen every year
and you can bet your ass
that it's the one fake accusation that makes it into the papers
that in media
seventy six percent of main characters are dudes
that women still have to fight
for the same wage
for the same god damn job
that breasts are threatening
if it's not in a sexual situation
that fragile societal structures
make less than ten percent of world population
that the gender binary
is actually a thing
that people will roll their eyes when you-
"feminism isn't needed anyway"
Bodies Are Not ToysLather on the makeup
and flaunt that new dress and skirt-
your body's such a toy-
but it's not when you're a boy-
The Way From The House To The GarageWhat d'you think they did,
these unlettered kids? They discovered
cheap electronic music machines,
they taught them the beat. They fed the sound
through amps and megaspeakers,
their vibrations generated shock waves,
bass tracks that shook the ground.
And the kids did what their singers had always done,
finding their own way to shout their blues.
With their megadecibel beat, they could at last
release their long imprisoned anger. They holler'd it,
coining a new jive to give their feelings shape.
Music for body and mind, teaching mind
a thundering route to ecstasy! (Some free spirits
left the shackles of poverty behind.)
The Unattainable"You are beautiful"
Who thought that
would be so hard
because if you say
I am beautiful
you are conceited
yet if you decline
I am not beautiful
you are insecure
to the constraints
in their ability
a lack of self-belief
while all the while
who harbour it.
All the media
explaining what is
what is not
creating unreachable goals
set to make one wish
to sell their souls
if only they could
achieve the unattainable
words of advice
are brushed aside
as much as any compliment.
Men's SocietyNo one likes an intelligent girl
because women are meant
to be seen
and not heard-
we stifle them with insults,
battery, and rape-
thinking their innocence
is ours to take-
and it is our job
to not care
and to not weep
for fear we become
one of them
and endure the same treatment
by our own brethren-
is the cruelty of society
Contemplation at DuskStarlight, star bright
first start that I see tonight
I wish, I would wish it all away,
the darkness of what we have wrought,
I would wish myself
protected by the spirits of the Earth,
made safe from my own foolishness,
the foolishness of all my people,
but before I can speak,
my wish is ripped by the winds,
the winds wailing across the heavens
singing the sad songs
of all my descendants not to be
who cannot be
because of what we are making,
the evil that humanity has wrought
sad are the songs
of loss beneath this endless sky
spangled with stars,
our destiny is not there,
but in the dust
the wind carries,
bitter with what could have been.
The world does not need us.
Sad fates await
for ignoring that,
sad fates await
those innocent of the decisions,
ghosts of tomorrows,
the walking dead,
all those dreams.
But the stars do not need us,
nor the night,
nor the world we are part of.
The spirits of the earth know that
and bide their time.
will not reach out
CorpseA corpse is the shell of a soul,
A soul who has left this world.
While the soul enters a new otherworld,
It's shell is left behind.
Never again to be inhabited by someone,
While the soul finds peace in the afterlife,
It's shell is left to rot.
Never again to breath,
Never again to move,
Never again to think,
Never again to feel.
SocietyYou're always complaining
Society did this
Society did that
Society ruined this
Society ruined that
Society killed him
Society killed her
I hate society
Society is cruel
Well, guess what
We are all society
If you want society to change
Change what you don't like!
If nobody starts,
Why should others follow?
It's your turn now
If the people are nice to each other
Society will be nice too
You will see
Naya Selenia, 09. 03. 2014
MassiveSitting in the dimly lit den, I hear
The static of the television
And the rambling and muttering of a talk show host on the air
I hear that audience laughing at Conan O'Brien late at night
And the ranting of an old minister's broadcast
And I hear the click of the remote grasped firmly in my palm
And my heart thrashing about in my chest, as if to get get free from it's captor
And the forced words of a reporter crying tears in front of the camera
And the stern voice of a President, bearing a grim visage, saying that there is nothing to fear
Sitting in my den, I hear the sirens beckoning, and the gears of war slowly beginning to grind
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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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