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Easter, 2014I rose from bed this morning
expecting of the day,
a dreary-eyed wondering
of all that comes my way.
I'm lifted from my sleeping,
and woken from my dreams,
walking through the open roads
in sunlight and moonbeams.
I live again in promise,
another day to face,
another way to live this life,
to yearn and smell and taste.
Resurrected in the light
of everything I've learned,
I'm breathing in my second chance,
reborn again, returned!
unexpected momentHe stared at me with shining eyes, lit with desire, something about me that spoke to him. He wanted more of me. Some part of me, whether physical, or emotional, or spiritual, turned him on, and he wanted more. I didn't know what I'd said or done, and the look wasn't one I was accustomed to, and certainly not one I expected from him.
But there he was, looking at me with this magical stare of unmistakable passion, and I, I didn't know what to say or do. I was so overwhelmed with just the reality of this moment, so floored by this unexpected attention from the object of my affection. I thought he didn't like me?
He walked over to me and put his hands gently on the top of my shoulders. It was a very friendly, unromantic gesture, but his body was so close to me now, too close for just a friend. I didn't speak, and neither did he, though he knew I didn't mind him touching me. He smelled so good, so hot, so breathlessly perfect.
lonelyMy confidence turns people off. There are some who like me, but they think I'm too busy to talk to, or too successful to feel equal with, and yet I'm neither of these things. I'm just me, and I'm actually quite lonely a lot of the time. I feel rejected and left alone more often than I feel people here and elsewhere want to talk to me.
I don't mind sounding pathetic here, because honesty is all I've got.
Do I believe in myself? Yes. Do I believe in my talents as a writer, and an author? Of course. Do I love myself and think I'm a great guy? Yep, all of this. And that's why it feels so strange that my positive energy doesn't absorb more friends into my life. I can't explain it. It just sucks.
There's no happy ending to this short reflection. No twist that brings inspiration to conclude my sentiments. It just sucks.
Chapter 23: Manna From MauiThe below is an excerpt from my new book, The Papal Visitor. Though it'll give you more of an idea what the book is about, it fits in somewhere in the middle of the book, and works well as a standalone piece for me to share with you here. At this point in the book, Heaven has now revealed itself to Earth, and in this new world, there is as much confusion as there is peace about the certainty of Heaven. In this chapter, God invites a few special souls to chat about everything that's been happening.
From The Papal Visitor, Chapter 23: Manna From Maui
“That peaceful land, that beautiful land, that far-off home of profound repose, and soft indolence, and dreamy solitude, where life is one long slumberous Sabbath, the climate one long delicious summer day, and the good that die experience no change, for they but fall asleep in one heaven and wake up in another.” –Mark Twain, about Hawaii
“So where are we? Tell me what the
Stream-of-Conscious Poetry Excercise 4-2-14Started: 8:11 PM
Fragmented hyperion justification
of the wrong-way driver's toothbrush;
a pithy stupendification perhaps
but a scotch-tape sealed mirror nonetheless.
Whoever borrowed my army,
please return it to the manila folder,
or risk suspension of your disbelief
in the pursuit of higher wisdom.
Falling through overtures of broken music
means nothing to the firefly,
but he watches anyway,
haunted by your horror.
Two or three footmen enter the back door,
looking for her, or him, or both,
angry at the faces of the bewildered grasshoppers,
pretending to be incensed by the smell.
Illogic has no place here, dear boy,
nor rhyme in your suitcase,
but fly up to the rafters of thought,
and even bookmarks have their purpose.
If to no maybe yes up only,
whenever "when" was there, or how,
choosing upside-down hummingbirds
easily slides us all through the door.
Phinished with a Ph is how they called it
in the days when hunger had its year,
fish even rode that trolley car down,
Simple Girl Complicated ProblemsI know I am not the daughter you wanted
But at least you got it right the second time
My little sister found her place in your hearts
But I feel I have never really found mine
Why would you care to listen to your first born?
When you have a fresh blank canvas to create
All of those things that you wish I could have been
Had I not developed such negative traits
But those negative traits make me who I am
And shouldn't you love me without condition?
See my stubbornness as being strong minded
And when I talk, don’t interrupt just listen
I know I am not the daughter you wanted
I scowl but I still need your loving embrace
Though you barely acknowledge my existence
Apart from to tell me what I've done wrong today
But why would you ever want to talk to me
When an argument is never far away?
It’s the tone of your voice that hurts me the most
Rather than the words that you choose to say
To think I was once a baby in your arms
With such innocent eyes I could do no wrong
In many ways I
Little BirdLittle bird,
where have you flown?
how much have you grown?
How is your broken wing?
The one that I cared for,
that I put in a sling.
do you think of me
as I do you?
Do you wonder where I've gone,
what I've gone through?
do visit me again;
you've been the only one
I've ever loved;
my only true friend.
My Personal DevilHis kiss was that of fiery coal,
A peppermint-feel upon cracked lips.
His hands had gripped my soul —
Oh, the feel of ecstasy!
His eyes obtained the celestial sky
And were like the chilly arctic breeze.
There was no chance that I could deny
Such lively things…
His alabaster skin was so gentle, so smooth,
Mocking a similarity of mine as I awake at sunrise.
His touch had a way to soothe
The scorches upon my body…
My personal devil’s love was euphoria;
He had wrapped me in his hellish ways.
My body had been eaten away by chorea.
Yet, I crave his blaze.
Ignite me in the love you share!
Burn me with your singeing lips.
Show me how much you care!
Then drown me in your flickering flames.
His heated hands were placed upon my face.
His snakes spiraling up my legs.
Our lips were near a kiss, which he did not place,
And, instead, withdrew himself.
His deadly presence, his own personal darkness,
Was brightened by the sun.
I slowly awoke in emptiness
And lost my personal d
PerfectionWhat is perfection and what is not?
Does anybody know that besides god?
Is someone out there who can tell me?
Or do I have to do die and ask god, maybe?
Question over question flying through my brain.
If I don’t find perfection, will my life be in vain?
Everyone had flaws and makes mistakes.
Maybe I have to lower the stakes.
I’m looking for one, just one perfect thing only.
But as time goes by even I get lonely.
Cold and empty, but beating is my heart.
I want perfection, even if it’s just a shard!
Moving on as the time passes me by.
No perfection, no matter how far I fly.
Each and every place, no perfection there.
Can humans be perfect and worlds rightful heir?
Now I am standing close to the edge, full of fear.
Suddenly it comes to me, I smile and see it clear.
No matter how and where you grow up, you are perfection.
Because you are only you and not someones copy or reflection.
No AirI never expected to love you.
I never expected to care.
I never thought you would be on my mind.
I never noticed if you were there.
I don't know when it started,
But I hope it never ends.
The way I feel with you tonight
Is more than I can comprehend.
And when you talk
about things that I don't know
I lose my mind a little.
But I love the way you glow
I can't help the butterflies
I can't concentrate when I'm with you
The truth is -- if I'm honest --
Sometimes I want to kiss you.
So maybe it's no secret,
And maybe you don't care,
But when I see you my heart beats fast
And suddenly there is no air.
ParasiteWhen the day turns into night,
it begins, the everyday fight.
They begin to talk in my head.
If anybody found out they would tell me I’m mad.
I don’t know if the one who thinks is me.
Can’t these voices just let me be?
Speaking and confusing my thoughts.
For me these things are only frauds.
What if the things that I think are not mine?
Should I just lay here and whine?
I think they corrupted my soul.
No, maybe even my body as a whole.
This is the side of me that I have never shown.
At times like these it is dangerous to be alone.
My head feels like it’s blown off with dynamite.
I don’t know, maybe my brain is occupied by a parasite.
DescendSomething dark and something cold
like iron gripped my soul
and in the chains I was shackled
Two halves, once a whole.
Grim and cruel was the dungeon
that was created by my mind
in which love and loss battled
but remained intertwined.
And in the end it was clear
that love could never win
that loss presides over all
my dark dungeon, wherein.
But in the final moments
of their battle in my head
love took leave and descended
to reside in my heart instead.
Peace is a lieHello there, why don’t we take a walk?
While we take a walk, I would really like to talk.
Did you ever asked yourself what is wrong with this world?
Why people are so screwed up in the head and their thoughts are twirled?
It is no secret that the world is at war.
And falling down are the masks that they wore.
Something in their heads seems to be broken.
Humanity is a monster and it has been woken.
When you think about it everything is a lie.
The only question you will have is: why?
Everyone is hoping for the big release.
But don’t be stupid, there is no peace.
Wind GrownQuiet grown
With green and ground
The ash and sound
Until the green has 'nother play
A wat'ry stream
Down with a tide
Across the beam
The first to know the last of one
Breath of space
Carved by your arm
A heady place
Awaits no harm
Because no eyes will watch or plea
Wind is wrapt
Around you braced
By time that kept
You wings misplaced
One cannot fly where wearies went
Height and breadth
Come with the stars
While nourished wealth
From flanks and far
The form is kept but not the brain
Stones will crack
Under your weight
Streams run black
The light you take
Unknown on high there's but your will
The path you made
Will flood and break
No more remained
Your flanks are slaked
Come back when you are broke and burned
Now hole refilled
Where life was held
The ash was forged
Until the wind the self will stay
Life, ObservedStarted: 9:45 PM
Stepping forward almost
walking further back,
wishing by the meadow
of Father's nearest track,
I lept among the flowers,
and danced with lily minds,
the way my mother taught me,
the brightest, sweetest kinds.
Sun upon my forehead
and grass beneath my toes,
I walked through lands of daydreams
and watched as water flowed.
Two kinds of people watched me,
two meanings made my day
a kind of silent testing
in every sort of way.
I moved along the corner,
and danced along the fence
where fireflies and honeybees
made magic quite immense.
And all along the noontime
and all throughout the night,
I learned the birth of nature
and breathed the ray of light.
Two kinds of people watched me,
two souls unknown to me,
the ones I thought I knew
and ones I couldn't see.
Finished: 9:49 PM
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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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