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Corporate MeteorologyMore erratic than El Niño;
More temperate than typhoons;
More destructive than volcanoes;
More drenching than monsoons;
More catastrophic than floods
And forest fires — combined;
More frightening than earthquakes
Along tectonic fault lines.
Arrows like tsunamis;
A serial destroyer
Of esteem and morale;
An insatiable appetite—
No reason, no warning—
Until its anger reaches full height.
And then the storm vanishes
As quickly as it came;
Leaving in its wake, nothing,
But the dead and the maimed.
When all we have left is your smile...
To Jon, who's left us; may you be at rest in His arms.
Our first thought of you
Is that unforgettable smile
Your words of encouragement
And life without guile.
Your commitment to change lives
Your passion to sing
Your generosity to others
Your devotion to Him
The days we had to know you
Were little and few
Regretfully, I only knew you best
Standing in funeral pew
You taught us not to take life for granted;
How it could be cut short -
And to treasure all those around us
- Just as we ought.
You taught us to take
Every opportunity we had to meet
To truly pour into each other’s lives;
And share the bitter and the sweet.
Many hearts have been broken
And many tears shed -
You were such an inspiration
In the life that you shared.
So as we lay
Your body to rest
We remember the smile
Of one who loved best.
These words of departureThese words of departure--
Half unwilling words of goodbye--
Also wish you the best of what’s out there
And success in all you try.
Your bold demeanor, laughter
And courage to persevere
Have inspired and won me over
In this last year.
You see, I’ll miss you
-- and sorely! -- my dear
Because you were my sunshine
When things felt deary here.
May you keep on doing good
Wherever you go.
And I hope, once in a while,
You’ll remember these days of old.
Behind Those Eyes (Poem)Dark brown, or grey?
Too murky to tell
In artificial habitats
Devoid of ocean swell
Listless and grieved
Their eyes told it all
Though they said not a word
From behind that glass wall
Gone were the open spaces
Where calves used to play
From spirited enclaves
Were they spirited away
Cramped in stagnant water
Without active stimuli
Wasting away for the entertainment
Of gawkers passing by
Of their silent suffering
Enervated and languorous
In endless circles, swimming
Blue Ballet: Dance of the Sea Fairies (Poem)Spotlights trained
Of deep blue sage
A dainty dip
A graceful twirl
Amidst deep water’s
The sea fairies’ dance
An audience entranced
Time slows down
An Eternity's lone shard
The JourneyI travelled down hot asphalt roads
Amused by sights I did not see:
Fragrant flowers and chirping birds
Cheerful laughter chiming with glee.
In many contraptions were people trapped;
In varying cages were they kept:
Enclosed, imprisoned, jailed - un-free;
Helmed in by thoughts, worries, and anxiety;
Anguished by life's uncertainty;
Prisoners of mind, of purse, of geography;
Confined behind locks without a key.
And yet escape could still be found;
From fetters and chains was I unbound -
Raised up and lifted from death's mound
By Hope and Love of great renown.
Enriched by blessings I did not deserve
With an abundance of love without reserve;
A drop of heaven on this parched Earth;
An immaculate gift of infinite worth:
Love, Joy, and Peace,
Kindness, and Faith,
Patience and Goodness,
Long-suffering, and Grace,
With bright countenance
And cheerful face
Came my hero - my savior -
The one true Lord
Whom all with renewed hearts adored.
Kisses planted in a generous clusterKisses planted in a generous cluster
With all the sweetness love could muster
Decked in Hope's brilliant gem-like luster
Cheeks blushing a ruby fluster
Oh my love, my spell-caster!
If only time could pass a little faster
To the day our beloved pastor
Will declare us mistress and master;
The day we stand before the altar
To pledge a love that will not falter
Making vows that'll never alter
Come flaming hell, or raging high water.
So here I am, upon my bed
With but a pillow for my head
To travel through dream's cascade -
A 'goodnight' I must, to you, bade.
Let it out - let it goThere are times one needs to vent;
But please, in those moments, don't invent.
Do it well, and say what's meant;
Ensure that every bullet's spent.
Then leave it there - don't revise
(Sayeth the council of the wise)
Don't let it spread like a rash of hives
Avoiding that saves many lives.
Let it out - let it go
Don't take it back & keep it till you grow old.
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"
Digital synth pop makes you smile
Neon dreams color your eyes
And your room dances with fireflies
I want to hold your polyphonic skin
And drink the angels of your electric virility in
Beneath the black light's ice fire glow
As the beats and the rhythms swell and grow
And 3.14 here comes the music I never heard before
Echoing through your pulsing muscles
Pulsing through your rushing veins
Rushing through the guitar's strings
Right down to the electronicore
I want to hold your polyphonic skin
So we can feel the world's shaking vibrations and spin
I want the heart of the music that lies between the calm and the restless
And the soul of the music in the times that leave us breathless
The creme de la creme of auditory expressions
OptimismI don't want to hear another rant,
Another sentence which involves the word can't.
All I ever hear is the moaning of the masses
Combined with the tossing of blame in the switching of classes.
What happened to joy and creativity
Which flooded the halls in Elementary?
We've gone from wonder to nihilism
Mixed in with sarcasm and narcissism.
I just want to lay back and talk about fun,
Maybe toss back and forth a pun.
But all I ever get to hear,
Is a scream of self-pity in my ear.
Maybe you could have it worse,
It's not like you've been locked into a voodoo curse.
So stop saying "Woe is me!"
And start being a little more gutsy.
Because the only way things are going to be ok,
Is if you go out and find that way.
The one that leads to a future and your posterity.
And you won't get there by going through your life covered in self-pity.
RainHave you ever felt the mud
Between your toes?
And sat there watching the bud
Fresh as it grows.
And thought "I am just carbon,
Dying with each breath.
My blood it is a dragon
Burning with that death."
Music cannot be just sound,
Neither can my laugh.
There's blood running through the ground.
I cannot do math.
Giving up, look at the sky,
Letting the grass grow,
Knowing you will not find why,
Decide to let go.
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-
AmericanI’m a firework on the 4th of July,
I’m a crack in a bell
I’m a 4-wheeler in the mud
I’m an apple pie
I’m a Friday night football game at a small high school
I’m a Coca-Cola and a giant burp, excused with a “Sorry” and a blush
I’m a cowboy in a 10-gallon hat
I’m Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, and John Hancock
I’m a businessman on the top floor of the World Trade Center
I’m a child playing with a Barbie doll
I’m a striped flag flapping in the breeze
I’m an ambassador
I’m a hamburger with extra ketchup
I’m a teenager with angst and high texting charges
I’m a soldier on the field
I’m a song
I’m a prayer
I’m a love
I’m an American.
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
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.
What of me?From a seed I did grow
But what fruits have I to show?
Hanging off me are but withered leaves
And dying flowers hanging like empty sheaths.
Where are my thorns that had protected me?
Or my gardeners that had promised to tend me?
My bark is falling
My branches bent
My trunk is hollow
My canopy rent.
What does it matter, what they had said
When at the end of the day, their words are dead?
The pleasant words they spoke, the vows they made
Now exist nowhere but in my head.
They helped some flowers, pulled out a few weeds
But did they really do 'good deeds'?
The garden has perished
Only death remains
Nothing but decay
Is found along the lanes.
Who can save us now?
Can we be saved? And how?
From who can Hope be drawn?
Can we cease being forlorn?
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
Keep in Touch!
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