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An Animal PlanetA shrewdness of apes
An unkindness of ravens
A kaleidoscope of butterflies
A parliament of owls
A pandemonium of parrots
A congregation of alligators
A conspiracy of lemurs
A cackle of hyenas
A prickle of porcupines
I wonder what a family of me might be
In a monestary
In the mountains
The idea struck him like a pebble
Might bounce off a bedroom window
If that ever actually happened.
It became a smooth stone
That skipped across his ribs,
Rippled his reflection,
Cloudied the calm waters in his head.
The stone grew into a geode,
Cracked open to reveal a crystal
Colored like pomegranate,
More porous than pumice.
Blasphemy, blowing bubbles in the blood of Christ
His breath produced a profane foam
From which he feared
Some pagan sex goddess might be born.
Badly shaken, the young monk
Put it back in the bottle
Stuck a cork in and forgot it.
Except in times of celebration
Or in silent meditation,
From time to time,
He could feel a fizz rise up.
Scratch and DentThis body’s no temple.
It is not my home,
But I still have to live there,
So I will drive it like the rental it is.
I will try not to total it,
But I do not want my deposit back.
No stranger to the scratch and dent section,
Some days my skin starts to feel
Like the plastic on old people’s furniture,
And I start to feel
Like the world’s finest dust collection.
Somebody call Guinness.
I’ve never taken ski lessons,
But I’ve been told
If you never fall down,
Then you’re not trying hard enough.
I don’t know how to play guitar,
But I know this:
If your fingers aren’t bleeding,
‘cause tattoos are so boring.
Good stories so rarely written in ink.
I’m not saying scars are sexy.
Scars are stories,
And like all stories,
Some are better than others.
It is not the scar itself.
It is not the story.
It is the portrait of the artist,
The sound and the fury.
It is so much better than scrapbooking.
Memoirs of mosh pits, food fight
Earthquake CafeIt’s hard to believe
It’s been six years since the Earthquake Café.
Since the Science Center froze our shadows on the wall.
I wonder if they’re still there.
Six years since we made people double-take,
Look crooked at us and issue back-hand compliments,
And I’d say, thanks? I think.
Since we were that pair of people.
Six years and still not comfortable
Calling it a couple, “it’s complicated”
That status on Facebook was made for us then.
Seventy-two moons since the solstice
Where you were the first
And the last
Person to ever make me blush.
You’ll have to forgive the nostalgia.
This is how I get closure,
And writing is so much cheaper than therapy.
A lost generation unto our selves,
Not quite Jay and Daisy
Maybe more F. Scott and Zelda
Maybe more than a little crazy,
And now you have this baby cutting teeth.
You have this something stable,
This foundation not built on fault lines.
This life not given to blackouts and tremors.
This Machine Kills FascistsHave you ever seen the movie
About the signing of the peace treaty?
So thank you, Mr. Reyes
For reminding us why in war
Drums and fifes always came before
Guns and knives
Because hearts and minds mattered in the days
Before drone strikes.
Because even weapons would rather not kill people.
Even guns would rather be guitars.
So gracias, Senor Reyes, for liberating the oppressors.
My friend is a French and Indian war re-enactor.
A few times a summer,
He and his friends dress up in period clothing,
Ride around on horses
And shoot muskets at each other.
Let’s be peace re-enactors,
And let’s make it authentic.
Let’s make music and remember
There will always be at least this one thing
We do better than machines.
Remember why every bomb whistles on its way to the ground.
Let’s remember that a song is a start,
That a call to arms is cool,
But a farewell to them is the real revolution.
Remember that all poems are petitions.
This one will not end the politicians
This Is Just A DrillWhen I called you a trick,
I meant you were magic.
Scarves up your sleeves
Pigeons in your pants,
I saw you in half.
I saw you.
Now I don’t.
We are some escape artists.
Handcuffs our canvas.
We keep applause in a can.
Keep our audience captive,
It’s obvious that
Some movies you see for the writing,
Some for the acting,
Some for the air conditioning.
I am that last class.
That forgettable feel good hit of the summer,
That Ebert and Roeper say the end was the best part.
I am that book that you don’t buy for its binding
The one that isn’t smart furniture.
I am no conversation piece.
I want you to crease my spine
To underline your favorite parts.
Our love would be like tourism in Pittsburgh.
Apparently it exists,
But I’ve never seen it.
Let me be your dress rehearsal,
Your penny dreadful,
That vacation where it rained the whole time
And you stayed inside.
DogstarI’m not one for writing hate-mail,
But I’m going to go postal
If one more person asks me
What I’m doing with my life.
I have aces and eights emblazed on my chest.
I have never worn a vest,
But if I did,
That’s where I would keep my cards.
Go ahead and tell me again
How smart I am,
How I can do anything.
That’s precisely the problem.
The reason I’ve spent two semesters at community college,
And changed my major four fucking times.
Ask me again,
Don’t you like math?
I’ll tell you again,
Yeah, I do, sometimes.
Know what else I like sometimes?
English, science, art, music, silence, business, pleasure, pain, the rain, the sun, the moon, the earth, helping people, hurting people, Buddhism, BDSM, feminism, comic books, poetry, punk rock, rock climbing, roller coasters, rocket science, astronomy, amateur phlebotomy, philosophy, psychology, psychopathy, serenity, cigarettes, chaos theory, coffee, canis vulpis, and carnivorous plants.
To the Poet Who's Always Angry:Please stop yelling.
Seriously, settle down.
I’m not saying you’re anger is unjustified.
I’m just saying that being justified
Does not make it healthy.
I’m worried about you, dude.
This is an intervention.
I know there’s a lot of social injustice.
I’ve heard it said if you’re not pissed off,
You’re not paying attention.
The Dalai Lama begs to differ,
And I’m inclined to agree with that guy.
He seems to know his shit.
I know that outrage is an aesthetic.
I know that red looks good on you.
I know your work sounds better louder,
But just hear me out.
Angry people die so much sooner.
Your blood pressure must be ridiculous.
What does your doctor say about that shit?
Also, I’d like to remind you
Angry people make more messes than they fix.
Angry people hurt people,
And hurt people hurt people.
And I heard something somewhere
About an eye for an eye.
I don’t quite remember how it goes,
But I don’t think it ends well.
Last LongerWe are all naked under our clothes,
And just below that
We are mostly meat and mucous.
A little ocean of iron and oxygen,
We are rusting.
We are bleach of bone and birds nests of raw nerve.
Nothing sexy about that.
So take lots of pictures,
Not too many x-rays.
There’s a story that says
The Buddha was tempted to walk away from the path
By these three pretty girls but
The Buddha remembered that
Soon they would be old
And not too long after that,
They would be fertilizer.
I don’t know if I share his restraint.
Yes, I know this will pass,
I just don’t know if I want it to.
I might want to feel this frustrated forever.
Make me immortal.
Embalm me in silver nitrate.
Fill my arms with ichor so when I bleed,
I bleed in sepia.
Just one thing.
I never liked pictures.
I roll my eyes when I pose for photos,
And I’m really bad at forcing smiles.
I have to force them less these days
With that Midwest way you turn your ohs into ahs.
And that face that you make when you’
It Is a PrayerEach morning when I wake
Before my feet touch the floor
A prayer rings through my mind
Starting the day with boundless hope.
Each day as I walk the halls
Pounded by the daily grind
A prayer pops into my head
Sustaining the energy needed to proceed.
Each evening as I lay to rest
The sun setting and moon aglow
A prayer precedes my slumber
Issuing in dreams of a better day.
Jesus' FaithThe good and faithful servant
is the one
who trusts Him
is always waiting
for their Master~
for the Masters Voice
I’m living for the Lord
I’m dying for the Lord
I’ll suffer for the Lord
Because He said:
”My God and your God,
My Father and your Father””*
Jesus adopted us into the Family of God
Jesus, our Brother
He did it all for us
He loved God perfectly,
loving us perfectly
and dying to save
Like we deserved to die for our sins
and He took our place on the cross
He took our place in our death
Jesus died for us!
Do you get it?
He really did
“Now even though you die
You will live”**
Just like Jesus did
Just like Jesus did
Cause He had the perfect trust
Christ had the perfect FAITH
God the Father whom the Son came out of His bosom
HE WAS GOD
The ONE GOD
1599 Geneva Bible (GNV)
16 Jesus s
The Dream I Am HavingPerhaps our Easter gathering
is a fool’s beautiful errand.
Maybe it is māyā, all of this,
China ice tea on English saucers,
silver settings for apparitions,
pimento cheese and hummus,
an offering to idols on cream linen relief.
The girls in their lace, and their cousin
rushing from footpath to bamboo garden,
a cache of oracles quick on their shoulders,
they are the brim of all worldly possessions,
though, they themselves are possessors.
I am full and satisfied to sleep in my sleeves
and believe in the dream of my wonderful life.
Truth IsTruth is whatever you make it to be
Truth is whatever makes you feel better about yourself
Truth is just words that causes nothing but pain and no joy
Truth is whatever you make it to be
Multiple truths and little lies
Truth is whatever you believe it is
It's been that way for many years
Why does it matter? Truth is never absolute
Truth is found in songs, television, and art
Truth is praised and preached in a philosophy class
Truth is that God is dead and you can do whatever you want
But in the end, we only confused ourselves
Truth is as Holy Week is about to end, a price was paid before we were born
Truth is in one week, two worlds collided in a way never seen before
Truth is a price was paid through a love that is forever true and unending
Truth is a price was paid when the son of God was beaten and humiliated for us
Truth is that we are just as bad a Judas Iscariot
Even in the small things that we do
But the truth is that because the Son of God died for us, you can have eternal life
Mary Mother of James and Joses: Calvary"Come down off the cross!
I hear them jeering from afar,
as I watch from a distance
how you suffer, forsaken by all.
They taunt and they jeer,
they gamble for your clothes;
no one shows pity,
no compassion anywhere.
Nails have pierced
your hands, your feet,
and blood runs down
your thorn-crowned brow.
If I could but cling
to that cruel cross,
and kiss those blood-stained feet,
and show you someone loves you still -
why am I too afraid?
Come down off the cross -
Why don't you?
I know that you can.
Why do you let them do this to you?
Why do you suffer, forsaken by all?
So many hopes,
so many dreams -
what of them now?
Weren't you the Messiah?
Weren't you the King?
Now you are helpless,
crying in pain,
What becomes of us
when you are gone?
"My God, my God,
why have you forsaken me?"
why are you forsaking us?
Why now, when everything was just beginning?
Why do you let them do this to you?
Why do you suffer, forsa
Vein in the OreForged my way
To make it to this moment
To separate the worthless from the willing
To shake loose of the decay
Having struggled through to know some truth
To discover that my only wealth will never be what I own
But who I am and with that fact, what I do
Daughters of Jerusalem: CryI cry
for you -
for those scars on your back.
for you -
for the cross that you bear.
and for what's soon to come.
I can't bear to look,
and yet I'm staring,
as blood and sweat
pour down your face.
I cry and cry,
I cry for you.
for you -
they say you're innocent.
for you -
they said you'd save us all.
and all those dashed hopes.
You pass - you stop.
You look at me,
as streaming tears
flow from my eyes.
Why do you cry?
Don't cry for me.
Cry for yourselves -
cry for your sins.
for you -
because of their cruelty.
But do I ever cry
when I'm cruel myself?
for you -
for the wrong they were doing.
But do I ever cry
for the wrongs that I've done?
Do I ever see
the wrong path that I'm walking
for the death I am bringing
In your suffering,
in your pain,
you thought first of me.
As they lead you
to your death
you want life for me.
How can I comprehend
this crazy love
that turns a day of mo
Storm CrusherHow does a storm pass?
How does an hour pass?
How does our youth
Our innocence our happiness
If I am torn from life
Let me die.
And I will lie
For ages of men,
Moss creeping over me,
Until I am renewed.
Then I will Spring
From my rest
And declare with
That I have come.
I was torn from life
From Youth from
But the hours and storm
I was torn from life
Through the vice of grief
But I have triumphed.
I prepared myself and now
CyborgÖffne deine Augen
und spiegle mich darin
erkenne meine Wirklichkeit
und suche ihren Sinn.
In deinen hellen Augen,
viel heller als die meinen
Wissen erwacht, Seele entfacht
da will ein Feuer scheinen.
Da will ein Wille Funken sprühen
will die Seele Feuer stieben
will ein Glimmen sich erheben
will ein Herz im Nu erbeben.
Ich allein hab dich geschaffen,
formte dein perfektes Herz
schweißte dich zusammen
und schenkte dir -- den Schmerz.
Pray to the RainWe're exchanging goodbyes,
But we're still standing together.
And there's so much to say,
We still talk about the weather.
But the sky is really fascinating,
This silence incapacitating.
The windows down,
Wind drowns out our wishes.
I'd pray to a star,
But tonight they're non-existent
I'd pray to the moon,
But it's so damn inconsistent.
So I'll pray to the rain,
I trust things that fall.
I pray to the rain,
To break this brick wall.
I try to take away your pain,
But I'm no narcotic.
And I might be insane,
But I'm no damn psychotic.
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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