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Her Song.She holds on to your memory.
Keeps your picture near at all times.
Dark curls and green eyes.
Perfect white teeth.
A sharp chin.
When she sits down at the keyboard to play;
She'll hear the words in her ears:
The sound of love.
'I love it when you smile..'
Her fingertips grace the keys, black and white.
Turning pink and red.
'You ARE beautiful'.
The sound of countless sunsets fills the dusty room.
Your arm flits around her shoulders, it is but a memory.
Just a memory.
You are a ghost that listens to her talk to herself.
You are the air against her lips.
You're nothing but a memory
Rose Trees Never Grow In New York City 'All I want is for someone to help me'
- Aloe Blacc.
'Think twice, 'cause it's another day for you and me in paradise'
- Phil Collins.
Times Square subway station. 8.56am. Rush hour. Hundreds of commuters are making their stressful journeys to work, power walking through the station and jostling each other to get onto their various trains. Streams of people pass through the station like swarms of bees, like wilde
Song of The Black ButterfliesThe young man leaned against the stone pillars of the large balcony, decorated with flowers of all colors and sizes, neatly placed between the large veins, which wrapped around the entire wall of the mansion.
As dusk gave way to the early darkness of the night, he proceeded to turn off, the otherwise brightly glowing, torches placed along the long wall.
Allowing the light which breathed life into the balcony to slip away, with the exception of the study door, which he had purposefully left open.
Through it, a dim light managed to pierce the vast darkness, just barely making it a presence, almost like a falling drop of water in the vast sea.
Imagine A Hill And A ManYou see a man, probably in his late twenties. He's standing on a tall hill. More specifically, a precipice.
What's he doing up there?
This man was married. Emphasis on was.
His wife died weeks earlier, and he was in a deep hole that he could barely climb out of if he tried.
His thoughts lingers on her as he stood on that hill, a slight breeze blowing through his hair. He thinks he has nothing else to live for and he thinks of all of the things he's accomplished. And of how selfish he's been lately, and even throughout his life. He thinks of how he neglected some of his friends, and in some cases, completely abandoned them. The only things
And Then This Happened Correcting my pets can be very tiresome.
So I lean against the wall and observe everything going on around me on the deck. And although it probably appears that I’m zoning out, I’m actually watching and recording their every move in my mind with perfect clarity. I hear every scrape and feel every vibration from my robotic crew. Don’t let this fool you; there are times that I wish to just go inside and take a nap, and this is no exception. But, we’re out in the open and a ship transfer can become a very risky situation, if not observed and handled properly.
As I watch some of the fuel guards work with the ship and fi
Since you can remember, you have always been told what to do. Every second of every day in every month in every orbit of the sun.
For 16 years you have grown up with this. It's the only thing you know.
Then suddenly, the voices that tell you what to do, just go.
Just dissolve into nothing.
So you don't get out of bed. What's the point?
No one told you to.
You don't eat.
No one told you to.
You don't think.
No one told you to.
Then out of no where you have a thought of your own.
It's not particularly pleasant. Nor is it not pleasant. It's a thought.
'why haven't I been told to do anything?'
No you must not think for your self. Th
Judgement (short story)Sally was a happy girl. Friendly, helpful, someone people enjoyed being around. Sally grew up in a family that liked Orange juice. Everyone in her family liked Orange juice. Sally also had some close friends who enjoyed Orange juice.
One day Sally met another girl who she became fast friends with. Sally eventually found out that this girl did not like Orange juice, but preferred Apple juice. Sally questioned her one day, asking her why she didn't like Orange juice. The girl simply replied "I don't hate Orange juice, I just prefer Apple juice."
The girls response confused Sally, as Sally couldn't see how Apple juice could be better than Oran
Imagine A Girl In WhiteImagine a girl standing in the middle of nothing.
Complete and utter nothingness.
There is no black; there is no white. No up; no down. Not even a left or right. All there is is nothing.
Now, this girl. She's not that tall -- maybe around 5'5" -- and has black hair overflowing down her shoulders. She wore a white dress, nothing special. But something anyone would notice right away would be that she was missing something. Right from the moment they would say hello, they would notice.
What do you think it is?
Oh, it's a voice. But rather, the lack of a voice.
She is mute. Or in shock. Or however you want to think of it. The important thing
Tragedy“Have you finished your tragedy yet?”
“I wish,” you sigh, turning your eyes toward the sky. The air is cleaner today. You can see some faint layers of blue beyond the normal brown tint of the atmosphere. It soothes your corroding lungs as you take deep, appreciative breaths.
“You only just started it, haven’t you?” Quinn asks, sounding not quite wary. More like frayed around the edges of his interest in life. He’s walking next to you, hands in his jean pockets in the usual Quinn fashion.
“You know me so well,” you mutter quietly. It’s a struggle to not become so mesmerized
OrderchaosAnd so it was known. All things within, and around, came from the God of Orderchaos. And as God drifted about with in the sea of emptiness, God began to question why there was this nothingness, and why there was no other. And with this question, God returned his own answer, though it did not seem to come from within, and yet at the same time it did.
The voice spoke from the same mouth, and yet there was no control over this voice, and the voice said, "you are here because you needed to be here, you wanted to be here, you are here to ask that very question which beckoned my recall." And When this answer happened, there was a void which began t
Grey Skies"I love them, the grey skies of the west. Up here the wind seems to sing a song; a melody that touches my heart. I don't know what it is about, but it makes me nostalgic. That melody seems to describe the end of something essential, while at the same time it's promising a new beginning and gives me hope. A little crazy, don't you think? Can you hear it? Can you feel the wind blow? Does your heart absorb the tunes? Let the wind and it's sound take away all your worries, you don't need them here," the girl said as she looked up at the giant clouds hovering miles above her, covering the sky and making it impossible to tell day from night.
A Night Home AloneIt started out as your typical summer night during the month of June. I was home alone with my, then, three cats. when all of a sudden I heard an odd sound. I looked all over the house for the source but to no avail. I soon found my self watching a scary movie. About twenty minutes or so into the movie I heard the noise again. I looked around and came up with the same result as before. I began to wonder if one of the cats had gotten outside while no one was watching. I knew this was not true since they all were sleeping on the couch when I put the house in lock down mode soon after my parents left to go bowling earlier that night.
The PathEach one of us design a path to happiness with the aid of our parents and the majority rule of our country. In the United States, rules of thumb mark what we all should want. Want to be beautiful woman in the United States? Get long, flowing hair — regardless if your ethnicity naturally allows. Want to be involved in sports? Go for cheerleading or the dance team. Want to find religion? Become acquainted with God and his long-haired son, Jesus. But what if I want to have short hair, be on the lacrosse team, and mediate in a quite room with the music of Buddhist monks humming in my ears?
And quite frankly, that is exactly what I am doing
Creeptive-Writing AssignmentCharlotte sat at her desk, thinking on how to write this answer down. She picked up her pen and began to write down on the paper.
It’s hard to say how the pen is mightier than the sword. That alone is something I’m not used to, for I was born and raised to fight. Along time ago, in Ancient Greece, Chimera’s and many other Greek monsters all knew how to fight; the main rule was to not die and to gain glory. But, since this is the modern age and everything is resolved in words, fights, and other things…It’s hard to figure out how just a few simple words could change someone’s mind. As a writer myself, I see
Farragut at Mobile BayMany things stand in our way,
One of these is Mobile Bay.
The Old Salamander fights once more.
In the dawn we head on in,
Soon it becomes an ear-splitting din.
Even as the guns go off,
I see our commander, climbing aloft.
He really is brave, like Sherman, Sheridan or Grant,
Of him, Ol' Jeff Davis must surely rant!
The smoke is thick, it blocks the sun out,
Sometimes the prospects fill our minds with doubt.
There's trouble from more than the forts and ships,
No way is Buck giving us the slip!
Farragut asks the Brooklyn what's the matter,
"Torpedoes!" Answers the latter.
"Damn the torpedoes!" Farragut yells,
GettysburgThe day is hot,
The ground is red,
Three day's fighting up ahead.
At the Charge, the Rebs are coming,
At the Ridge the bullets humming.
North and South,
To the night,
Who is wrong and who is right?
Blood and fear
Flow bright red,
They fill my heart with freezing dread.
I hear the screams, the Agony,
As men fall, I wonder if the next one's me.
Sadness creeps into my heart,
As I see how the land's been torn apart.
On who's shoulders falls the blame?
This town will never be the same.
As the fighting comes to an end,
Will this nation ever mend?
North and South,
Blue and Gray,
Do not forget this violent day.
Do not forget th
Farragut and Porter- CreditScene: a reporter is interveiwing Farragut
Reporter: So, the famous David Farragut. How do you feel, now that you've captured New Orleans? You being a hero and all.
Farragut: Well, I suppose I am a little proud. It was a hard battle, and I'm glad I can still serve my country.
David Dixon Porter walks up
Porter: What? Hero? Now wait a minute there! I won New Orleans. It was my plan.
Reporter: I heard that...
Farragut: It was Welles and Fox's
Porter: I planned the attack. The mortars were my idea. I also pulled strings to get you a flagship. I deserve the credit.
Farragut: Well I apreciate your help. You get a lot of credit. More than I
Brutus- the Last ThoughtsStrato stands before me
My knife in hand
War enfolds the land.
It is over, I know
Justice seems too slow.
It is time, I am sure
For my grief, there is no cure.
I sought to end one man's ambition,
Caius claimed that our fate was up to our volition.
Portia begged me to tell her what was wrong
To me she tried to prove she was strong.
With my knife, I drew my dear friend's blood
setting up a macabre flood.
First the Great Caesar Then the innocent cinna.
"Cinna the poet!" He screamed. In seconds he was dead
Innocent blood shed.
Antony, Lepidus, Octavius took over
Antony volunteered his ties to his nephew to sever
To stay from the
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More