I want to feel but I have no hands
I want to smell but I have no nose
I want to Taste but I have no tongue
I want to speak but I have no mouth
I want to live but I have no life
I want to see but i have no eyes
Riddles, Riddles 2Spiky brown cone
as in off of a tree
Seeding the earth
in a planting spree
Open and close
to the seasons it responds
Ghost of the future
a natural despot
Riddles, RiddlesReflective, yet clear
Holds yer best beer(sorry for the bad rhymes)
Made from coarse sand yet smooth as babies hands.
Bleeding BlueA rift in they sky,
pouring its life.
Up with the clouds,
misting their strife.
Like a sickness,
the sky takes a dreary hue.
Spilling sadness, raining hatred,
spraying madness, bleeding blue.
Sourceless RiverAlighted from where?
All I can do is stare,
at the sourceless river above.
Its shining water plays tricks on the eyes,
flitting about like a seraphic dove.
Like a shapeless dreamscape,
it goes neither left or right,
Bleeding,pouring blue, the water has taken flight.
Upon ending its watery descent,
it splashes upon the ground,
and creates a spectrum of light.
"Oh where, Sourceless river, from where did you come?"
I called to the sky.
"I come from the world, way up high."
"Can you not tell me, where is your source?"
"My source is irrelevant, but what of my course?"
With that the Sourceless River stopped its rapid flowing,
and the last trickles of the sky fountain,
and the splashes stopped their crackly crowing,
and the Sourceless River was not sourceless anymore,
for the mist lifted and it came from a mountain.
Shapeless DreamscapeShapeless mist in an endless cloud
Startling shapes and frights abound
Endless sky and shifting ground
Shapeless dreamscape all around
Leather-BoundBound in leather
Sewn in tight
Full of words
Silent as night
Heard with Eyes
Oh soundless book
What are thee
But a Leather-Bound tool to me
Random QuestionsI wonder what pigs think of cows?
When did santa come into the christmas tradition?
How many flavors of pie are there?
Why wasnt Abrasoka given full state-hood?
Why dont we still use runes as our primary form of language?
Why doesnt anybody know about Mad Cow disease? (Bovine Spongiform Encephelapothy)
How many deviantART users are there exactly?
Why doesnt anyone say 'Happy Harvest!" on Halloween?
Coffee Shop MemoirsPhilosophers think
We may dream our reality.
With earphones attached liked IVs
I dream my own melodic universe.
Until someone laughs behind me
And strikes up conversation with a friend.
And in that moment they become my anchor
Are they spinning through my dream
Or am I spinning through theirs?
Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,
Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,
And sometimes it all mixes together
Like liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.
When no one speaks to me for hours
I begin to wonder
Is everyone dreaming a reality that includes
The whole café but me?
The street outside the window
With passing strangers, dogs and cars
Is a whole new Milky Way
Waiting to be discovered.
But I am no space explorer
Aliens are beyond my reach.
Whispers of the people around
Reach my ears distinctly
Like waves lapping on the shore.
Words on paper go no way
Towards proving that I was ever here
My identity is slowly condensed
Not into the people who kno
pyromania.I tasted your lips sideways,
and they were lit like
but in reality,
your breath simply hovered
above the bowl,
and you smiled at me
as you lost control.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
I re-create my world
from what the moon has left hidden,
soft motes and shafts of twilight,
tucked away in the shadows of night.
They spin like tendrils,
silver wisps that trace outlines
of city streets and skylines,
and spatter their traces over the paths
that greet my feet in the morning
and wake the world anew.
They grow warm and feral
starting in golden buds,
threading their way through fields
and blooming in a riot of horizon
that yields up its bounty
and gifts the waiting world.
They make songs from scattered words
and music that clatters from clouds,
caught humming on the wings of starlings.
They paint pictures with faces
and colors that bloom from landscapes -
all captured in the days lazy palette,
swelling the world in bee sung glory
where the sun crests its orbit
and carves out the new day
tutorialtake an evening -
reclassify emotions as chemical compounds.
remove one atom,
see what changes.
take your field notes, transcribe them
back to front.
add line breaks.
be scientific. be too scientific.
replace the word 'entropy'
with the word 'god'.
be so full of want that you can feel it
scraping its numb jaws against your insides.
write about flowers instead.
make your first line provocative.
follow it, let it unfurl -
inauthentic, try again.
who the fuck
read, find inspiration.
find new ways to plagiarize old ideas.
hash and rehash,
slash and burn.
look at the mess you've made.
spend an hour flicking back and forth -
write about family. if it hurts too little,
write about flowers instead.
use a word bank.
write in the dark.
write from within your own skull.
write your litanies.
write your lines.
z.perhaps i was born to be a bird for you,
grey wings sprouting from distended shoulder bones;
the inside of your eyes are darker than midnight,
your hands having bled blue until you could see right through them,
glasslike, they shimmer around my face
& it doesn't matter that they're cold,
the mountain ridges that you've carved for yourself are not something to shy away from,
not something to be ashamed of;
lie still as i run my hands like hikers across your mistakes,
your old certainties,
lie still as i discover how it is that you came to be here now,
so quiet & unsure,
so caught within the old sheet of your past,
lie still as i discover every fuck up you've ever made,
every moment of control that slipped out of reach,
every extra drop of sanity that escaped from your pores.
i have always shivered my way into tomorrow,
too busy searching for something i couldn't find to warm my own bones,
too busy to realize that i was dying of a chill i couldn't cont
Sex Object Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
A place where she should be able
to call her own, between her legs.
She feels that men only want her,
a true want, to have sex with her, and
The breasts she has, they gain
stares from men passing by, tripping
over themselves to find a chance to touch.
When will she stop being looked at,
as an object of sex? when will a man
see her as someone he may spend his
Her hips curve, and she doesnt
want your hands on them, if your
just going to touch her skin.
She wants a man to touch her soul,
not just touch her skin, and run his fingers
where they do not belong.
What made these men think, she
is just a sex object, a toy that could be
put on display, and taken whenever they
Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
Proud she is though, that she hasnt
given in, hasnt
AnimeAs soon as i saw Anime on Tv I was happy to see it played,
I Like inuyasha, FMA, Naruto and many others but why?
At 34 years old loving anime, isn't this strange?
Loving Anime is loving someone
You cherish it forever
Until You die but Anime is Amazing what they can do today..
Its in 2-D, 3-D and CG's But no matter what,
Anime to me will always cherish me into my heart and soul
When i was younger Anime never existed,Why?
Anime will stay into the younger kids today,
Anime will rule the world maybe someday?
What can you do not without a pencil today?
You Can draw Anime,
You Can always give you're best shot to draw even if you're not good enough,
True isn't it?
You can put Anime on Tv, on a website about everything,Anime Kick Butt.
Who are you?"Who are you?"
said the Caterpillar.
"Who are you?"
But how could she answer?
The identity of a person is not so
easily known, and one has to think very hard
before one can say with certainty.
She could be a beautiful winged horse whose flesh
glows with the golden, incandescent dust of fairies, her
mane a sugary concoction of pinks and blues with streaks of
black and green whilst her tail is a brazen red that would shock the senses of
even the wildest of flames.
Or perhaps she could be a jellyfish that carves paths through
the darkest and lightest of waters, the bell shape of her body
as large as her blue skirts and her trailing tentacles as
pretty and glittering and perhaps even brighter than
the heavenly stars that hang from the
silver strings attached to
the sturdy yet gentle fingers of the puppet master.
Or even, perhaps, she could be a pixie, with fluttering
dragonfly wings that beat faster tha