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?
ReflectionI want to sprinkle a piece of me
Into bit-code hoping it sticks.
But no one cares about the truth
Unless it's funny.
And I've lost sight
Of what that is;
I've been taught that it's all relative.
We're all irrelevant in the end
And so, the fire that use to burn in my heart
Is all Charcoal. And I've been trying
To see with no eyes; to drive with
But now I know I want to melt
Together people's 90 degree angles,
Until the world knows everyone's rights.
I want to melt together the distance
That separates prose and poetry;
Fact and Fiction; light and darkness.
Dead or alive?I feel numb
Is this death?
Or am I still alive?
If I'm alive
I shouldn't be
Because death is better
Than this cursed life
He only dates broken girls.I will destroy you. I will
make you love me
without even trying;
you’ll love the scabs
on my knees, the bruises
under my eyes, my
singed hair. You will love
the rush of holding
my hand as we cross
the bridge; you’ll feel
like a hero each time
I don’t jump. You will buy
me chocolates, the most
expensive, to guilt me
into eating. You will buy
me seeds instead of flowers,
to give me a reason to
get up in the morning. You
will make me dependent,
even as I feed your white
knight complex. I will destroy
myself, and so you,
and you will know why storms are named after people.
Ignorant WisdomThe best of us die young
We are blood and body
Mind and muddled matter
That decays from the very air
Necessary like an addiction
Our eyes are skin and sinew
Senses intaking a surface
But to the machine of faults
What is there lost to us?
The best of us are of will
As what will be passed belief
The demanding of subconscious
Edicts of the soul
Then why do they die?
Why must a will be severed
When it drives our existence
All that there is
And will ever represent us?
Why do vessels feed the muscle?
Bones hold up our legs
And a head with strong neck
That its aspirations rise?
The best of us accomplish
Tasks of a higher calibre
Like a barrel of the cannon
One volley into the stars
They undertake with all motive
And lose the unwinnable condition
For through their demarcation
Revitalize our weak hearts
The best of us die young
Because they are not us
And remind us what we should be
Through the greatest league
Of history's lessons
They sacrifice their chance to live
As watcher of the
coming of agethere are parts of me
you can still hear
on the radio;
at first, you'll mouth
the words, but you
won't be able to tell
if the static touching
your ears rests in
memory, and memory alone.
my love is not leagues deep.
you'll always be the one
to decide if i'm worth standing
in up to the ankle,
lukewarm and lapping,
or if you'd like to sleep
beneath my shores, miles
below discernible life.
the long lesions scoring
the belly of my pride
have scabbed over,
and trust me when i say
i clench my fists upon
remembering those who have
bruised me in the name
of disgust -
trust me when i say
my teeth are bared
and i am snarling,
the blood from past fears
staining my lips.
ursa minor, maybei've realized that the only reason i have ever returned here
has been because of you.
these paths we walked over and over again
still barely bare the imprint of our toes.
you've been gone for
close to forever, i know. but still
i lay here where sky meets sea and stare
at the stars you will never reach.
it's kind of saddening to see that you will never be the
infinitely remembered cancer, orion, gemini;
fame is not meant for everyone. you taught me that.
once upon a time in a land broken long ago,
you told me that the wicked never rest among the living.
with quick feet i had thought you were talking of yourself, a wanderer, runner.
now i see you only ever spoke of me.
my feet have blisters.