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Reality InvertedJump through the mirror...
and from the other side take a look.
What would it be like to see the evil you?
How might opposites change the rulebook?
You might go from pauper to prince,
Or lose everything you have in a day.
When you step into the alternate
History is come-what-may.
Maybe in this universe you made a mistake,
And you're six feet under a flowerbed.
Or perhaps everything went great,
And from a silver spoon you're fed.
Or perhaps you're in a place,
Where your parents never met
How odd to see a world you're not
Cause your parents run a different duet.
There's no limit to the alternates you may see,
As the mirror continues to distort
How many versions of you will you see,
As the universes continues to contort?
Watch me jump, change, and shift
And my reality completely rearrange...
You may think you know all the answers.
Do you know how the questions have changed?
Symmetry is overrated
And I'm just about to crack
I can't handle living in theory
I wanna go back!
Jump back through
ClicheThe patient in the hospital
He got all bent out of shape
And hurt his lower back
Now they're going to operate
The doctor was a new one
Confused on what was the goal
He operated on the spine from his little toe
And tore the guy a new a$$hole
The doctor didn't clean up or disinfect
And left the scalpel inside his chest
They sewed him up like Frankenstein
And so he never woke up from his rest
He now lays in the morgue
A scalpel stuck in some part
The coroner wrote the death certificate
"Died of a bleeding, broken heart"
Nothing is cliche when it happens to you...
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Pilgrimage v8Poet, you must see
A clearing in the deep woods
Far above the Earth
The sun with me for one day
Rises higher into the east
Over the mountains
A terrain of green and white
Leaves ride high up on the wind
Controlled by the rushing breeze
Far from the city
Where the golden river flows
By the crooked path
Where the deep green leaves rustle
As the breeze sweeps my front porch
Near the apple tree
The jade fountain is silent
As the sun rises
A pirate buried treasure
Where the river makes a curve
Birds rest in the trees
Where filtered sunlight slips through
In the morning sun
Poets argue over chess
In their own special manner
Pale orchid blooming
Safe among the ancient pines
...how precious the hours!
The time passes so quickly
A child becomes a man
One lingering star
Turns the landscape golden red
...flowers in shadow
Flies zig-zag in the sunlight
Dancing with their own shadow
Beyond the dark trees
Rose petals drift on the fog
Treetops in the clouds
A field of fine cotton
BeccaliciousThere once was a girl named Beccalicious
Who's ability to rhyme seemed quite suspicious
Said she: There's no reason to feel fright
I just want you to try and write
So pick up your pencil and be ambitious
Bloom With A SmileA plant gives its life to produce some seeds
Overcoming insects, drought, bad soil, and weeds
And then those seeds begin to blow
Surviving animals, disease, and the cold winter's snow
On an awesome spring day, one seed finds a home
Right next to a manhole, so far it did roam
In a tiny bit of soil, this seed was planted
Not one speck of moisture did it take for granted
It scrimped and it saved the energy that it had
The intensive heat from the asphalt was so bad
And with the toxins and the exhaust from the buses and cars
It might have been better to live in the atmosphere of Mars
And yet each day it struggled, and it continued to grow
Despite being stepped on, and taking many a blow
And with the help of its friends, the sun and the rain
The little plant endured, through all of the pain
Often it thought it would be better to dry up and blow away
But the those loving friends made things better so it could stay
Its two leaves became four, and four became eight
Some days were awful, some da
pick up the slack and
pick up that slack-jawed shadow of yours
dragging on wet pavement under your soles
and hurry it along, we ain't got all day here
flex your white-boned fingers and
taut knuckles and pluck the soul from
its coffin in your slick throat
the sun has better places to be than in your sky.
the gardenersMy father is a good man.
His hands, dry and
callused, carry a case
of Corona Lite
to the gardeners in
Big-brimmed hats cast
shadows down their faces,
and a pile of thick,
gray gloves lies
on the glass table.
The beer looks like liquid
gold in those clear bottles,
and condensation clings
to the glass like the sweat
beading at their brows.
My father and the gardeners
drink, laughing like they’ve
known one another for years.
There is nothing
that brings men together
better than beer
on a hot day.
grow upyou say
i am weak
i have never
worked for anything
i am not sorry
i should take
the pills the doctor
i will never
know what it is to
hurt the way that you hurt,
plant me in the ground
listen to the way my nature sounds
when i turn from something black
to something luminous, proud
you turned me into a shadow, you prick
remember that? remember this?
yeah, the condom broke, you
piece of shit, at least i tried
to be careful, at least when
you cried, i kissed your
say what you want
about my judgment.
my immaturity, my general
lack of readiness for
anything. but i was good
to you, and i tried,
and i am sorry that
you hurt so much
that you can't
do it as elegantly
as i can.
you have never
learned to love
the grit: the place
where my spirit sags,
where my love
as if biology could have been any clearer,
cleaning your spit from my bedroom mirror-
i can smell your genes and
they smell fucking good to me,
but i keep telling myself,
Universe Inside Herthere is a universe inside her
systems upon systems
sometimes they collide,
or overlap and pass
some bright and expansive
as newly forming stars
some dark and vacuous
as old ones collapsing
there is a universe beside me
in this bed, she is my earth
hills and valleys
through shared rock shelves
our collection of mismatched
objects and moments
fractured and whole
to the balance
and gravity between us
our lives combine here
we heal and break
in the shared ache
of empty and full
there is a universe inside us
around us, with
and without us
our moons mature
spin off and center
their own galaxies
and we'll be here
in the shared ache
for our new
from the starline
Our destiny is determined
Reliving the past
Enduring the suffering
Visions of the future
Endeavours to come
Representing life as a whole
9 Countenances for the Curious1.
My limbs have become instruments,
but, unlike the piano of your memories,
I am still not anyone's to play.
I think I am finite,
that the limits of me are dictated
by flesh and numbers
on an inverted scale
but the dog on my lap
doesn't care what I weigh;
she wants only
to love me and be loved.
the pain that anchors you
strains your back,
the ship of your life
is hamstrung upon a reef
and you think you are watching
a dolphin at play
but siren songs deceive you.
my ship sank beneath the waters
years ago, this bubble of life
sustains me even as i drown:
there are storms in the depths
of me, and you see only
the ocean's calm.
At 7, I swallowed stories
like candy; didn't understand
that too much leaves you bloated.
At 17, I breakfasted on books
like pancakes; too caught up
to tell (some things should be special).
At 27, I feasted on fiction
like home-cooked meals; didn't know
some of it could poison you.
At 37, I hope I will be picking
at poetry; letting the flavours
of the words
The Washed MindI have let the difficulties flood my body
From head, the worries slip to my heart
like children falling through the cracks
of some broken floor
under which is nothing besides me
My mind is melting from the inside
Swarmed by maggots and the meaningless questions:
Would my mind work better
without all these walls
stopping it from evolving?
Where did these obscene problems come from?
Surely my mind was born free
Surely my opinions exist somewhere...
Or is freedom nothing but a joke
to the true me?
So, I ate nails and needles to clear my mind
The bleeding and the pain
were both evil and refreshing
I have learned the lesson
fairy tales are the shadows on my eyes
Now my mind is clear as melting glass
running down my cold spine
washing away the sins,
violent thoughts and sorrowful memories
from the edge of my past
coefficientsi cut the line at church today.
went into that dim room,
the one where you can't see who's there,
knew enough from the movies to
sit down and ask the curtain to
forgive me for i have sinned
and the faint light quivered
as he and she and the air
all laughed and god came
down and looked me in the eye
and in that darkness asked me
why i'd wasted his time repeating
what every goddamn person and animal
and plant had already told him-
said you think you're all unique
and i'm damn near at the end of my patience
with telling you that you're not-
i cut the line at church today
and saw some of god's skeletons
hanging in his closet.
The Proposed Subway RouteWe're all going to die
We have bitten off more than we can chew
The future doesn't matter
Life is just death in transitu
Some disembark too soon.
Along the proposed subway route
Everyone is lost
Nothing is absolute
Stick alongside men of prestige,
And receive the acknowledgement
So if I travel with great heroes
I will remain confident
While the wheat bends before the reaper
And the darkness brushes against my skin
Hold my hand just for a moment
And comfort me as a dear friend
As you touch my lips
My flesh crumbles at your touch
The sunbeams that seem to pierce the glass
Don't disturb the darkness all that much
The dogs of war shouldn't be forgotten
You must remember me
Still, though we exit with the poets
This is no guarantee...
Don't forget all that has gone before
While my memories reach into your mind
Torn photographs remind you
Of all the lost people left behind
Recognition and awards is part of the pleasure
Until someone forgets...
I will expect nothing...
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More