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It Comes in a Bottle.Love. You know it well.
Comes in a bottle, comes with a price.
Sometimes your senses, sometimes your dime,
But mostly your time.
Pain. We know it well.
Conforms to no form,
But utilises every that I know.
To be poetic, love is pain.
To be precise, pain comes from people.
You are a people.
I am but a person.
It is difficult to know a people,
But facile to know a person.
I've known persons,
Dark, bright, grey.
All alive, all breathing.
Some exhale poison, some vitality,
But all breathing.
I do not know you, creature.
You do not breathe.
You do not speak.
You do not love.
Align you not with any,
But with all.
Your shell is familiar.
Your scent is formidable.
Your speech is regrettable.
You are a people,
A phantom pain.
I am a person.
Broken, but strong.
I do not know you, creature.
Suna.i walked outside,
to greet the maiden and the mistress.
one and the same, the two.
the first which you call "the sun"
and i call my one and only,
my dearest love and fondest friend.
vitality in a word,
freedom in another.
warmth and initiative,
inciting bravery, invoking discord!
regality's crest she bears with pride.
all of sound is hers to command,
and upon her loud, abrasive call
we heed and make way for the door!
ay, she shall love me evermore.
but what of the whore?
o, devil's child.
they call you "the moon."
but, i call you my all.
my fault and my truth,
my sway and my feel,
my taste and texture.
you are as i have always wanted to be:
fearless and peerless,
uncontested in the cool sky.
of my lust you make art;
of my art, you erect memorial;
of my being, you make nephilim.
you tame inhibition,
claim master of my secrecy,
and allow me to soar.
ay, i shall love you evermore.
my moon, my whore.
of two, i see one.
neither day, nor night.
but, life and time,
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
lost my voice.I wrote "I love you"
in the sand at the beach.
The tide swallowed the words
and drowned them
before I could speak.
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
Loving A Guy Who Cannot Love Himself.Firstly, tell him that he doesn't necessarily need to be the “strongest” man in the world,
that if he cries, you won't look down on him for it,
that you won't call him weak.
Tell him that he doesn't have to like sports, or fishing, or football, or any of the “mainstream” things that boys are “supposed” to like.
Let him know that liking art, or dancing, or singing or acting doesn't make him gay, doesn’t make him any less of a man, it just makes him who he is.
A human being.
And for goodness sakes, tell him that blue does not have to be his favorite color, than he can indulge in pink, or purple or even magenta!
And to the girl who take on the task, remember please, that it is not always the Knight who saves the Princess.
No, this time, the Princess may need to save the Knight.
Do not pour your problems onto him, rather, balance each other out.
Be a shoulder to cry on. A friend to be there. A love that never leaves.
Perhaps more than often,
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
none the strongersome people talk in riddles,
and some don't really know how to say anything at all
i'm not one of those people
so why is it that you stop me every time
i used to think that we were what has always been
an extension of universal reason and balance
the right of the world and the dark refined
to form something too beautiful for our own eyes
we, blind as a whole, but not to each other
and now, you blind to me
deaf to me alone in your whirlwind,
the embrace of the torrent greets you so warmly
and my arms wilt in perpetual offering
cold, so very cold when you were near,
and even colder in your absence
how permanent it seems to me
how permanent it likely is
my thoughts surge ahead of me
and when i catch up, they're massive
i wage war with the rival nation of paranoia
its stretch expands and subsides
and i keep it at bay
but now, i fear that it knows my weakness
and it knows you're gone
the fortification constant, now an edifice solitary
i love alone,
i fall alone,
i die alone.
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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