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A dreamer, a thinker
A lover, a friend.
A Mother, A drinker
A loser, a Win.
A Protector, A Provider
A Fighter, A Slave
A Sinner, A redeemer
A teacher, A Babe.
A Student, A Preacher
An Actor, A Queen
An Angle, A fiend
And everything between.
Endless roles thrown at me to play.
I wonder which ones I’ll choose today.
Beneath the MindBeneath the Mind
A Short Story by Faith Lucas
"Wait!" She yells. His voice is fading now, Desarae strains to understand the last thing he said.
"No, don't leave me yet. Stay here."
She can hear the door open and click shut. Even though she can't see him, she can't see anything but blackness, she knows he's gone.
Why couldn't he hear her? She was sure she was practically screaming at him.
Still a better question is where is she? Why can't she see? Why can't she move?! Panic starts to creep over her as a blurry memory starts to resurface.
Her body feels heavy, like a ton of cement is lying on top of her. This isn't right, she thinks.
A memory of her, walking down the sidewalk, the sun is bright, hot. The birds are loud. Chirping cheerfully. The heat feels wonderful on her face. She's enjoying the feeling of finally having a moment
RockHacking away at a rock with another rock will shape the rock
you are hacking at by time, but the rock you are using might also break.
This can be frustrating and you may want to give up and go do something else,
but that is when you should get back on your feet, find another rock and continue hacking.
You might never feel that the rock you are shaping ends up perfect and you will always see flaws or
improvements to be made. Passion to do something isn't to finish it, it's to work on it.
Hearts of ImaginationStanding near the horizon.
Looking at the world before me and all of it's colors.
Breath taking, inspiring, refreshing.
So many things to say, so many things to feel.
All of this was created by someone perfect.
All of this couldn't have existed.
This was created with a heart that can see perfection.
This was created with a heart of pure imagination.
Imagination is in every heart as the desire of eternity.
How can this be limited and challenged?
It's hard to fathom that all of this was limited.
It wasn't, nor was the heart of the one who rules it all.
Sitting in class, and hearing his words of glass.
Make everything realistic and meaningful he says, but be creative.
Story after story breaks my own heart; where is the imagination?
Where is the one thing I was made for?
In my room I huddle; this class frustrates me.
Papers torn across the room like a hurricane of parades.
I feel torn; I feel cold.
Where is the one thing I was made for?
It all becomes meaningless, and my passion becomes co
Ephemeral MomentsLike the sky above me
And many endless sea-waves,
It seems to me that I am floating.
In the sleep for the past.
In all splendor, in my glance –
Interwoven the butterfly flies
And it is easy to smile for me.
Today matters, but only the true appearance
And far prevail all flaps.
In view, freedom can be almost seized.
Yesterday seems to be forgotten
And the future, beyond question.
Balanced is my wish
To let go all hold.
But shall I chose the sky now
Or shall I dive into the sea-blue?
i fear you
and i love you
you have created the beauty and the life
as well as the misery and death
as adversaries and counterpoints
to your cosmic composition
according to your secret wisdom
you saw everything already
when it was only in germ
in the shining darkness
and before the world was born
even before the beginning
of all you were here
in the beginning of time, on the face of the darkness
shivered the inkling of the breath of your name
of which bright sparkle the world was given to born
according to your divine and foreknowing will
according to your magnificent wisdom
you have send us the purple dawns and dusks
the armies of the stars of the night sky
which twinkle during the long winter nights
together with the moon and the cherry blossoms
of the spring and the multicoloured summer flowers
of various kinds and the shining colours of
They say Christians never doubt
That all we do is look down on people
For being flawed and imperfect
That we think we are superior to all
Let me tell you something
It is a complete and utter lie
If anything we doubt more than most
Because we struggle not to lose our faith
Why fight for it all, you ask?
Because I'll always know
That there is always Someone there
Whose arms I can collapse in
No matter how much I rage and scream
Despite all the insults I throw at Him
Even if I walk away time and time again
He'll never leave, even if everyone else does
The Heathen in Your Midstdo not mistake his presence as a prayer
nor take his poise as an act of attrition
that he sits atop your pew
does not make him one of you
this Heathen in your midst
he has no guilt left to give
and whether you wanted it or not
is no longer a concern of his
he traces fingers along the stone
and makes your Virgin a proud young Mother
the seed of Annikki becomes the blood of Frija
such is his wicked Heathen craft
your symbols do go back in time
where neither Jew nor Christ have breath
symbols of the harvest to be reaped as you have sewn
sigils here are those that touch the Heathen’s heaving heart
do not be offended as this wicked Witch takes your church away
for were you there upon its silent pews
than he never would have come to bother you
Poet has eyeswhen the night takes its step to the kingdom of shadows
then there is liveliness between the told and the untold
then the poet has eyes seventy
times seventy or maybe even more
within all these eyes the poet has fiery look like seraphs
and equal amount of wings in mouth like cherubs
under the poets tongue is a key which opens and closes
everything on the border of the seen and the unseen
but don’t delude yourself because in reality even one eye
or hand or instinct is enough for a human being
to make bright from the darkness of this world
if it only looks within - because look
the kingdom of god is within you and it can not be taken away from you
by angels or thrones or principalities or dominions or powers
The Cross We BearSometimes we are born
with a cross to bear
and to that cross you are not warned,
it is okay to think that unfair
That cross you must carry
to your own personal Calvary
and you must be wary
that all you will feel is agony
Once the cross is made to stand
and just as though it were planned
You will face both The Dark and The Light
only you can choose which way is right
Ascend into Heaven
or Descend into Hell
Can you live with your choice?
Only time will tell...
La demesure de ce monde.La démesure de ce monde.
Nous humains sommes démons et excès :
Ce monde est en démesure d’absurdités.
Quand arrive l’automne
En éclaboussure de couleurs,
En jaunes qui s’orangent,
En verts que le rouge ronge,
Quand la forêt se fait fleur,
Les brumes pleurent l’été en allé
En langueur de lambeaux et caresses
Que le vent disperse bientôt.
Nous humains sommes anges déchus :
Les croyants qui ne condamnent l’ISIS
Font de leur Dieu et Allah, un salaud!
Est-il raisonnable de salir ainsi son Dieu?
La nuit est cette fenêtre sur le vide
Qui habite notre multitude
Sous le champ des étoiles
Notre univers n’est fait que d’aléatoire
Où Dieu n’est qu’un joueur compulsif
Qui a peut-être mal joué ses cartes.
Existe-t-il un univers plus sensé
Où le bien en absolu règne,
Où l’enfant est ce p
FreeYour mind is beautiful
Your thoughts intrigue me
And yet you keep moving so,
As if to tease me.
I see you through the clouds
Rays of sunshine peeking
I'd love to seek you out
But our time is fleeting
Keep speaking your soul
One day it will reply
Maybe not with gold,
but diamonds in the sky.
Earth inspires freedom
But the Heavens instill humility
Ahh, I see the wisdom.
And endless possibilities.
Keep dreaming with me,
I believe our plot ends the same
With our hearts set free
And the wind calling our name
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More