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Ambushed!"Alright Comrades!" Commander Orange called out.
"Sir, yes, Sir!" Cried the rest of the Reece's Pieces bag.
"It is Halloween," he pulled out a small flip-chart; "and it is a House Party!" The Pieces cowered: The dreaded House Party. A maniacal festival of horror and forgotten men, sacrificed for Mother Reece. Commander Orange flipped the chart, to a blueprint of the House.
"Remember soldiers, who are we?"
"Who are we fighting for?"
"Alright soldiers, move out. We'll get them Toffees!"
They had been ambushed from the moment they set off, grabbed by incandy hands, taken to the big war room (as could be told by the big metal cutters and the boiling meat pot) and dumped into a spherical container, walls a thousand millimeters high and slippery. And it started. The first indication of war was a loud screeching noise: Mars Bars, ice creams and bananas, all ripped to mulch, poured into another, taller container, and swallowed by the mighty toddler, in his tiger suit.
Black BagsEvery so often, she would take her loving eyes off his and glance across the room, at the black bags where the other pieces of his body lay.
The ScientistThe Scientist
The Thief gurgled helplessly, mind blank and throat dry, attempting the Sisyphean task of finding a suitable word. Naturally, one came to mind: Why? - The Thief stared on at the spectacle, hidden away behind the distant gravestone, watching his love slip back. Was he not perfect? And... And... The turmoil boiled, peaking, whistling inside him, blood seeping from under his eyelids, thin and dark. He stood to his full height. He marched over the wet graveyard to his loveless and his enemy, and:
"You!" The Thief roared. The Lady spun, her face contorted.
"It's what it is. You've stolen my heart, as I did you." He unsheathed an iron dagger, and extended it to his loveless. The Lady backed, and The Scientist guarded her - a stricken look in his eyes.
"Please have sense, sir. You needn't do this." The Thief continued his glare at the Lady, blood seeping down.
"But. But. I cradled your heart. I mended it. I gave you everything I could, and that was damn near everythi
RequiemYou are sitting in a car on a blocked motorway, as you do, watching the sun. You have always thought that the world would hopefully end with something spectacular: like a zombie infection, say, or a black hole caused by some aspiring evil genius who got it wrong, or maybe even a mutated school dinner - which you know wasn't just a regular Vegetarian Lasagna. So, naturally, Heat Death wasn't on that list.
The sun imploded seven minutes ago, but you only see it now. Being in your shitty little Morris, your radio is bust. And you have no battery on your Nokia. The scientists told you the news last week, but you weren't listening, and you switched over to the game. Your team lost.
People scramble out of their cars, a cacophony of horns blaring under the increasingly red sky. You don't leave- because the heat has slowly melted the door into the rest of the frame, trapping you inside. Plus, why bother?
You begin to sweat and gasp as the sun shrinks in the distance, taking off your shirt... Y
Be Blunt With MeNo, my faith is almost gone,
Said I, four forty... My time.
What, you're scared and I'm not?
You asked in your mind... Maybe.
A Poem On DoorsA Poem On Doors
Grip, twist, tug-
into something new.
into something new.
And the doors came a-creeping,
Hesitant of the past,
Hesitant of the past failures,
Hesitant of regret.
And she ran askew-
into something soft and ready to catch.
And she arrived-
La chica del metro.Te creo amor y solo eres un puñado de tetas,
la adolescencia de una muchacha furiosa
que quiere reventar con todo
como si todo fuera una enfermedad,
un frasco de aspirinas en el estómago,
un dolor a costillas entre mundo y mundo
donde la falda de cuadros,
las botas paramilitares,
la boina, la camiseta rosa,
los pósters de anarquía y revolución,
Natalie Portman y una metralleta,
Skrillex y dos lesbianas follando en una cama 80x180,
te salvaran de morir jodida y en un hospital.
Whispers in the nightI am a pianist in the shadows of mist and cold air.
Come to me, lost hearts, and drink my soul from the smooth leaves of sweet music.
Plunge into ecstasy from the cliffs of reason and sink into in my realm of dreams.
Savor the soft kisses of my pianissimo as I whisper my secrets closely into your ears.
Drink in the thirst quenching scales as I run down my fingers across your spine.
Feel the breath of my pedaling on the surface of your smooth skin as our legs intertwine.
Cringe in terror as I grab your heart with my thunderous chords.
Enter through the doors of perception and breathe in my desires.
Embrace them and carry to my grave your sighs of joy.
Lets smile and awaken from the abyss to the melody of our love.
Irregularities in Mind (Poetry/Monologue)I look and I crow and I smile and I glare,
And I know things of circles,
And I know things of squares.
But when my mind ventures and takes to the other side
Then I can’t help but wonder
If it were better had I died
When the innocence came thriving
In torrents down silken cheeks,
That I might have been taken
When I was but a few weeks.
Maybe then would my darkness
Have so eagerly disappeared
But then I can’t help but wonder
What other monsters I might’ve feared
But the scary man below my bed
And my inability to have ever said,
‘Daddy, I don’t need you anymore’ and
‘Mummy, you can leave’ because
I was so desperate for some love
Instead of damned reasons to this creed
And how I wish that I’d show grace
Instead of whine and pathetically plead
For what I’ll never actually achieve.
I make people proud and divert the gun,
But that is all I have hardly done-
That boredom’s given way to psychotic craze,
To the shifting of eyelids
CuddlingOne of the best feelings in the world
The joys of having your arm around you girl
Just being with the person that makes you happy
That one person The makes you forget your troubles
And just smile
Looking in to her eyes
thinking she is a keeper
Carlitos - Homenaje a LovecraftSe me acercan con ese reptar que al fin se me hace familiar. Cuando rozan el cuerpo de Marie, sus vísceras mordidas caen y grita. El laboratorio ha cambiado mucho, le doy una mirada distante antes de que lleguen a mí.
“Carlitos” se acerca primero, supongo que será por la familiaridad. Gracias a él tuve mi nominación al nobel y me creí Dios, sabiendo que los dioses son muy inferiores a los seres que me abrieron la mente a ese conocimiento que me hizo lo que soy.
No hay nada en ese cuerpo lleno de tentáculos, que me haga pensar en lo que Carlitos fue originalmente. Uno de los que los acompañan aún parece un conejo, otro aún me recuerda a un oso. Carlitos no, su transformación es casi completa. Supongo que me mira antes de alcanzarme la jeringa. Emite un chillido y lloro agradecido cuando algo estalla en mis ojos cuando recibo la información en mi mente. ¡Sus dioses me aceptaron! Me acept
WordsTwice...thrice...is there a word for four times?
Let's just say that there's a certain number of times that I've kicked myself
Either for not speaking up or speaking out of turn.
I am not a spoken word poet.
In fact, I'm not a spoken word anything.
If it has the words "speak", "speech", "talk",
"Converse", "verbal", or even "greet",
I will have trouble doing it.
My ability to form words and sentences verbally might as well still be infantile.
I have to actually think as hard as possible about what I want to say and how I'll say it.
Even then, it's of little success.
My words cannot form unless they are formed from my fingers,
Or from my pencils and pens.
I write out my thoughts.
I type out my phrases.
I paint my sentences.
Almost every time, it comes out just the way I intended.
My writing speaks for me.
I could never express myself this much through just my voice.
It takes a certain power to make my words come out this way
(And sometimes lack of a certain power)
And to get as creative
And lo! That we know that the pain won't go!We live in pain untill the day we die
From our mother's cry
To our children's cry
Is there anyone who thinks it not so?
For lo, that we know that the pain won't go!
And it won't quit, till in our graves we sit,
And the ground-bugs hit, and are away with it
So don't fret dear child, you've felt nothing yet!
And I can bet that with futures threat you'll near those tears to shed over peers
So don't go drying them up just yet!
AdversityIf it wasn’t for the fires of trial and the hammers of difficulty then how could our will be as strong as steel.
SoundsLittle feet dancing around in my head,
Stomp, stomp, stomp, a parade is lead.
The little feet parade down to my eyes,
across my nose and down to surprise!
I hear them stomping in my ears,
Stomping, stamping, and little cheers.
Cheers of joy, cheers "Oh, fun!"
Little feet cheers for everyone.
The little feet stomp, having so much fun,
but then the little feet start to run.
Tippers, tappers, tipper, tap!
Thud, thud, thud, and slap, slap, slap!
The little feet running through my head,
Why are they running? What has been said?
Little feet giggle, little feet prance,
then again, they start to dance.
Dancing in a forest of hair,
peeking here and booing there.
I love the feet that dance in my mind.
Sweet little feet that are loving and kind.
Men in blue jackets try to take them away.
Make little feet run and in fear they stay.
"Little feet hide in the back of my mind!",
I tell them "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine."
They cannot see the little feet sliding,
in the back of my mind that they are hi
The Bullet and The BalloonThe child let go the balloon.
The balloon, sadly, is a metaphor.
And that metaphor is her life.
Her life, like a balloon, popped.
From a gunshot - from a blunderbuss.
The man on the blunderbuss wept.
He knew he popped the balloon.
The bright balloon obscured his vision.
His vision on a woman lonely.
His bullet was love and tenderness.
But bullets missed become simply bullets.
And bullets through balloons - is death.
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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