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Written with BloodPlease do not ask me
'Bout Dark Poetry
Have no need for it
It doesn't touch me
These are little Words
Of Pain, Hate and Fear
But they have no Sense
If you haven't felt such
If you have not seen
And you have not felt
They are just three Words
Like You, Me and Thee
These are puny Words
For those who felt it
Burning Pain in you
Roaring Hate for you
And the Fear of you
Of what thing you are
The beast you might be
The Darkness you crave
These are just Words
If you have never
Heard the fearful shouts
And seen the shed Blood
Do not talk to me
About Fear and Loath
If you have not seen
MistHe stepped out into a cloudy october night.
It was allways cloudy, or misty or both in the little town at the edge of the swamp.
The people of the town carefully avoided the swamp, allthough nobody really knew why. It was just a creepy place that no one wanted to visit especially not during the night.
He was on the way home from the towns pup to his house on the other side of the town.
Lost in lought he walked the streets untill he saw infront of him a huge, black dog sitting on the street.
Strange...he had never seen such an animal around here before. As he came closer the dog set up and started growling at him. He wanted to sneak past the dog, but the animal was blocking the way. He wanted to step back and try another way around, but another dog was sitting in the adjecting alley. He turned around just to see that there was another dog coming from the opposing alley.
"What the fuck is going on here...?!"
He started to walk the way back and realized that they were following him, so he
A true StoryThis is a true story.
A story about my grandfather and about the second world war.
When my grandfather was at my age he was a communist and gave speeches in collogne.
Communists were bitter rivals of the Fascists and their favored country was russia, because it was the only country at that time that had a communist system.
Maybe that was the reason why he was send there in the war.
My grandfather was send to siberia. In case you don't know what that means a small anecdote: Soldiers that were honored for fighting in siberia recieved a medal, that was called "Frozen-Meat-Medal" among the people. The russian winter on his own was deadly enough.
As far as I know my grandfathers group was on the march when they met a naitive that tried to defend himself. The officer of the group decided that the man had to die and ordered my grandfather:"Shoot him."
My grandfather refused, I don't know if out of compassion or simple stubbornness, but I do know that the Officer and my grandfather strated to
Raven's FlightHe looked at the coat of arms - with a frowend forehead.
"Interesting, isn't it?", said a voice behind him and he turned around.
He saw a man, with grayish-blond hair, a blond, stubbly beard and a black eyepatch over his right eye. The man beared the same coat of arms.
"Greetings, Milord.", the sentence was pure rutine, he had said it a hundred times before and will say it another hundred times, before the end of his duty.
The man with the eyepatch nodded as a response. He stepped forward and looked at the coat of arms on the wall.
It showed a raven carrying an olive branche in it's beak. A raven as an emblem wasn't unusual, also a bird carrying an olive brach wasn't an unusual symbol, but he had never seen a raven carry an olive branch. Well...he had never actually seen a dove that carried an olive brach either, but the combination of raven and olive brach seemed like a twist in the myth.
"You ask yourself: Why a raven. Don't you?", aksed the lord.
"I would never dare to question a lo
Pride of the Dark Ones 2Look at this man, you might remember him as an old scholar. He had the pleasure to explain to a young boy, whos father had been slain in battle, why "Darkelves" didn't equal "Evilelves".
As most scholars do he left out some details to make his statement sound more believeble. In fact it was a number of detials, in onther words he just told the boy a half of the actual truth. The other half...
It was true that the soldiers, nobles and even the King of the dark elves were bound by a strict code of honor. But these aren't all of the dark elves and no we are not talking about the females here, the women of the dark elves are as much warriors as their male counterparts.
But in a world were a large part of influence is in the hands of people that study things that aren't visible to normal people, we have do ask ourselves how do "they" do it.
What are the mages of the dark elves.
First, they aren't called mages the are Warlocks, which indicates that they work with dark energies. Some of them
-Oh not again...let me guess: You are an ancient god that wants to chittichat about what it means to be a human?-
-Okay, and what good are you?-
-You mean what God am I.-
-I am Thoth, the God of Writing and Wisdom.-
-The crane-headed one?-
-Ibis-headed, but yes that I am.-
-Great, nice to meet ya.-
-Mortal, I have a question for thee.-
-Sure thing, Birdy, fire away.-
-Do not call me Birdy, lest my curse shall fall upon you.-
-What kind of curse can a god of writing and wisdom bring me?-
-I could disable Wikipedia for you.-
-Damn, you win this one, Thoth.-
-Excelent, now my question: Why is it that "Mothafucka" is written with "a", although "Mother" and "fucker" are both written with "e-r"?-
-"Motherfucker" it indicates someone that copulates with his Mother.-
-I know, I know...I guess it's to sound gangsta.-
-"Gangsta"? The slang for a minor evildoer? A term that is also used for a lowly way to speak with limited vocabulary and primiti
Gotteslob nach NietzscheSeht ihr uns'ren Stern dort stehen
Helles Licht in dunkler Nacht.
Hoffnungt auf ein neues Leben
Hat er in die Welt gebracht.
Doch auch in dem neuen Leben
Hat der Teufel nur gelacht.
Und so liegen wir danieder
Still und starr in dunkler Nacht.
Und so singen wir die Lieder
Von Hoffnung und von Gottes Macht.
Und wir beten immer wieder
Dass er dem ein Ende macht.
Doch der Geist ist fort geflogen
Ist gefloh'n von dieser Welt.
Er verflucht den stolzen Menschen
Der nur sich in Ehre hält.
Und den Menschen bleibt nichts über
Als zu beten immer fort.
Und wir schauen voller Sehnsucht
Zurück auf den heil'gen Ort.
Und so singen wir die Lieder
Von Hoffnung und von Gottes Macht.
Und wir beten immer wieder
Dass er uns ein Ende macht.
Gloooria in excelsis Deo
I Dream About HerI dream about her, quite often, actually. It's been nearly two and a half years since I've seen her face to face, and it truly does break my heart when I remember the good times. She was one of my best friends, one of the greatest influences in my life, and someone who could make me smile. However, all good things must come to an end eventually.
Drugs don't just affect you, they affect your friends. When you've been roped into the bad crowd and refuse to turn to the people who love you most, you're going to lose everything you care about. Well, I cared for her, alright. We were nearly as inseparable as Sempai and I, hanging out nearly 24/7. Sure, there were fights, but every friend has a fight. It's when the line is drawn that things get messy.
In my dreams, I remember how she used to be, how fun she was, how silly she acted, and how she was just pleasant to have around. What happened? Why did she decide to go the way she went? To turn to lying, drug abusing, and overall not caring for
One last time. KristaXReaderFor music please listen
Highly recommended after the game scene though
"Two Kings!” Krista piped laying the cards on in the pot laying on my lap. She sat cross legged on the hospital bed with me. Sitting up straight and laid her cards face down in her lap leaning forward, now were both now down to one card. you looked up from my last card and glared at her. For such an innocent girl she had one hell of a poker face. you swallowed the lump in my throat and laid down my last card.
“One Ace.” you stated and crossed my arms challenging her to say it.
‘that’s it! the cat’s in the-’
“Bullshit!” She called out and flipped over the card that had just laid down….a queen,.
“Damn it Krista!” you shouted smacking the pile off my lap then pouted indignantly.
"Can't you just let me win for once." I asked. Krista giggled an
How to love a guy who can't love himself.How to love a guy who really doesn’t love himself.
Well first, there are numerous ways you can do this, so just sit back and listen.
Number one rule, tell him to drop his façade, abandon the stereotypes that society places upon him, find the real him, the core, so fragile and so easily able to be hurt.
When you find the real him, who he really is, then look him in the eyes, past all that buff, and all of that strength and mutter a few simple words. ‘It’s okay to cry.’ And when he cries, when he falls to his knees and allows his body to tremble for the first time in decades, you put your hands on his shoulders and say, ‘Everything will be fine’.
And when he looks up at you, with tears in his eyes, shaking out of either shame or anger, you just smile at him, and say ‘No’, not because he’s crying but because you know he’s threatening to close himself off again to the world, and put on that face that he fe
.things i've learned in
the last few months:
-friends are expendable.
-so is sanity.
-you can like girls and boys
and neither and either.
-it is possible to
exist while half your soul
is jutting out of your body.
-change does not help
-you can't bring back the dead.
-but you can hold the dead in your
arms when their eyes won't close.
-and when you make pacts with god,
remember that you're still upholding
so many promises with him in the first place.
-you're not suicidal, just human.
-maybe just a little less human than
-devaluing people doesn't
help your social anxiety.
-you can't run away from job
opportunities just because
you think a colleague is whispering about you.
-but you do get a choice on which job to take.
-and no, you're not so worthless that you have
to settle for a job you know you'll hate.
-and you do have a right to be paranoid.
-you don't have to write your sister.
CycleI reserve the option to be emotionally born, play, grow old, and die at last once every decade--perhaps every year, month, week, or day.
--J. Shidler 2014-04-06
RainAs the electric arc sizzles away like frying bacon, two pieces of steel are fused together into one mechanical mass. Its Thursday night, and for us its the last night of the work week. Weekend ahead, money in our pocket, endless possibilities.
But for now, there are 36" mower decks to run. Bright light on a dark night, smoke and sparks, and 8 hours of staring into a false star. The shop is filled with a light yellow haze, it drifts through the air like a ghost as we work away the hours till dawn.
It is warmer than previous nights, winter is coming to an end and spring begins. Its raining!
Not snowing, not hail, not ice that clings to all things, but the continual 'tap, tap, tap' of heavy rain, almost like the distant roar of a forgotten army.
Sparks fly and fill the night, the haze is stifling, creeping behind helmet and vale. Another hand crafted product is born, and ready for processing, on to the paint line and the day crew.
A hot steel plate that will be painted black, built up wit
You and I are just the same...
Through glazed plastic eyes I stare, a soft smile sewn onto my lips.
"You're my best friend!" the girl across from me smiles, giggling gleefully as she does.
"You're mine too..." I respond with warmth in my unspoken words.
She brings me close, hugging me to her chest, as she spins in a circle. Then after she holds my hand and brings me wherever she goes.It always starts like that, so gentle and innocent. Slowly, it grows as she starts to reveal her secrets to you. Crushes she has, wishes for things that she wants. You'd think this was an unbreakable bond. But then, they begin to grow distant. Their warmth leaves and you're left in a cold corner, forgotten.
They may come to visit you every now and then, but it's never for very long and soon enough it's they simply don't return. In years they may find you and look you over. They find you dusty, your eyes are scratched and the paint is faded.
"I remember y
Can I Just Say I Love You?Well… um… hello there. I didn't think you'd actually read this, but here goes nothing. So I sorta… you know… love you. Yea, I know it's strange to think about. Me of all people too. I just can't help be die a little inside when you say hi to me and walk to her. You know? I just kinda get a little jealous, but I'm too afraid to tell you I love you. So I wrote this note, hoping you'd read it somehow. So, why don't you just tell me you fell the same way? It would be wonderful to hear again. I know you are a little confused and I know this is strange. I'm not good a writing sonnets and I can't look at you in the eye except when I want you to see that I love you. So next time I see you, I'll look you in the eye. Then you'll know I mean it. Because I do. So, I hope I'll get a message from you or bump into you at the store.
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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