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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
The Young, The Wild, and The FreeDear Gabby,
This is a letter that I have wanted to write to you for over three years. I have used countless excuses: No time, no courage, no inherent reason. I have told myself countless times that writing letters to people like you is useless because people like you do not listen, no matter the person, the time, the medium, nor the words. You just do not, or maybe will not, listen. But, I guess in the realm of things this does not matter, because here I am, neither drunk nor sober, writing down my words on a piece of scrap paper you'll look at, but never read.
I was always quiet and you were always loud, and our friends told us it was okay because opposites attract. In public, it was funny. You would laugh and grasp my shoulder when you rambled on and I did not reply, but just listened. However, when we would arrive back at my apartment, it was always different. Instead of laughing, you would yell. Instead of grasping, you would pu
I'm Not a CutterJust because I'm not a Cutter,
Doesn't mean I can't feel pain.
It just means I’m strong enough,
to fight the battle, without giving up,
or succumbing to my own agony.
It just means, that I'm strong enough to go on.
We're Waiting.To be a good writer is to be you. To be a good artist is to be you. To be anything is to be you. Dream. Live. Wonder. Create. And be yourself.
Because you are the one who can make the change that everyone's been waiting for. You can do what others were too afraid to do. You just need a little push, and a lot of hope.
But most of all, you need you. Your individuality. Your uniqueness. Your creativity. Your imagination. And if you tie that all together, you can create something absolutely beautiful. Something new. Something amazing. Something we've all been waiting for.
The world is waiting for the next J.K Rowling. The world is waiting for the next Van Gogh. The world is waiting for the next Beethoven. The next Einstein. The next John F. Kennedy. The world is waiting for you. We're waiting for a change. And who's the say you can't make a change? Who's to say you can't make a difference?
You can. You most certainly can. All you need is a dream, hope, and a little bit of imagination. And
Depression.Depression feels like you've been sucked into a hole with no escape, very little air. Feels like someone's pushing you down, holding you and crushing your stomach. It feels like your drowning in air, yet everyone else is breathing.
You try to get better, some days you feel better than others but that doesn't mean your "cured." it just means your a bit happier than the previous day. In other words, you could say depression is where the days go by are covered in fog; sometimes the following days are brighter than others, but still have fog - around the edges. Sometimes it's really dark and gloomy, and its hard to make them bright.
We all have different ways of dealing with it, medication, talking to people; whether that be a therapist or your family or friends, alcohol, cutting, illegal drugs, unsubscribed medication, and so on and so forth. We all have different ways, yes perhaps not always a healthy option is chosen but at least it's something that dulls the pain.
bullyingbullying is never going to stop
so stop protesting
and live with it
I don't give a fluff if you've never been bullied
but I have
and so have more than half the people in the world
instead of protesting
help and stand up for someone who has been bullied
don't just sit there
My Angel Mother/ My Devil Father My angel mother was soft, nice, and was sweetest of all mothers whenever she made herself presentable to me. Somehow even on my darkest days she convinces me everything is going to be alright. It's rare that she gets me to stay happy now and sometimes she even convinces me to be nice to people even when they harm me. She says to me to try to respect everyone and realize my mistakes when I make them and be sure to learn from them to make me a better person. She offered the best advice throughout my whole entire life and I cry at the thought of losing her, knowing without her my sanity is gone along with the good morals she taught me. She's been with me since the day I was born along with my mortal mother, who also cared for me. My mortal mother cared for me when I needed physical help, but my angel mother helped me when it came to mental help. Angel mother had a good way of keeping my mind in a calm state when I was younger, but as I got older someone else showed up and st
Please see meSome of them walk by, dressed sharply, rushing off to their respective destinations.
“My body hurts…”
Some carrying briefcases, filled with important documents no doubt.
Others have less formal clothing, boilers suits or overalls, hardhats.
Construction workers I wager.
Some stop for a short moment, checking their watch, lighting a cigarette, then move on.
The scene blurs a bit.
“Please… no more”
A man stops; he looks right at me, his eyes a mystery, his brow furrowed.
“Can’t take it…”
He grimace slightly, moving along, pretending he never saw anything.
“Don’t force me to go back…”
I stumble and fall onto my back, grunting painfully.
A man with a hardhat and a coffee mug jogs over and leans over me.
“Oi lad, you okay?”
For the first time ever, someone sees me, really sees me, the man’s eyes go wi
Just Venting"Are you alright?"
"Wow, you're good. Why aren't you in honors?"
Because I know I'll fail.
"Hello? ...You okay?"
"Wow, I didn't mean it. It was a fucking joke...Hello? Hey, I said I'm sorry."
"You don't appreciate anything."
"You're so lazy."
"Wow, what's got you in such a pissy mood?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"...Over a month."
"When was the last time you talked to him?"
"And that boy you talked about, you're still with him?"
"He cheated on me."
"You don't trust many people, do you?"
"I trust far more than I should."
"For someone with all these problems, you sure do smile a lot."
Have you ever had the feeling...Have you ever had the feeling like you just don't know what to do? Where you just can't even think of what to say or who to talk to? Like you're being torn between two sides and you just don't know who to pick? Like if you make one wrong move, you'll be sent down a slippery slope with no return?
I feel like this every day. I don't know what to say, and I don't know what not to say. I don't know who I should and shouldn't be talking to. I don't know what questions are safe to ask, and what ones are better left unsaid.
I can't simply hide away from it all. And I can't simply do something too drastic. I feel like I'm being forced to feel some way when I feel another. Like I'm the bad guy for staying true to myself.
I'll get in big trouble if I make a mistake, and I don't know how to keep going without making one. I'm terrified of the inevitable fates that I see...I can't find a path to a good outcome no matter how much I think it over...
No one tells me straight up what's wrong, I have to
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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