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My Own Robin GoodfellowSun-warmed face in careless cock-a-side
Full lips in a merry curve
While bright eyes full of mischief
Tickle the laughter from any who dare to meet them
Strong hands callusced
Ruthless and vengeful protector
Lighthearted romping playmate
Lover of sunny days and deep woods
Like wood himself at times
Hard hooves planted firmly in the earth
Yet vanishing at will without a trace
The frolicking faun
The Puck of my heart
Who frees me to feel joy
At my own existence
Sinking BeneathI stood still and
Descended to a world beneath
And felted to the tapestry
Where there is no intention
Nor method, nor will
And the constant shifting people
Are not people
Husk full of life
Dusty breaths in joyous silence
Chittering notes to a slow and changing beat
Little boundless dance around and through me
Far below my woven threads
Of tight-spun lives--
With and far below
Drum DanceQuiver nervously
Like the fire in the center
Peer across the smoky haze
Listen and move
It's a natural dance
Your fingers find the beat
First matching it
Then tapping around it
Fire and dark
Pound and thrum
Rap and repeat
In the dance of drum
A sensual shape
Has risen to dance
The drumming slows
To fathom this motion
Night conceals and light reveals
Each in their own turn
And turn she does in mysterious ways
Almost smell her hair the
Heat on her face
She twines and curves
Her red veils spin
Beneath her bells
The flame-lit skin
A bending rhythm of dark wishes
Winding around the fire
Whirling until the bare feet
Barely touch the ground beneath them
In the firelight her sweat
Seems to glitter like gold adornment
Her arms are snaking ever faster
Twirling skirts and teasing laughter
Suddenly it's THREE
Sucky Poem in Old KiishBeawi'su sholka
Zu ka saos no'feira
No'hada saz Teirys
N zol shikan
Yau zol shaukan
Simi nga sa'zol ara
Ngia nga kashidum
Riro nga sa'zu rokh
Zol shyuan no'feira
Simi nga sa'zol ara
Take this milk
Give it to the spirits
Servants of Nature
Who gives birth to us
And kills us
Each in our time
Take this milk
Put it in the offering bowl
Yet in its place
We become spirits
Each in our time
When I hide PainA haunting feeling,
I know its love.
I don't want it,
I want to be your friend.
I stay awake dreaming,
crying for help.
Please, can't you see,
I'm in pain.
What do you feel.
Do I want risk our friendship,
for this crush.
I need to talk,
Will you hate me.
Living IsLiving is when you
Pick up all the pieces and broken bits
Of what used to be beautiful
Of what still is
And try not to cut your fingers
But you do, and you knew you would
Humanities MistakeHe's an angel from heaven with wings made from feather, his arm's made from steel and his skin made of leather.
His eyes like lights in a night made from cloud, his chest made from darkness, his heart does it shroud.
With his hair just like fire and his smile just like coal, with an axe for a spine and a sword for a soul.
Boots made of skulls and a jacket from skin, a shirt made of glass, quite dangerously thin.
With a knife in his hand and shine on his boots, his breath being toxic, the air it pollutes.
With lift of his arm and a grin on his face, blood being smeared all over the place.
Blood on the ground and blood on the floor, blood on the walls and blood on the door.
Knive wounds in babies and their blood on their mothers, children who cry out to be saved by the others.
Pointless it is, and worth all it's not, to try to escape is not worth a shot.
He's an angel of death and fear he brings, with his voice bringing pain whenever he sings.
making such chaos and embracing such sin, he
MicrophoneIt emphasized his voice
The song in his body
The pain in his heart
The blood in his veins
The love in his voice
Everything that made him
He was perfect on stage
And everywhere else
His love for the fans
Was unmistakable and vast
He was a great man, not just because of how he sang,
But how much he cared
For everyone,not just close people,
But everyone that loved him, he loved back
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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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