|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Well Darn, There Goes My PlanFunny this life we live, there is so much more to see.
The heavens above, filled with no love,
The moon in the sky, larger then you or I.
Can't you see it, the size of it all?
We are ants infesting a house,
A flea eating a mouse.
Where will we be in a few hundred years?
Will we be in tiny boxes living useless fears?
Will we be in the ground, never to be found?
Will you be remembered, for who you use to be?
Perhaps by a few, but never truly by me,
For how am I to know, someone I've never seen?
Time has flown by, it's to late for you and me.
Why do you live, when time will soon blink,
and you will be gone, faster then you think?
Hidden LinesTorn apart and filled with lines,
Words unspoken are hatefully tried.
Burned at the bud,
Stop at the start.
Grievously misled from the beginning,
Broken and killed from the mere heeding.
Paper strewn across the floor,
The only love they've ever boor.
Here sit's a man in anger,
Lost is he in pain.
He tried to hide in the beginning,
Now all he is, is insane.
He wrote these hateful lines,
And just as they, he lies.
Never right, never perfect,
Always lost, forever hidden.
why can't i right one good poem?
Starless NightI miss the stars and seeing them for who they are,
I miss the moon, who was so white sometimes she was blue.
I miss the dreams of sailing on void black seas.
But all I have now is a blood red moon,
and stars that barley show and are so very dull.
Crooked HouseCrooked halls with crooked walls,
And rotten doors with rotten floors.
The house of hate is a filled estate,
And the fearful screams fill the air it seems.
Room number one we find her old mum,
And with a cold sigh we leave her behind.
Room number two we find little Sue,
Whose little cries go to those who die.
Room number three let's leave it be,
I've heard that the anger even now lingers.
Room number four is a room with no door,
For he who does fear has nothing to rear.
Room number five is where we will lie,
Where we will stay we have no room to play.
Room number six is a room full of tricks,
Where gadgets and toys let out terrible noise.
Room number seven holds a man called Devin,
He owns the crooked house founded on a mouse.
Crooked hall with crooked walls,
And rotten doors with rotten floors.
The house of hate is a filled estate,
And the fearful screams fill the air it seems.
Goodbye Donna NobleOh the things I have seen, they meant so much to me.
I've been to the stars in the sky, and lived in a place filled with time.
I saw the end of everything, and saved the world with tiny plea.
I was there when reality crashed, and ran away with a Time Lord, the last.
I became so much more, and my mother only told me I was a bore.
My grandfather always stayed by my side, and helped my friend when I had to die.
I had such adventures, and finely saw it all,
But when that happened, I had to fall.
Good bye Donna Noble
I'm A Bit LostWhat does one do when all is lost?
One may say that one should die,
But death is not an option.
What does one say when all is lost?
Do you finely speak your heart,
Or talk of sweet nothings?
What does one hear when all is lost?
One would think you would hear the truth,
Or is that just another thing to lose?
What does one feel when all is lost?
Would you cry for the days gone away,
Or is there nothing left?
What does one chose when all is lost?
We know what the answer is,
There is no chose left here to wonder.
What is left for one who is lost?
To The BattleCan you hear our whispers?
We've lead you to your demise.
Because no matter what you try,
You will never get past our lies.
Can you hear the scandal?
It's come far to late.
We've taken over all your lives,
It's to late to see your mistake.
Can you hear the yelling?
It's pounding in our ears.
Day by day it's there,
Perhaps we'll listen to your peers.
Can you hear us running?
We've lost the battle now.
It couldn't have happened we thought,
But now you've got what you sought.
MirrorMirror, mirror, wherever you lie.
I can't help but fear the day you die.
Shattered pieces left to dwell,
On wooden floor boards who creak and swell.
This is why I intricately waltz,
And why I act so very false.
For one wrong step may scatter you,
And pain may make me forever rue.
A splinter in my foot and a shard in my eye.
I fear it as much as I would fear to die.
I've seen people thunder past you with pride,
And not a shiver nor shake appeared on your side.
But one wrong step will send me reeling,
Even though my fear is misleading.
For one wrong step and I may find,
A splinter in my foot, and a shard in my eye.
Letting Go of YouLetting Go of You:
You abandoned me in the past
without so much as a proper goodbye
One day you simply chose to walk out the door
and you never did come back...
I was angry then, hurting badly
I wondered if I was in some way inadequate
I wondered if you left because I am so easy to despise
and eventually my sorrow turned to anger
I wanted to become great
to show you that you made the wrong choice
to take my strength and throw it in your face
just so you would regret it
But then I saw how happy you were...
In the time we've been apart
You've made a new life for yourself
You've found someone who loves and treasures you
and upon seeing that, my anger faded...
Your smile, that which I fell in love with
is more radiant now than the morning sun
a gentle blush upon your fair cheeks
takes my breath away, just as it did so long ago
Of course, I don't hold any hope for us to be friends
I don't think that it would be appropriate for me to come back
but perhaps one day, if
I would've been.I would've been a masterpiece if it wasn't for the tear,
I don't know why I tell you this, it's not like you care.
I would've been a legend if it wasn't for the time,
Age of heroes has come and gone, all I can do now is rhyme.
I would've made something of myself, if I'd had the motivation,
But now, I just lie in wait, awaiting even more degradation.
I could've been someone, or something, I know I could,
But right now, it's all talk, all "Could, should, would."
Then there's that "if" or that "but" getting in the way,
I could've been a masterpiece, but here I am, rotting away.
No one even gives me a second glance,
I'm not a famous one like Rembrandt's.
I could've been a masterpiece if it wasn't for the tear,
If only the people looking after me had taken more care,
I could've been perfect, and remembered forever,
But now I am just a portrait, of the Forgotten Reaper.
Bullying: Another Life is StolenMaking others feel worthless is what you do best
Then you go and claim it was all a joke, a mere jest
But your words mean more than you comprehend
Your words can lose somebody their dearest friend
Your jokes have taken another young life away
Now the day is bleak and a cruel shade of grey
Know that to obtain your one little power trip
Your victim will feel as if they are being whipped
So the next time you feel the urge to tease or play
Be sure to always remember what happened this day
Your torment stole a family member and friend
And for the family, there will seem to be no end
Stop the bullying before another young life is stolen from us
You've Changed...People they lie and cheat and change and hurt
All so many do is treat others like a pile of dirt
They can be friends one day and change the next
Looking only for money, drugs or even just sex
That seems to be the way of the world now
Something that has become acceptable to allow
But it is a sad truth that many will not admit
Through this time of hatred, it seems so few make it
We used to be so very close, you and I were
But I'm afraid that you've begun to change good sir
I no longer recognize the person you have become
What is left of who you were? Fore I see not a crumb
The hurt you cause us, I know you cannot see
And I know that you will probably disagree
But the evidence is just too clear
You've changed to much, my friend, my dear
Maybe one day we'll see the person you were
And maybe then things can go back to the way they were before
Who I was beforeWhen I was a child
I was not one of the loved girls.
I used to hang around with a bunch of boys.
We did imagine ourselves to be indians, cowboys, scientists, crime fighters and the like.
I was happy.
Still, I always tried to fit in with the others girls. but I realized soon they were phony and I didn't want to be part of their childish intrigues.
But I really wanted a close friend. I tried to be a good friend. But I heard
"you get on my nerves." instead.
I did not realize the cruelty behind this words back then.
I know now because it still haunts me.
Don't get me wrong, I thought I had found a friend and I was really good friends with the boys. I thought I was happy.
That was back in elementary school.
At the secondary school, I did not have the boys around me anymore. I found another girl and tried to be friends with her.
I though we were close.
Two years later, the classes were mixed anew and I lost her.
She found new friends and no time for me.
Once more I tried to befriend someone
The unspoken rule.There's an unspoken rule about being someone's first love.
The first love is the only time it's pure.
After the heart has been hurt by the one it had loved so purely
It can never be the same.
Love will always be given with a hint or helping of caution.
It won't be given fully anymore so it hurts less to have it all given back.
Confessions will grow mild and just a little bit rehearsed
Just to make sure that our hearts aren't always hurt.
Even should the first love return for a second chance
The pure you once had will be gone with a fleeting glance.
I know this from experience, so please take my words to be true
That love is pure only once I now know that because of you.
Living a LieLiving a Lie:
I feel like I've awakened from a comatose state
And the world has gone on without me.
I stretch my legs and take a walk outside
And for the very first time I see:
A strange kind of beauty, that is utterly alluring
It calls out to my spirit with the gentlest of cries.
I'm afraid to admit, for it was rather unmanly,
That I left with tears in my eyes...
I can't imagine how I could have forgotten
The very way that I used to walk...
I remember now my habitual actions
And I've even learned to talk!
"Arrr me hearties, good day to ya all
It be a fine day ta sail on tha sea
And if we find a plethora o' treasure;
Then yer drinks are all on me!"
I must admit it that brought me a smile
To be speaking my native brogue.
It reminded me that a dashing man
Should always be a playful rouge.
But that aside I'm feeling better
For now my mind has found its peace.
A comforting sense of order and structure
It's almost as rare as the golden fleece.
Within this sphere
Regaining.I'm regaining my positive outlook, I really am,
It might seem strange at first, but it is who I am.
"Everything will get better if you smile", I believe this now,
I used to scoff at this, but I can smile now, I think they can.
You know what came with this? Bravery.
Bravery to not be shackled by my own rules,
Bravery to speak to her, to break a promise I made,
Bravery to see that sometimes, rules are wrong.
I made some long ago, and stood by them,
My values, my bible, my everything, I kept them intact.
But that was wrong, because it was the start of my pessimism,
Maybe what I did sometimes was wrong, but I had my optimism.
And now, things will get better if you smile, if you take a step,
I believe this, I cast my promises away, that's my first large step.
I was brave enough to talk to her, and I am hopeful of the outcome,
It's only optimism, but I ask you, when has smiling ever hurt anyone?
Frantically he scrambles away from the dark
Eager to be free of his waking nightmare
Acting only upon the instinct within him;
Reminded constantly that he is prey
For some time he hides in the pervasive shadows
Earnestly praying that he will not be discovered
A single sound is all it takes to jar him;
Running from a creature that he can barely see
From head to toe it is certainly monstrous
Enshrouded in an aura of absolute repugnance
As the acid drips from its cruel jaws,
Rapidly dissolving the ground below
Fearful, he cowers, beneath boxes and cardboard,
Escaping away into a tiny corner of his mind
Alone with only his anxiety for company
Resting for what might be his very last
From birth, Ever-present, Always Remembered
such is the nature of FEAR
Writing poetry again Doctor Cecil? That's good!
You'll need a hobby to be working in an environment like this
-Chen Yuan Wen, 9th October 2012
370I'm begging for my dreams on fractured, bloody knees.
Praying without belief to a God with no relief.
I've given all my time, and I think I've lost my mind.
You think me a disgrace as you spit in my face,
Teasing me with hope and feeding me only soap.
But I can finely see, there's nothing left for me,
Someone will take my place, I'm the last in this race.
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More