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I.Am.Not.An.ArtistI am not an artist
I do not believe I am someone with a creative mind
someone who can make something so bland into something so magnificent
I am not that
I will never be that
I see art and the world it is in
and I see nothing
I see no beauty
just shapes and colors
I do not see the beauty someone has created
or the depth and emotion that is hidden between the lines
I don’t see how someone can see so much within so little
to be able to create a life by just a few lines
and to be able to recreate something with their minds
I wish I could be able to do this
just a little of this
but I am not an artist
I am my own person
The HourglassWatch the hands go round and round.
Ahhhh, how long have I been sitting here,
Listening to the grandfather clock?
Watching him ticking away?
Watching the polished wood yellow and rot?
And with every sound he makes
More maggots eat his wooden flesh.
Every grain that falls is an eternity!
In the firelight you can see the glass.
The dust that coats the cracking bulb,
Listening to the sand that trickles down.
Listening to the passing hours.
With every grain that filters through
Another man sleeps eternally.
The sundial stands defiant!
From my leather chair I see it!
It stands defiant in the plaza below me!
Standing in the moonlit night.
Onyx DreamsOnyx Dreams
Fluctuations of sound waves vibrate the floor,
While the lights of my room glow brilliantly,
But as time winds down and my energy starts its decline,
My vision gets blurry and listening becomes hearing,
And hearing becomes simple background noise,
While Palaceer Lazaro’s words become filmy intonations
Yet, still creating a motion picture full of abstract images,
In my mind full of words and phrases that do nothing but stay stagnant,
And Slumber begins to wrap her warm hands around my head,
As she sweetly begins to pull me into black depths of rest,
A state of unconsciousness that will take me on a journey,
Through the grey abyss we call the center of our nervous system,
And once I fall into the pit of nothingness, the pit of onyx, for those few hours,
I will transform into an atramentous being with aphotic wings,
Because “black is free……..”
I Don't Miss AdolescenceMy sister calls to ask me if I'll do her makeup;
Mami promised that she would, but she's tired
and screamed when Maria reminded her senior prom
is tonight. She says, "I have a hickey on my neck,
something she doesn't want to cover, and you've always
done a better job of highlighting the subtle graces
inherent to my bone structure, the angles we share."
I say, "That's okay, but I can't pick you up,"
so she arrives in a flourish of exasperations,
telling me all the family business, waving her nails
in my face and talking about the pain of her extensions.
She says, "Do you think we need yellow concealer?
I plan to take pictures, and the last
unrequitedyou make my words
gather at the hollows
of my throat
until i choke on them.
my fingers ache to
but my eyes ache to
you're nothing but heart break
wrapped in a bow
of something beautiful,
like the dust of grace from
i drink a little faster and
cry a little harder
because the way whiskey and tears
mingle on my lips
tastes suspiciously of love.
Equestrian StormEquestrian Storm
I was walking through Canterlot,
as rain beat my plot.
I just didn’t feel right,
before it came into my sight.
The princess of the night,
alone and broken.
What a pitiful sight,
out of my slump, twas awoken.
“Princess, why are you here why are you crying?”
“Because nopony loves our night, I would be better off dying!”
“No Luna no, now that you shouldn’t say!”
“And why ever not, what reason hath you that I should stay?”
“Celestia for one, your sister whom you love.”
“Right sure, the sister from whom to the moon I was shoved.”
DilemmaToday in class
You moved to sit beside me
And my heart missed
Your friends followed,
All sitting nearby
And I sat in silence
Afraid of being judged
The presentation started
And I tried not to look at you
But instead peeked
From the corners of my eyes
The presenters spoke
And I tried to focus
On the droning voice
But you invaded my thoughts
What we had talked about last night,
What I should say to you,
How I should instigate the conversation,
If we were to have one at all
I peek over
And you look miserable
Sick, I remember,
And feel an instant sympathy
And fear of being judged
By those around me
Keeps me silent
All Systems are Shutting DownI shut down
Kicking everyone out
I sit alone inside myself, while other pieces of me close the gates around my heart
And lock the door to my brain
I refuse to let anyone in; I pretend I’m not home
“Please leave your message after the beep…”
“Where are you?”
I don’t know.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t know.
“When are you gonna let me in?”
I don’t know.
Smoker's EpiphanySlipping through a puff of smoke
exaggerated wisps slipping through my subconscious
and I am emptier than before, less than I was
something subtle and hearty
smoothened and soothing
it's almost relief
No wordsI don't like to talk.
I feel that words cannot truly express what I feel.
When I am filled with emotion, I can find no word that can express what I feel to the fullest.
There is no word beautiful enough to describe this joy, no word horrible enough to describe this hate, no word ugly enough to describe this miserable existence.
Never open the window... Never open the window...
I see you're here.
Pay attention, don't fall. It's dark.
What? No, I don't want to light up the room. Yeah, nor open the window. It's useless.
And actually, the only light I need...
...is that one that is so distant for me.
She asked me why I was saying that.
But best of all, I knew that actually she didn't care
I saw too much faces ready to wipe away all my tears and all my fears
But best of all, I know that actually they didn't care.
Seems like destiny put me in this world to help others.
Oh, I'm tired, but I won't show you.
it has been four years, right?
Four years that I'm holding all of you on my shoul
The BeaconThere it is
So far away
Yet the sight of it brings me hope
The glistening red dot
Gradually growing larger
As I trudge closer to my destination
The heat is consuming
The silence deafening
I'm so close, I can't stop now
I finally reach it
The beacon is right here before me
I gaze upon it's bright face
I pause for a moment
Then turn and continue on home.
The ChoiceSitting at the edge of the abyss
Between life and death.
I’m greeted with a disheartening choice
Solemn and quiet, I think on it.
As I sat, it is Death and all his friends
Who come upon me.
He grimly outstretched his callous hand
And persuaded me with odd tongues.
I thought of the missteps in life,
The seemingly dire loss of joy and hope.
Seeing no point to carry on, I decided
To listen to what the black spectre spoke of.
In the somber state my life had
Amounted to, I began to consider Him.
As I listened, a glint of light shone in
my eyes, fiercely blinding me.
From the clouds, a great white angel
Gently drifted down to me.
Why must I think as I write?Why must I think as I write?
Why must I write as I think?
To sit here and establish my thoughts?
To give you my personal feelings when no other can empathize?
Why do I even begin to do this?
Writing is a talent,
And yet I write this.
Discovering my talent meant that I could do something,
Not just think about what I want.
I want to become an author,
A film artist,
Hell even a poet if I choose.
But I can never stick to one thing.
Why is that?
It's as if I have so many thoughts that they can not be put on paper.
As I sleep my thoughts take flight,
I dream of a world that can not be.
Then I wake to find myself in a dangerous world that others fea
SoggyHe never saw it coming. Like good things in life claim to, it came to the boy waiting, waiting for the school bus to come, waiting for his mom and new sister to come home, waiting to graduate, waiting to grow up—waiting. It would be said about him that he was the boy who could wait forever as long as he knew what he was waiting for. But he never saw it coming.
His bowl sat on the steps, the grains inside growing soggier by the minute. He hated soggy cereal. Around the bowl, spots of milk were soaking into the hardwood panels.
The school bus had been early that morning. It was parked, not in its usual spot across the road from his house, but a ways down the road. Its flashing lights were overpowered and ignored by the ear-splitting siren calls. Neighbors milled about, moving their lips instead of their feet—or their eyes. They never stopped staring. With each passing moment, the crowd grew.
A broken man sat on the curb across the road from the school bus with his face in his
Admit ItI’ve seen us
Not “together” like two people
walking down the street
at the same time;
sharing the same breath
after sharing a kiss.
I’ve imagined what a future
would be like
if it were you and I.
We’re the types
that could keep the fire
going long after
the coals had been
burned up and become ash.
I could pick your brain
for ages, dates, and historical facts…
I don’t think I could ever get tired of you.
You don’t have to,
It would be nice you did, though…
Haven’t you ever thought the same,
even for a second?
Rent me a room in your left ventricle...What good is a heart if one does not
Utilize its chambers
To hold stories,
To hide secrets,
To invite friends in
When they have nowhere else to go ...?
What good is the human brain
If one does not
Exercise its muscle
By solving problems,
By fixing hearts that have become to full
Or have been empty for too long?
What good is the human body
If one does not
Stretch its arms around another,
Help another up when they have fallen,
Sit with those who cannot yet stand?
What good am I
If I don't
Take your pain away
When it becomes too much for you to handle?
If I don't
Help you to see the reflection
That shows the real you?
What good are we,
Any of us,
And what good is a brain
And a heart
If nothing is meant to be shared?
Untitled.I feel like I’m becoming more “me” than I used to be—
Before, I was afraid of “me”,
So I would just say
“I don’t know who I am” –
Or maybe I really didn’t know…
And this is my journey to self-discovery?
Maybe I’m just putting together pieces of people
I know I like…
Whatever it is that I’m doing…
I think I like who it’s allowing me to become.
BulletproofI’d like to think that I am
But the truth is,
I’m simply a glass
For different reasons altogether.
The Season Before The SnowBillowing
through the curtains, the wind tried to whisper to her. Secrets she
needed to hear, secrets that scared her. She turned her head away, and
the whispers feel on deaf ears. Vengeance - the chilling fingers
grasped her skin, to the bone she shivered. Fear creeping in through
every pore, stealing her bravado, steeling her blood.
She turned back to see the spirits mocking her false courage, enticing her with
the secrets she longed to fear. Amber spells at their fingertips and
shriveled curses at their command - theirs was the season of curses,
the season of death.
Before this, before tonight she was someone else.
Never had the thought crossed her mind that this season could be
anything but pain. But everything changed the night she saw him. In the
cluster of fall spirits - everything changed the moment she began to
listen. She had never given any thought to the season before the
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More