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Pick A Card"Pick a card, any card."
I had gone out for a little evening stroll and ended up lost in thought, eventually finding myself actually lost in an unfamiliar part of town. Now a strange, young girl, dressed all in black and white, was trying to persuade me to draw a card from a deck she'd seemed to have produced from thin air. She fanned the deck out under my nose.
I drew one reluctantly, seeing no other option. all I wanted were directions. The night was falling fast. I didn't have time for games.
"Now, memorize it."
I looked at the card. It was turned upside down so I flipped it over. The other side was the same as the first. There was no suit or number and I told the girl as much.
"Let me see it," she held out her hand.
I gave her the card. She took it and flipped it over once, twice, three times then rubbed it on her shirt, which was divided down the middle into black and white. As was her hair, jeans, even her sneakers. Her right side was dressed all in black, her left, white.
What Light Does Greet My EyesWhat light does greet my eyes at break of day
But watered light of winter morning sun
Ascend does he to wish the night away
The war with sister moon at last is done
And so he takes his rightful place on high
And waltzes, regal, proud, towards the west
In and out the clouds of bitter sky
He calls the little snow birds from their nest
But swiftly, swiftly does he dance along
And soon he greets the edge of this fair land
And now the snow birds sing their evening song
He sets again and now the night's at hand
But never does he set, this golden star
But breaks yonder day o're lands afar
Only GlassShe collects glass bottles
In rows upon her shelf
Keeps them always closed up tight
And seals away herself
She fills them up with sadness
And she fills them up with tears
With blood and ghosts and memories
With thoughts and dreams and fears
Her most precious bottle
With which she'll never part
She keeps it the darkest corner
And it contains her heart
The glass is stained with grief and shame
It's chipped and smeared with dust
Edges worn with too many years
Of anger and distrust
It's known its share of heartache
It's felt the steely rain
It's had its share of lovin'
It rode those waves of pain
She can't say where it started
But the collection's growing fast
And she fears that she'll come home someday
And find it's only glass
Frostbreath silver in the grey of a breaking dawn
frozen, silently you wait
for your molten heart to thaw your frozen skin
for life to return
dropping from broken, grey eyes
frozen, they fall
quiet, onto frost bitten ground
The Clock That Can't Keep TimeI listen to quiet
In the dead of the night
Alone with my thoughts
And a lamp that won't light
The only sound breaking
Is the tick of the clock
That can't keep time.
I think of the future
I think of the past
I think of a present
I know never lasts
With face set in stone
Heart strings so fine
They pulse to a beat
That can't keep time.
The ages keep marching
Unyielding they go
When ours are to stop
Is not ours to know
Encoded in starlight
So continues the clock
That can't keep time
A Sea Over MountainsWhat must it be
A billion years
To watch as stars
Are born from clouds of dust
And see their light flood the black
To watch as planets
Are formed from rings of debris
Caught in an endless cosmic dance
Around the stars
To see the planets destroyed
And destroyed again
Always to reform
Like a pheonix from the ashes
To stand on the floor of a future ocean
To stroll the vallies
And ascend the hills
And remain after the waters come
To stare up through the currents
To the birds circling overhead
Up through the waves
Of a sea over mountains
DuskThe sky is burning
Blue stained with silken flame
Clouds floating above all
Threaded with gold
A ball of bright fire
cris-crossed with black wire
Strung between black houses
On a black street
And black birds
Are landing in black trees
Rustling black leaves
Clutching black branches
with black feet
And the white moon is rising
Over a world of grey
As the fire is sinking
Oh how silent does it rise
The sun is so pretty when it dies
Untitled 2Around the world
The children stand
With smiling faces
Hand in hand
They spred peace
A warm hug
A gentle Kiss
In places near
And very far
A moonbeam glow
A shooting star
A trickling stream
With smiling hopes
And hopefull dreams
Nights of SolitudeNights of Solitude
the darkness closes 'round me
as i sit in silent, dreary solitude
the ebony tells of secrets
of lives long passed
that matter now to no one but myself
and it wraps me in a cold blanket of obsidian
i find comfort in its touch
and peace in its serenity
and i sit in solitude
and wonder how i got here
and why i'm happy here
in the blackness
and it envelopes me in its sweet embrace
and i give in to the black
and let this weary soul just fade away
Second DestinationOn the upside down mountain
Colored oil black
I saw a house there
Front of it the bridge
between the mountain and a
200 floors high building
while 10 children
were running on the roof
All died in the fall
And so was my
AndromedaAmongst the darkened skies
Brightened by only starlight
Field & Sea.
Gravity is only an afterthought
Hilltops become ladders into the sky while
Inferior planets stare down upon the Earth
Jealous of such simplicity yet contemplating grandeur.
Keppler only thought of science
Linear, elliptical, movement…
Mythology had no such thoughts
Neptune & Nebulas both inhabit space
Orbiting across the lonely darkness
Probably never worried about mundane things
Questioning their existence
Right now or for all eternity such as us.
Shooting stars make us joyful while
Terminator is an otherworldly spectacle
Unknown to all those hidden in their houses
Various stars await us outside
Waiting to play like we did before
Xenagogue & inviting
Youthful but ancient curiosities.
Zenith induced euphoria continues until daylight…
The Beauty of the Flight OneOh bird,
oh how I envy you so
with your wings so delicate
but has the strength
to fight and navigate through
the ever pushing winds
your sharp and fine beak
an open even
the hardest of words and nuts
to provide the proper amount of food
for your beloved nest
You work so diligently
looking around for signs of danger
to later take flight
if it comes to that
but staying to fight
if your nest comes to harms way
Your call expresses many emotions
that I myself sometimes feel
the purtrid cry of sorrow
the beligerant screech of anger
the prepossessing song of love and content
Oh how I envy many things
of your careful, free life
I still know of the great dangers
that you constantly face
and I will always admire
how dutefully you deal
with all the troubles
that come with being a bird
30. Under the RainWhen it Rained
Hearing how the water fall
hits the roof
There has been many
who I don't know
to become lost
when it rained
They walk the path
and there is only one way
since it's too hot
when sun still shines
we'll get burned again
so then we are gone
when it rains
Third DestinationThe sky was grey
It was raining
the whole day
No houses, no trees
There was a scent
of salty, bitter tears
Then wind was blowing
Away the broken
pieces of paper
My soul, my home
That was the memory of my
Beautiful WorldBorn free here on earth:
Huge herds in the world.
Wild and free - so live animals
In our unique beautiful world.
Huge forests once on earth
Until the man was born.
Nature so green. Grazing on glade
Is a deer quite shy but close.
Rain over dry countries.
I see the awakening of nature.
Rainbow makes me dream
Peacefully after a hot dry night.
Fog over high mountains,
Waterfall – force of nature,
Silence … just a bird chirping
When the morning is awake.
Sun standing high in the sky
But when the night will soon be dark:
Dark blue is the sky then -
I see the world with different eyes
As long as it still exists.
Because I am just a part of life
In a dying world untouched.
Astronaut, calling from Soilthe astronaut landed
on a nylon moon.
the walls of net allowed no entry
he had a frail bronze skin,
so had a suit of emerald.
and six twig legs were
state of the art, back on Soil.
a giant monster,
jeans and pink and t-shirt,
attacked him in sudden, accidental savagery.
now the astronaut is shutting down,
all in the name of letting a giant
get higher than he needed to.
Moon CycleRare pearl in the sky,
You are ever-changing,
Eluding my grasp
As you dance
In your smiling arc
Around the world.
Like the tide,
My heart is overcome
By your gravitational pull;
my darkest nights of the soul.
All I can do
Is to watch
Until you come full circle.
Twigs in one hand,
Carrot in the other.
All in a hour or two.
They don't care.
They build their living snow.
Only to die of heatstroke the next day.
Sitting on summer's carpet
As the sun slips
Dying for another day
Under the horizon
She is released
Her kingdom for the moon
Sitting on summer's carpet
The sun slipping
Under the velvet ocean
She'd take me with her
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
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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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