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RayCan I truly say I love thee as I love a son?
You are a face hidden behind walls of writing
Safely tucked in behind print and paper
Nevertheless you breathe
As I breathed years back
And will breathe as I will breathe
In the days to come
Bleed as I can bleed
On the screen of my own mind
I will never forget the day I spoke to you:
"Oh Ray, look at what you've become"
"Look at me? look at you!"
It was then I saw my soul etched into you
As I wrote you I myself was written
By the hands I never knew were mine until they grew into your own.
Compound Fracture 9 (endgame)Despite the darkness and the events of the day, Caleb Sevrin did not feel tired. He supposed tired is a feeling for the living, and he was only a partial participant of that group now. He cast his dully glowing red eyes upon Ramses, who knelt in what seemed like prayer on the floor of the guest bedroom. Moses had exited the room through an open window, leaving to feed or perhaps check on the small clan of vampires living in secret in Miami. Cale frowned when he thought about the clan. Where he and Moses were energetic and fast, those of the clan moved slow and trancelike. What made them like that?
“The clan once drank of a synthetic blood-substitute, untested and ultimately dangerous. It seemed that our supplier had misgivings about pandering to half-demons, and altered the batch.” Ramses whispered hoarsely.
“Doesn’t it seem strange that Moses didn’t drink any?”
“Let me tell you of Moses. He was born Hugo Fokker, in Germany. The year was 1928.
Compound Fracture 8Colin stood back to back with Ardara, and beneath the silent stars of Alia Terra’s night, they were surrounded. Colin narrowed his yellow eyes at the assailant facing him: A shaman looking man, his brown hair darkened by dirt so that it matched his ragged greatcoat.
“You’re the killers, aren’t you?” He snarled, raising his arm-blade.
“We are searching for Heshua. We kill because we must make our intentions clear. Heshua must be stopped.”
“Why? Who is Heshua and who told you lives should be destroyed in the name of their death?” Colin barked, then shut his eyes at the memory of his slaying of Jenna. Was he any different?
“Today, we saw her wearing the armour of those who gave us the order.” A gruff voiced growled from the left of Colin, and he turned to face an ash-coated werewolf, hunched in a tripod position with a lanky, veiny arm pointed at Ardara. The werewolf’s yellow gaze traced Ardara’s body and Colin
Il est temps de partir, infants de l’aube grise
Il est temps de savoir, ou d’aller à la brise
Nous fûmes sœurs de sang, d’âme et parfois de corps
Mais la nuit nous priva du repos dû aux morts.
Comme la feuille au vent, nos racines sont sèches
Fiancées aux tombeaux froids, mariées aux ravins rêches ;
Sous le soleil Corinthe, et Athènes et la Pnyx
Sous la lune le Nord, et l’horizon d’onyx.
Marchez, blêmes infants, découvrez sous la terre
La triple damnation accablant votre mère,
Prenez garde en entrant dans l’antre du passé
Son goût pour le sang froid jamais ne s’est lassé ;
TranscendenceI'd like to be the sun as well as the moon:
for me to be star-crossed and tragic.
I'd like to be remembered, and legends be true
And be regarded, above all, as magic.
Let mythology be damned, they'll worship me so
For they hardly even know.
Let mythology be damned,
Let mythology be damned,
Their song and dance will be quite a show.
I dream of the day I'm fire within the ice
Encapsulated in all my splendor.
But maybe just a marble statue will suffice
As long as they gaze and worship in wonder.
The shrines will come and the offerings will flow
And the cults will branch in droves.
The shrines will come
The shrines will come
And wide-eyed followers will come in tow.
It'll be easier to be a martyr
Because there is no hard work for me.
I'll just need to pose with my dog and armor
I'll receive a holiday, you'll see!
Like water in amber, I will be memorialized
And become the spark in your eyes.
Like water in amber
Like Water in amber
Becoming an idol is a clever disguise!
The InquisitorBy right of God
The Holy Spirits
And the Church
I shall shape the world
A world bound by unity
Where none is an enemy
A world expelled from evil
Where no demon roams the earth
My sword fighting the fire
That defies my belief
A scorched stake
The end of all my foes
By right of God
The Holy Spirits
And the Church
I have shaped the world
After the FallWhere teardrops have fallen
flames will also rise,
they are invisible angels
obvious in demon eyes.
Silver Slips and DancersIt’s there in the beaten mirror she holds
In broken hands she cries of a defeat
The night will take her before she grows old
And they will cry, “narcissist” in the street
There, she dances softly on the surface
And shows the swan what it means to pirouette
But she cannot break exteriors face
found so ashen from the year’s cigarette
They will write books about that wayward girl
Speak of once easy laugh and softest eyes
That such light could be consumed by this world
should show that both bones and beauty will die
Pressed fingers to lips form a last cachet
In silver, shard veils, sashaying away
DFC 2013 Day 6: SkylinesYou know,
there is almost
something beautiful in
the way you breathe for the moment.
with passion like
you, a cigarette in
mouth, lip-locking the grey haze you
send those cinders
my way. Just let me taste
the ashes leaping from your tongue,
till these shallow
lungs have gotten their fill
and sputter and cough and whistle
If I had a
lighter, maybe you could
teach me how to live, but sadly
Who? RegeneratedHartnell, Troughton,
And last, McCoy
And then it’s gone,
But wait – oh joy!
It’s Paul McGann
(He doesn’t last).
It looks as though
His time has passed.
So many years,
An endless wait.
He’ll not again
But now, at last,
And Tennant too –
A brand new run
And Smith, whose time
Will soon be through,
Will pass it on to
Who knows Who?
Oh look, that guy
That used to swear –
Will be on air.
But wait, there’s Hurt.
My brain’s confused.
Getting well abused!
And now, McGann
Is briefly back.
I swear space-time
Is going to crack.
It’s just a TV show
And no-one can
The future know.
You step inside
A box of blue
And take a ride.
Bhraitheann An Ghaoththere is no longer such a thing as the exhonerated title of
when tainted with corporate conceit
the stench of which is embedded by a fetid education
and encouraged by the false prophecy of a system
suggesting reward for 'good' competition as the pride of all being
when in fact it contaminates and putrefies all things associated with
this succubus chant of capitalistic patriotism has become a lucid stain on humanity
the word – patriotism – used in false triumphancy by resigned and cowering souls
or against that small mass of inquisitive human flesh that understands and demands
the symbolic fake will never be accepted
please, oh please, oh supreme being, help us
march to a drumbeat only when the drummer is truly known
and pounds and thrums and exemplifies the demand of a
that will never skip to an inconsequential beat
by the unethical goosestepping marching band leaders that now control
the sunday morning reigns
of proselytizing whores
Summer's SiegeThere is a glowing future
Like sunset in the trees
And rainfall tickles shivering skin
For love's not a disease
Trembling primal force
That can shake the tallest mountains
And make the coldest rivers
Run their shining crystal course
Unfortunatley, Darling, your love's not mine to hold
But as rainfall kisses my skin
Do not see it as my loss
For even though I'm drowning and my heart's been bought and sold
I'm silent in the forest as
The needles underfoot,
Tickle freckled arms
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More