| Spring Cleaning (In Autumn) ... Old Deviations have been cut and New ones might be uploaded ... |
Weaver of DreamsShe created a new labyrinth and set it around her conscious mind. She ran through it weaving her webs as she went, knowing her pursuer will soon follow her, she knew where he'd fall and where he'd see her; Mistress of Illusion.Weaver of Dreams
He'd always tried to capture her but he'd never been able to for she would weave another dream and lose him there.
Life is hers to play with and manipulate, no one can change her plans. He shouldn't have tried to capture her and now he is her captive without knowing it. She weaves and spins and he can never escape even if he wanted to, not that she cared if he did or not
3 a.m In SilenceRandom thoughts flicker, I'm distraught.3 a.m In Silence
Whys and What Ifs and If Onlys all mix in my mind and i am going mad with all the things I understand and wish I didn't.
I am an attraction at a freak show; people stop by, watch me entranced and intrigued and then when they have watched me, observed me, know every part of me they get bored and move on in search of something more interesting; something new, something else ...
*If only you knew that I poured out my soul so you'd understand my madness; and not take me seriously ... Really a sharp slap and a bear hug would have made it all better* &
SalvationThere's a darkness inside us all, in some of us it is tangible; you can see it in their eyes, in the haunted expression, in the sadness and pain visable. Sometimes it is so deep and has been there for so long that it has corrupted their minds and souls and all they can see and feel is the cold grip of darkness on their hearts.Salvation
Some of us fall into the darkness on occasion but manage to find a way out, sometimes it is hard but we manage it in the end. Sometimes the only thing that can save us is someone who knows the same kind of darkness, who has lived it, who can sympathize, and who can help guid
Game OverIt started on a cold December morning; you found me tripping over rainbows claiming butterflies had to be caught to hold up my dark curls so you would be able to look into my eyes.Game Over
I skipped away and dodged your grasp as I flitted across the landscapes of my mind, and you followed me; you always followed me. You caught me, held me close, wiped away my fears. You took hold of my heart and squeezed it till I felt that I was floating, till I was sure I'd die for surely it's a sin to be so happy. We wandered through the mazes of our combined consciousness, losing each other and finding
| Spring Cleaning (In Autumn) ... Old Deviations have been cut and New ones might be uploaded ... |
A word about haiku - MS JamesA word about haiku - by Michael JamesA word about haiku - MS James
I believe there are a few basic precepts about haiku that are largely overlooked, or just flat out just not taught in most basic literary (poetic) courses. Everyone seems to know that a haiku is supposed to be written in the structure of 5-7-5 syllables per line respectively, but there is much more going on than just a simple syllable constraint. I shall attempt to give a brief overview of the main points about haiku.
First off, the 5-7-5 syllable structure most often cited as being the sole ‘structural rule’ of haiku is based on the original Japanese constraint. However, the Jap
I will search out your shapeI will search out your shape-- your parted mouth, the red esophagus, a tongue limp with hunger like the heavy sound of a bell.I will search out your shape
I will find the dust of my skin in the ancient impressions of fingers on your body.
and In the cool stone of your nails I will rest and grow to be the moss that only you can see, the downy hairs penetrating the back of your long neck are tall trees in the Sahara.
We will sleep in one room and share exhalations. Your eyes will be the windows.
and we will keep our secrets pressed between our
| What is there to be said of a human being, who is like all others of the same race? Who lives, breathes and walks the planet ... I am but the same as all others ... there is nothing to set me apart from the billions of others ... therefore whatever i shall write has been written before, and whatever i think has been thought before ... There is no longer a set of features to set me apart from the vast crowds ... there's no longer anything to hide me from the hungry eyes of the masses ... *and I'm being over-poetical too early in the morning* on second thought ... being a writer, i am entitled to being poetical ... and being passionate about music has also enhanced that natural tendency into something monstrous ... |
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Dying is an art like everything else and I do it exceptionally well...
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raphael does photography, too!
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I don't think to much because I have to much spare time, but because I have the spare brain capacity to do it.
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