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Rainy DayAs I sit here and stare out the window, waiting for the skies to clear, listening to the silence drive on. Something starts to fall, rain. Water from the skies above. What is this noise I hear? Such peace from all this chaos? No wonder the trees dance with this music. I walk towards my door, it opens suddenly as my hands pull on it. My body no longer listening to the reason of my mind but following the music of the rain. Out I run! Splashing water up into the air with each step to joining the countless drops already falling. I stare up into the sky of clouds and black of night. My cloths, of little I had on, stuck to my body like glue as I stood still, feet cold, heart warm. Bright flashes of light dance around me as I walk on, my eyes closed, hands stretched out in front of me, they are my eyes. Sight did no justice to the beauty of the sound, the feeling, the smell, the taste of it all. God must pity me to have given me this joy, even for a night if only that. A bright flash, all aro
Today is a regular day for other people
4/13 is just a regular Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday
However, for us
For us Homestuckers
It's not just only a day,
But it's a day that we are all know.
A day when our fandom started
When it ran for a person's mind,
And jump on the Internet and stayed in our hearts
A day a certain boy and a certain girl was born
Which they became iconic
And kick start our random filled adventure
A day where we, Homestuckers,
Remember 4 kids, 4 guardians,
12 trolls and their similar counterparts
A day when we have parties,
Meet up, cosplay as our favorite characters
And join together as this special day goes by
And just because this fandom happen,
And another fandom blossom;
Which is only about fandoms
Is not just a regular day
This day is special
It was our first day as a fandom
And it maybe our last
However, we will show our respect
We will survive as long as the ever-lasting sun
We will go on and on
Today is not a regular day...
the atlantic ocean is big enough to hide secretsin that twilight period of summer turning to fall-
in that bend in the road from september to october-
i couldn't explain it but i so desperately wanted to send a piece of myself to you
so you would have something to look forward to
i said, if there's a force to change the tides and turn the earth
and people think it's the most essential force in this world,
then i know they've never met you.
'who me? little old me?'
yes you, little old you,
you have enough resonance in the beats of your heart
to make armies march,
you have enough light in your smile
to make a blind man see,
you have enough magnitude in everything you do
to cause earthquakes to destroy the world,
or maybe just me:
i would die in your hands if you would only let me.
the beginning of october is stunning when the colours
are like fire engines and fireflies and fireworks.
bright flashes of everything that is beautiful and nothing that is hurt.
but after an immense burst of light;
Personality AwarenessI can't
"just feel better",
"just stop worrying",
"just get over it",
"just be happy",
"just control yourself",
I carry the illness,
and you don't know what's it's like
to be haunted by real life nightmares,
whispers from nowhere
and imaginary hurt,
it's hard for me
to control myself
so I won't be able to hurt people,
so I won't be able to hurt their feelings,
I'm really trying to,
why can't you?
A Priceless FutureA Priceless Future.
Pretty soon we'll need to make payments
Just to be able to walk the pavement.
This added to the taxes on our bank statements.
Proves that any sort of personal attainment,
Will be shared with the government agents.
It’s blatant, we‘re a part of a money laundering arrangement.
Of which there is an infinite number of replacements.
Who are praying and waiting for your disengagement.
Longing for the day that you will become complacent.
Because a filled position in this day in age will always be vacant.
I call this, the reincarnation of enslavement.
An Infectious DiseaseSome will say hope is a killer; an infectious disease that plants shitty pipe dreams in the mind, but hope is a good thing, sometimes the only thing that keeps us going. And it comes not from the pipes that won't play or the dreamer's gaze, but from the inside. All you have to do, is find it.
Ragtime StreetsCrowded city streets
breezes turn to wind
winds to storms
and all that I can see
are strangely foreing faces
falling upon my lips
in misty shadowed eclipse
like drops of acid rain
and all that I can hear
are echoes of their voices
vibrating within me
like eyes of the hurricane
Crowded city streets
unkind ruthless walls of concrete
drapes of gray and halls of steel
no shapes, no trees, no air, no feel
only those strange foreign faces
ghosts of smiles from faraway places
I´ll never see
vibrating within me
Crowded city streets
and light is just a rare wishful dream
and night is just a trick
of neon quiver and toxic plasma gleam
only strange unfamiliar faces
of ghosts from distant forbidden places
blurred in the void
in emptiness of crowd
Crowded city streets
there is no reason for me
to stay to walk
to pray to talk
no place for me
in this crowds of colour and gaze
in this void of awed and amaz
Mr. FrostThe cellar, is far more suitable than the attic, but if they prefer the attic, let them have it. It makes no difference to me. Even when they come rattling down the staircase after dark, running dried chalky fingertips, along split cracked walls, or standing motionless behind closed doors with only blackness in their eyes. As if salvation lay on the other side. How amusing they are in the beginning, but their echoes become fewer and fewer as the days grow long. Until they no longer speak the name, Mr. Frost and I know, it's time to kill again.
A Racial StereotypeHe is a bumbling idiot.
He never gets anything right
Even the simplest of endeavors
Becomes a full out catastrophe.
And he speaks
As if there is not a single language
In The Galaxy
He has properly learned.
They look at him,
And see a stereotype.
A poor reflection of something black.
I look at him,
And I see a seven foot tall lizard.
If I could speak plainly:
Jar Jar Binks
Is not a racial stereotype.
There is no universe
Where that makes
Any amount of sense.
And you look at me,
I could see it.”
If you do not see
The irony here
Then allow me to explain you something.
If you see idiot,
And think black
Are the racist one here.
And blaming someone else
Now don’t pretend
You are blind to race
Do not try to play like
The soldier in this war
You don’t even know what side you’re fighting for.
A racial stereotype
Is a misleading representation
Of an ethn
I am an artistI am an artist. I create worlds and characters. I give life to that which was never born, doesn't exist, and never will be. I do this all for the hope that one day, someone will look at my work and be moved by it. Moved to smile, to cry, to laugh. Let them feel the rush of emotions that came from a heard that will never exist, that will never be, that was never born. Let them love and cherish my work, so that one day it may live on long past the time when anyone remembers my name. Let that soal I made with a pencil and paper be the one who lives such a live that even I would be moved by their stories. I shall take my time, master this craft and fill the empty space with worlds upon worlds until time itself has little meaning and the dreams and hopes of the little few within these world s are shared by everyone who takes the time to glance their way and see this live. This, is what I do. I am an artist.
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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