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The Same Conversation
Do you have a problem with authority, Boy?
Does the world owe you something?
I suppose the only reason that
You're not attacking me right now
Is that you're a chicken.
How does that sit with you?
Do you have a problem with authority, Boy?
Did you want me to hand you
The world on a silver platter?
I suppose you think that I'm gonna
Be nice to you because you're a young man
And you're the future or something.
Look at me, Boy.
Don't glare at me!
You better change your attitude!
How do you expect to grow up
When you keep ending up here?
I dare you to look at me like that again.
Look at me, Boy.
Does the world owe you something?
You're not MY future.
I'm gonna change you,
Or I'm gonna break you in half.
How does that sit with you?
What can you tell me about this one?
Well, I was busy digging through my backyard
And I came upon this skull.
Buried with it were these clothes.
Judging by the clothes you found
Next to the body,
what you have here is
A Native American skull.
I believe you might have violated
An Indian burial ground.
Well, what's it worth?
Actually, you are required by law
To bring this to the authorities.
The local Native American tribe
Will likely hold a ceremony
And rebury the body- uh skull.
…And what's this one?
Well, I was walking around
In the woods behind my house,
And I trip over what I thought
Was a weird rock.
And then it wasn't a rock.
I figured you might be able to
Tell me who this was.
Ok, there is still some flesh on this one.
Obviously, this was within the last
Ten years or so.
Has anybody disappeared around your
Not that I know of.
Well, after some research,
We discovered that this is the body
Of none other than Jesse Rhudd.
He disappeared about 6 years ago,
And his dental
Know that they're looking for you.
I don't know what they're planning
To do once they have you,
But don't give them that chance.
We did not put you in your position.
Your parents did not raise you incorrectly.
The government is not unjust.
Your misgivings belonged to you.
Wherever you stored them is your place.
Wherever you are, criminals,
Don't stick your head out.
Leave no more fingerprints.
That's how you got into trouble
In the beginning.
Our company no longer has
Any business with you.
You are your only protection,
Use your arms to protect your face.
Use your face to protect your dignity.
This is the last correspondence
You will receive from us.
Indigo Moods Corp.
Sixty-Seven Lies and Thirteen Truths
To whom it may concern,
At some point, you and I
Each read these words.
This is something that
No distance, no time,
No death can take away.
You and I shared an experience.
I want you to look at the
Ground below. At some point,
Somebody else has walked
On that piece of ground.
Future generations have
The past for company.
I don't have that luxury.
My only truths are my name
And how I sign it.
Don't tell me your name.
I won't tell you my name.
We are two normal people.
We are both nice.
Let's have this one night.
I know of a nice restaurant
Down the street.
We'll eat there and pretend
It's our anniversary.
This is not a date.
This is our one night together.
We will each have selfless devotion
To a complete stranger.
And forget each other
The next morning.
We can talk about the future.
We can talk about the past,
Which we don't have.
Give this one night to our fantasy.
Perhaps we'll get mugged.
You can cry on my shoulder.
We can ride the bus
Three feet from a bum.
The night will envelop us,
As we embrace on a bench somewhere.
We can walk for hours
And go nowhere at all.
I will drop you off by your door.
You will be so tired,
And you have to go to work
The next day.
I'll say goodnight, and promise
To call you tomorrow.
We both know that won't happen.
And we won't kiss like it's
An obligation. We'll kiss
Like we've always loved each other.
We won't be married.
We won't g
In The Rain
Pressed within the pillow place
Faced with pleasant sunshine plain
Never stop to smell the roses
When you're running in the rain.
Empty, happy, singing sparse
Smell to drive you half insane,
Pleasant parks contain the farce.
There are voices in the rain.
Smile, smile, all the time,
Happiness becomes your pain,
Flowers growing in the grime,
Only flower in the rain.
Send me to the prison walls,
Let me look out toward the plain.
Should I die outside the halls,
I'll have smiled in the rain.
Imagine this watermelon is your head.
Imagine this sledgehammer is self infliction.
See what happened?
Now this Pez dispenser is the rest of your life,
And each Pez is a year.
And each Pez I'm eating represents
The mistakes that weigh you down.
Imagine your empty life represents
A function of your general interest.
Imagine your friends are
Are the product of compromises
And putting yourself out there.
Imagine every face you've changed.
Now tell them that you've given up.
See that change?
Let's pretend that's torturing the ones you love.
That personal neglect,
The self deprecation,
Let's pretend that you don't want to try,
Because you're scared.
See my fist.
Feel me plant this in your face.
Let's pretend that's me
Telling you to pull yourself together.
Perhaps you should stop pretending.
Happiness and How To Find It
Today happiness has gone down 35 points,
While sadness is up 43 points,
Which is a record high for this year.
Today the president announced a bold new initiative
In order to generate happiness,
He's shipping in 100,000 puppies in from overseas.
Projections indicate that those puppies could
boost happiness by as much as 30%.
President: "America needs happiness. When you
Want happiness, you don't sit around and wait for it."
The national party of Life Fulfillment issued a statement
Today claiming that the president should be
Placing an emphasis on long term happiness,
And that this is only a temporary fix,
As those puppies will only be regular dogs in a year.
Andrew Socolovoyich, house min. leader: "America
Needs long term solutions. The president should
Be encouraging citizens to pick up a hobby. It's not as
Fun as puppies maybe, but people with hobbies
Usually live rich, happy lives."
And in local news: Have you ever wondered what
It would be like to live without happiness at all?
Who did it first?
That's who's glorified.
Then somebody stumbles
upon the same thing.
Hasn't read the books.
Is their discovery
Any less genuine?
So I suppose it's all about
Being there first.
But if somebody
Makes a discovery,
And never tells anybody,
He will never be celebrated.
If I steal an idea
And advertise it better,
I can be championed
As the creator of something.
I suppose we don't
Care about who did it first.
If I advertise better,
I will have invented the world.
SleepInstead of ripping the covers off,
Shaking it violently,
And forcing cold breakfast down its throat,
I wish they would carefully wake a sleeping poem
And ask it gentle questions
Before its dreams are forgotten
Too Much, Too ManyToo many tears
And these makeup smears
These unsaid words
Striking these hidden chords
Too much time passing
All these days lapsing
Looking on with shining eyes
Waiting for my eyes to dry
Too many thoughts
And time alone sought
So many things I did wrong
If only I had been strong
Too much hiding
All these emotions have me sliding
I'm slipping and I'm falling
Spending too much time... stalling
DreamsWhat wonders the imagination can bring
With opened ear and untamed eye
Dreams that we shall toss and fling
And float about towards the sky
By luminous light of thought
Day and night will awaken newly
And become what you have sought
To find your most distant Thule
Never letting go of that which we cherish
The spirit of innocence and truth
Why without it, what would we but perish?
In the darkness of lost youth
Statue In The RainI'm not dead because I'm still breathing,
I'm not dead because I'm finally living.
I'm still here because you always need me,
I won't leave you if you don't leave me.
I'm still here, right where you left me,
The statue in the rain, ready to give you glee.
When you feel sad, you know where to go,
I'm not dead, I'm here for you and I hope you know.
That I'm still here, and always will be for you,
That I'll remain as long as I know you want me to.
That the statue in the rain will always be waiting for you,
Because Jennifer, I love you.
Another convicted paedophile free to walk again.
Currently living by a primary school looking for some new prey to stalk again.
Masks himself as a confidant, someone that the children can call a friend.
Specialises in seducing and lulling its victims in to a false sense of security.
With an ulterior motive driven to defile and desecrate their innocence and purity.
How is this ungodly predator somehow able to evade all configurations of authority?
No one is capable of figuring out why this predator has these vile and vindictive thoughts.
No one can possibly understand how much torture and suffering his actions have brought.
To every family and carer that nurtured, loved, raised and taught
Their young to avoid and not to communicate with strangers.
Performing their duties as guardians, preparing and protecting them from any danger.
For them one day to be kidnapped, taken, leaving only their clothing as remainders.
After the investigations and DNA testing all the headlines will
A Fork in the RoadThe ambiance of a silvery demise
With this crimson current of a cascade
Together it becomes an ambiguous ambush
It follows a road to naught
Where annihilation is a straightway
But there exists a fork
To the right is an impregnable haven
To the left exists the fury of reckless onslaught
The befuddling course ahead:
Endure your embrace.
Lessons LearnedShe is in the pictures,
Smiling her toothless grin.
What I wouldn't give
Not to care again.
It was a beautiful and innocent time;
She'd never believe
That there are poems
That don't need to rhyme.
I have so many things to tell her--
That Pooh Bear headbands
Aren't cool forever
(No matter how much cuter they are than Hello Kitty)
And she won't love Kim Possible when she's older,
And that hearts
Even if they're made of gold.
I wanna tell her --
Again and again --
Even if she's heard it a thousand times,
Even if it's a million,
That she should never hurry growing up:
Cause when she eventually does..
She'll keep wishing to go back
To that point of ignorance--
Of not knowing.
I wonder what she'll tell me in return
Guessing her words,
She'll tell me to pray
Every night to the angels
Because they're always listening.
She'll preach at me
For falling in love
With the one who was so obviously
The first candidate to break my heart
Didn't I know better
Than to give my h
Supermassive Black HoleStrings of starless strands
lasso my sanity,
as a Lyzzard's tongue
slays unawares a fly.
Distorted snarls melt
my glaciers in the dead of night;
vibrating in the frequency
in your wells of gravity,
you set my soul alight;
spinning towards the singularity.
A blink before the light,
the brims of Space
of satin waves
smile and unweave a word:
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More