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Flat Tires Of The Egocentric Man
The chemistry changes.
My head rotates on its axis.
The world spins around me.
The universe is accelerating,
and I am a cog in the machine.
It’s a small machine.
You push a button
and it makes a lot of noise.
The cubicles are getting smaller.
You’ll have to use a smaller desk.
Things are going to change soon.
Can you not feel it in your skin?
Things are going too fast,
I can’t keep up with all the changes.
Dance faster, dance harder.
You can’t use a desk anymore.
You’ll have to stand and think about work,
we have this device we’ll plant in your brain
and it will do the typing for you.
Can you hear the music?
It’s getting louder,
and it’s invading your neighborhood,
the only way to keep up is to dance.
Dance faster, dance harder,
and you might keep up for a while.
I am a cog in the machine,
a machine which gets bigger
and I don’t know what it’s
supposed to do anymore.
Your body is taking up too much space,
so we’re going
The Great Blindness
We are thrown into this world
having never seen the dawn,
into chaos we are hurled.
I don’t know what’s going on.
These are faces with no names
now they’re here and next they’re gone.
There’s no time for funny games,
I don’t know what’s going on.
Give me info, give me scope,
give me prayer, give me hope.
Give me beers, give me cars,
Give me blood, give me scars.
Hiding In The Bushes
The man in the bushes sees many things.
He sees a dog chew on a dirty shoe,
a small child trying to ride a red wagon by himself,
Two people talking about Communism for some reason,
a man scratching his genitals,
thirty birds flying in a random formation,
a red volkswagon beetle,
a child riding an electric scooter that runs out of batteries,
and a dog scratching his genitals.
The man in the bushes makes sounds
to the people on the street.
He makes bird sounds and they frighten the children,
He shouts swear words and the adults power walk away,
The dogs responded positively to woof sounds.
At one point, nobody was around,
so the man just yelled random noises.
He made cat calls to some passing woman,
but they didn’t respond much to a screeching cat.
The man in the bushes interacts
with the people in the street.
He walked up to people,
and said “Hi. That is my shrub over there.
It is where I live. I eat meals there.”
Ne would likely never see those people again.
The Search For A Milkshake
The man had not eaten for 5 days and nights,
and on the sixth day, he woke up
desiring only one thing in the world:
So, he stepped out into the world,
looking for an ice cream shop.
The world seemed to be covered in concrete.
Dying yellow grass grew between the cracks
and hung on against the beating winds.
By the time the man reached the first shop,
the sign outside said it opened tomorrow.
There was surely a place open somewhere,
so he continued on.
The more he walked, the stronger the wind grew.
Sand that had been dormant for many days
suddenly flew into his face,
forcing him to shield his eyes.
The winds grew stronger still,
as those around him lost their footing
and tumbled away, helpless against nature.
It must have been hours before
in the distance, he saw amongst the concrete world
a banner, with OPEN written across it,
and an ice cream store.
Nothing good ever came easy.
Wind Travels Around Us
The radio was good company.
A man sat in an open field with the last boombox on Earth. He hugged his legs and thought about staying warm. There was a wind blowing against his back, but the wind had been blowing for so long. He would probably die in an open field.
His left hand was idly grasping the short grass next to him. His right hand, almost without thinking about it, started fiddling with the knobs on the radio, until he accidentally turned it on. Completely by accident, it was turned perfectly to a radio station, and the song began at that exact moment. Todd Rundgren’s “I Saw the Light” started playing. Miracles are tiny things.
The man sat and listened to the music. It cut through the atmosphere. The man lied back on the ground and let the wind rush over him. It was a cold wind, but as the wind rushed over his eyes, it seemed like a perfect moment. This one song was just for him. This massive wind, at this one moment, was for him and no one else. What an amazin
Give me a chance.
Give me a drink.
Give me a drink.
Give me a drink.
Give me a bucket.
I don’t see the light.
There is no light,
it was made up!
Magic is dead!
Give me a drink.
I don’t wanna sleep!
I don’t wanna eat!
Sleeping’s for the weak!
Eating’s for Sunday!
I have better things to do!
Give me a step.
Give me a microphone.
Give me a dollar.
Give Me Your Dollar.
I don’t wanna spend it.
I wanna watch it,
I wanna put it in a bank
and watch it,
This is the mirror.
This is your face in the mirror.
That man is dead!
His life is on a speed of light delay!
He’s a failure,
you can’t be that guy!
Give me your eyes.
Give me your attention,
I want everyone’s attention!
These are the final moments!
The world will end tomorrow!
Let me show you the new world!
It’s just over the hill!
Give me your attention!
Give me your faces!
Give me a chance!
There is a time of orange light,
when warm air wraps your hands so tight,
When memory cuts through violet night,
You do not know the way.
The parking lot will turn to trees,
watch every nearby puddle freeze.
So you have lost the beaten breeze,
Do not wait for the day.
The general was introduced to the most powerful computer in the world.
The scientist could only think in brags. “We have programmed this computer with the most complex algorithms known to man. There is more processing power in this device than in any other computer in the world.”
The general could only think in bottom lines. “What does this machine do, exactly?”
“You type in any question onto that computer over there, hit the “analyze” button, and it gives you an answer.”
“And it gives you a report, presumably.”
“There are quadrillions of variables this machine takes into account. Printing out a report would take years. Ultimately, the most understandable answer we can get from this machine is a positive or negative.”
The general scrunched his nose, so the scientist continued, “A yes or no answer.”
The general scrunched his nose more. “Are you suggesting that the most powerful computer in the worl
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
Skin.I love the way life leaves its mark on our bodies.
Every laugh and smile etched in the crinkles around your eyes and mouth;
Those tan-lines the time you forgot about sunscreen
Because you were so hell-bent on reaching that mountain peak
Or when you just became lost in the gentle lap of waves at the shore;
The scars you got skateboarding in the park at summer dusk
Or when life became pain and it was your only release.
Our bodies are a record of our memories and experiences
They are our travel journals and emotional diaries
Our delicate armour to the elements.
And no matter its colour, its stature, if it's not quite intact
If you sometimes think it takes up too much space, or if it has pointy corners
Your body is the vessel for your soul, and every wonderful facet of who you are
Sparkles from the surface of your skin.
Skin that may grow to be wrinkled, tanned, scarred, well lived-in
Although not always embraced by you the way that others embrace it.
Take the time to explore the s
The human condition of wanting to be everythingI feel as though I am exhausting
The excess skin around
in loose shadows
Across my cheekbones like
And whilst I find myself
To draw open the blinds
Because the light
is too bright
And I really can’t handle
The pane of the sky
With its obnoxious
glaring at me
With such a joyful expression
I know that lately
I am burning myself out
That I consume one too many
Cans of soda and energy drinks
At 2.45 AM
When the rest of the world
Is static in a hushed
Whilst I frantically try
To achieve something
Is too much
Or rather too
An existence for me
So I will continue
In order to
Try and destroy myself
Enough so that
I can be w h o l e
The scarsLife hurts us
It causes us to bleed
Time can heal the wounds
And stop the pain
But the scars remain
For the rest of our lives....
things i don't rememberi.
what you sounded like
as my ears were forming
what dreams or secrets
you confided in me
what pressures sunk
your proud shoulders
or the first time
i caused you
where i was when i decided
that your footsteps
should be followed
that your ideals
should be made my own
on my body
as i learned the world's ways
do not align
with our hopes
when i first
how my feet dangled
every time i wasn't strong enough and
how you made the world
how you were
figuring it all out
thought that life
To the BeautifulYou say we're beautiful,
Us who have been bullied...
But where were you while it was happening?
-I was watching-
You who say "This has to stop!",
There needs to be an end to this...
What are you doing to stop it?
-I did nothing-
It's too late now...
-I failed you-
of me and youthe day you stopped touching me was the day i
stopped speaking to myself. and the silence nearly killed me
LuckyYou talk like you always have a grain of salt,
to throw over your shoulder.
Every word is that hard cheese,
and they swing those whimsical wishbones much like carousels.
You're wasted on your self-image,
staggering down with rigorousness you don't own.
They're taking that steed and throwing horseshoes,
as if one of them might ring 'round your neck;
and save you from yourself.
You'll need a necropolis filled with pennies to barter,
and we won't lend a cent to save your sorry soul.
Your demons count clovers to kiss you,
gluing that fourth leaf to camouflage the truth.
They'd promise you an elephant to watch you die,
sucking sevens to keep you from entering Heaven.
And you can sing your superstitions into space,
but it's dead and empty.
Somewhat like the hollow shell you lounge in,
as the charms make you see spirits.
You say somewhere there's a rabbit dying to give its foot in your favor...
...but don't bet on it unless you can see that whites of its eyes.
This room keeps on rolling.
The furniture breaks as it hits each wall.
Papers fly everywhere.
Metal flies into the wall sockets,
And causes blue sparks.
This is the tumbler.
The stones inside become smooth
And get a subtle shine.
Nothing can get in or out,
But we know what's happening inside.
You can stop the tumbler,
But you won't.
People can only stare
At things in motion.
To interject would be asking too much.
The room keeps on rolling,
But nobody wants to step outside.
They don't know what's happening there.
The world may be spinning around them,
And nobody wants to make that adjustment.
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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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