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Thought Dump #1I.
Could you prepare something,
that people normally eat for once?
Well we normally eat this stuff you know.
That is not what I meant.
never mind, false alarm.
I thought it was the---
I'm not sleeping in the tent this time.
My back has gotten all these weird pits and sores.
Don't sleep on the bones then.
Bones? you guys actually had bones put in there? I'm impressed.
What on mother rock do you mean?
the amount of detail for the camouflage....
y'know the elephant disguise!
Many people died in the process of acquiring the tents
by the time we managed to slay the elephan----
THESE ARE REAL?!!?!
That's it. Not sleeping in there again.
Don't worry the couple you met earlier rented it out.
You're too young to ask that question
I am not too young! We are the same age,
hell the same pers---
But someone has to save your innocence.
They'll only accept a pure mind.
Who says t
An Untrained Touch
An Untrained Touch
My fingertips take a spill,
covering your body, in your pockets they congeal
trace with pressure, I watch the blood resurface
daintily dangerous, and at the same time worth it
My fingertips take a pinch,
a rosy aftermath, almost similar to a singe
the color of your lips, now stand adjacent
subtly your body gives way, without misstatement
My fingertips take a break,
now I hold a firm grip, no longer I rake
palmed, static, to try and catch your heart
beats from beneath our chests tearing us apart
My palms break a sweat,
it's amateur hour, and I accompany a vet
this is not your first, and likely not your best
what makes it all worse, your rhythm remains at rest
My palms pinch a nerve,
myself stolen from movement, without a healthy urge
progressing sullenly, dare to seem brash
once was a thriving ember, now a single ash
My palms spill a way,
for me to get away, these goods are too used to pay
honesty's approach to life is something of a gem
with callousness it often opens up a void within
where insignificance meets a freezing desperation
a vacuum's symphony to a sophist generation
the primrose path powered by our decadence
said to have a cost but I laugh at the malevolence
rather us a hostage and convinced it's all a test
a coincidence is only miraculous if it's blessed
which leaves me at a standstill unable to contend
cause questions are a blemish and will lead to your descent
victim to the fear of death for it transcends existence
a guiltless trend to apprehend the lost and often witless
the extraordinary ability to comprehend
the ordinariness of which we are all condemned
the truth never hurts, not even on occasion
and if you're filled with lies, then this is your abrasion
Landmines and sexy slow jams
Landmines and SEXY slow jams
before or behind its time, existing in the present
it solemnly dances alone, the dance of death
hoarder of work unfinished, merely abandoned
unable to create whilst pleasing its audience
passion-stripped, with befuddled concentration
stripped of soul, left with phlegmatic impressions
unmoved with calm disregard for moral decency
no longer good or bad, knowing there only is
gripping the poison, with generous sips
creates an illusion of increased social ability
sensory synesthesia, juggles his taste and feel
a euphoria of stimulation, aided by incompetence
its moves first intricate, holding awareness
its moves now indolent, losing its steps
of the landmines that lay in wait for weight
a single one lies adjacent to the soles of his feet
time is the enemy, as is the sexy song's progression
one off beat slip and he will leave this cage forever
passing and existing only through the mouths of men
whispering amongst prodigally enslav
clash of polar opposites creates the balance
destructive construction that'll exude natural talents
the blind advantage give faint smiles fat pockets
to shelve creative freedom in return for profits
the exposure you hungered for is now in abundance
only problem is your forced to expose a lie to the public
the truth riddled and hidden behind tongues fencing
past identities too distant for memories to mention
only weathered grunts heard behind the media muzzle
to find artistic value is like fixing a broken puzzle
of a thousand pieces stretched across the holy nations
streets paved with gold only the peasant's anticipation
because they know not the masked burden of success
the hindrance mandated to please the general press
to be embraced with acceptance but only just to crawl
never fly and only allowed to stand if you're not that tall
forget your dreams and higher callings you face a decision
bend your image for the master or fly with the pigeons
two universes -
John-a-Dreams dreams endlessly in a dead dimension
remorseless to the time wasted on baseless perplexing
the subconscious universe expands to greater planes
of contrived existence unaware of physical disdains
when he awakes, he finds he's lost track of the world
it has heard nothing from him except thoughts purled
a burning wish to supply both with equal attention
but his conjured creation justifies his own pension
it outweighs himself that exists realistically instead
so long he has been invisible, its best to believe him dead
dead to the world because he fancies more the dreams
where he can wine and dine anything that he fiends
he cannot deny it, he would rather live vicariously
instead of handling his universes simultaneously
I can tHow can I begin this life anew?
Even though I know you would want me too.
I just don´t know the place I should start,
how do I repair my broken heart?
Searching for direction
which way do I go?
A year almost over but
I have nothing to show.
I´m just treading water,
I´m getting nowhere.
still on the spot
where you left me last year.
I will love you forever,
it´s only you that I want
I should move on I know
but I just can´t.
By Suzanne karbach Sept 2014
the fall of the last monarchy (reworked)butterfly promise
weighs the feather wind, no less
than the plight he is.
Forgive MeThey found my lover on the side of the road
With twisted limbs and blood running cold
A car lead askew, burst into flames
Her limp silhouette is all that remains
Memories flash of hours before
Of me shouting, cursing and slamming the door
Of a heated argument leading into a fight
The sound of her engine speeding into the night
I collapsed to my knees in the grass at her side
Where blood painted the scene of her violent goodbye
Her final moments spent in misery’s embrace
Black mascara running down her face
If only I hadn't been so fucking pissed
To let such harsh words escape from my lips
I grasped her hand, pressed it to my cheek
Hoping to feel her soothing heartbeat
But she had already left me behind
To puruse the heaven on earth she couldn’t find
Through pain and remorse, my tears quietly flowed
They found my lover on the side of the road
Your smileOn seeking solace in your smile,
it soothed my troubled heart,
soon hoped that you would stay around
and this would be the start
of something good that happens when
a happy face beguiles,
a love so true
just me and you
all started with your smile.
Now I sit and just remember and
ponder for a while,
on laughing eyes so blue,
on our love so true
and how you made me smile.
by Suzanne Karbach Sept 2014
A Garden Full of Butterflies.When youth was sun and cloudless skies
and a garden full of butterflies,
and daisies waiting to be chains
in meadows where it never rained.
When lambs jumped joyous every spring
and I heard every bluebird sing
and all the adults told the truth
in the dream that was my youth.
When Santa granted every wish.
When my pond was filled with golden fish
and a cow leapt high to reach the moon
and Grampa sung a funny tune.
When paper dolls danced in a line
and sugared bread to eat was fine,
and adults never gave me rules
least not before I went to school!
When time was just an honoured guest
he flitted in – but took a rest.
Moving not, he watched me grow
in Happy-Ever-After glow.
All of this, it was my Truth
in lengthened days, where dwelt my youth –
when youth was sun and cloudless skies
and a garden full of butterflies...
Little Darlin'Little darlin' with the precious heart,
rest here a little while longer with me
let me run my fingers in your long hair
I'm so glad that together we are free
you gave me a connection to share.
I had once thought you would leave
forever gone and I would be unforgiven
you said that I simply didn't believe
but you had never stopped being driven.
Feeling your skin now as it is bare
I can see the scars I have left on you
yet they're worn with pride and without scare
you loved me more than I ever knew.
Lay here with me, let me soak you in
into your warm, sweet scent I burrow
run your fingertips along my chin
wipe away my brow's furrow.
Yes, just as you've always done for me
through agonizing heartbreak and pain
even after you left me at that tree
after that, we both stood in sorrow rain.
I had been so foolish, so selfish before
I feared you would never take me again
but I ran hopeful and scared to your door
and it was a lack of love you couldn't feign.
A smile and kiss bound us together
Basic BehaviorI used to love you
With furious madness
But your desires
Blew me over.
The greed divides
Oceans and hearts
Living in anger.
You leave us
To reach the stars
With useless lungs
Full of holes
Our “perfect” world.
I need you
Right here with me
But you forgot
This lost soul.
Now I won
The wrong mind
I wrote your name
And it’s impossible
Notice me...I remember..
Those cold nights of isolation..
Those nights worrying about being hit or not....
Waking up in a nightmare..
Trusting no man.
I am stronger,
and I am older.
I am no longer under your roof,
I am no longer under your control.
I have no more bruises from your fists,
from your belt,
from your shoes.
I AM stronger.
I am living..
waking up in cold sweats..
worrying that you are near me..
scared that I would wake up with you near me...
terrified of being hit again..
and hoping to be noticed by you..
I am not that into football.
I tend to write about my feelings,
than say them.
I am not your spawn.
on and on and on and on
don't worry a tad smidgen I'm good to the last drop
these parlor banquet pleasures are no hassle to stop
even if I seem unsteady and on the urge to flop
I'm a long range thinker chained with a rusty knot
oh fudge, there he goes again being incomprehensive
not too long before his artistic image is offensive
misrepresented, his whole aura is one dimension
a tear drop squeezed from an unimportant invention
hypertension grips the barrel of my last intention
my aiming is sin, cursed be my death inception
so long he has been a sheep, with sore thumb colors
its selfish when one's self defeat inflicts many others
How It Began"God, your two o'clock is here."
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More