|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The ProjectThere is a gutsy finality to
the way you add curls of cream to the cup;
a knowing glint in the chintzy sheesha,
second-hand, jewelled, meditating on the
window-seat behind you. Beds of children
form foamy chains against the azure blankets
out there, above your head. Your glasses are
windowpanes, screens to a lighter view. Curled
in your belly is a shaman with the
bold dimensions of a project. You stir.
Come On, PilgrimWhat are the lessons of today?
Are they informed by vague
hungry phantoms, jaw-slacked, who burr
on the tongue, that singular
nothingness before an itch
shows? The truths which form beneath
your skin are those which would
find more knowledge in some other
knowing mouth, ready for
digestion. Have you travelled
far today, pilgrim? Have your
feet insisted anything
of worth upon the forest floor,
or drawn up the simple
truths already buried there?
Did you subject yourself to rain
for miles of wandering
only to come out again
as the clouds hurried to
hide their shame behind the
hills? Have you been
troubled by the whims of
the broken twig, the taxation
of the wind's shanty breath?
Take off your blindfold and watch
as I give you a wave
from a shadow you nearly
tripped over. Give over your heart
to me and my land.
What have you learnt today, pilgrim?
The FoxesAll night I walk
with the foxes
whose green eyes do
not see me and
a breath that does
not know me and
I tell you this:
while gaining all
has lost something.
Timeless rain, come carelesslyTimeless rain, come carelessly, come
scour the furrows in the land.
You are most cathartic for the sky
and drop from fumbling hands.
Drumroll, drumroll - smiling, insist
yourself in grass and wood and fences
marked as Private. You are young snow
but with ambition. A stormcloud's
in my head and you should know that
the world is drenched and wailing.
The FarmerThe sun is asking me to close my eyes
to trouble, to bend my will with his.
Sheep are running past the baking weeds
in double-time, marching to the bleats
of their folly-young, who look on
and follow the wrinkles in the land;
in case a godly hand should whisk them
up and out to weigh, they briskly run away.
dampRain now abated. Drunk by ivy
or absorbed into the happy sap
of wild garlic - which grows
in linear tracks in the woodland's
heart. I find a fallen trunk
for a bench - fire-flanked, its
smaller arms outstretched in
a plea to the wider plains
and the white garlic flowers
who do not listen. I don't
know how long I have until the
clouds reach their climax again.
For now, this splinter-moment
leaf-in-time, it all smells
damp from this morning's deluge.
But I can smell garlic too
and my own musk and I am
nearly convinced I am here.
For therapy, I found a place, For therapy, I found a place,
and that is all that's needed. Woods
provide a soothing face - and should
I need a quiet patch of peace,
I'll find it where I'm bound to. Trees
are goddesses of a Walden
kind of dwelling. In the forest
light is light, dark is dark, cycles
are the cycles of becoming.
Shh. My thicket is thick with it.
So I pick all the lower leaves
from the younger sapling trees
(barely inches above the ground)
so they shall grow before the rest.
And when I come back in summer
to treat my soul, I'll look for where
the trees are tall, and leafless too,
and that is where I'll find the truth.
Sonnet for ClaraWe stopped beside the railings, years above
the harmless foaming spittle-waves, your hands
inside your sleeves as though you knew the land
would punish both of us before the shove -
which came without your help. I threw myself
into the breeze - you didn't wheeze or cry,
but blankly watched your brittle lover fly
into the floor. I hit the coastal shelf,
survived the fall beyond all reasoned doubt.
The people found me somewhere safe to dwell
wherein my Clara couldn't raise a hell
of my conditions. When I wanted out
they let you in. I thought I'd said enough:
'Oh Clara, I do not deserve your love.'
I like this spot, because outsI like this spot, because outside
an intersection plays out its
redacted dramatic small town
theatrics. Doors do most of it;
their open-close entranced rhythm,
hydraulic tactics, pushed and then
a pull from within to force bold
entreaties street-wise. Noticed? No.
Too busy people - frames invest
in ventures fruitless now. Oh, a
lone motion, no? Someone must, sure,
try and take a pause and peek. No.
If wrenched and split and pursed - inside
a witches' coven, something new
to see, an undressed group of lovers -
this place might intersect anew.
And failing that: a plague upon
this earth! Its beauty fails from
a lack of revivifying -
our doors need something new to hide.
Por Ti Haria Cualquier Cosa Cap 1 Parte 5anteriormente en por ti haria cualquier cosa cap 1 parte 4
una ves terminada la conversasion llegaron al dulce reino fionna recibio un mensaje de gumball diciendo que fueran al los calabosos del dulce reino cuando llegaron dijo
gumball:- alfin llegaron bueno una ves que despierte enpezara la tortura
todos:- (gritando) - TORTURAAAA??!!.....
FIN DE LA PARTE 4
estaban todos sorprendidos y en estado de shock ante lo que dijo gumball pues de el habia sido muy extraño y largar eso asi nomas era sorprendente,gumball tenia puestos unos guantes de oro parecia que hiba a boxear con ella fionna fue la primera en salir de su shock
fi:- gumball no quiero ser descortes pero !!ESTA LOCO COMO PUEDE HACER ESO A UNA DAMA!! -decia enojada
gumball:- esperen antes que me maten -decia suplicando ya que fionna saco su espada,marshall saco su guitarra-hacha,diany saco su bajo-hacha y sebastian se preparo para lanzar un rayo helado que ya lo sabe u
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More