Notes flutter in the air above,
as butterflies lighted upon a soft summer's breeze,
bass binding them down like gravity.
Not just mere organized sound,
not just exercise
for the ears
like words
for the mouth,
No, this is not just music,
but ambrosia for the ears
with the power
to bring us to our knees
glorying in God
and the Heavens above
power to make us cry
in remembrance
of a lover's caress
Feel the downpour
after five years drought,
light a smile on our lips
for a small babies birth,
alive with the appearance of water,
smile for fatherhood
and motherhood.
Feel the beat racing on,
giving grown boys
the strengt
Teaching Not to Squish Them Ants Good
"What are you doing, Mara?"
"I'm squishing these ants good, Momma."
"Honey why? What did they do to you? Come on, don't do that."
"Momma, they was crawling on our sidewalk. We can't let them do that."
"Mara, ants crawl on sidewalks. That's all there is too is. It's ok, they're not hurting anything. Just leave them be."
"Are you sure, Momma? Are you sure ?"
"Mmm come here Mara. Here, sit on my lap. Now look at them. Just watch for a bit. Tell me what you see."
"Well Momma, they're black and red, and they got lots of legs and they're scary."
"Mara, non, look at t
To an Overly Dictative Organ by JoeStevens, literature
Literature
To an Overly Dictative Organ
To An Overly Dictative Organ:
It is delightful that you spend so much time making more little humans to house more of yourselves in. It is delightful that you create more slaves for yourselves. Truly, I am grateful. I would find existence slightly less possible in your absence, or without your help.
However, I do have one slight, really just minor, complaint. In all your baby making womblyness, could you make life a little easier? You are just taking the role of oppressive
The Zombie Apocalypse
I am sad to be the bearer of this bad news. I would like to apologize before hand for it. But, friends, classmates associates, it is coming. It is imminent. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or next week, month, year, decade, but the end IS coming. It is inevitable. The Zombie Apocalypse is approaching, and you must be ready, if we are to have any hope for survival, and I am not talking about an isolated incident here, nor an entirely local situation, but an apocalypse, of global proportions. This will affect us all, and while we may be unable to stop the zombies, by being informed of possible causes, and havin
The Remnants
There is sadness etched on his face. He looks on, the wind tossing his hair, beating it back from his head so it flows behind like water down a hill. It is thrown chaotically, random and sporadically, yet it is fluid and frames his face in the most naturally perfect manner. Long brown locks are beaten out of his eyes, revealing the depth of his sorrow. A tear streams down his dirty face before being stolen by the wind.
With trembling hands he holds a silver pole. Atop this he has risen a flag of victory, overly bright and cheerful in the midst of this solemn, barren land. The red and yellow stripes are a wasted beacon o
A Person of Ink
I have learned to speak in ink.
All of my thoughts, those private and those not,
on paper I write, lest they fade or they rot.
They are your words, for you, inspired by you,
from my hand, but ultimately your words.
They would not come, had it not been for you,
if you had not invited me in, and written that first.
I have learned to write in ink,
for you and because of you, because neither of us can speak.
We are incapable.
They form in our heads, in our throats and our mouths,
but the words, their sounds we cannot emit.
I have learned to think in ink,
because you taught me how.
More, I read and breathe and believ
Notes flutter in the air above,
as butterflies lighted upon a soft summer's breeze,
bass binding them down like gravity.
Not just mere organized sound,
not just exercise
for the ears
like words
for the mouth,
No, this is not just music,
but ambrosia for the ears
with the power
to bring us to our knees
glorying in God
and the Heavens above
power to make us cry
in remembrance
of a lover's caress
Feel the downpour
after five years drought,
light a smile on our lips
for a small babies birth,
alive with the appearance of water,
smile for fatherhood
and motherhood.
Feel the beat racing on,
giving grown boys
the strengt
Teaching Not to Squish Them Ants Good
"What are you doing, Mara?"
"I'm squishing these ants good, Momma."
"Honey why? What did they do to you? Come on, don't do that."
"Momma, they was crawling on our sidewalk. We can't let them do that."
"Mara, ants crawl on sidewalks. That's all there is too is. It's ok, they're not hurting anything. Just leave them be."
"Are you sure, Momma? Are you sure ?"
"Mmm come here Mara. Here, sit on my lap. Now look at them. Just watch for a bit. Tell me what you see."
"Well Momma, they're black and red, and they got lots of legs and they're scary."
"Mara, non, look at t
To an Overly Dictative Organ by JoeStevens, literature
Literature
To an Overly Dictative Organ
To An Overly Dictative Organ:
It is delightful that you spend so much time making more little humans to house more of yourselves in. It is delightful that you create more slaves for yourselves. Truly, I am grateful. I would find existence slightly less possible in your absence, or without your help.
However, I do have one slight, really just minor, complaint. In all your baby making womblyness, could you make life a little easier? You are just taking the role of oppressive
The Zombie Apocalypse
I am sad to be the bearer of this bad news. I would like to apologize before hand for it. But, friends, classmates associates, it is coming. It is imminent. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or next week, month, year, decade, but the end IS coming. It is inevitable. The Zombie Apocalypse is approaching, and you must be ready, if we are to have any hope for survival, and I am not talking about an isolated incident here, nor an entirely local situation, but an apocalypse, of global proportions. This will affect us all, and while we may be unable to stop the zombies, by being informed of possible causes, and havin
The Remnants
There is sadness etched on his face. He looks on, the wind tossing his hair, beating it back from his head so it flows behind like water down a hill. It is thrown chaotically, random and sporadically, yet it is fluid and frames his face in the most naturally perfect manner. Long brown locks are beaten out of his eyes, revealing the depth of his sorrow. A tear streams down his dirty face before being stolen by the wind.
With trembling hands he holds a silver pole. Atop this he has risen a flag of victory, overly bright and cheerful in the midst of this solemn, barren land. The red and yellow stripes are a wasted beacon o
A Person of Ink
I have learned to speak in ink.
All of my thoughts, those private and those not,
on paper I write, lest they fade or they rot.
They are your words, for you, inspired by you,
from my hand, but ultimately your words.
They would not come, had it not been for you,
if you had not invited me in, and written that first.
I have learned to write in ink,
for you and because of you, because neither of us can speak.
We are incapable.
They form in our heads, in our throats and our mouths,
but the words, their sounds we cannot emit.
I have learned to think in ink,
because you taught me how.
More, I read and breathe and believ
This is supposed to be about me here...so...what do you want to know...?
Current Residence: Elsewhere Favourite genre of music: No single genre Favourite photographer: Ummm...I don't know. Dunno any names. Favourite style of art: Surreal Operating System: The not confusing ones MP3 player of choice: You mean there are different kinds!? Whatever works. The ones I've had have all not worked. Shell of choice: ...purple ones. Wallpaper of choice: ...One without pandas on them.... Skin of choice: Well, I rather like my own skin, but Celeste's skin is my favorite. Favourite cartoon character: Gir.
Favourite Visual Artist
The surreal ones?
Favourite Movies
Seven Pounds
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
To many
Favourite Writers
I like lots of stuff, and I am rather indecisive...
Favourite Games
Risk, ssx, warlords battlecry, blizzard games, other things...
Something you should know about Open Arms Lyrics
Title: Journey - Open Arms lyrics
Artist: Journey Lyrics
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Lying beside you, here in the dark
Feeling your heart beat with mind
Softly you whisper, you're so sincere
How could our live be so blind
We sailed on together
We drifted apart
And here you are by my side
So now I come to you, with open arms
Nothing to
The words have been drained from this pencil...no song right now that i know of sings what i feel. No poem, no story reflects my mind or emotions. Or maybe I've not found them, or they've simply slipped my mind. Maybe I should write them. I'd die just to hold you, stay with you...you are my night sky, and all the stars are slowly winking out, just as in "The nine billion names of God." Clarke, you wrote the end of the world, but where are the emotions to go along? They wouldn't be right anyways. Mortal end is not the same as a potential lover's end. A feared lover's end.
On eighth floor balcony we touch our hands together, and the
Waiting on a call, or the chance to make one. I hate waiting. I am extremely patient, most of the time. But not this kind of patient. I feel like I did something wrong. And I know I didn't, and I'm definetly not getting blamed for anything (so don't feel bad please) but really, the problems are pretty much all on my side, my fault. With almost anyone else this wouldn't even come up.
You asked me twice, that I recall, if this would last. And I said yes. And I still want it to. I've seen you only twice, three times for any amount of time in the last month. It feels like the most magical night, the greatest night in my life might be go