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The Magi SunThe old, wise Magi gathered solemnly around the cold device, whom was in truth a man, but would be known to us as a device. The wind whipped the Magi’s long, dark cloaks into a frenzy.The Magi Sun
The tallest Magi smiled, a condescending smirk, and raised both arms in the sign of welcoming. The other priests did not follow their leaders motioning, but instead joined their hands at their groins and watched, thin smiles touching their lips, glitters of amusement in their eyes.
The device did not smile, there was no amusement in his eyes as he unfolded himself. Standing he was a f
by =Waiting-For-A-Moment
Concerning...Concerning --Concerning...
The only thing missing now is the sound of breaking glass, and the bitter shriek of the gusting wind…
No. I am not concerned with the general heartlessness of humanity. I am not concerned with bloody hands -- or guilty consciences.
I often times ponder the hollow, sunken eyes… I ponder the limp tongues, the broken -useless- fingers. I contemplate the gentle movement of your hands… as they brush over my face. I contemplate -- the whites of your eyes as you glance away from
by =Waiting-For-A-Moment
Five ScenesI.Five Scenes
I buried you deep. Far beneath
the wept earth. -- the dirt was frail, falling apart before my vicious fingertips. II. He threw back his head and laughed as the wine trickled, and then fell, down his throat. It looked like blood, and it stained his shirt. The grease
from the meat stained his hands… but he did not notice -- or care.
III. It crept -- sluggishly through the dark hallway, and pressed its hand up to the cold wall where shadows grew, twisted and perverted. Smoke drifte
by =Waiting-For-A-Moment
Another Love PoemA love poem Written to immerse myself deeper in loveAnother Love Poem
There seems, in the depths of my chest, to be empty spots… and where compassion, moral, trust, and love would stand instead only empty denominations hold true. And I don’t feel very much anymore… I don’t feel guilt, and I don’t feel shame. I felt you though, ran my fingers along your body… And I can’t write fast enough about the static that is shooting through my heart and my mind, and it kills my soul. And I can still hear you crying out for me…
by =Waiting-For-A-Moment
9-7-09
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I don't care at this point. I'm tired of being judged. I'm tired of having to care what other people think of me because they hold the goddam key to my freedom in their ignorant little hands!
dA is for the literary arts, too.
And thankyou for seeing it just to perform to another! THAT speaks FAR more than a favourite.
--
"Why should the son of fire bow down before a son of clay?"
--
Being illiterate isn’t being incapable of scribbling shit on paper.
We all do that when we wipe ourselves anyway.
Yeah, we’re civilized.
--
I don't care at this point. I'm tired of being judged. I'm tired of having to care what other people think of me because they hold the goddam key to my freedom in their ignorant little hands!
dA is for the literary arts, too.
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