Enlightenments of a BedofaFor starters, she wishes to live in this new centuryEnlightenments of a Bedofa by oviedomedina
where elders and foreparents
proudly hop from customs to customs
(yet does not know the intricacies of using the
red button, the big red button
to turn on a tv)
Arses shall root deep down
to the corporative mandalas
while your ohms and uhs
send the quacktorial gurus
chuckling all the way the bank
We shall keep along,
with your newfound charity
to be the nurseryhome
to a single man
to satisfy the decades
of abandoning the idiotic sibling
the retarded flockmember
of the family
as you harp on about sacrifices
and dissone onwards
about the ungratefulness of kin and blood
And still, we trudge on
days iceberg by
like a convalescent kept on charity
like a serum plastic anopheles
was pumping good reputation (for the reluctant nurses)
and chances of getting better getting out
(for one who sleeps in the most personal bed ever)
It is okay, it is a ride an adventure a challenge:
SybilsHidden in deep forests, where no light can slip through leaves taller and wider than a grown man.Sybils by oviedomedina
Hidden in the depths of a valley, listening to the trickling fountains whisper news and happening of the worlds of men, animals, and others.
Beyond the desert and its shapeless labyrinths, where all winds go quiet, the sun dissapears to leave a sky with an anbsolute blue face.
In the isthmos where the river gains a dozen mouths to kiss the sea, where seals go to sleep after yearlong travels, where sea monsters surface to sing at the stars.
Under the cliffs where waves the size of castles crash roaringly, where even the most daring seafarer would hesitaste to thread.
Atop a mountain of eternal crystal, where massive fjords of ice linger through the sea like dead ships, watching the dance of the stars and the ocean.
In a dead land, where no plant nor animal survive, where soil is harder than a fortress´ walls, where the wind yet drags seeds and plants from places unknown.
The insomniaeI.The insomniae by oviedomedina
Keep quiet, oh building,
lower your eyes
lower your eyes while the toes in the dark
try to emulate that fly that went discreet in,
so silent, very mute through the air of blushing eyes
fooling it, the two in the cellphone´s false sun
a sunrise is and not, but still never a word please,
please mum it,while the dark roams the not morning
tiptoes the chill of the fake sunrise
the yawns of the cab´s mystery
mute colleague of the awake tired eyes.
Said who?: Age will never give you
wide open nights, much like your veins
after a new routine
handstands your life
and sends you swerving all over the new anguish:
youth will not bury you so below your mattress
that pillows will wrestlepin your eyelids
with the very first kiss your face is caressed with.
Behold your ears bloodbeating
with every creak and crack
all the spooks your eyearcs will create
one damnedly long night.
You will make your ears hum
with every useless trivia
the fantasized catalogue
Mythic Tide (working title, teaser intro)"Well, doesn't this just suck?"Mythic Tide (working title, teaser intro) by sioranth
I was standing in your stereotypical dumpster-laden back alley staring down at a mangled corpse. Just moments before she had been a vibrant young woman full of life and hope and all that happy crap. That was right before she was shoved off the fire escape about 15 floors up. How do I know she was shoved? Because the body I was standing over was mine.
"Shit," I muttered and then looked up. My assailant was long gone though, not even a scurrying shadow left behind.
"What did you do this time?"
I lowered my gaze and turned my head to the left. I suspect most people would have been challenged not to run screaming into the night. Boris was about 8 feet tall, give or take, built like a bull on steroids, and had six horns of various sizes and colors sprouting from his skull. His face looked like he suffered from a stroke as the left side sort of ran down toward his jaw like melting ice cream. The right side was covered in a roadmap of twisting burn
Keep FightingYou're way too young to be broken.Keep Fighting by DespicableMe1
You're way too young to have a broken heart.
You're way too young to be hurting.
Can't believe you're torn apart.
But don't give up yet.
I know you want to give up on life,
But I promise you
You won't always live in strife.
Keep on fighting
With your head held high.
You may be beaten and bruised
But it isn't a lie
When I say you'll make it through.
One day you'll see
That death and despair
Is not what's meant to be.
Just hold on, my dear.
I know that you're on the brink,
But they only want to hurt you with lies.
You're worth so much more than you think.
I'm not the one who wants to hurt you.
I want to help you make it through.
Get ahold of yourself.
You may think you hate yourself,
But don't be a pessimist.
I swear you're worth so much more than this.
I know it must seem frightening,
But don't worry about a thing.
I'm there for you.
You'll make it through.
I know there's some days where you don't know what you'll do,
But trust me, I've been there too.