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Devil's Pawn, Ch 1Devil's Pawn
"I wonder what it feels like to be dead," Karen looked up from her book.
"Why do you ask?" Jon asked with a small grin, laying his own novel aside.
"Well, no one knows. No one can know. Wouldn't it be nice to know what's gonna happen when you do die?"
Jon looked thoughtful for a moment. "Huh. Interesting, very interesting," he adopted a sort of pseudo-Transylvanian accent, tenting his long, dark fingers and raising an eyebrow at us. "To die, to be really dead, that must be glorious!"
"Yes, thank you Dracula," Karen's eyes turned heavenward.
Jon shrugged. "It's a damn good movie for all the bats are on strings. How 'bout you, Jim? Any burning desire to delve into the great beyond?"
I paused, unsure of how to express myself to the atheist extraordinaire across from me. "I suppose it would be nice to know," I said slowly. "But then, it's a bit, well, blasphemous, isn't it?"
Karen laughed, nipping Jon's biting, anti-religious retort in the bud. "Jim, you take everything too se
Catching FliesCatching Flies
silly little people,
in their silly little places,
with their silly little gestures,
and their silly little cares.
leaving petty comments,
making judgements with no reason,
and they just don't care!
silly little issues
raised by silly, silly people
who can't see more flies are caught
by being kind than being cruel
who are they to judge,
who am i,
who are you,
who are we to say we're better
than the other oh-so-very
silly, silly, little men?
Treat me Right
From every ill must come a gladness,
Joy upraised where sin must fall.
For all that´s lost there is a finder,
Shepherd hast´ning to the call
Of sheep once sorr´wing and forsaken,
Once blinded, lame,
Now standing tall.
And though you loved me only briefly,
passed on the other side the road,
Each Pharisee has still a stranger,
Who will stop,
Help bear the load.
Thou slime of Satan-spawn,
Thou friend, thou confidante,
Abominations thou hast acted,
No ablutions now could cure.
And damnéd souls which dog thy footsteps.
Guide thine actions Hades-bent-
These thou hast called up upon you,
Wretched creatures devil-sent.
The light of Lordly love, God´s favor,
has forever quit thine eyes,
Yet still I feel thou must be thankéd,
for making me so worldly-wise.
All these voices -
Flying through my head.
Some kind of happy,
Some say "wish I was dead."
It isn't fair, it isn't right,
Some people feel all right and others
Cry every night.
I don't care for influence,
Position or power,
But things that you don't think about
Up in your ivory tower.
My life may seem wonderful,
When compared to yours,
But that won't keep my head from
Fighting these little wars.
I don't think I'm ungrateful,
I don't think that I'm spoiled,
But sometimes I feel buried under
Life's little toils.
If guilty makes it better
Then maybe I'm just wrong,
Since I don't think that feeling worse will help
Me get along.
I have sat in this place and waited I know not how long. I have striven to remember the life I
once knew, but it slips away as inexorably as the water slips over the stones in the stream at
home. Home. I must hold on to this thought, lest I find myself not knowing of water, or life outside of this wretched path.
Yet this thing I call wretched is not. It is beautiful, so lovely, in fact, as to be almost painful. Far better to be imprisoned somewhere I can hate with ease. To both love and loathe is truly a terrible fate. Someone comes; I hear footsteps not far along the path, and, foolish though it seems, I hope. I fear this stranger will not stop, will not even see me, for very few do. And those who take note seem to see also that I am being punished, and are frightened, as I was so very long ago. I, however, did stop. I took pity, and that has been my undoing.
The Voice of HeavenThe sweetest music fills the atmosphere
The voice of heaven itself
Surfing on waves of air
Sound so pleasant, beyond orgasmic
Listen to the subtle facets of its audible splendor
Every measure, every crescendo, every lick
Everyone is savored
Never have ears been so graced
Graced by such a precious lullaby
Transcendent silvery tones caress the soul
Knees begin to buckle
Everything fades in haunting mist
Oh, harmonious ballad!
The notes sparkle along their silky path
So smooth, so lovely
Sing them forever
Sing sweet love,
Your beautiful heart let shine!
Light up the darkness
Play your songs again and again
Play your songs in my heart
In the heart you've captured and chained to yours
If only everyone could know their magick
Those notes will resonate in me til I die and ever after
I love you, voice of heaven
two can play at this gamehelp.
my heart beats
and my lungs
swell with air,
but I swore
my life would
cease to be
if I could
no longer call
you mine. please
By Suzanne Karbach 27th July 2014
sugarclawyou sang, watermystic
rosehips swaying two hearts
to a shell
and i, niagara
fell beneath, earth tesselate
seeping in infinite squares
but this is no desert love
story you are telling, lies
stretched over acres
o' your sweetscented mouth
One Year // TimelessOne Year // Timeless
I wanted to write something,
About being with you for
A whole year.
But I can’t. (So I won’t)
Because it doesn’t feel like
A whole year.
I feel like I just met you,
I feel like I’ve always known you,
There is something meaningless about
“A whole year”.
It feels timeless.
One Year // Timeless
I know from eighth grade Science Class
That energy cannot be
Created (nor destroyed).
This, I’m quite sure, is the case with how I feel about you.
I think this feeling goes beyond me,
It stretches back through time,
And has lived many lives.
It started, I believe, as a far off sun.
All passion and fire and boiling,
Existing that way for many billions of years,
Until it compressed and
All that energy released into the cosmos,
Undamaged, undestroyed, (uncreated).
For a while after that, it existed as the stars.
Every last twinkling one in the sky,
It nestled a bit of itself into.
Head and HeartYou leaned into my touch
So that your head
And all its precious thoughts
Were cradled in my palms.
My heart raced with longing.
Hours later, the scent
Of your hair gel
Lingers on my hands,
You're not merely a figment
Of my imagination.
My LibraryIn this place I can be fearless,
Here, alone, I am complete.
Fiends of hell and guardian Angels
Of Lords and libertines replete.
In this place are friends full-faithful,
Beauties which shall never fade.
The power-mad, the would-be heroes,
Dance in endless cavalcade.
In this place I find my answers,
Lovers who shall never leave.
Inspiration, flights of fancy,
Gems which genius wordsmiths weave.
In this place I 'suage my sorrows,
Here I feel I am reborn.
In books I live so many lifetimes,
My soul with artistry adorned.
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