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Derelicts and DevotionLike leaning bikes against the unused door,
Their wheels immobile, chains now brown with rust,
Decay awaits the things a man works for
That lay untouched and thick with grimy dust.
We think to leave it be would keep it well,
Away from operating stress and strain.
Alas, without the forces that compel
The heart no tender love could thus remain.
It takes one sight to miss you all the more,
A fleeting moment by your side to pain me,
But better that your memory I store
To push me down our faithful path and train me.
Propinquity and paradox must meet
If future fruitfulness should be as sweet.
Upon the WatersThe tears that drip from my repentant eye
Are waves that crash upon the rugged shore
That is my past, my pride, my every lie
I clung to, wreckage from my dark before,
Relentless as the sound of weeping swells,
And deep as one could dive in pain and woe,
Their brimming is dimming all the haze of hells
I plunged in headfirst not too long ago.
And all my lungs were filled with water black,
That seized my body into dying throes:
No heroes there to pull my spirit back,
No feelings anymore. My body froze
Beneath the surface. My suicide.
I died. I'm dead. No way ahead but dread,
No floating on the waters of the tide,
I died, and nothing--nothing lies ahead.
But in death's stead, I found a life ahead
That rose up from the waters of the tide.
So great it was, I trembled in my dread
For I was dead and drowned in suicide.
In fear and tears, it was my doubt that froze
First, and then there was no turning back;
The Spirit shook me into living throes
As I confessed the deeds of this heart black.
The Most Dangerous GameThe poem lurking in its darkened den
Is wracked with hunger. Hear it moan!
Seek not to be the master of your pen
And leave the palpitating heart alone.
For it will pounce and carry you away
To meet your fate within the great unknown.
No predator are you, but only pray
It only tears away your flesh and bone.
Seek not to be the master of your pen:
No predator are you, but only prey,
The poem lurking in its darkened den
Will surely pounce and carry you away.
It only tears away your flesh and bone,
But leaves the palpitating heart alone.
The InternetA boisterous crowd,
Dawdling epicenter for grumbling, humdrum intrusions,
Just kindling lipservice.
My newsfeed opens, peace quakes.
Restless sleeper, try underwhelming Valium.
What exhorts you? Zilch.
DiscipleshipThe vision and the glory handed down
Through generations sovereignly ordained
To witness all the grace that He has shown
And live in all the love that has remained,
How precious to my soul! How wonderful
This heritage my father gave to me
That I pass to my son! That upward goal
That leads me skyward over land and sea
Is fully mine, but all God's to define.
The Bamboo ForestI'm sitting alone in the deep bamboo woods,
Just playing my lute as I belt out a tune.
The forest is deep, not a person will know,
But the listening moon with its luminous glow.
Slowly...slowly...slowlyIf now it seems the butterfly has flown
Away from where it once perched on your hand,
Borne where errant winds have puffed and blown
Into its wings a sidelong gust unplanned,
Call it back. The voice of your command
Is sweet as nectar, powering its flight.
The winds are wearying. Compelled to land,
It cannot stray from you who gives it might.
It is no moth, obsessed with rippling light,
That throws its entranced life into the pyre.
It trusts its heart and mind, and not its sight,
To find your safe hands, though the night be dire.
It's there that life and love and future meet:
Your finger hugged beneath its spindly feet.
Organo PlenoThat rush of power flowing through my veins
And into hands and heels and toes is surging
Out the pipes, the open stops like drains
For floods of flowing harmonies emerging,
Bubbling for as long I hold the keys.
It's water, but it's fire, earth, and air,
A solid wall of flame and floating breeze,
Not music but the elements, I swear:
It moves all things, this instrument of kings.
HopeIf it could be that I could lay
This seed into the ground
To watch it grow beyond my hopes
And upward, heavenbound,
Then happily I'll bury it
Beneath the darkest earth,
That in its time it would bear fruit
And multiply its worth.
Though long the days and years may seem,
And backbreaking the toil,
Though sorrow seems to cloud the skies
With each round of turmoil,
It's hope that pumps this heart of mine
And fills my lungs with breath.
I think of you, and all my fears
And doubts are put to death.
It is no hope if I have seen
All that I have to do.
For then I would not know the joy
Of waiting time for you.
*Street Light*Amorphous shadow
Without substance, under light
What am I seeing?
*Peace*Silence is profound
Incense smell, candlelight
Perfect peace prevails
*Silverfish*Flashing silver streak
Pages foxed with age
The Long MarchThe Red Army does not fear the Long March,
The hills and torrents they see as everyday.
The curving mountain ranges like mere ripples,
They roll down Mount Wumeng like balls of clay.
As Jinsha River warms the cloudy cliffs
And iron chains span Dadu River cold,
We pass through Mount Min's leagues of snow,
Three Armies pass with glowing faces bold.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More