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Enchanted WhispersI can see a burning bush;
Deep inside a dark cave.
This is the story that sparked my interest.
There was someone in the light;
Dancing in the night with a full moon.
She must have been prancing the entire time.
And then I was in some strange trance.
There was a voice in the air;
Telling me not to be afraid.
Was it her telling me to pray;
Or was there something showing me my future grave?
I felt this fear growing inside of me.
Then, I was throwing myself closer to the fire.
There was a whisper.
I wish I was alive.
Where are these whispers coming from?
Ooo, I want to be alive!
Can I breath now?
I just want to breath.
What are these whispers?
I can hear them screaming.
When will I be alive again?
Here I now stand.
Deep inside the dark tunnel.
That light that blinds me.
Then I ran.
Away from the screams.
This dream is haunting me!
Launching illicite laughters at me.
The tunnel is getting cold.
Brand New HeavenYou can reach up for the sky.
I know it can be a long journey.
Land your soul into the stars.
Do not strand yourself in darkness.
Let the wind blow through your soul.
Yes, the skies are blue.
There are many who cry for a brand new day.
Yet, so few can hear the voices in the clouds.
That beautiful sound speaking...
It is a brand new heaven.
A large blue sky.
Sometimes I cry myself to sleep.
I only dream of feeling one last emotion.
Will I be in a brand new heaven?
Or will I end up standing in the darkness?
I know I am not the most perfect person.
There are times I cannot bend head over heels.
Can I feel this brand new heaven...
..On last time?
The clock is ticking.
Yet, I feel my soul is sticking...
..On the cross roads.
Which way do I go?
One more heaven, just one more time.
This is the room that started it all.
I clawed every inch to the top.
Can I crawl my way back?
Is it my lack of self confidence?
I can hear the voice from far above.
Retrieving A Dying BreathThere is a question in my head.
Will the graves in this world;
Be the ones over populating the living?
Skies march with the storms;
And the air lifting up with poison.
Is there something we are missing?
The stars seem to be maps.
Puzzles are always giving away;
The key that belongs to the treasure chest.
Rooms are always drving us mad;
When we cannot tear the pillows off the walls.
Willow trees always look so sad.
Do we overcome what we are mad at?
It is by the vision of the eyes.
By the good of the soul.
A warrior sold to slavery.
Gladiating his way to freedom.
Only to fall to death.
Many stood tall;
While others stalled their dreams.
Was this a call to a new life;
Or was this a fall of an old kingdom?
The light was too narrow for many;
While the darkness was too wide for others.
Some were burning their dreams away.
Others were curing the streams;
That lay in destruction.
Was this a call to my destination?
My life was the beginning of a new journey.
Blue skies were either darkened by
I Am YoursOh, woman I love how you walk.
I do not care how you look;
Because it is how you talk that drives me insane.
You can stalk me any way you want.
I guess all this is true.
As long as you can walk the way you want.
It is the way you sway those hips.
Side to side.
I love the color of your cherry red lips.
Many spit and sputter out their drinks.
I just think of those handle bar hips you have.
You do not have to be the worlds good looking.
Please say your arms like change in your pocket.
Oh, please, will you be mine?
Those beautiful eyes always batting at me.
Come be mine.
I must be yours.
Let us run through the jungle.
Could we mud wrestle?
Oh, yes, please be mine.
You can read my mind at any time.
I will be your prize.
What part of the world would we ride to?
Come be mine.
I must be yours.
Because I am losing my sanity.
Ooo, keep on swinging those sexy hips.
Please come kiss me.
You got such beautiful lips.
Can we nip at each other?
Let us slip off into the back room.
Turn off the light.
Faces In The WallI can hear voices.
Sometimes they call to me;
And tell me the choices they made.
The dark is under the bed;
Yet I tried to look under...
..When the eyes begin to glow at the door.
What noises did I hear under the bathroom door?
When I try to sleep;
I try to ignore the screams in the wall.
Streams of hatred;
Are what I see at the end of the hallway.
I just don't want to imagine;
The silver lightning that would strike it down.
I guess it was not what it seems to be.
Can you hear the voices in the wall?
It is as if I can see faces;
Sticking out in the mirrors.
The faces in the walls.
Who can hear them call my name?
Some are in tourmented pain.
Others can be in the cleansing rain.
How many faces are looking at me?
Traces are heard from the doors.
Does it matter?
It surely does to me.
I want to see the faces hidden in the walls.
I hear the voices again.
Deep under the bed;
I see the tears comine from under the matress.
The gears in my mind are turning.
Where are these fears coming from?
Rules That Never FollowHello;
How are you?
Somehow I did not follow myself.
Can you try to understand me?
Yes, even a grown man will cry.
You cannot always ride them.
It is your mind that follows in suit.
We swallow hard.
The stars come and go.
Can I make my mental scars go away?
Fake smiles are hard to come by these days.
The sun does have the rays.
Can you imagine;
The world that never follows the rules?
Yes, nature can do the samething.
Images of many who break the spells.
Sell their own family.
I was given to a sacred heart.
Someone who loves me for who I am.
Do the rules really have to follow in suit?
The room does not have to be black and white.
Some rules bend.
Others can break.
Rules do not have to follow in line.
Does nature always follow by the rules?
Why are we being lead astray?
Burn or live.
Give me a chance to explain myself.
Just imagine who we are.
At least try to light the spark.
Sometimes there is a true mystery.
I may need some room to look around.
Can you read my mind?
Last One BornHere I am;
Standing last in line.
No one looked for the emotions;
Hidden in my eyes.
Bitten in a bitter rage;
That stuck in my bottled rage.
The page in the book;
That burned away my hopes and dreams.
I felt like a dove trapped in a cage;
When the room is always dark.
Do we always hide in the gloom?
The fool is the one;
Who is blind by the monster they created.
There are many born last.
Are we standing alone?
Some are granting a one last wish.
There are demons always ranting in chaos.
Angels keep on standing at our side;
To guide us away from the darkness.
Imagine standing last in line.
The eyes stare at us.
Skies always rumble with lightning.
Take one last ride on the water.
It always feels wonderful.
Standing last in line.
We don't always follow the rules.
Some can fly free.
Others cry in the dark closet.
Just like how the clouds ride;
The silver streaks across the sky.
Life is always a mystery to me.
Which is different;
The light or the darkness.
Sometimes I wonder;
BlindHere I am;
Counting the sheep hopping the fence.
There are so many fears;
Lopping heads off in a senseless war.
Tears are poisoned;
In stopping dreams from coming true.
There are gears in the brain;
That dry up the water pipes.
Cries are popping in the clouds;
That make screams echoe in the skies.
Our fellow man died with stripes;
That his ribs drained water and blood.
Have gone blind from madness?
What sort of blindess have we been seeing?
The ships port;
Is torn apart in a horrid nightmare.
The storm must have ripped her heart out.
So many stars;
Get shattered by the passing black hole.
Battered and bruised;
We all are blind from war.
The spiritual and physical sides;
That most nightmares ruin for amusement.
We surely have recieved blind faith.
In part for those who twist the words;
Through our eyes and soul.
The eyes of children;
Look to the thunder that fills the silence.
Lighting strikes the ground;
When the clouds flash the winds of destruction.
So many young youths begin to drin
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More