Comedy's dead, Gogo,
Fell asleep in a ditch a long time ago
For the last time.
When?
Shakespeare wrote comedies and tragedies
And the fool was always there.
Never died, never suffered.
Until the end.
Billy killed him
And about time, too.
Had him hung
In a glorious moment of realization.
What was I going on about?
Can't say I recall.
Oh yeah, the fool.
Well hung.
Cause once a man's satisfactorily hung
You can at least ensure he won't go on about romance.
At the very least.
You or I could use that.
We've got a tree,
You've got some rope.
Should be able to hold either one of us.
It would pass the time at least.
Time till what?
We're waiting.
Here we are
Dancing asleep together
In the warm space between moving bodies.
In the heat of gyrating forms,
Mindless movers,
We seek to lose ourselves in the moment.
You’ve painted a smile on your face
Because who can be sad
When they’re as free from the world’s troubles as we are?
The world may be on the brink of war
And neighbor holds a knife to his neighbor’s throat,
But so what? People’s politicks will come and go.
In the desperate pace,
And the brushing of skin on skin,
We seek to simply hold on.
The building is nothing but a husk of its former self
And the band packed up long ago,
But everything will
With a rumbling, throaty cough, he felt the pier shake beneath him, sending ripples through the placid waters of the lake. If there was anywhere to reflect, this was it. Serene, detached from the world, only the grandeur of nature around him.
Another garbled noise ripped from his throat, causing the rickety wooden pier to sway violently. That darn nagging cough—he’d had it so long. If only he hadn’t taken up smoking at 17. Just one of so many regrets he had…
He looked down into the mirror below his feet. The image was finally settling from his latest bout of coughing. His brow was furrowed
When at last I am laid to rest
In such final slumber sweet,
There is but one request
I lay down at your feet.
Do not let me be confined, entombed,
For I all my life have been imprisoned
Within such a domain.
Rather let me remain freed,
In closer communion with my Father
Who let my first breath in.
One would think the jester right
In saying I’m in hell
With the way you carry on
In a continuous mourning song
And let such a great din swell.
Yet, I tell you, take comfort,
For I but return once more,
To the dust from when I came
As so many generations before.
Why do you still shed tears
And such useless vigil keep?
When I, who lay bel
It's funny how you try to spook the ghosts out of hiding
Years after you put them to rest.
You want to find them again because
Something came up or
They crossed your mind again or
There's still some unsettled business or
You want to relive the memories you burned away
So very long ago.
But you've found that they've left
To haunt some better ground.
You want so desperately to find them
But you don't know where to even begin to look.
After all, what's dead is dead.
Your words echo in my head
As I follow the lines on the page.
Clearly, you left this here for yourself,
Though it feels as though for me alone.
I reach into these pages
And smell well-loved books
That mingle with the uniqueness
Of the history they contain.
I want to connect with what you've said,
Internalize the vastness of your knowledge
And open these messages in a bottle
Set afloat generations ago.
I've no doubts that,
Though you're gone now,
You'll live on in the ways you've impressed yourself upon us
With words that,
In their fine curls and careful touches,
Have affected our lives.
Your laugh
I can't help but think
Every time I hear it
About how much it hides.
I've heard the stories
About what you've done.
Sickening.
How could you do such a thing
And still bear a prideful demeanor?
Do you not care?
Your laugh
I can't help but think
Every time I hear it
About what your parents would think
If they knew.
Or is there more?
I've heard the stories
About your past
And the painful give and take
Of each day.
But that's not an excuse.
Your laugh
I can't help but think
Every time I hear it
That there's an attempt to justify yourself.
And yet,
I've heard the stories
About the hurt,
The beating,
And the
The voice of the great son,
The fearless and strong,
Rises above his men on the battlefield
"Who dares challenge the might
Of the great Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow,
Who has slain many a beast
And secured for his people
The richest of lands
By the power of his might?"
And, truly, the legion of men did turn in terror of such as sight,
Penitent of their trespasses upon his land.
When awoke the dragon great
And it did ravage the land,
Beowulf and his men rode forth.
When the dragon struck,
The men did flee
Yet Beowulf faltered not.
He slew the beast with his bare hands
Lest it should do harm to his people.
Yet he perished in the f
With a rumbling, throaty cough, he felt the pier shake beneath him, sending ripples through the placid waters of the lake. If there was anywhere to reflect, this was it. Serene, detached from the world, only the grandeur of nature around him.
Another garbled noise ripped from his throat, causing the rickety wooden pier to sway violently. That darn nagging cough—he’d had it so long. If only he hadn’t taken up smoking at 17. Just one of so many regrets he had…
He looked down into the mirror below his feet. The image was finally settling from his latest bout of coughing. His brow was furrowed
When at last I am laid to rest
In such final slumber sweet,
There is but one request
I lay down at your feet.
Do not let me be confined, entombed,
For I all my life have been imprisoned
Within such a domain.
Rather let me remain freed,
In closer communion with my Father
Who let my first breath in.
One would think the jester right
In saying I’m in hell
With the way you carry on
In a continuous mourning song
And let such a great din swell.
Yet, I tell you, take comfort,
For I but return once more,
To the dust from when I came
As so many generations before.
Why do you still shed tears
And such useless vigil keep?
When I, who lay bel
It's funny how you try to spook the ghosts out of hiding
Years after you put them to rest.
You want to find them again because
Something came up or
They crossed your mind again or
There's still some unsettled business or
You want to relive the memories you burned away
So very long ago.
But you've found that they've left
To haunt some better ground.
You want so desperately to find them
But you don't know where to even begin to look.
After all, what's dead is dead.
Your words echo in my head
As I follow the lines on the page.
Clearly, you left this here for yourself,
Though it feels as though for me alone.
I reach into these pages
And smell well-loved books
That mingle with the uniqueness
Of the history they contain.
I want to connect with what you've said,
Internalize the vastness of your knowledge
And open these messages in a bottle
Set afloat generations ago.
I've no doubts that,
Though you're gone now,
You'll live on in the ways you've impressed yourself upon us
With words that,
In their fine curls and careful touches,
Have affected our lives.
Your laugh
I can't help but think
Every time I hear it
About how much it hides.
I've heard the stories
About what you've done.
Sickening.
How could you do such a thing
And still bear a prideful demeanor?
Do you not care?
Your laugh
I can't help but think
Every time I hear it
About what your parents would think
If they knew.
Or is there more?
I've heard the stories
About your past
And the painful give and take
Of each day.
But that's not an excuse.
Your laugh
I can't help but think
Every time I hear it
That there's an attempt to justify yourself.
And yet,
I've heard the stories
About the hurt,
The beating,
And the
The voice of the great son,
The fearless and strong,
Rises above his men on the battlefield
"Who dares challenge the might
Of the great Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow,
Who has slain many a beast
And secured for his people
The richest of lands
By the power of his might?"
And, truly, the legion of men did turn in terror of such as sight,
Penitent of their trespasses upon his land.
When awoke the dragon great
And it did ravage the land,
Beowulf and his men rode forth.
When the dragon struck,
The men did flee
Yet Beowulf faltered not.
He slew the beast with his bare hands
Lest it should do harm to his people.
Yet he perished in the f
Silence.
Nothing to be heard. Or seen for that matter.
You try opening your eyes, but it doesn't do much good. It really is just darkness.
Breathe. Breathe deeply. You're alive, at least.
Feel around. That sense hasn't been taken from you. You feel the cold, stony floor beneath you.
Cave-in. Now you know why you're here at least.
Stay calm. Remain focused on steady breathing while you wait. Someone must know and be looking.
Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat. And again.
Now you've got it. You just need to keep focusing on just that. Breathe slowly to not use up all your air too fast.
Be sure not to think about how there is
What is one to make
of an individual so outlandish as I?
Far too outspoken for my own good,
what is one to say in reply?
Some make of me an example
of what is means to live in hypocrisy,
a two-tongued twister of words.
Deceit, they so quickly say,
is my only ally and my constant companion
wherever I go.
Yet, no hypocrite would be so right and true
were they not to have a proper mask
to hide behind.
O, you who would point your pious fingers,
handing out guilty verdicts upon the accused!
Before you so try as to rip a mask away
from my face,
judge yourself and reveal your own true face!
Hearken to my words,
o judge of faces,
Hello fe-addict I hope you don't mind me asking but I was just wondering if you ever got my request to put two of my pictures into the group. I tried to submit them but I never got a mesage saying that it was accepted so I tried again incase I did something wrong. I was just wondering if I might have accidently broken the rules on them or something like that. If I did could you please let me know so I can fix it. The title of the pictures are Karcy and Donaven if you recognize them. I just want to be as active on the group as possible Thanks for your time.
I certainly don't mind you asking-- and it's a reasonable question.
You haven't done anything against the rules, so that's not why your submissions have been denied/ignored. They're (presumably) still sitting in the cue, which has become rather backed up due to recent issues which have kept myself from catching up on group submissions. Your pieces will be approved as I catch up on that list.
And I can't take all the credit for the group's workings-- Bengalboi predates me in running the group back before the group system even existed. I've only had a hand in its working for about the past 4 years. His work goes back with it even further than mine.