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Literature
Faith in Fate
Rocking like driftwood across withered crossroads,
The intertwining lines palpitate to a mutual beat.
But however lost its thumping echo will shrill its moats,
And ancient and forgotten it grows its weeds.
Like the calming winds it sends its shivers,
Alongside its remedying endeavor.
Becoming ravaging storms break that through its form to deliver;
Embodying murderous seas and swift-flowing rivers.
Its spirits soaked in mundane humanity,
Existing for a cause that slowly perishes.
Should believing be an obtainment, a form of ability?
Or an outcast of society, one that all banishes?
Perhaps its time has been outrun,
Like the flow of chapters scanned by eyes not knowing its depths.
Perhaps its blade has been blunt,
Only knowing the past of glories it once had.
Whether we accept its time here,
We ask if its flow of traces should disappear.
Are we part of a sequence of plan?
Or a big, oblivious, foolish pretend?
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Literature
What Comes Next
Often than not, we lose our ways,
Walking paths undescribed and leered upon.
Why pick a definitive road, shrouded, unstaked where it lays
Brushed by the contrasts of dawn?
Strength, is it measured by ability?
Or laughter, defined only by simplicity.
When is it alright to pace about, to lose sanity,
Plunging into deeper depths with questions unanswered, lacking clarity.
But ever so often, will picks us up,
Brushes off the dust on our shoulders
Reaching out towards our necks while we keep our eyes shut,
Only to take away the lasting, scarring, hefty bolders.
It's always when we walk away, leaving the shedding of our skin,
Do we ever look back and think
"Was I ever this way?"
Some choose to bear that memorable brink.
But in the end, what do we redeem?
Smile, it says.
Come child,
Walk.
Walk these newly laid tiles.
Create new stories,
For you never know,
What comes next.
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Literature
The Fine Lines
What deems to lose itself?
Grazed, like a ragdoll on a shelf.
Incapable it is of death,
Crippling its forms of salvation, what will be left?
We will ourselves in hopes of steel.
Yet, condemned to life's pathetic treadmill.
Trail by trail of defeat,
Sinking in plights of failure we bleed.
Drinking on sober fantasies,
We feed off on clouded judgements.
Expressed in false apostrophes,
Living in the norm of assumptions.
Acting as the ghosts of our sillhoettes,
How often do we look back?
Do we retrace, re-step our foot tracks?
Or give in to pandemonium, dying in vision's black?
Whatever it is,
How do we know when we breathe?
If we are floating atrocities,
Do we die or live?
Intricately in life we are weaved,
Who then, do we really eye to please?
Who? What? Where?
:iconSoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY:SoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY
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Literature
Dreams, Delusion
Dimmed the lights of brisk stairs.
Scurrying in quiet paces,
There, on the corner of the end I stare.
No life at dead of night but a small trace.
The tip-tap of gruelling hours is heard,
A slight sigh ever so curt.
The figure then returns to work,
Its shadow, through the night it lurks.
Dismayed, one may be.
An empty shell, revered by so many
Yet so lost and hastily paced.
Would it be sad to say that its skin knows no graze?
Dead would surely be the only way to define it?
But death binds no blood, no soul.
It captivates, indeed how bleak
Yet so alive it is, with a dead goal.
Seemingly so simple and yet so deep.
If only one would care to burrow within.
Would they find a crying soul or the death it reeks?
Perhaps not.
But to then do so, only then will you see its dream.
Its dream, perhaps beauty only to its beholder,
Nevertheless, a dream.
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Literature
Illusion
How rotten the core of illusion,
Shriveled by its binds of false belief.
Altering the jaws of confinement,
Sane and pierced, it shades the hue of delusion.
Malicious longing for the unforbidding relief
Lackluster its eyes, graying enlightenment.
Unbeknowst to its beholder,
Sourness wades across the stream of ignorance.
Hell soon becomes its gratified haven
Prowling its depths and seizes it, stronger.
The hilt lies in the bleeding cervix
Gaping for air, the hell-stricken screamed blatant.
Unashamed, it walks bound to the weights of guilt.
All of hope fallen asunder.
Untimely desperate, its stature wilts.
Craving to be irken again by its blunder.
With lust, it projects the shimmering wisps
Tracing fingers on the lining, wishing
Weaving carefully a senseless delusion.
A mirage, a dream...an illusion.
:iconSoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY:SoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY
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Literature
Closet
The box of my cove of treasure,
Storm of threads for my body weaved.
Dust interlaid through the year,
Snatched and strewn of my lead.
The doors of creak scream,
With such learned body to deem.
What truth would lay awake
When night comes opened to my heart's drapes.
Hidden away words would flee,
Would the world dissipate in a wink?
The lies by day I slee,
Would it push, far to brink?
Deteriorating my will,
I oil the hinges threatening to fall.
Falling apart, will I stand still?
Or will I appear in light, enthralled?
My doubts compiled in chapters,
The key would unfold
Like the light-headed feather,
It mimics, in pace, my fearful soul.
Let bygones be bygones,
As for now, my door is open.
If I should fall, I will learn.
For no longer will I die in your scorn.
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Literature
Prism of Love
The day has come,
Let serenades of mine to clasp.
For love accounts of no sum.
Release I'll never of my grasp.
Your prism of light reigns my heart.
As your radiance to your rainbow shards.
To the rain of my soul,
Left me amazed and there to unfold.
Bloom as far as the pollen of bees,
As you have with beauty.
Leaving me with nothing more to say.
Loving you, each and every day.
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Literature
Speeches Within
Idle pauses of brief conversations,
How stern would be it through combinations?
Lisp of words have lifted,
But farther the tone, it has drifted.
Seared in gravitation.
Time in fear it ticked.
What's more to bring forth against revelation?
Consumed by threats it has rigged.
Embracing thin air exhaled,
Heading out unknown on life's track rail.
Disparity of shudders then slowly overfill,
Pulling impaired souls apart...pill by pill.
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Literature
Hallucination
Why quirky nimble fingers,
Scatter about the rashes of life?
Sweet florescent flowers lingers,
Deeper within to dive.
Flash hums strain eyes,
Free its forms of weight
Across it maps, stretched into a lake.
Blinded, pray how, pry?
Octaves of slurs revolve,
Voices drown beneath the head's loft.
Slumped across streets of feet,
The mind, intoxicated, bleeds.
Lost its hushed conscience,
Where and then was its absence.
Remorse in turn fulfill,
But in time will then it return for its kill.
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Literature
Lord Vesuvius
Rains of ash pelt my cold cheeks.
The ruins of the forgotten,
Smell the death it reeks.
Or inhale the last rotten breath of the rotten.
How life flows by.
Ignorant to sad cries.
Shrills filled the air dry.
Set ablazed, they were left to die.
Years to come,
At last they came to light.
Awed, the numbers came to sums.
Died within, there was no fight.
Lord Vesuvius the mighty,
Spare us - the echoes.
Till this day, never set free.
Confined in their eternal gallows.
Locked away forever,
Left only with what was of yesterday.
Shadows will uncover,
The haunted melody - forever will it stay.
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Literature
Greatest Desire
At the spur of the moment,
The smell of perfume wafts by.
There and then, the moment of consonant.
Driving upon but only a lusty lie.
So sweet the taste, so bitter its essence.
Lavish the beaut of grace, evermore its malevolence.
It lingers, on the tip of my everfading tastebuds.
A mare's nest lies where I play my cards.
The fingers of purport touch,
Licks the lips of one to quiesce.
Bred to intoxicate the lush.
It fumes the spoils of divine anguish.
What more could one desire,
But the eccentric and unsound?
What more?
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Unfinished Angel by SoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY Unfinished Angel :iconsoaringxund3rxm3mory:SoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY 0 1
Literature
Wishing Well
A swirl of wind can change,
But who knows where the end is its range?
Would your eyes gaze untaint,
Or would you take the blind blame?
Fate steps into your shoes,
Takes you someplace else.
But what have you to lose,
When your quarter falls into that well.
Shut your eyes and wish.
This isn't a church, so don't preach.
Reach out and believe,
If you don't, then leave.
Dreams can happen but look,
No magic can make-up for hard work.
Stay a fool and life will treat you a bad joke.
This isn't a tale told by folk.
The truth is dark,
But it's all like drawing lots.
So wake up,
Because life is short.
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The Truth About Edward Cullen by SoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY The Truth About Edward Cullen :iconsoaringxund3rxm3mory:SoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY 0 1
Literature
A Beaver's Story
Slithering down the gaps,
Rainwater pour.
The dusty ground it maps,
Washing away the remains of war.
The booming of sound rung in air,
In bewilderment, we stare.
Crash! Down and down!
Down came the Goddess of Green of a thousand pounds!
Lights of fire paced about,
Screams of terror filled aloud.
Crunching and cackling of leaves,
The soul of green, where,
Last it breathes.
The forts of wood linger,
Ran along its tenants of critters.
In came along the monsters with whirling jaws,
Leaving behind the new prints they tore.
Raging waves bellow,
Dark skies roared.
Stares, the great beast, soaked.
Just like it has all been a sick joke.
Abruptly, the story ended.
To shed light, it was foul.
Perhaps it was planned.
But now only left we are,
The echo of the non-existent prowl.
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Literature
Anger
Clutching on the angst,
My ephemeral reflection turned to dust.
Turning forth,
Where all my senses shut off.
I begun my walk,
Dwelling deeper into my heart's lock.
My face dampened with shadows.
Stung by pain,
I hid away in my gallows,
Sobbing away my troubles in vain.
Let go, my heart forbade.
Felled by depression,
A mix of emotions underwent fusion.
Then all of a sudden, everything went dead.
Awaken at a snap,
Again I lost the devil's bet.
Once again I'm sane.
Picking myself up, I walked away, smiled once again.
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Favourites

Literature
To Whom It May Concern
It is not built out of love
The foundation not laid with respect
And with all the effort and tears i've wasted
On you, there is certain regret
The emotion was not returned
And my expectance was misjudged
Used to wipe the slate clean
Under the guise that you shared my love
And that has been cast aside
In favour of a game of chase
But when you come looking for an end to boredom
Just know that you have been replaced
You wouldn't recall all that i remember
Especially the melancholy that attaches itself
To me on the last day of september
How would you know of the man i am today
I doubt you cared at all, it was convenience
Now do not feign concern as i begin to stray
In disbelief that i wasted time
Clinging to the hope
That you actually gave a shit
And so starts the downward slope
I never looked to reach the peak
Of others in your eyes
But now i'm overshadowed by strange faces
It seems our friendship was a lie
Not many to whom i can turn
You are one of many
I'll go it alone like i always hav
:iconDaveyDrayton:DaveyDrayton
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lolintromeme by ZLynn lolintromeme :iconzlynn:ZLynn 3 2 Sugar Glider by tcarter326 Sugar Glider :icontcarter326:tcarter326 15 3 A poem for the careless author by Lavi300 A poem for the careless author :iconlavi300:Lavi300 10 4 Forest Dweller by AndrewRyanArt Forest Dweller :iconandrewryanart:AndrewRyanArt 231 7 Tree by KS85 Tree :iconks85:KS85 5 0 The Mother by Susansky The Mother :iconsusansky:Susansky 19 2 Smile by Pocketuti Smile :iconpocketuti:Pocketuti 5 9 Futuroscope 5 by wilfriedF Futuroscope 5 :iconwilfriedf:wilfriedF 793 112
Literature
Nothing Girl
Maybe I wear skinny jeans
and toe socks with flip-flops,
maybe I don't like listening to the music you like
and I'm not on the social mountaintops,
maybe I don't care about the things
that make your worlds twirl,
maybe you look at me and think:
Gee, what a nothing girl.
Maybe I like giving smiles
which seems to be a sin today,
and maybe I allow my imagination
to sometimes go crazy,
maybe you don't understand this
and that's why you cannot see,
if this make me a nothing girl,
hey, that's ok with me!
The world makes you believe
your personality mustn't be detected,
your face must be picture perfect
and wear cloths just the best, to be accepted.
Maybe I look at you
and feel sorry that you're blind,
robots you have became,
yourself you'll never find.
God made you, as well as me,
this means I am something,
the world is a liar
and if I must be a nothing
for you to see it,
then so be it!
:iconBrittani1313:Brittani1313
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Twisted by OL27 Twisted :iconol27:OL27 3 0
Literature
Some Poems Don't Have Titles
Some songs don't have any words
they fly around so listless with the birds.
And some songs don't know how to stop
they tag along for the while before we drop.
But you can't ever maim them
for no one knows how.
You can't restrain what
comes out of your heart.
For we bleed melodies
right from the start.
Some paintings leak with color
they cry out too proud to stutter.
And some paintings remain bleak
but that sure don't mean they're weak.
You can't ever stain them
for no one knows how.
You can't restrain what
comes out of your heart.
For we bleed colors
right from the start.
Some people wear their feelings on their sleeves
let their emotions play to the breeze.
And some people shell up inside
they wait in silence for a change in tide.
But you can't ever change them
for no one knows how.
You can't restrain what
comes out of your heart.
For we are who we are
right from the start.
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Preview by HuggleMistress Preview :iconhugglemistress:HuggleMistress 2 1 Stairs by NuCore Stairs :iconnucore:NuCore 1 0
Literature
Greek Mythology
Clouds wait, heavy with rain,
for the reconciliation of sisters strayed too far from home.
Old unforgivable hurts, made unforgettable by blood and time,
are weighed in the balance...
Are we found wanting?
Oh, to cross the river of Acheron and reach Elysium!
The burden of generations borne on boats too small to hold the weight,
two oarsmen blindly fighting for control...
Each futile stroke merely moves the circle.
Clouds open in desperation -
sisters, come home.
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Activity


deviantID

SoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY
I Can Haz Nom?
Artist
Malaysia
Current Residence: Kuala Lumpur
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Medium?
Favourite genre of music: Everything? Almost everything.
Favourite style of art: Abstract, Stencil
MP3 player of choice: My Phone
Skin of choice: My Own
Favourite cartoon character: Spongebob perhaps?
Personal Quote: I fall between the lines of fantasy and reality
Interests
Guys, I'm so sorry about the total lack of activity here.
Haven't been inspired to write in a while.
Plus, it's kinda stressing since I usually put myself in a dark place to write.

I'm in Vietnam now visiting family.. and I'm so bored.
I miss junk food and being away from my brother *sigh*
And I miss having the freedom to go out with friends.
I'm so lonely ;___;
*rant rant rant*

But it does give me a place to focus on the smaller things like finishing off the games
I've bought and received on Steam.
And I've the focus to write too.
So I guess it's okay...

But...

I WANT MCDONALDS T____T

Ah well..guess I'll just have to wait till I get back in August.

Signing out!
  • Listening to: Ron Pope - Fireflies
  • Playing: Super Meat Boy
  • Eating: Vegetables
  • Drinking: Tea

Comments


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:iconriegella:
Riegella Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday! =D
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:iconlavi300:
Lavi300 Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2011  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thanks for the fave!
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:iconpocketuti:
Pocketuti Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2011
thank you for the fav! :aww:
Reply
:iconsoaringxund3rxm3mory:
Welcome! I love your realistic artworks :D
Reply
:iconpocketuti:
Pocketuti Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2011
:hug:
Reply
:iconxoitibakame:
Xoitibakame Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the fave!
Reply
:iconsoaringxund3rxm3mory:
Welcome! Nice work there ^^
Reply
:iconaudrinnadehumanized:
AudrinnaDehumanized Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2010
Thanks for the fav. :) You live in M'sia?
Reply
:iconsoaringxund3rxm3mory:
Yup. Sorry for the very LATE reply. Obviously I've not been logged in lol.
Reply
:iconsoaringxund3rxm3mory:
SoaRiNGxUnD3rxM3moRY Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2010
Yup. And you, Singapore huh.
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