|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Lore Rewrite. Jade Kingdom Rewrite [Incomplete]500 years ago, the Drake and Jade kingdoms lived in harmony. The world was one of peace and prosperity, as both kingdoms co-existed within the bounds of their treaties, though not all was as well as things seemed. Nestled within the drake kingdom a small political movement led by a man known as Shad El'Tiar, he was a man of very little power and wealth, but his ideas of expansion and dominance for all in the Drake kingdom drove him to cease power.
Once in power Shad El'Tiar restructured the political and social structures set within the Drake Kingdom, he consolidated his power to the point his reign was never to end and with the people of the Drake kingdom under his absolute power he set out to destroy the Jade Kingdom.
His first move was to create a weapon of unimaginable power; a weapon that would be capable of decimating any who chose to challenge it. He sent out expedition parties to search for materials necessary, most of which came back unsuccessful or did not come back at all.
A Widow's GuiltFADE IN:
INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - INTERVIEW ROOM - EVENING
The room is dark and dusty. There is a small light coming down from the ceiling, it is broken and flickering. In the centre of the room there is a table, on that table lies evidence in relation to the trial. The scene opens with a shot of Det. PAUL REVESBY, 24, medium height and an outgoing detective fresh out of the academy, standing in one corner whilst KATE GALLAGHER, 27, Small, Brunette girl, and prime suspect in the murder of STEPHEN GALLAGHER, sits handcuffed to the chair.
DET. PAUL REVESBY
(Turns around and sits)
Look... We have DNA evidence linking you to the crime. You had the motive. You've even said that he use to beat you.
Just because my husband beat me, didn't mean I killed him.
DET. PAUL REVESBY
That maybe true Kate, but your epithelials were found all over the murder weapon.
Paul hands the report to Kate. There is a knock at the door. Det. Revesby opens the door.
DET. PAUL REVESBY (CONT'D)
Kate your lawyer
Dead Boy's PoemSo much to die for, Not enough to live for.
A letter of goodbye to no one.
If I had a place, I could call my own
A place to escape from the disdainful people that rule my life,
Then maybe thing would be different.
There became a point where being wanted,
Was a thrill I never knew
So here it is,
My goodbye to all of you.
I wish I didn't feel for you anymore,
I wish it would go away,
But the grip you had upon my heart,
Was taken from me today.
If for once you didn't hurt me
And put me through that pain,
Then maybe, just maybe,
I would have made a gain.
And to those of you I called my friends,
You were all so horrible.
You never really cared,
You just pretended to.
So I hope that you will all see,
That my blood is on your hands,
For the years that you all abused me,
For the years that you put me through hell,
The torture of you words,
The scars you all caused.
So read these words,
As they bury me below
6 feet under,
In a grave marked unknown.
Divine Reckoning - Chapter 1"They say that when the powers of good and evil collide, nothing is left afterwards, not even existence, but I've seen good and evil collide and all that was left was purgatory."
Kayle shot up from her bed. The sheets were covered in sweat. She stood up, collapsed to the ground and tried to regain her strength. She stood up again, this time supporting herself against the wall. She slowly walked across to the window, trying not to collapse. She was very weak, the dreams she had been having lately felt quite real.
Trying to regain her energy, Kayle peered out the window of her high rise apartment which overlooked Eden's central district. It's a beautiful day, Kayle thought to herself as her strength started to return to her. Her head was aching, this dream felt as if it was reality. Each night the dreams seemed to becoming even more real.
She slowly made her way into the bathroom, turned on the tap and splashed some water on her face. She stopped and looked at herself in the mirror, she
That FeelingYou dont know it
untill you've been there,
You havent been there
unless you've tried.
Sure it maybe dangerous,
but don't run and hide
Let the feeling flow,
then and only then,
you will begin to know.
Because you would
have been there,
because you would
You would have
conqured that fear,
You did not run and hide.
Once it is over,
You'll want it all again,
that lovely feeling flowing,
through your body and soul again.
And it is only then,
you will truly understand,
that lovely tingly feeling,
the one thats oh so grand.
Break AwayBreak away from this reality,
Break away from the world around.
Slip that pill onto your tongue,
and begin to drown it down.
Break away from this reality,
Break away from the world around.
Let your head start spinning,
Let the feeling take control.
Break away from this reality,
Break away from the world around.
Let that numb feeling take its hold
Let that pain all slip away
Break away from the shackles
The shackles that bind your mind.
Let the drugs free you soul,
The ecstasy take control.
AddictionI need to escape this reality...
Enter a drug fueled fantasy.
The heart starts beating,
The pupils dilate.
My mind stars spinning,
The reality is slipping.
The euphoria is hitting,
I can feel it
Flowing through my veins,
Taking away all those pains.
The numb feeling
The body tingling
Its so amazing
This MDMA craze.
AbandonedLeft alone by you all,
Sadness instilled inside.
slower and slower...
These feelings of isolation...
Growing and Growing...
Abandoned I am...
Left out to die,
Left alone to wither,
Left alone to cry.
WordsTo Some Words are:
Just written on paper
Just blotches of ink
But In truth,
Words are more then just that.
They are the creators of life,
the paint on the canvas,
the blood, sweat and tears,
The emotions that we forge within our hearts.
They are tools we use
Without words, there is no story,
No tales, no adventure...
Without words, we are nothing...
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
HangingTighten the noose,
because its so very loose.
Around my neck it goes,
and no one ever knows...
Let the noose control me,
bestow me with a death,
oh so ever painless,
kick the chair from below me.
Oxygen is lacking...
on the journey to the after life...
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
Keep in Touch!
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