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Lying through a SmileScreaming inside, outside silent;
tears drip beside blood
down my back as leather
bites a little deeper into skin.
Naked outside, dressed by strength;
Vulnerable to rage, hate, lust
crying for forgiveness
sought, not given.
Tortoiseshell bruising, red strips;
sobs alone in an abandoned bed;
soul housed in an empty body;
abuse wrapped in love.
Excuses lined with truth,
marks beneath bright patterns
blinding everyone to the bonds
lying through a smile.
Desert ChildDesert Child
I was a girl
born of harsh sands, spiny yucca
once of porcelain, then of gold
sunshine blazes which kissed my skin.
My body learned from the cougar,
smooth and supple on the surface but
wrought with hardened muscle, iron
tested against the red mountain faces.
My anger learned from the rattlers
patience is wound in loops, forming
strong skin against trivial insults but
providing vicious revenge on attack.
My spirit learned from nature
to offer up its fruits to the weary,
cooling nerves like the setting sun’s
evening hours calm the crying coyote.
I, a soul of fire,
bathed in the treasured rare river,
sang joyfully with wolves to the stars
And danced amongst troubling sandstorms
Until I lay down amongst the mesas,
shed my scorpion barb, blossomed
like the prickly pear’s bright flower
then let my soul follow the hawk
to depart the earth for the skies.
I am a Martial ArtistI am a martial artist.
My journey began walking through years on pain. Pain from words, blows, betrayal, doubt. The pain which colored me in darkness until I believed the lies. I walked alone, eyes down believing I was weak, ugly, fat, stupid, unworthy of love, unworthy of life. There was so much anger inside of me, but no where for it to go. Like a whipped dog, I knew baring my teeth would only make things worse. Eventually, I believed I deserved what was given to me. No talent or praise I had could change my mind. I was a failure. I was a disappointment.
From in the pit, I started to take small steps. A step of confidence, the belief that I could do something if I tried... generated from a week at camp. A step of strength; I tried to improve physically so that no one would hurt me again. A step of realization that I had been lied to; I was worthy of love and life. I could have friends who mattered. Every step took years. There were times I slid backwards, but one learned, the steps w
In My HandsI hold a secret dream in my heart,
Locked between my hands
like a young raven, fluttering its delicate wings
sometimes sinking in its claws to my life.
To some who are close, I crack my hands open;
Allowing them to glimpse this dark secret.
Beauty isn’t always understood
with blood; they react with joy or hatred.
Some try to make me cast it away,
Like a dangerous snake; seeing only the damage
Lurking as this secret matures into a full predator.
They say it will consume me.
Others marvel at its beauty, the silver
Lining of my smile; they see the secret like a gift
Waiting to yield more happiness each day.
They say it will complete me.
I don’t open my hands to everyone;
There are some who might try to kill my dream
And just like a child who found a rare treasure,
I am afraid they will take it, then leave me broken.
Soon enough, I will set it free; watch it spread
its wings and become real, No longer attached
to me but let loose on my life’s path in the open;
For My Sister, With LoveA soft tilt of the lips as the clock
tips forward another hour
past the threshold of the day.
A flooding of viridian eyes
As they glance at photos long forgotten
Of laughing girls and ornaments.
A hum of songs shared
Between two friends like secrets,
The strength they held flowing freely in the wind.
A quiet whisper of words said once
Every three hundred and sixty five days,
To ears which cannot hear her.
She traces the words lovely,
Letting them fall from her lips
like a prayer for the stars to carry between worlds
Happy Birthday Sister…
I love you and miss you
I give you all of my best
I pray you see another year with me
After all... we've made it this far
why not see what the rest
of this adventure has to offer?
What if I Told You....?I made a mistake
which cannot be undone
This mistake has made it
so I won’t be able to be with you anymore
I have hurt you in ways
I cannot explain
to save you worse pain
I have to do right by my soul,
my heart, and follow this path
to the end
Would you listen to me
yell at me
scream at me
beg me for answers
One night changed everything;
the night I met the crossroads of destiny
I wouldn’t take back
that night if I could because
I understand the choice I made
There is no going back now
I just hope you can be happy for me
Or that you can let go
Run away from me until
You can be happy again
I’m not sorry for my choices
I’m only sorry that I broke your heart
I'm sorry that I'm still breaking it
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
AliveA ray of hope shines during the
Long restless hours
I keep enduring the task of
Vanquishing the darkness with the
Energy from the depths of my soul
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
To the Boy Who Likes PoetryHe was a maze of metaphors
but she didn't mind
getting lost in him
olivearmies march in time,
shouting and stamping
into Vietnam swamps
with booming voices
and dirty boots.
a soldier can't keep up,
falls to the side in tall jungle grass
and vomits out his homesickness
into the damp shrubs.
while the American girl
giggles and taps her nails
on the grimy paint of the bar,
chewing the toothpick
of her martini.
outsides, leaves curl into mulch,
and summer shrivels
like a rotting pea pod.
What Shall I Be?It is a blank canvas,
Just waiting for the artist's hand.
It is an empty book,
Waiting for the author's inspiration.
Like a soft ball of clay,
My mind is waiting for shaping.
You can turn me into a doll,
Or I could become something almost real.
With a little bit of luck and work,
My body might metamorphasize;
I might become something better than before.
But for the moment,
It is as white as the fresh fallen snow,
Waiting for the master's hand.
What will you make me?
What shall I be?
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More