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Chapter One: Abdication (or, the chapter in which an old man decides to retire and hands his campaign off to his reluctant son)
Below lay the blue ocean and above spread the clear sky; the horizon was lightest of blue lines far out in the distance. But it was getting closer as the sky and sea passed rapidly by. Even in this paradoxal wonder there was perfection, only marred by a single black speck very close to the horizon. Larger and larger the spot grew until it was recognizable as an island. Blackened shores of old lava flows revealed the nature of the island's formation. If that was not enough of a clue, though, a large, solitary mountain with a caldera like opening where the tip of the mount should have been. Actually, the entire island could be considered part of this monstrosity's slopes.
Rich, black volcanic ash covered the place, all the way up to the peak of the central cone formation. If what was sa
Reflection of a Shooting StarFrosty night air with sky so clear
the Stars look like new.
Bright and twinkling they shine,
surreal luminescence all that keeps
the soft, white world
from drifting into utter Despair.
Their glow dances upon the frozen fabric,
twisting the threads and weave.
Then, as if to stave off the night,
a star shoots forth from the heavens,
Falling to earth in splendor magnified,
and Why? And down in the lake, the sudden
star-burst of four kittens under a lid of ice,
heading to the four corners of nowhere.
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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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