|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
I held tightly onto the large man's shirt sleeve as we waited for the bus. Between him and my cane, my legs still had trouble keeping me up. It was around noon and I was getting more and more anxious, which didn't help my legs hold me up any.
"Do you need any protein, Eamon?" Kofi asked me.
I clutched harder on his shirt-sleeve, losing balance for a second, "N-no, I'm g-good. Just a little n-nervous."
Kofi was a good man. My father told me he came to America from Kenya, but I always assumed he was from Jamaica because of his accent. When he pronounces my name, it sounds like he's saying "hey mon" rather than Eamon. Kofi has been my aid for about three years now. Since he is close friends with my father, he accepts little pay and only asks for food and shelter otherwise. He has become my best and only friend in the time he's been my assistant.
I heard the bus coming from down the block, but it still made me jolt when it stopped in front of us, letting out a loud squeak as it opened the
It was obvious at first. For weeks people became more and more superstitious at each passing sign. The first week a white owl landed on the Hero's Statue in the center of the small village every day at noon and stayed for an hour before taking off. Many villagers ignored this for the most part, but the elders of the town became nervous at its constant appearance. The villagers were given Sunday to rest before the next omen came.
On the second week, when the clock struck midnight every night, a piercing howl awoke every villager from their slumber. The howl lasted only a minute and stopped suddenly. After the third day a pack of hunters was gathered and sent out to kill the wolf so the village could return to their sleep. They returned empty handed, but they went every day to try to find the nuisance. They were then given peace again on Sunday. So began the new week.
On the third week, a cypress tree appeared in the backyard of Town Hall. The elders pleaded for it to be cut down immedia
Let Old Grandpa tell you a story, young lad and lassie. A story of many mysteries and many horrors. A true story of a young man who did not listen to his mother and her wise words. Let me call this young man Red. Off of the hood he wore, of course! Back in the Nineteen Nineties a young man was asked by his mother to bring medicine and spare food to his sick and frail grandmother who lived in the woods. He set out with joy to be able to help his grandmother, whom he loved so very dearly. He was to stay on the path, that was his only rule, for there were wolves and bears and wild cats in the woods that could kill him in seconds! Not only that, but there were rumors around that the woods were haunted, and the spirits of these woods would torment any who wander on their grounds. This frightened Red a bit, but he swallowed his fear and started his journey down the beaten path
Red walked out of his apartment with his favorite tape playing in his ears, his favorite red hoodie over
The drive to the camp grounds was a long one. Two hours if traffic was good. I stare out the window as my headphones blast All That Remains in my ear. Something jabs me sharply on the shoulder. I paused my music and look at the person behind me who then points at the driver.
"First time camping, son?" The driver, our Troop leader asks.
"Yeah, Mum says it'd be good for me," I reply.
"Well, no MP3 players out there," He teased.
I smiled, "Yeah, yeah."
He chuckled and didn't reply again, so I started my music back up. "For you never shut your eye/ 'til the sun is in the sky "
What the fuck? I looked at the screen, which said "All That Remains Keepers of Fellow Man 2:33/3:11". I pressed play again and ATR blasted in my ears. God damn malfunction must have been from a song I never listen to
"Okay," Scout Leader said, "All set up."
Our group consisted of two adults and ten boys. The leader and his helper assigned us in groups of twos. I got an experienced Scout named
Goodbye, Old Friend
Going home, excited about a new puppy
So small and adorable, the runt of the litter
"Let's name him Butch!" Mother suggested
And that you became.
The adorable moments when raising you
Aside from the annoyance of cleaning
"He's going to be my buddy!"
And that you were
I am thankful
For those moments of sadness
When you would walk up and cuddle
"Thank you, Butchie"
And you stayed with me
Coming downstairs in the morning
You would wag your tail in excitement
"Good morning, Butcher"
And it was heartwarming
Being around you less and less
Especially when you needed me most
"Do you miss Zech, buddy?"
And you did
For the first time in many years
When you stumbled inside and collapsed
"It's okay, Butchie, we're trying"
And you hung on
When the veterinarian told us the news
That you may never walk again
"The surgery is too much" mother said
But we did it all for you
When you came home from
TruthLogic is seeing
Pain is teaching
Blindness is strength
Balance seeks itself
My soul is sooted
you can runfather, father, will no one see us,
will the sun shield us with her bedouin cloth,
years from now will i be ashamed of what i had or
when i was whimpering in the open under dust-
soaked banners of the sun
father, father, mouth to your ear,
my sand-golem, have you ever been, if yes,
have you ever been here,
will we tumble down the crater, father,
will we let them pass,
who would be searching for us
between the frigid lips of the desert,
who would send hounds after us
except they're running,
who would leave tracks of dried saliva,
tumbleweed tongues, father,
are they far away and are we cowards
and if we are,
father father, will no one see us,
will my wish be granted,
will i be cocooned in sandstorm daggers
to be blinded, ten
years from now when i crawl out of the crat
True Strength LiesHeroes are strong beyond physical belief
With the bulking muscles to intelligence
With super powers to physical perfection
The image everyone wants to be
Heroes are stronger than any man
They are gods in the flesh
They can crush temples and fight monsters with their bare hands
They are only myths, but they are images
Be as strong as the almighty Hercules
You have the strength within to control everything
Destiny works against you and for you
All that matters is strength
Images, that's all they are
Hopes in having that body of Hercules
The tiny man getting picked on to becoming a strong man
Strength in the form of an image, but not a inward image
Samson, oh Samson
Just as bold and mighty as Hercules
The last judge who flirted with danger
He was stronger than any man, but he was really weak
A Nazarite who couldn't say no to all things that were bad
Flirted with danger with his physical being
But then was crushed by Delilah for a payment of 1,000 pieces of silver
Given into the hands of a
Lydia: The WallI used to live behind a wall,
a barrier separating me
from Those Out There,
and them from me,
tall and wide,
Some bricks were laid
some by religion
some laid by others,
some by myself,
and so the wall grew.
Some bricks were pretty,
others I hated,
some made me feel safe,
Some I wished I could break away -
others I never wanted to,
and so the wall stood,
my friend and my foe,
from Those Out There,
and them from me.
There it stood,
Gentile and Jew,
woman and man,
Greek and foreigner,
slave and free,
rich and poor -
my neighbour and me,
I felt safe
because of the Wall -
you broke it down.
Down it fell
as men took women seriously -
this woman -
Down it fell
as Jews entered a Gentile home -
my home -
Down it fell
as you gave me
a new life,
a new perspective.
Let me live
a life without walls
in your House without locks
where all may come in.
Let me invit
On FractalsI encode the commands
that instruct the machine:
and plot points softly.
Art predating earthly creation
hides within the nature of numbers.
Here, there is a sun;
there, a solar system;
yonder, an arabesque.
Beauty, from before
the light that was to be,
now awaits without fear
whatever end may one day come.
Discovered, as they were,
barely more than a lifetime ago,
these wonders, to us, are strung
between the infinities of time,
on sheets of pure mathematics
glimmering with the fingerprints
I ask for Your strength
And Your energy, Lord
For my dearest friend and me
Send Your Holy Spirit
To guide our footsteps
Provide what You know we need
For Your promise
Will not give us more than we can bear
Like the PhoenixLike the Phoenix
Like the Phoenix we raise
from the ashes of devastation
We raise rebirthed
to spread our wings and fly
like the phoenix
MusicButterflies in you stomach
Freedom tickling your ribs
Heart pounding faster and faster
Adrenaline pumping flight
Breath is forgotten
Wind caressing your cheeks
Sunshine baptizing you
Warmth spreading from your chest to your fingers and toes
Stars twinkling for you
The heavens congratulate you
Tranquility and peace
Challenge accepted and completed
D-... Do you see me?
It's just an empty street...
C-... Can you hear me?
There's nobody here...
B-... But I'm right here!
Just keep your mind on the road...
N-... No... NO..NO NO NO!
It's all in your head...
P-... PLEASE! HELP ME!
It's all in your head...
Y-... You have to, PLEASE!
It's all in your head
NO! WHY CAN NOBODY HELP ME???
It's all in your head...
P-... Please sir, not many come here when I'm strong enough to stand..
It's just an empty road...
It's just an empty graveyard....
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
Keep in Touch!