|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The Places You Found LoveEveryone, but you especially as a woman, is biologically programmed to find babies cute. It's an evolutionary imperative, because the rational thing to do when you've got a screaming, shitting dependant taking up your food, is to kill it, and we need something to stop us doing that. It's also why people are generally attracted to big eyes and smooth skin - because they're characteristics of children.
And I'm not saying this to detract from the beauty of parenthood, or to make you sad, I'm saying it to point out that this fact doesn't make a baby's laugh any less wonderful. And I don't think the source of anything can make it less so.
This is why I can point out that any form of love isn't God or fate or destiny, it's that if two people have a strong emotional attachment, their children are more likely to survive.
Atomic bombs are beautiful.
So I will say that the me I am now, will and always has been feeling what I feel, but that sentence doesn't even make sense until we consider that
The Reasons We DieWhat I meant to say was that sometimes I just stare at the cigarette in my hands and beg for it to stop messing around and just kill me already.
But I figured you don't want to hear that.
The Shifting Nature of RealityYou asked me, "In these dreams, what does it look like?" I told you it looks different every time. Sometimes it's like a million feathers falling, sometimes it's like snow, sometimes it's like little stones, sometimes like ash, sometimes like a fine sand blowing across the hills. It's always silent. It falls around me but it never touches me. It never sticks. I told you sometimes I see dim figures walking in the distance through all the falling white. I told you I wish one would turn around and come to me. I wish one had your face. I wish the pink of your cheeks and blue of your eyes would appear to me unveiled from out of the drift. But the sad small figures don't turn around. They walk on, shoulders low, and disappear. I just watch them. You said, "I'm here now," and touched my hand. "I'm here now."
The Time Gone ByTick tock. All day. Every day is tick tocking by. There is no clock in your office that ticks or tocks, but you can hear the tick tock in your head. Tick. That's another second of your life gone, you think. Tock. That's one more second waiting for the man to tell you what to do. Tick. I'm a thinker, you think. Tock. Time to be a doer. Tick. You walk into your boss' office. Tock. I quit.
The clock stops.
The NuancePlay it one more time please, I need to hear it again. I need to make sure that its the only sound in my head. Play it again for me, I want to hear it once more. I want to make sure the only sound is correct. I don't want to hear that stare again. I don't want to see those words. I'll play the part again, I need to play it again. I need to make sure that every note is right. Give me a second to rehearse that part once more, I haven't been playing it right this entire time. I know it might sound right to you, but it doesn't sound right to me. I can't hear those words anymore. I never want to see that stare again. I have to keep playing. I never want to hear that again.
The Silence Goes On For YearsIn case of emergency, break glass. Throw plates. Cave to the insecurities you've harbored all along. Scream. Curse. Panic. Accuse her of never loving you, even though you know she did and still does. Tell her you never loved her. Tell yourself. Feel the world crumbling around you. Rip the rest of it down. Ignore her pleas. Her tears. Your regrets. Watch yourself leave, unable to stop your own feet. Slam the door. Keep walking. Realize, too late, that you didn't mean it.
The Art of Finding FlawsMaybe that's all it means, to grow up; to watch your heroes become human, right before your eyes.
the Millennia LaterDesolation has its own stark beauty. It's in the limbs of dead trees twisting up, pleading at the grey sky. It's in the air, cold with a faint hint of smoke and the barest breeze that stirs up the dust at your feet. The white-grey ash falls like snowflakes, dusting your hair, your coat, your mask. You catch one of the flakes and it crumbles between your gloved fingers. The ground is packed as hard as concrete under your boots as you turn your back on this cold, still world. You look up; the moon is barely visible. You will carry that memory with you as you go back underground. Mankind no longer has use for the stars.
A Letter to the WorldDearest friends... For a long time I have been wanting to speak my mind on something that has been bothering me... Until now, I have not had the words to express myself, and I have not known what to do to make it known... but recently I have come to realize that if I say nothing.... it is worse than saying the wrong things... I have always believed that the world is filled with good people... people who are kind, compassionate, cheerful, and honest. People who balance out the bad in the world, simply by being who they are. The angels in the world. Being good in their hearts so that they shine like a light in the darkness. Leading by example, and sharing their love with those around them to help make the world a better place. I still believe this. However, I have seen people who I have known..... I see people who I know to be kind, gentle souls slowly losing that love...
And it breaks my heart. Smiles grow dull, laughter starts to come not from that place in our hearts that feels joy bu
GayOne thing you can notice everywhere on the web, is the abuse of the different variations to describe a homosexual.
Go onto the YouTube comment section for any big hit video, and you will see “gay” dropped every other comment or so.
Just now, I read a rather long comment argument where a rather cruel individual referred to every homosexual out there as “mentally sick”
And of course the YouTube section responded with rage.
Black people have come a long way since the days of slavery.
The Homosexual community has come a long way since the religious days.
But the discrimination of either of these two examples will never stop, because we are still talking about it.
Did you ever see Morgan Freeman on “60 Minutes”?
He didn’t want a “Black history month” program running, he said that the only way to stop racism was for everyone to stop talking about it.
I fully agree to that, and yes, I realize it may appear a bit hypocritical to sit here an
Star-filled SkiesCool breeze,
brushing through the trees
For the chill of it all?
The silence and the darkness?
What darkness, he asks.
Met with confused looks,
yet he just gazes up.
The stars, you see,
they over shine the darkness,
which is why we see them.
And the best thing is that
no matter who you are
how old you are
what you do in life
what you believe in
who you love
who you don't
you always see the stars and the moon
given a bit of time and luck of weather.
So while others wait for the sun every day
I simply wish for the stars every night.
They Say - Don't be a heroThey say that being a hero is somewhat stupid,
that bravery enacted by those who are not empowered allow them to suffer futility in their actions and bring about a greater loss than if they had kept to themselves.
“Don’t be a hero.” They say, in order to keep people’s greater instincts suppressed
and cause those to think rather than to act.
But what the Hero themselves don’t always know is that
they have the power to succeed,
that their actions can bring about a greater future,
and that with their willpower and creative thinking,
any evil doesn't have a chance.
Being a hero isn't about thinking, it is about sacrifice.
The FactoryThe factory opens to its workers.
When the clock ticks, the gears spin.
Once the demand for the day is set, the smiths work.
One hand to focus, the other holding the hammer.
When the metal flows, the hammer strikes.
One after another, creations of man pour from the factory to the people.
The people enjoy their creations, giving them praise for such wondrous devices.
The leader comes to close.
The gears come to a grinding halt.
A successful day of production.
The clock halts and awaits the dawn of a new day.
Peter Pan SyndromeSometimes they don't understand the little rituals they see the adults subject themselves to, but perchance, they think, maybe they don't subject, but are subject to. Perhaps the adults find themselves understanding each other when they do these little things. But maybe they only want to find out which of them is the better adult, which has more standing, more reputation.
They are reminded of the social constructs of the wolves and the lions, both predators, and prey to each other.
These adult things they do, so unspecific, so nondescript, so small and inconsequential, they blow over their heads like steam trains and leave them feeling crooked at their feet.
Adulthood is a gamble, they realize. To be destroyed, piece by piece, side by side, little by little by their own doings, and these little things they notice. For while they are children they do notice, and they can.
Sometimes the rituals are baffling to their little heads and the look upon them and wonder with bright eyes and shin
Keep in Touch!
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