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The Phoenician Sailor's TestimonyI was thirteen when I touched the water first
Barely having reached the age of reason,
But filled with this unquenchable thirst –
The denial of which would be self-treason.
A thirst had I, O Lord my God, parched
By the budding truth that I would die –
Would die, and in some ways wanted to.
Wanted to die, yes, but not for you;
I wanted to die for the sake of my arched
Brows, knit with my own confused cry
Of Kyrie, Kyrie, for I do not believe –
I want to want – but I want to leave.
The sanctuary walls kept the danger within
So I sat in the lobby where I was free of sin.
And even at that age I was applauded for this –
Freedom from God is a freedom from stress –
The stress of sin that taints our brief bliss
While a perfect Other Being warns: Unless, Unless.
Unless you behave and deny all you are,
Unless you die to your old, former self,
Unless you find yourself broken on a rock
Unless you bend the knee and wish on that star
Unless you give it all
Als ein Schatten an der Wand
Sich mit Ruß und Träumen paarte -
Über schwacher Glut verharrte
Von ‚Vielleicht‘ zum ‚Ist‘ gespannt -
Schälte sich aus dieser Szene
Eine schlangendünne Sehne.
Jene Sehne zog Verstand,
Aus den halb versäumten Träumen -
Aus den alten, kalten Räumen
In der sie sich wiederfand,
Zog es sie hinaus ins weite,
Wo es weiße Wunder schneite.
Kaum berührte sie das Weiß,
Spürte sie mit einem Male,
Kälte bricht die zarte Schale
Ihrer Haut wie dünnes Eis.
Durch die eisig wunde Blöße,
Wuchs sie zur zehnfachen Größe.
Nur im Innern blieb sie klein,
Und sie suchte wachsend Wärme
Länder ohne Flockenschwärme,
Oder einen heißen Stein
Auf den sie sich schlängeln könnte…
Der ihr eine Zuflucht gönnte.
Als es Nacht geworden war,
Sah sie über tausend Sonnen,
Die der Schuppenschmied gesponnen
404I tend to work under a layer
Of symbolism and metaphor
Which might seem esoteric –
Unreachable to the uninitiated.
If this is the case with you, talk to me
For a minute – or maybe more –
And you’ll find that the arcane references
Are but a fragile mask
Hiding a void –
Signifying nothing –
Except for the one I thought might see –
Might have me pegged without having to ask
With this one I thought there was a prayer
To get out from under this shell
Of sideways glances and glancing blows
Beyond to something more that might tell
Something about myself and the way I am.
With her it was always simple things –
Nothing grand and nothing great –
But something real nonetheless.
With him it was always bless and be blessed
Seeking nothing but the will of fate
To lead his life down a path of purest offerings.
With me it was always a matter of that which is seen
And that which is not, but is like the backdrop of a dream –
Felt, but not real
Remarks on October Festivities‘Twas the day before Halloween, when all through the school,
Not a student was present, not a seat was full.
The pumpkins and skeletons were taped to the walls with care
In preparation for the children that would soon be there.
The buses pulled up and the parking spots filled.
Students in costume straggled through the autumn chill.
And Sister with her pumpkin spice coffee, and I with my scarf
Had just stepped out of our car to see a classmate’s hair looking like candy corn barf.
I looked at my sister and she looked at me,
Her eyes gleaming with a festive glee.
“It’s the transfer student,” was all she could master.
I nodded. “Yes, his hair’s a disaster.”
The orange dye bled into the yellow—
Well, blonde—it didn’t look right on such a pale fellow.
And what with my wandering eyes did I see,
But the transfer student coming towards me.
He grinned and waved, dressed mostly in black,
While I took a surreptitious step back.
That Night Two Years AgoHe shut the door without a final glance.
Her tears flooded the ocean, releasing
The misery with the “status quo” trance.
Their hearts both felt a tight, painful squeezing.
The moon, full and bright, halted its orbit.
He sat alone, hidden inside the dark
Shell he calls home, and stared at her portrait,
Drawn on their night at some amusement park.
He wished to live again the memories
They shared together, when time flew away
And commitment was handled with such ease.
He understood his life was hers every day
And wondered how she’d cope with emptiness.
No matter, she’s now found true happiness.
The Tale of Mr. Dark's FateOnce, a feared enemy of Rayman
And now a forgotten foe of the Past
So now the question does stand
Where did he go after defeat
Where to hide in a world so vast?
With a name such as 'Dark'
What did you really expect?
He was known for leaving his mark
Not showing remorse or paying his debts
Where to find solitude, safety at last
From the hero he had run from so fast
Time went on, and one being interfered
Though not without humor, Dark's wish they adhered
Now this rouge of the shadows had a new home
Not one of sweets but one from which he needn't roam
His company, though not silent, was loyal and not quite so cold
Though now he had lost his cloak and mysterious guise
He still had his defiant, brilliantly yellow eyes
Here in the darkness, a villain starts a new, peaceful life
For many years, there was happiness
That is, until a certain hero came again to fight
And was met once again with a mirrored face
Where once had been Mr. Dark
The form, at least, of Dark Rayman had taken his place
ParisklageUnd hinter ihm die Trümmerstadt,
Ist er es, der sie verwüstet hat?
Er rennt nicht, geht ganz ruhig daher,
Trümmerstadt, du sahst ihn nimmer mehr.
Sein Schatten fällt auf See hinab,
Fort treibt's ihn von der Trümmerstadt,
Oh sag mir, Meer, oh sag mir Strom,
Hast du ihn gesehen, den Königssohn?
Den Göttern gleich sein Antlitz war,
Gemüt, wie Feuer, doch ehrlich war,
Nie trat er falsch, nie bracht' er leid,
Was geschah mit ihm, dass ihn verleit'?
Oh, Trümmerstadt, du weißt es nicht,
Niemand kann es dir je sagen, denn
Der Königssohn verschwand von Land,
Und auch im Meer, ich ihn nie fand.
What having a job is like.I saw a man in baby-pink shorts today
Then there was this tall guy with a fetching smile
Everyone can go to hell
Spritely DaysForest, copse, jungle, woodland; how ardent--
Wherefore go mine spritely days? Gilt frames patina's swathe,
--lianas, fungus, moss drops soar, templed skin no more; verdant.
capturing the past, a bare dream, heart shadowing bad faith.
Royalty, they cry; flowers wreathe a forest fae,
Filth, they curse; street lamps light stolen opportune,
Dress of May, dance away, hair spun hay.
Suit of grey, light your way, ash stained misfortune.
Run! Run from Her glacial wrath.
Once gone by, the moment's past.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More