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Life is precious.
And that's the catch.
The ones we know and love dispatch.
Never more with us in form.
As living mortals,
In body and dorm.
And oh it hurts as they adieu,
Their final curtain call.
Which can't undo.
But as the grief fades away,
Tears of sadness stop to fall.
And in our hearts we feel them stay,
For this isn't their death today.
It's the mere end of the carbon existence.
For the human soul is immortal forever.
And this is their happiness.
That which makes us smile.
And a start to continue it
With our own endeavour.
Get ready Rover P6,
It's time again,
We're heading out.
Firing up off gone again.
Travelling here over and out.
Across the country,
Down the lanes,
Driving down the motorway,
Heads turn as they see your paintwork.
It's a passion.
It's a life.
The polish and the spanners.
The engine roar,
Travelled to many places,
Seen many things,
So many people in the world we live,
The miles on the clock,
Good memories just like the car.
Living 1960s like it's new,
Driving Force to the rescue.
Grab the crew,
The flasks and the pass.
It's gonna be a show that will last.
Head to the show grounds,
Display the car.
From the West Midlands
And this year is the fifty years mark.
Celebrate the birthday by driving proud.
P6 drivers have a shout.
Award winning car.
Doesn't matter if it's scratched up,
Or showroom class.
Take it on this year,
It's been a long long road.
But the P6 is still driving proud.
British Bulldog heading to the next,
Here's to the big five-
Because it's a funny idea.
Not one thought of nor feared.
Because you've never felt the need before.
So to amuse,
Ask you friends this,
As you write in the box,
Leave a comment that says ideas.
Looking for some ideas
To base some poetry on.
Seemed like a good idea at the time.
Thunderbirds Are Go!
It's Christmas time in '92.
The year has been a one good.
Nigel Mansell is World Champion,
And Euro Disney opens forever.
But that's not what gets you excited,
As you tear off the wrapping paper.
It's the goodies you've just uncovered...
In livery of International Rescue.
Those heroes you see on TV.
Those puppets of great intentions.
So human like,
You forget the strings attached.
And of course their incredible machines.
A quick few seconds and out of the pack,
In your hand Thunderbirds Are Go!
TB1 and TB2, TB 3 and TB4.
FAB1 rolling onto the scene!
TB1 in the skies supreme.
Thunderbird 2 is to the rescue.
It's a submarine in trouble!
Quick! Launch Thunderbird 4!
Oh, Darth Vader
I see your pain,
It flickers through you.
Like candles flames.
I know it burns you.
Your open heart.
That's closed up cold now.
You shared your life,
And now it's over.
Oh, Darth Vader.
Will you still save her?
Save yourselves from a disgrace.
The pain won't stop.
It only continues.
Like tides on a beach,
There's no escape.
No hidden exit.
You'll have to find peace.
In your casket.
Oh, Darth Vader.
Do you tears fall still?
Do they still burn?
Give me time and I'll go away to work it out.
I've spent ages in the loop,
Now suddenly the circle's gone.
And I begin to walk.
I get up once more.
I can't do it more no more.
You tell me I'll be fine,
That every once in a while,
Everybody has to fall,
Only to get up again.
So I kept walking,
Stumbling around in the dark,
Trying to pick up the pieces,
Trying to find the loop.
But it's the reason I kept falling.
And it can't be sane this way.
At some point I call out,
Asking for an answer
But it never comes.
And that's when I fall.
I hit the ground on my knees.
I say I don't know no more.
That's when it hits me,
And the path I've been walking,
Suddenly I see the evil.
I see another path lead away,
And I take it with my joy.
These are the first steps.
The first of my new world.
No more loop.
No more pain.
No more been driven insane.
They'll never say sorry.
But that doesn't bother me no more.
It's a passion and it's a pain.
It's a delight and it's menace.
A combination of ying and yang.
The simplicity and the difficulty.
Restoration is like a marriage.
And sometimes you regret it!
Like those times of changing joint bushes.
High pressure disasters just waiting to happen!
It's high risk and it's a danger.
But sometimes it does go right.
But other times it's different...
Flying bushes give you a fright!
But it's like all marriages with their ups and downs.
And when all is back on the motor.
And that engine is purring over,
It makes you feel pretty proud.
That you're also married to a Rover.
It's a little different than from before.
I'm a person so happier now.
Before now the days passed into nights,
And the tears used to fall alone.
Since you've been here,
I've got this smile within,
Even if I'm not smiling outside.
I can work late into the night,
And not feel lost & confused.
I can see love doves talking,
And walk on by still smiling.
I can go a whole day without talking to nobody,
But that's okay because you're here.
Even if you're a million miles away.
Nothing can take this.
Nothing can take you away from me.
It used to be me.
Just me alone on this beaten road.
Just shows how walking can save a world.
Can turn a blue sky into red.
Can change your whole destiny.
And as the days turn and you grow,
You're the reason I walk with a smile.
Anakin's Promise: CH12
Padmé Amidala came to her senses quickly and groggily.
She heard footsteps approaching her and she opened her eyes, instantly regretting it as the bright sun blinded her momentarily.
She hurt all over. Her skin felt sore and burnt from the white hot sand and she groaned in pain.
Someone knelt beside her.
"Are you alright?"
It was one of the Clones.
She realised he must've been thrown from the transport in addition to her.
"Uh-uh," she replied, getting up slowly and gingerly. That fall had hurt a lot but she held back a wince.
The Clone got up as she did, placing his free hand back on his weapon and steadying it.
She thought about what had happened quickly.
She remembered Anakin yelling her name...falling from the ship onto the hot sand dunes...pain...blackness.
The impact had knocked her out brilliantly. Now Anakin and Obi-Wan were who knew where on the miserable planet.
"We'd better get back to the Forward Command Centre," the Clone said.
That snapped Padmé right to her
Don't StepDon’t step to me
I may wear a frilly pink skirt, but I will TAKE YOU in a fight.
Not even because I’m angry, I could just use the exercise
In humility, so throw me your best haymaker, and I’ll take it, because I’ve never had a bone too beautiful to break it. No, throw me to the ground and I’ll memorise the sound because it’s profound that you think your pride can push ME around.
They say words are the way to make a man break. But while you’re focussed on finding a phrase to prove your ego more great, you won’t see my hands palming your hate. Making mental memos of words, mementos of the curse. Those things you think will hurt me that I’ll later ridicule in verse.
Don’t step to me, no.
In fact, you should fear me, my foe.
I fight like a COWARD.
I fight like I fear every moment of pain, like a boy whose stuffed tiger was taken away, like no eye-gouge is too cruel for someone in my way. This isn’t a weekend spar, a
The Death of a Stone-SkipperNo blood.
The place is marked by a perfection of stones,
a little pile, all smooth as cartilage,
round as a socket, bleached like his last minute.
He measures the lay of the water,
the leaf-spread of the palms,
the palm-spread of his hand,
his hand holding a circled shale splinter,
kept from a delta down-road.
and with measure,
cadence, and period, rhymes the rock
in a roll off his flesh.
It is the waterborne prayer
of the tiny temples
of his five fingertips.
The sliver skims
above shallow-water skates and rays;
its comet tail of bent-bright skylight ripples
and spooks waterbugs.
Midway, a sandbank accepts
the settling of the skipper's stone,
but before he can get a good look
and love it,
GirlsThis poem is for the girls.
For the girls whose favourite colour growing up was green,
For elementary school princesses still dreaming of being royalty
For the cheerleaders and the songwriters
The girls who loved fairy tales, who love romantic comedies,
For the girls who will not let you blame their anger or sadness on PMS
Regardless of what time of the month it is.
This is for Hillary Rodham Clinton:
Too emotional to hold the presidency in an emotionally absent democracy
For Angela Carter, letting loose her lions,
For Britney Spears, once sixteen, once Mousekateer turned Catholic School pedophile bait,
Begging in costume for sex or
This is for New York, the woman
For Rock of Love Charm School and Bridezillas
For Carrie Bradshaw
For Paris and her new BFF,
Successfully helping a gender regress
This is for the runaways
For the girls fainting down runways
For the girls who played their Barbie dolls into doctors and teachers
Made them something more
I BelieveIt's December 21st, 2012 in Montreal.
First thing in the morning,
I look outside my bedroom window and it's snowing.
WAIT – NO!
It's raining again.
It's kind of like this city's friend died,
And it can't decide if it should give the cold shoulder
Or if it should cry.
Walking down the street today is like walking across a beach during summer vacation.
Except the water is sub zero,
And every now and again you'll have white petals knocking on your head,
As if it wants to tell you something.
Our cities are changing.
Not just my home town of Montreal.
A Hurricane reached New York only 2 months ago.
A feat undefeated.
Our cities are heating. Screw whoever says global warming is a myth.
I don't need money hungry politicians telling me what to believe
So that they can continue to throw trash into the ocean
That's so GayThat's so Gay
That's so gay!
I hear every day
Do you know what you say?
That's so gay!
Has the world lost all deference?
Oh I'm sorry
I didn't know
Your test had a sexual preference
Hell yeah I'm insulted!
Hell yeah I'm mad!
When I ask you to stop
You just sit there and mock
"How is it offensive?"
One person asks
Who cares what she thinks
She's just a lesbo
Did you know
That every awkward silence
A gay baby is born?
I'd like to sew
Your mouth shut
Everytime you scorn
A so called "gay slut"
You people and your words
I hope you know
That your all little turds!
But it hurts me to know
That you think of me so
When I'm branded
It feels like I'm stranded
Everytime you say
That's so gay
When I Was Little
When I was little I did not care,
For the thousands of you struggling out there,
So here is to you,
You beautiful souls.
When I was little I did not know
In your world full of nightmares you continue to grow.
When I was little I did not see
Such trembling lips as they uttered your plea.
When I was little I could not believe
How you kept on struggling on days we didn't grieve?
When I was little how could I have known
Your contagious laughter was a sight to behold.
When I was little I would never have guessed
That with such delicate wings you have been blessed.
When I was little I could not feel
How much your weak smiles really reveal .
So tell me, my child, how do you strive
To live each day just to survive.
Your innocent strides will take you far
For in Gods eyes you are the star.
So soar to the heavens with your fragile soul
And there before the gates we will count your toll.
Because when I was little I didn't dare to dwell
That while I live in heaven you live in hell.
So here is to y
Yes I'm Bisexual But...
Yes, I'm bisexual but
I'm also a woman.
A natural brunette.
A super geek.
An honor roll student.
A caffeine addict.
A sweets lover.
A lovely size 14.
A size 7 ½ shoe.
A blue-eyed beauty.
And a human being.
Another convicted paedophile free to walk again.
Currently living by a primary school looking for some new prey to stalk again.
Masks himself as a confidant, someone that the children can call a friend.
Specialises in seducing and lulling its victims in to a false sense of security.
With an ulterior motive driven to defile and desecrate their innocence and purity.
How is this ungodly predator somehow able to evade all configurations of authority?
No one is capable of figuring out why this predator has these vile and vindictive thoughts.
No one can possibly understand how much torture and suffering his actions have brought.
To every family and carer that nurtured, loved, raised and taught
Their young to avoid and not to communicate with strangers.
Performing their duties as guardians, preparing and protecting them from any danger.
For them one day to be kidnapped, taken, leaving only their clothing as remainders.
After the investigations and DNA testing all the headlines will
On the edge of all nerves,
The edge of which,
Disaster meets the crasher with death.
Where the brave are men and one lady,
Who fight with hearts and souls.
Who respect the fact that death shall stalk them.
Lurking in the shadows,
Lurking around the bend,
Lurking in a component that won't make it to the end.
Where drivers were toys for amusement,
And discarded when dead not alive.
In the 1950's of Formula One,
Only the lucky survived.
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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