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You found a ChinkYou Found a Chink
You found a chink in my armor
A crack I did not see
You some-how found a way in
And rescued me
Broke in to my defenses
Laid open my soul
For once in my life
I finally felt whole
Now Im weak at the knees
With a shuddery tone
There is a sense of belonging
That I have never once known
Others have tried before
Tried to find a way
But could not brake the defenses,
I could not bear to be hurt again
And thats all I can say
Now a new day has dawned
And the light is shining through
You are my inspiration
Now I know what to do
Stand up and loudly rejoice
In my life you are the blessing
The one that will never fade
Im thankful for every friend
And for every blessing each day
Tried my very best
Tried everything I could
I broke a few hearts
Managed to shatter my own
Just trying to make my way
So often misunderstood
Only by those who would
Ive been hurt so many times
There are ways to take away pain
Yet not one way to take that of mine
Yet on the outside a ready man
The inside a lonely child
Fooling the world all the while
How Im longing to tell the truth
Angel of The NightAngel of The Night
I saw her there oblique from the light
Her beauty as pure as moonlight
The moonlight outlined her sweet seduction
Caressing her curves outlining her sweet face
I looked into her crisp blue eyes seeing her
Love desiring her touch, one look one
Come hither stare reminded me how much I
Care, how I shivered in her touch how much
I loved her oh so much, how much we were each
Others and ever would be, even if the fire of the sun
Burned away the sea
I needed her as she needed me as we basked in that
Moonlight night as we danced the dance lovers do
As we held and loved, a sweet kiss shared in the night
We worked away all our fright and the stress of days
Melted away as all that exists became us and the moon
The world of the story
A galactic war had been raged with massive biotechnological living starships called Pariah, who along with humanity had become the guardians of peace in the galaxy. Humanity now a major player exists throughout the galaxy in thousands of colony worlds, all which existed in relative peace until
An unnamed evil began destroying colonies the first hit was Terra Oblique a massive city when found the entire city was razed to the ground, this was a taste of things to come as colony after colony was found in the same condition. As the death toll mounted those same biotechnological living starships along with their human crew had been tasked with the protection of the colonies.
The Varitas Archangel.
She was a paragon of her race a massive Parian female, the Archangel was tasked to protect colony 71 New Hope until she was downed by an unknown enemy. It has taken 500 years for her AI to return to full functionality.
Atranauch the ti
The Doors of FateAt the entrance at a distance
you'll find the doors of fate,
the doors of my mind.
Choose, choose if you dare
the path of your intent, if
what you desire is wicked
then wickedness you will
recive, through the inscribed
door of, Somthing Wicked
This Way Comes.
Speak Friend and Enter, if you
desire the good and the fair,
enter in which thus is inscribed
Whatever your path, whatever
your way, whatever you plan to
do this day,
heed my warning you enter an
abstract/surrealist's mind, a
world in which time, space and
dimentions have been distorted.
Where everything exists and yet
none at all, where items of the
phisical realms have taken a sick
Seeds of depression, anger and
hate populate a world in which
love and loyalty is the truth if not
The sky is the ground and the
ground is the sky,
stairs reach to unimaginable
The world warps, jumps and bends
into celtic and tribal marking.
Beware the distorted denizens of
this world because they keep you
The FireI Lost myself to the burning fire
sins of the flesh had been my mire
Hatred had poisioned every desire
fueling the fear of losing myself to
that occused fire.
These thoughts had driven me to
this current sire.
Others had given in causing ownly
How can i make amends for their
While in my soul the same seed grows
festers and burns.
As the hate for myself slowly returns,
as the hate for the males of the past
Their rape, their murder, their war...
I must struggle to close the door,
before the nightmarish day, i find their
mirrored faces staring back at me...
Wing and a Prayer part twoThe group of ten salvage driods hid in eerie silence, composed of scrap themelves the droids were perfectly camoflaged in the debris.
Observing Malcolm stealtily as he scanned the atmosphere with his tricorder.
If they were on another planet the droids would have been found by the tricorder, but because of the masses of metal all over the planet their signatures were completely masked.
The lead salvage droid transmitted a visual and audio transmission the converted Trade Federation control ship core, that acted as the head quarters of the entire salvage operation on Cyfus.
Inside the bridge of that rusty relic the old Nemodian Salvager Ajax contiplated the video feed.
The Control Ship's computer translated the droid laguage audio transmission into basic the result being:
"Master Ajax what is our instructions?"
Ajax reasoned "I have never seen a ship like that before."
"The Empire will pay millions of imperial credits for anything that
gives them the upper hand."
Wing and a Prayer part oneTimeline
Final season: Star Trek DS9
During, Star Wars: New Hope
Scrap yard world of Cyfus
A huge flaming oval fireball streaks through the night.
Halfway through what should have been a cushioned decent the energy envelope broke, revealing the scorched airframe of the runabout U.S.S. Dante.
As the Dante began to lose it's tug-of-war with gravity its right nacelle impacts a rusty peice of Aclimator Assault Ship plating and is sheared off.
Due to the loss of weight on the right side, the Dante's fight path grows increasingly irregular as shards of rusted capital ship cut gaping wounds in the Dante's fusalage.
Seconds later the Dante hits ground, ship remains acting as a claw rip off the remaining bits of the lower hull and the left nacelle.
Scrap yard world of Cyfus
A male figure leans back in the right sideseat of the busted runabout,
rubbing flecks of dried blood from his brused face.
"Damn it!" Malcolm Adams cursed placing all his frustration in tho
The Embattled SoulMy soul a burning in the darkness drear
revealing all my hopeful rightious might
pulled down by sin and irrational fear
Wishing for wings to soar in flight.
total betrayal no hope is near
as immortal time doth travel betwixt the light
lonelyness turning my soul as black as the blackest night.
Control swiching over to fight or flight as my soul gathers its mighty power near
light shoots down fire from space obliterating darkness face
almost fully in the mend the dark gathered its power and attacked again.
The race was on to make it kneel, before it could compleately heal
before a final blow had landed Gia gave me the means to make it end.
I struck as if wind with the inner life force of my eternal soul, such is how the darkness fell.
LifeIve seen the world with these two eyes.
A movie played inside my mind.
Ive traveled the seas in half the time
Without ever leaving home.
Ive spread my wings but didnt fly
Ive touched heaven, but I didnt die
Had the chance to ask God why
Without ever receiving an answer.
Ive count the stars and made to ten
Lost track and had to start again.
People laughed, but thats how we make friends
Without ever knowing their name.
Ive loved completely and watched them leave
I tell the storysome dont believe
Let them go or did you flee?
Without seeing what tomorrow brings.
Ive cried like I would never smile
Walked in darkness for half a mile
Saw the sun in the distance for a small while
Without ever feeling its rays.
Ive walked the beachestasted the breeze
There was a time that Ive felt free.
Touched my soul and let life be
Without any regrets to hold.
Ive laughed until I could not breathe
Gasped for air a
I dance in clown shoes.
You compose your conversations.
Fitfully gesturing with whatever you hold,
ending arguments with a flourish.
Make a point, now whirl, quickly.
Make it impossible to counter with your unpunctuation.
You duck and weave, spin, sidestep, pirouette:
One, two, one, two, faster, harder, stronger.
You leave me confused and two steps back,
just far enough behind to appear lost and unsure.
And if I catch up, if I make a point,
you spin again, a trail of words falling like pixie dust
as you make your escape.
And as you storm out, you slam the period behind you,
Ending your sentence with a door.
And I must follow you, my thuds down the stairs preceding my statement,
trying to catch up before the page break.
Now I capitalize a W, and follow with an a, i, t.
And you pause, spin, speak, gesture, spin, continue.
A waltz to counter my four-four.
You don't dance your words-
you speak a dance.
You speak a dance Baryshnikov couldn't follow.
You rapidly reverse the rhythm,
changing tempo in a blur of sound
Sex.Love is lusting
Love is trusting
Love is thrusting.
if you do-
is a vex;
for the worse.
Pulling the pieces
Through nephews and nieces.
Like the word unheard.
and with luck -
But those who care
Those who live
But what is life
A goddamn vex.
If I Were A LineIf I were a line
I think Id be curled,
billowed and swirled,
and slowly unfurled.
Id sweep over a page,
if I were a line,
with the wind in my hair,
and my heart laid bare.
Thats what Id be,
if I were a line.
If I were a spot
Id be round and fat
(now how about that?)
like an old, well-fed cat.
Id have drizzled and dropped,
if I were a spot,
pittering and pattering
with a slight hint of smattering.
Thats what Id be,
if I were a spot.
If I were a colour
Id be a rich red,
like a painted deathbed
or a sword to the head.
Id lunge for macabre,
if I were a colour,
made oh-so dramatic,
my thoughts all sporadic.
Thats what Id be,
if I were a colour.
But I am a human,
so pale and flawed,
and easily bored,
(wishing I was adored).
I twist and bend
(these hinges, you see?);
my shape is no other
than the one I can be;
My colour, it changes
because I am a human:
a human thats me.
With subatomic subtlety settling on his brow,
he said 'Time's a broken arrow
that points from then to now.'
Once a grain, I entreated him
to stop this flow of sand,
'You're immersed in the irreversible
until, entropical, I land.'
In that glass all is hours,
the busted bucket and the spade,
and each collapsing castle
that our spilt ice cream made.
Since his hands are tide
we can all be shore,
when the sediment slides
there is no more.
at the station
one exhausted passenger
the train on the track whistles
you have to obey
get on it
and ride away
one exhausted passenger
the trip ended where it began
Turner's HillOn Turners Hill in snow lit sky,
the very dead of night, and cold,
the joy of life is measured by
a brace of wind and stinging snow
the bane of hand and eye.
Scudding clouds do not deter
the laughs, the shoves, the dares,
a dangerous game is playing here,
unknown by those who run and slide
a fate awaits the years.
Dot Com Derrek struck it rich,
Stilwell died of cancer,
Alex never found his niche,
William died a soldiers death,
Jack became a dancer.
Sled on dear boys! and show no lack
of boldness off the mark!
One by one, straight down the track,
the hill is life and night is death,
there is no going back.
Butterflies...Our lives are filled with Butterflies
In moments that we seize
They guide us with our heart and soul
Placing themselves in our memories
In days so dark we find them there
We feel them midst our pain
Guiding us to all tranquility
Till we are whole again
We see them in each golden day
They flutter strong and true
Each one more glorious than the next
Their colours a vivid hue
Our laughter guides each Butterfly
To peace and harmony
To place them amongst the flowers
To dance in reverie
Such gentle creatures as they fly
Their silence creating calm
We watch them with surprise and mirth
A cool and soothing balm
Butterflies are our gifts from God
To show us all the light
To guide us in our daily quest
Turning what is wrong to right
So next time you see a Butterfly
Treat this creature with your love
Filling all your memories with their beauty
As they flutter up above
Dream WeaverDream Weaver, Please
Weave me a dream
Make it the best
That I've ever seen
Fill it with joy
For you and for me
Fill it with hope
For the whole world to see
Paint it in colours
To bring us delight
To replace all the darkness
Except for the night
Bathe it in sunshine
As warm as its rays
Fill it with friendship
To last all our days
Give peace in our sorrow
and joy in our song
Weave this dream soon
Do not wait too long
We all need our dreams
To be and to see
To share all we have
From you and from me
Thank you Dream Weaver
For weaving this dream
It is the best dream
That I've ever dreamed..
an alternate final stanza:
Thank you dream Weaver
For helping me see
That life is as beautiful
As we allow it to be...
Lost in hate
Lost in pain
Really what do we have to gain
when love and hope are down the drain?
As anger and fear rue the day with human
feelling in disarray
But how can one truly say in this minute,
this hour, this day, that anger and fear are
As the lost are truly found
As honest people fall in love
As the spirits of young children
remain as pure and white as a dove
So, my point dear reader is one simple fact,
love and hope are immortal as they continue
to be experianced
1420 MHzHe keeps a list wadded in the depths of his front, left pocket: where he holds his keys, and the forgotten/abandoned shell of a lone pistachio. The list is his biography, written in the shape of Argentine Spanish:
Me gustan los tomates en verano.
Yo amo a mi novio.
Nos besamos. (Mi novio chupa mis dedos de los pies.)
Las estrellas cantan sus canciones.
Mi nombre no es Eduardo.
Vivo con Jacobi ahora.
His pants are wadded, now, on summer-warmed hardwood; his shirt is draped over the back of a cane-back chair, the most incongruous of antiques in Jacobi’s tech-nerd lair. Headphones clamp his ears, and fill his head with the lisping whisper of interstellar hydrogen, broadcasting itself at a neat 1420 MHz. Bedroom is the wrong word for a place like this, despite the sorts of furnishings one might expect. There is a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and two nightstands cramped with magazines, graphic novels. An alarm clock
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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