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A Vampire's WarningI really want to eat you,
you truly ought to know.
So think of this-before we kiss...
...under the mistletoe.
You think it's about romance,
but I just need some lunch.
I smell your blood-in dismal flood...
...so please go drink some punch.
It's best if you avoid me,
no matter what I say.
Your mortal bliss-you'll surely miss...
...if we take things my way.
I'm functioning on empty,
and kinda like a car.
So low on fumes-I live in tombs...
...if you should flee, run far.
This party's for the festive,
I lean towards mad-macabre.
I lurk in screens-and piercing screams...
...necrosis is my job.
I'd tell you all I'm thinking,
but you're already dead.
You chose my mouth-your heart went South...
...and now I have been fed.
Can't Circumvent the CircusMonday, mother awakes actors;
mild-mannered touches shoulder-shake children
imagining illness in
front of food, to toothbrushes, behind
bus benches, on an orange
engineered elephant entrance;
can’t circumvent circus routine.
I loveI love your clothes
I love your shoes
I love your toes
I love your hue
I love your nose
I love your face
I love your moles
I love your grace
I love your pants
I love your stew
I love your rants
I sure as hell don't love you
The Strange Affair of the Oyster BisqueOne chilly autumn evening, when the moon was brightly shining,
My good friend Sherlock Holmes and I were in the midst of dining -
A treat from Holmes with money given by a royal client.
Although when it was offered, he was typically defiant,
But reluctantly relented when the gentleman implored
With such a strong insistance that it could not be ignored.
And so it was we found ourselves in Simpsons-on-the-Strand
Battling through a banquet with a knife and fork in hand.
My friend was in good humour, and he spoke of many things,
Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings,
Their role in his deductions and the solving of his cases,
His telegrams and pseudonyms and myriad of faces -
When all at once he gave a cry and leapt up from his seat,
And bumped into a waiter who was knocked clean off his feet.
“Good Lord!” I said, as Holmes turned pale, and stood completely still.
“Whatever is the matter? You look awful – are you ill?”
Class of HorrrorsOne should beware this class
for this class is torture
One should avoid this class
for the teacher always fails you
One should hate this class
for it is just hard
This class is horrible
for everything is bad
Las aventuras de los mellizos creep-cap2Capítulo 2: entrenando para la nueva vida
Era un día nublado, Selena y John estaban listos para su primer entrenamiento de sus poderes, estaban vestidos con ropa deportiva luego salió su tío slenderman con ropa igual (deportiva) y les dijo:
Slenderman: tendrán que enfrentarse a la fuerza (eyeless Jack), agilidad (Jeff the killer), ilusión (ben y Sally) y los poderes mentales (slenderman)
John: está bien
Selena: ¿con quién nos enfrentamos primero?
Jack: a mí primero.
La cara de Selena y John mostraba un poco de preocupación ya que se enfrentaban a un gran combatiente y comedor de riñones, así con puño cerrado empezaron a atacar a Jack pero fue inútil es los noqueo en un par de minutos, después que despertaran paso lo mismo con Jeff, hasta que Selena saco sus tentáculos y puedo dejar a Jeff en el suelo, Selena preocupada dijo:
Selena: Jeff estas bien, es que no controlo
Happy Happy BirthdayToday is one that deserves a good raving
Ryan’s birthday is the day that needs its own cue
I’m crafting this poem for him because his favorite color is blue
Dance, Ryan, dance ‘cause this day is worth faving
Listen, Ryan, listen ‘cause my words are worth saving
Happy happy birthday, this song is for you
Happy happy birthday, I think I stepped in poo
Listen here, Ryan, I hired myself for this song’s paving
C’mon, Ryan, come up with me and dance
Happy happy birthday, blue’s the color for us
Happy happy birthday, lets repaint our trust
Ryan don’t be embarrassed, I only wish to enhance
I know I’m annoying but there is no need to fuss
And now this song is over, paint a house blue I must
UntitledA thing with meat
A thing with taste
A thing of beauty
A thing with a bone
A thing I love
I crave it every day
I wonder what I should write about,
For this literature project of mine.
I would start at it, but nothing comes to mind.
I seem to be in the middle of a creative drought.
So I am just sitting here, staring with a pout.
I really should get going on it, instead of just whine,
About the poetry paper that has been assigned.
I would really rather go with my friends to hang out.
I excel at procrastinating, though its something that I hate,
All of a sudden I feel that Im so very, very behind.
I wish I could come up with something just a little more refined.
I dont even want to know the score this poem will rate.
Well heres my philosophy, which everyone must know
That when it comes to poetry, anything should go!
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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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