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People Pretending (A Halloween Special)Pumkin-ed porches;
amber torches.
T.P-ed streets,
tricks,
and treats.

Masks,capes,
childish japes,
knocks on doors,
stuck on sores,
plastic fangs,
frightend grans.

Witches,
bitches,
lots of candy,
ghastly spirits,
sometimes brandy.

Haunted homes,
skeleton bones,
creaking floors,
werewolf claws,
spider webs,
living dead,
supersticious,
monsters - vicious.

Apple bobbing,
awquard snogging,
shrieks, screams,
guiloteens,
rats,
bats,
mummy wraps.

Fake blood,
face paints,
some angels,
no saints.

Kids dressed up,
teens dressed down,
it's that time of year,
when there's a buzz about town.

This is the picture,
th

The Dark Side Of The MoonEvery night - a face it glows,
but there's another side,
anybody who's anybody knows;
where the sadest tears are cried.

Silver liquid always flowing,
forever tides of woe,
the two faced giant always knowing,
never to let the other go.

Just a GameHe, tall and brave,
regal in manner
She by his side,
eager for slaughter
Holy guards on the ready,
crookedly killing
Conquest their goal,
coldly calculating.

Parapets trumpet,
direct and bold
Almond heads looming,
weave to and fro
We sacrificial lambs,
all in a row
look across to our shadows,
mirroring pose.

Battle ensues,
numbers soon dwindle
Armies in tatters,
thrill becomes humbled
Lost is the reason,
glory forgotten
Gain without meaning,
success misbegotten.

When stronger is greater,
and winner takes all,
False is the purpose,
none truly preva

She will be loved

Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else

I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow
I want more

I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved

Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore

It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along, yea

Trade - ElfdustHot sand shushed beneath Valeria's sandals, burning grains slipping between her heel and the leather to dig tiny pocks into the soles of her feet. Wisps of dark hair escaped her braid and clung to her cheeks; her soft cotton palla stuck fast to her slender shoulders, adhering to the dew of clean summer sweat. The whitewashed walls of the training arena glared beneath the sun.

The heat went unnoticed. He was there.

He was equipped like a retiarius, which she thought was as fitting as it was becoming – with the sweat running down his back in torrents, the trident in his hand, the power in his bare chest, the lightning in his eyes, he loo

SilentI wish I knew why the darkness consumes me. I wish I could grab it, and throw it away. I wish, so badly, that I could know the thing that people like to call happiness. I wrote a poem about it....
Tears dripping down her face
Nobody sees the mascara stains
She doesn't know if it hurts more or less
That they didn't notice
He gave her a glance
That boy she loved oh so long ago
He turns away but with a pained look on his face
She doesn't care what he thinks or says
She likes another
Who loves her back
But he'll never be the one
Because of all of the scars
He wound up in her heart
Guess that's just love for her
She'll never be sure
Of a yes or no
When it comes to that boy
Her heart isn't loyal
To her decision to be
Free of the bull
That comes with her life
Guess that love is like a knife
Lethal beauty
What a sight

SoundTake a small breath, and hold it in. Simply listen. Put your hand over your heart. Out there somewhere, there's someone who's once heard that beat that you claim as your own. Stand besides a forest, and listen to the gentle rustling of leaves. Listen to the birds call and the animals scream. Listen to the soft exchange of words that are meant not to be heard. Listen and tell me what exactly sound is for. Sound is something that is projected into me. It's something that is deep inside yet dormant in all of it's need. This need to fulfill what exactly comes to mind and then set it straight with reality, the true kind. Sadly, as sound progresses more, it seems to fade away, and I've found that the more passing of time, the softer sounds get. I think it's ironic that it applies to life.

Back to Sanity.How many times have I
Called from the abyss for you?
The sparkling dream-like state
Nothing is right, what do I do?

If you could only see
How much you mean to me
Maybe you wouldn't be so cold
Now.

I'll send you a scream.
Plead for your sanity.
Can you feel me?
I'm pulling you out from Hell;
Back to me.

The wolves descend.
I try to make sense
Of this image
So haunting and frigid.

Your heart is like ice
Blue and too cold to fight for
What you once believed.
If you can't find anything
To hold onto,
Believe in me.

I'll send you a scream.
Plead for your sanity.
Can you feel me?
I'm pulling you out of Hell;
Back to me.

F

Pride and Acceptance ?They loathe me;
they shout the worst words
(the kind that encircle you like flies; relentless) -
burning, scathing words.

It doesn't matter. I don't care what anybody else says.

I am alone, shunned.
I curl up in the wastelands
of something I once recognised
as my most intimate identity,
but now feels foreign and outlandish;
like myself.

They're just words. I don't have to let them get to me.

I am proud.I don't need anyone elseto accept me;I accept myself.

PerfectionPerfection.

She lodges her fingers down her throat.

Clasping onto the wall as she recklessly chokes.

She reinserts her fingers back in forcibly.

Deliriously trying to make her body thinner.

She swoons and slumps to the floor nauseously

As she attempts to regurgitate her dinner.

Her throat aches as she screeches out coarsely,

With her hand covering the image in the mirror.

Her head now rests on the on the rim of the toilet seat.

She wants to eat but she just has not got in her.

She desperately begins to scream out inaudibly.

Her mouth now tastes of something pulpy and bitter.

She examines the red color of the fluid cautiously.

Re

Monster inside my headI have a monster in my head
and it wants to come out
You've fed it, it has grown
from your actions did it sprout

I try to hold it back
but it's so utterly mad
I can't hold it back
it's the worst I've had

Stronger and stronger
It breaks apart my walls
I can't hold it back
My final barrier falls

It fights, it kicks
it bites, now you fall
You've had it coming
for yet another call

You push me around
now you will get it back
run away if you can
it's your skull I'll crack

This monster inside
I will no longer hide
it has destroyed its cage
you will feel all my rage

SurvivalSurvival.

Give a man a fish he will eat for a day.
Teach a man to fish he will eat for a life time.

Give a man a gun he will rob a bank.
Give a man a bank he will rob the world.

We adapt and adjust.
Constantly dithering on the cusp
Of what is considered wrong and right,
Ensuring that our ambitions remain in sight.

We would be willing to do anything
In order to get what we truly desire.
We would be willing to risk everything
Even putting our friends in the line of fire.

We may share the bounty with others,
Allowing them to experience the fruitful taste.
Given the option we will even care for our brothers.
Just as long as w

AC, could you read this please?Hi guys, it's Gashedkit.
So, I was thinking of making a map for us on FeralHeart, also making presets for our OC's.
If you would like a preset, please link me to a reference of your OC, and I'll try to make it as fast as I can. I'll note the DL link to you.
Also, for the map, please give me your input on what kind of camp you'd want (dreary, snowy, rainy, insect-infested, etc.. I can download weather files and import those into the map).
I'll put the map up for download for AC members only.
I believe Owlstar suggested FH, so, yeah.
I'll only do this if Owlstar approves.
Pleeeeeease leave your input.

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RosesRoses once red,
no longer so,
colour now dead,
where did it all go?

Kat Background StoryAt just age twenty Katrina had established herself throughout The Rusted Kingdom as a prominent assassin. Originaly hailing from Evesend, the human rogue has since relocated to the regions capital - Kreldemier.

Her skills in her trade were only matched by her arogance, as a freelance hitwoman her contracts would come in as sporadicaly as she would carry them out. An increase in her fees lead to an unprecident ego boon and soon 'buisness' dried up. The sudden lack of work was directly linked to a spate of random murders, the corpses of such crimes were plundered and disfigured beyond recognison, much to the dissapoinment of the city gaurd.
Ka

Order // ChaosOrder - Regimented action. Uniform events. Pre-planed. Pre-defined. Constricting rules and regulations. Driven by logic. Controlled. Contained. Neat. Precise. Everything in it's place.

Chaos - Sporadic actions, spawning random re-actions. Discord. Mastered by chance. Mistress of luck. Teathered not by law, nor anything. Unruly madness. Decent. Cause and effect. Unpresidented, spiraling confusion. Disorganisation. Unguided navigation through uncharted teritories.

Two sides of an ever flipping coin.

Nameless oneA vile storm harrased the run down orphanage at the edge of town, a constant barrage of wind assaulted the powerless building from all angles. Cowering before the might of the relentless abuser the occasional groan would escape from the subdued victim. The pale moon and heavy fog made the night ever more sinister.

The night warden made her way from room to room, offering her comforts and reasurances to frightend youths. They remained huddled under their blankets (The ultimate in storm protection) a layer of shabby material no more than afew millimeters thick. A loud roar of rolling thunder masked the first knock at the door. Pre-empted by an

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Weeping Angels

by ~SupernovaCasanova, Nov 14, 2012, 2:11:55 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Concrete Poetry

Angels cry,
when humans die,
no man escapes his fate.
Yet still they shed,
tears for the dead,
for not all make it through golden gate.

Weeping Angelsby ~SupernovaCasanova

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Concrete Poetry

DO NOT - Use my works without my permission.

DO - Feel free to ask for my permission.

~Fisherella Nov 14, 2012 Professional General Artist

I think it would read better with "the" in place of "golden". That extra syllable at the end throws it off. In this case, even if you said "the gate" I think it is implied and understood which gate is meant.

This sounds like an old-fashioned limerick, which I like about it. =0)

~SupernovaCasanova Nov 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks i did originaly have it a just the gate but i changed it >.< guess in terms of syllables i made a mistake (i'm only a hobbyist please forgive me!

i know very little about poetry structuring)

anyways thanks for taking time to feed back and im glad you like it regardless of the error

~Fisherella Nov 14, 2012 Professional General Artist

Cool. I try to be helpful and constructive when I can. =0)

~SupernovaCasanova Nov 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

It's apprechiated so thank you

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Weeping Angelsby ~SupernovaCasanova

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