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Remember Suicide BlondeRemember Suicide Blonde,
Is she real or just the mythology of a woman
A disintegrating construct of conformist ideals,
Twisted hairstyle, ripped stockings, ruffled skirt,
You didn't seek to demean sexuality or femininity,
Just to look for depth and meaning in life and death,
You enjoyed stimulating conversations over poetry,
Philosophical thoughts on identity and hope,
Did you lose your mind years ago ?
Does she have to exist to keep the glue of your sanity stick,
She listened to your worries and guided you through dark times
Remember Suicide Blonde,
Is she real or just the mythology of a woman,
Perhaps you wanted to walk like her and talk like her,
To define yourself in weird ones that you loved about her,
Do you want to accept loneliness as an option?
Or break free and see the dawn of change and a future,
Still its okay to be a little crazy.
Fading SmokeFading Smoke
One of the biggest candles in my life has been blown out,
The first woman anyone ever loves.. mum,
The chill of an untimely death wraps me,
Someone pushed me into an icy lake,
My heart feels like its core is numb,
A bright life of love, support and happiness,
She caused no trouble only put her children in front of herself,
This is surreal walking down this cold hall,
From my running toddler days to now I am a man,
I say goodbye mum I love you,
She does not reply,
I must sift through my memory library,
Remember her voice her smile,
Singing along to musicals and laughing at daily comic strips,
That is what I shared with you in my presence,
The fire glow has gone,
Dusk has fallen upon you,
My heart hopes your dad and brother give you a big hug,
Where ever you may be,
As long as there is a Beatles song, a big book and a soft chair,
You earned this eternal safe happy rest
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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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