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Bodies lieing on the streets,
Are covered quickly by powdery sheets.
But are they truly covered, when
The eyes of women, children, men
Have seen them so clearly?
Do the men on the higher thrones
Truly choose to overlook the bones
So frozen, with their soulds flightly
Rising away from their human poverty?
Or is it the fault of the average Joe,
Who from himself he never would throw
Out the helping hand, so sweetly needed,
For poor people too, need to be heeded.
Children in poverty also need to be fed,
Sleepless bodies too need a bed.
The safety net is becomming undone,
Pleas go unheard, songs go unsung.
Boom went gas prices, no
The Fall of Troy
My name is Deustheus, and this writing comes from my own hand. Hard-lived have been the days of late, the great war taking its toll on all our souls. My body, frail and weak, was turned away from the serving sword, for which I am grateful. I spend these days with my wife and kin, Kinsley of eight winters, and Thyses of twelve. Out in the courtyard do we dwell for most of the day. My wife has turned to Athene for guidance, spending hour upon hour in front of the small shrine in the shade of the willow tree. Kinsley sits on my laps and listens to stories of gods and heroes that I tell her, often running away to play with small wooden toys I car
I Spy Section II
Alejandro Corcez was in quite the foul mood as he stormed along a bustling street in Porta Viarta, Mexico. Not only had his business deal fallen through, but his usual dancer had been shot in some sort of "turf war". And even though he had been reassured that the new girl was very, very good, he had his doubts as he stepped into a rather run-down building.
Taking the stairs down into the ground, he told the password to the guard standing next to the iron door at the end of the stairs in order to have it opened. Inside was a single table set in front of a single stage, upon which was a single metal pole. And, as promised, a new girl stood bes
Song of The Rain
There is a little girl who plays for the sky:
From human tears she weaves the fears
That fall as rain from a Cyclops' eye
This Cyclops' name is Sol
His sister is Selene
In their hands they hold the soul
Of the girl, as is routine
Up above the clouds sits
A musician playing on high
With violin in hand played with strings from clouds gone by
There is a girl who plays for the stars
Up above her head
For her music is lighter than air
At least, that's what is said
There is a boy who plays below
Down where fire is cold
His music is free
His music is beauty
His fiddle is made of gold
His seat made from silver
His hands are that
The Departure of Salazar
It was a dark, cool night, and as such was like a breath of fresh air in the sweltering hot days of mid-August. There was not a cloud in the sky, as could be told from the bewitched ceiling that was sported by the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even with the summer holiday in place, there were still four occupants to the ancient castle.
Coincidentally, these four were the founders. Ironically, they were holding a meeting about the rest of the school's population. And, unfortunately, it was becoming yet another heated argument about muggle-borns.
"Salazar, please," Rowena Ravenclaw pleaded, trying to persuade the o
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More