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Lacrimosa VIIVII: Requiem Lacrimosa
Find me there among those stone flowers,
Indexed between Duchamp and Camus;
May we give our regards to the dead
And move on.
Lacrimosa VIVI: the falling
We had their calling cards, and they ours now.
We assumed there were words for these,
When they all knew there was one.
But only once before entropy
Swallow us whole
Would they cradle me,
Amid the yellowed flowers, there
Fixed there among the stone flowers.
But all these things,
Arranged by time, name, place,
We disregard to feed the growing smoke,
All in all to feed the growing smoke.
So call me an optimist
For all that I knew;
Drawn out on canvas,
Like my passe suicide-
There was nothing quite like that
Which we would create,
Freefalling in our panoply of glass
I beg you to see me,
To save me.
So call me an optimist
For the things I drew,
All with indelible black ink
All written in these yellowed pages
In which I wish I knew the words
With which to reach back again,
To reach back out again
To ask you to touch my heart.
I cry out,
In freefall I beg,
If only you would see me,
If only we weren't shadow;
All these things in the black ink,
Written in the yellowe
Lacrimosa VV: the worshipped
Here, eyes grow heavy with silence
But only here, they'd call you by name:
And only here would they call you by name,
Here at the end of all things.
Here in this place of dreams
We are wonderfully restless
Swirling within this panoply of stars,
Here we sang as the sun went down,
When for a long while we pray to you
Our heroin goddess:
All these and more in the drone hour.
Lacrimosa IVIV: storms
Thrown up on the rocks,
The mad summer tides
Smashed there upon those rocks-
These are the nights that may never end,
All things live from the panopticon;
Those were the nights that would never end.
They tell us to be still like a mist,
But I came in as a light rain.
But they saw me as I came into the light,
And once upon a time, they'd thought
He'd simply rolled in, that oncoming storm;
And once in a while
This life came down as Tuesday's light rain
In these places where it's all the same
These few places where dahlias dare to grow-
All for favor of the drowned.
Lacrimosa IIIIII: the unsaid
Daily in the mornings
Our gazes fall as a glacier,
Suffocating under pooling thoughts
For all that we are,
neatly tied down, wrapped up
And here in our Friday afternoons,
Our gazes fall as ashes,
Suffocating all our pooling thoughts
Of all that we are,
Things neatly tied, wrapped together
Lacrimosa IIII: denials
Paralyzed in a moment
I throw your name into the wind,
Writing it there in indelible black ink.
I think of you as I start the car,
I think of you before I go.
Yet behind these smudged glass frames,
I conduct illusions
Of sin and pride,
Speeding off into the distance.
I polish my secrets like the fine silver,
As something thrown out like a car bomb
On a Friday afternoon.
What am I but divvied out
With shallow, rusted tablespoons
Here or there in the drone hour-
They will never catch me now.
Lacrimosa II: a suicide
I throw myself into freefall.
Pressed against those smudged glass frames,
The shattering of thin ice,
Only now when
February snow falls as ashes.
I threw myself into freefall,
And here beyond all things,
We are unstoppable.
Our bodies falling as morning dew
Mine as dry riverstone
I pray that you catch on the wind
I pray that you catch on the winds.
And I'd throw myself there into freefall,
Swirling within my panoply of broken glass,
Coming back to earth as a light rain.
les malencontreuxAmid the yellowed flowers there,
I dream of pursuit and of folly;
Pursuing all that was worth pursuing.
I stood there, once.
I chose to love, a little.
And lying in this bed, periwinkle summer skies
Framing them all we had to offer;
This dreamer of the dreams worth dreaming,
But would they cradle me, now?
Would they dare comfort me with their warmth?
When all things are written in yellowed pages,
Pasted up behind these smudged glass frames?
And what of dreams, like glacier sheets,
And overcome with all I have to offer?
Pursuer, creator!- I dare dream of beauty here.
And forever, I chased your blue-green light,
Behind and around those bowered,
I dreamed again of you, there,
Behind that smudged glass door.
But here we are again, les malencontreux:
The wild ones, dreaming once of Versaille.
And here we are again, my friend,
We unfortunate ones;
Standing there, stolen, still,
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More