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Dream: Cute Simulation GameWhile wasting time in front of the ISP-hosted underground amusement park/university I explain to two elderly Russian women (they are surprised that I speak Russian), that against my own expectations the underground amusement park is not a rip-off and that there even is a delicious confection, which one can have for free and in unlimited quantities. I give them a piece each.
The following takes place on a small square grassland in front of the entrance to the underground amusement park. I play a game with four cute miniature people (each of them the size of a finger), who harvest wood from two trees and re-plant them after complete exploitation. They walk freely without being bound to roads. Along with wood, they collect fruit from fruit trees. I consider letting them plant two fields of crops for harvesting. Their housing and storage consists of one building made from wood only, so they probably do not require rock as a building material.
One of the people manages to get stuck on a pat
DosentomatenTomaten in Dosen
Brauch' ich für Soßen
Für Penne, Nudeln und Spaghetti
Ketschup ist eklig
Was essbares daraus zu machen
Ich brauche keine Pizzen
Ich brauch kein Glutamin
Hollari, Hollari, Hollero
Ich züchte selber Nudeln
Und esse sie dann Roh
Hollari, Hollari, Hollero
UniverseTrace your fingers
upon a star
Paint a galaxy
Draw a universe
of your very own
Ink new life you
can call home
Chalk a planet
and craft a new
Color the world
and make it blue
You're the god of your own
Your'e the god
it's up to you
Make them Wise Listen to natures cries
Get through peoples lies
As we open our eyes
Fix the ones who thinks its amazing if someone dies
A Brave, Miniscule WorldHave you ever imagined, ever at all
What it would be like to be real small
Where you had to fend for your life
Where the light bulb glowed, like the edge of a knife
Where the action figures are the size of gods
Where there is no love, no peace, no rest, no laws
Where the dust mites will give you a good fight
You’ll battle all day and all of the night
Where from the top of your bed, you’ll see the land
Of sights so beautiful, so vivid, so grand
But, with one slip, you’re falling to death
With the mites eat your bones on your very last breath
Where the garbage is a cesspool, so vile
Where the shag carpet is longer than the Nile
Where the closet is the biggest of caves
Where shuffling through your laundry
Where vacuums are hurricanes, fearful and strong
Where fans on high lead to winters so long
Where glue is like quicksand, forever trapped there
Can you imagine a world if you dare?
A miniscule land of an endless quest
A huge but small world with a periling test,
Tanka No.1The snow shimmers
ON the frozen ground
Glowing in the winter sun
Waiting for the kids
OctoberOnly reds and golds
Can cure the silence before the cold.
The air shivers in anticipation
Of dark gray skies and freezing breeze
Beauty falls down from the trees
Eternal cycle of life and death
Reaches out to cover the coming of winter.
PupriPlunge into the cool unknown;
dive deep, below the tide.
Down here, so beautifully alone.
In solitary cave, doth hide.
Here, in this golden garden,
this aquatic hound doth play.
Far from the touch of human hand;
a million miles away.
The seaweed, that surrounds him,
melts within his slender frame.
The trees grow tall around him.
The coral calls his name.
In this wild ocean's forest,
the logger’s sound has ceased.
Below the world’s growing unrest
this garden’s still at peace.
Grateful MorningUp again, much earlier than I planned,
I wipe away sleep and tame a wild strand.
The dog is barking; it's time for a stroll,
To chase brown lizards, or a green anole.
I can't go back to bed on this beautiful day,
So I water my garden and decide to stay.
As I watch a butterfly, along comes a dove.
He sings to me sweetly, and always of love.
Neighbors are scurrying to rush off to work.
That's no longer my world, and oh what a perk!
I can sit on my porch and watch cars go by,
With coffee, a waffle, and blueberries piled high.
A rogue paper bags bounces along the walk,
Where lies the remnants of hopscotch in chalk.
Then things become quiet, except for the breeze,
Just the swishing of fronds in tall palm trees.
Here on my bench with lots of pillows quite soft,
Tucked away from view in my own little loft.
Surrounded by orchids in many colors bright,
I think I may read, but instead choose to write.
Wanting to remember the beauty of this day,
Some words will stay, while others fly away.
RosaWhen pressed against my lips
I can smell your sweet flower
With velvet tongue
I press pink petals aside
To taste your nectar
The Scorching Sun
When the sun rises
The heat it fries
The people they cry
With their mouths dry
It beams down on pavement
Like orange oven lights
The pavement burns the soles of your feet
It could fry eggs like a pan
Unlike an oven
You cannot make the arrangement
Only the solar system can
It follows you everywhere
sometimes hidden from sight
From the Sahara desert
to the cloudy skies of Dublin
From Mount Fuji of Japan
To the winterland of Antarctica
Under the trees of South America
To the lovely coast of Saipan
When the sun falls
The shadows grows tall
The heat gets small
When the full moon begins to rise
The birds say their last calls
People and creatures alike become alive
and werewolves cry
Written by E.G.
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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