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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
MadrugadaÉpica y serena Madrugada,
la dulce espuma que retumba,
eres la única que mi inspiración ya junta
porque a tus horas me descubro enamorada.
No despecio al Día,
ni a la Noche, ni a la Mañana,
ya que el Día me hace sentir viva,
en la Mañana, mi corazón se despierta, palpita
y la Noche al consuelo de los suelos me consagra.
Madrugada, amiga mía;
no defraudas al poeta,
no defraudas al amor
(los que más saben de esto,
son Selene y Endimión,
refugio hallaron en tu sombra,
refugio ardiente de pasión).
Descanso entre los sueños,
Morfeo, tu estupor...
Madrugada, entre tus horas, guardaré mi corazón.
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,
The Firefly JarTHE FIREFLY JAR
by Indigo's admin
One summer night
Holding our jars
On a moonlit dusk
In the fields so far
Under the moon's shine
We raise them high
Grass tickling our feet
The glass lifted to the sky
And when fireflies come
Their lights shine in the night
We cup our bottles
And the land, soft and light
We continue the catching
Until the rise of the sun
When we finally know that
Our job here is done
That one summer night
In the fields so far
We come back home
With our firefly jars.
I wishI wish I was the wind, I could fly
be a spirit that wanders the sky
I could swim in the rainy clouds
I could chase seagulls, passing by
I wish I was a ray of light
that makes the days more bright.
I would bounce over green fields
and bring their colors to sight.
I wonder how far I would see
If I were a dew drop atop a Sequoia tree.
I would form every morning
and melt with the sights around me.
I wish I was one of the deadly waves
that lashes the rocky aegean caves.
I would clash with the pirates of the sea
and pull them, to their watery graves.
I wish I could see the world from afar
and streak across the sky, like a scar.
I wonder how it feels to be truly free
Maybe I'll just be a shooting star
TruthWars are raging to hide the truth
People have died to uncover the truth
People want the truth but can't handle the truth
Lies are just evasive ways to tell the truth
I'm resenting people cause I tell the truth
People won't look in the mirror cause they're afraid of the truth.
Many nights I'm up wrestling with the truth
I'm alone most days because I told the truth
The very word incites fear... Truth
Like why don't you always tell the truth?
Propaganda, Hellacious, Alone, Change and War
Are some of my favorite words, but doesn't hold a candle to the truth
The funny thing is, in the end all you have is truth
Dancing in the sea of hopeCome to shore mysterious waves of pure delight,
Sing out your soul to summer's warm light.
Pull me out to sea, soft sighing tides around my feet,
In the passionate embrace summer's radiant heat.
I sink my soul into your depths,
Great sea of life and no regrets.
I rise and meet your surface to be reborn,
In the sweet breath of a grand new dawn.
My singing and laughing I cannot doubt,
Fresh mornings of warmth are always about.
I run up into the blissful skies,
To live in dreams that never cries.
MoonflowerHow doth the little Moonflower,
Have it's light still shine?
When all the other flowers,
Hath shriveled up and died?
Oh Moonflower, I adore thee,
Your light so gleaming white.
I ask you how you find the moonbeam
In the darkest and horrid of nights?
I marvel at thee, Moonflower,
As I pray upon your shrine.
Am I as well, a flower?
Or am I the dark on which your light doth shine?
Oh Moonflower,tell me thy secrets, please
Of shining bright beneath the stars.
To me, the knowledge will appease,
Whisper to me, and the secret will be ours.
The Spring TreesThe spring trees, not green yet
The spring trees, still looking dead
Its not early in the spring that trees are green
Its when the trees feel its right
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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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