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Literature Text
One of the many forms
one of the many outlets
a manifestation of the strange
inexplicable evokes feelings of eeriness
Stick raw humanity
on stage
unseen ugliness
for all who ignore to view
Irrational is the disjointed side of natural
appearing monstrous before your eyes
Watch my crawl across the floor
my soul moving
elongated arms
repossess in this state of trance
open up
portray horrors of emotion
play the dark dramatic
the pulse of everything you do
Be what no one wants to see
Communicate despite
the hard knocks
that try to shut me up
Disrupt social order
reject accepted forms
embrace the macabre
feel and release
all the parts that
might break
all you know
one of the many outlets
a manifestation of the strange
inexplicable evokes feelings of eeriness
Stick raw humanity
on stage
unseen ugliness
for all who ignore to view
Irrational is the disjointed side of natural
appearing monstrous before your eyes
Watch my crawl across the floor
my soul moving
elongated arms
repossess in this state of trance
open up
portray horrors of emotion
play the dark dramatic
the pulse of everything you do
Be what no one wants to see
Communicate despite
the hard knocks
that try to shut me up
Disrupt social order
reject accepted forms
embrace the macabre
feel and release
all the parts that
might break
all you know
Literature
Hero of the Fallen
Drops of blood run with rain,
A stream, a river, an ocean of pain.
A sword in my hand, a gash in my side,
My Country, my people, my child lost in the tide.
The enemy long gone to slay my home,
My knees in mud my thoughts on the roam.
Life is leaving me yet all I can think,
My child alone, my Kingdom on the brink.
Smoke from burnt flesh wander as ghosts,
Fire and man together without host.
Hanging my head, my friends dead at my side,
I’m here alive, but my hope has died.
Yet, soon, so to will I.
Literature
Death Metal
I might just
explode.
it's pretty nearly not impossible any longer if you know what
I mean.
maybe I'm just a rambling, tumbling soul;
cascading through the brambles.
But I've always kept my thorns close.
they cut to the soul more quickly
in the event of an emergency.
you know?
But that's not the path that is wise.
I know it's not the wisepath.
but when my heart is knocking on the front door
pounding away like it was born to be
a drummer in a heavy metal band
and not this stupid organ
that moves a puppet through it's motions,
when every fiber of my being screams to be saved and drowned all at once
screams to tear down the plastic wrap facade
Literature
Remnants
Dear friend,
I was cleaning my room today.
I found a card you gave me a year ago on valentines day.
"I love you" in your hand writting I've come to love so much, jotted in black fine tip sharpie.
Our little jokes scrawled between two sides of white paper with a red heart on the front.
Little did i know then, 365 days later i would be my spending valentines day without the person i loved most.
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I wrote this for my midterm for my modern dance class I'm taking this summer. We had to choose a modern dance pioneer or choreographer and I chose Mary Wigman.
She was one of the pioneers of expressionist modern dance. Her choreography was abstract and she was inspired by the films of directors such as Fritz Lang, Pabst, and Murnau (who directed Nosferatu).
I wrote this poem and made a pastel art piece where I wrote part of this down (which I'll upload later) based on her dance, "Witch Dance".
(And I'll probably edit this description later...)
She was one of the pioneers of expressionist modern dance. Her choreography was abstract and she was inspired by the films of directors such as Fritz Lang, Pabst, and Murnau (who directed Nosferatu).
I wrote this poem and made a pastel art piece where I wrote part of this down (which I'll upload later) based on her dance, "Witch Dance".
(And I'll probably edit this description later...)
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