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Taking FlightR.J.'s Good Eats Deli*, formerly known as Maggie's Cottage Cupboard, was a cozy little Mom-and-Pop store nestled into the crook of the bent arm that was the valley of Sloan. If our sleepy little community was indeed an appendage, then the elbow was our Good Neighbor Mobile Home Park. My husband and I suspected that it was our trailer park that provided R.J.'s most of its revenue, and if that was the case then I wasn't all that surprised when we saw it boarded up one day. To be fair, the announcement was sudden and not that glorious- there was a poster board on each front window and scribbled on them were the words, “Closed Permanently.” The handwriting seemed masculine and I imagined the large, burly owner- whether or not his name was in fact R.J. I wasn't sure- bent over the counter and swiping a black sharpie across the paper in anger. Granted, the font didn't look angry, but when it comes to the male gender, I typically assume hostility in a
90s Apocalypse"What have I created?"
The naked toy held up its small plastic hands in defeat, its fingers curled and molded together as one, holding a wad of black and red fuzz in the fluorescent light.
"This thing will destroy all of mankind!"
The crocodile with wiggly teeth and the black furby eyed each other knowingly. The furby's eyelids shuttered and it said, "Better put your clothes back on, Joe."
The G.I. Joe dropped his hands and spun his head 180 degrees to look at them. "Do you think this is a joke?"
A lamb stretched lazily in the corner, a puff of stuffing escaping into the air through its wool. "Must we go through this again? I haven't slept at all since the quarantine."
The blood-red Elmo laughed in the corner, its fur matted and wet. "Quarantine, ha ha! Such a funny word. What does it mean?"
"A strict isolation imposed to prevent the spread of disease," slurred the Cabbage Patch doll, bent over the Operation board with a pair of tweezers in its pudgy
CollaborationThe mustang veered into oncoming traffic as the sound of something jagged tearing through its right side screeched high above the buzz of rush hour. Of course, as everyone that experiences car accidents points out, the driver noticed time slowing down. He could feel the pull of the unusually large sword blade like fingernails down a chalkboard, as it jettisoned the top of the car into the air, just missing the driver. The strangest part of the whole situation was that none of the other cars seemed to notice...
...notice the thunderous behemoth towering beside the car that just screeched to a halt, with not only half the body a quarter mile down the road, but smouldering melted steel wherever the jagged stone blade had come in contact. The driver's heart hammered in his chest, the bitter taste of his bland coffee-and-toast breakfast rising to meet his swollen tongue.
"John." The beast crooned through its skull-masked helmet that still had bits of fle
PoemToday I found a silver hair
And I decided to keep it there
Because silver things are pretty, too
And my husband already has a few.
Today I did a dangerous thing-
I picked my daughter up to bring
Her into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
At first I cringed and squirmed beneath
The skylight that lit up my face.
I wanted to flee from that honest place
But instead I embraced the stark contrast
Between my face now and that of the past,
Held my daughter's cheek against my own,
And decided it was better than being alone.
Her smile suggested she didn't care
That I was red and she was fair,
So out with the old and in with the new-
I'm ready for you, gray hair #2.
AtrociousMan of travesty,
his testament often met tight-belted risks, dry savant intricacies;
oldest of eldest, man of eldest visits an atrocious,
curvy, risky human;
she seems truncated, scented
like pressed pottery,
cleansed of a sin.
Each one pious keeps
musty, smelly cologne in parkas.
If parkas visit
atrocious, rank avenues to see those
plastic, perverted kisses,
know if they owe visits.
Cackle, arrest, escape our jar...
oh, knee, pummel one neck,
adorn every sea.
Oh, cackle! Our eyes see.
Man, you stuck ours.
A foreman, you carry smug wisdom.
Then your better man-
atrocious, visits atrociously
drabbed, named, pined...
knee, go strangle - no, without
amazing us, it remains hopeless.
Cast our motto far past you, tiny, sick human.
Ask asp, ask you.
Born keen, sassing us like rascals.
Atrocious man of a tusk (and nosey!)
spurs ammunition but usually
sins us like rascals.
You man, atrocious...admit it.
LetchworthClosure is an iron box
sealed up tight with ten padlocks,
sewn together with two chains,
weathered from the waves of pain;
thrown into the troubled sea
of twelve long years that wrecked me.
I thought it was for the best,
said the flutter in my chest
when I realized what I'd lost.
I had failed to count the cost
of traveling far from home,
away from all I had known
for a taste of something new.
Now I don't know what to do.
How do I confront the past
when living happens so fast?
If those children are no more,
what was the past even for?
I don't have time for this ache
while my children are awake,
but they suffer even so
because I cannot let go
of the child I used to be.
I was filled with so much glee,
courage, adventure, wonder-
till I was torn asunder
by a tidal wave of fear.
Even though it brought me here,
My past beckons exposure
until I can find closure.
Love HurtsIt's amazing to me how durable
a child's head can be.
It's a wonder that children ever make
it past the age of three.
At birth they exit out of their mothers
through frightfully small holes
and then we put them through hell just in case
it somehow saves their souls.
In Spain, there's a kind of festival where
every now and then
babes are laid on the ground, lined up like fish,
and leapt over by men.
And elsewhere we drop them out of windows
so their necks will be strong.
I might say that I would never do that,
but then I would be wrong...
What about the time I let my husband
put armor on my son?
He couldn't hold up that heavy bonnet.
We laughed like it was fun.
Or what about that time I dared to nurse
my daughter in the night?
I was dead asleep before she finished...
Thank God she was all right.
So although I would like to say that I
know better than the rest,
time and time again I will oft betray
the heart within my breast.
Is it luck that protects our babies when
we fail to even try?
AndrianaThe pitbull was watching her over his martini.
She could feel his eyes, though she dared not look up from the sea in her cup. There was an island of backwash where she imagined palms swaying. But the shine from the light wasn't the sun, and the sour taste of the drink was nothing like the taste of heaven she had imagined.
Her eyes watered but she continued to sip, weary of his cold, menacing eyes beneath heavy folds of skin. She knew she was out of place here, but she hoped that her human flesh went undetected.
A black lab on two legs bumped into her. "Excuse me," she barked, eyes distracted. Then they locked onto her with surprised uncertainty.
"Don't mention it," said the girl, turning away to disguise her fleshy pink lips beneath the stolen husky face. "I'm looking for my date."
The lab lingered for too long and the girl slipped away into the crowd of the party, tails whipping her as she pushed through the throng. It was dangerous to be here
Lost without your LoveThe rain is tapping lightly
outside on the tender leaves.
I look through the windonw
on this cool summer night
caressed by a gently breeze.
I am missing you deeply inside
staring blankly, into space;
curtains blowing softly
against my skin
tears of love, run down my face...
Staring, for the longest while
never realizing the passing time.
Trying to find the pieces
to make it right
the words, to make it rhyme...
For how can I ever tell him
let the deepest part of me show?
That I'm lost without his love...
How will he ever know?
I think of 'you'Peering out my window, noticing, the lilac bush in full bloom.
Picking up one of the soft petals
and raising it to my nose;
the air is 'warm'
the fragrance sweet...
I think of 'you'.
The day is lazy.
Soft music comes drifting by my window
from the house down the road.
I notice the gentle hum of the queen bee
as she feeds off the flowers,
and the soothing monotony of the crickets song.
I am so 'aware' - of 'life' taking place...
I think of 'you'.
The cemetery's aglow, with bright flowers,
and fresh, young graves...
I walk, down the mental paths of my mind;
the sun, shining warmly upon my hair, and face.
The birds, ask and answer - the sweet questions
only 'they' understand; as, I walk.
And the tomb stones, look back at me
introducing themselves by name,
welcoming, my company;
'offering', perfumed fragrant gifts
as a symbol of life...
Lifting one, to my nose.
Smelling it's gentle fragrance, and touching it's soft
EnvisionIn my thoughts I'd 'hope' for you....
I wish we could have been...
I'd close my eyes and see in my mind
an ever so sweet envision.
The truth had come to me too late;
though looking back in the blue
the feelings stir, inside me again,
the beautiful ways in which I'd seen you...
I was as a mountain
peaked, with soft white snow;
til the Spring of 'you', came into my life;
then gentle waters flowed....
And went with me
through valleys and streams
of my life, I'd never seen before.
Our differing ways, just intensified
to show me more.
I learned a whole new world of 'me'
things, you already knew...
Of the sun in the sky
it's effect to warm.
You 'showed me' the sky of blue.
I learned of the birth of flowers
as they opened, to the dawn.
I knew then what it was to smile.
You taught me, and then you'd gone.
And slowly I looked about me
at everything that you 'were'.
All the beautiful things
of which, together; helped me
to paint your picture.
Then I understood - and felt the wa
Compassion Of The Heart...Come over here and talk to me,
I told my little boy.
"Oh mom I'm mad, my brand new friend,
stole my only toy!"
"My dear sweet son, it pains me so,
to see you so upset, but there's one thing
you ought to know, one thing you won't forget."
"Please mother tell me, what it is
this thing I ought to mind? Can I buy it, is it new
or maybe does it wind?"
Ah my son it's nothing new, it's been around awhile
It's something that I always knew, that won't go out of style!
Son, it's nothing stores can sell, or put upon a shelf,
it's not a truck or Lego set, or some poor garden elf.
Son there's some that don't have much,
your friend and many more...but we will find another toy,
in another store!
It's sad of course your toy is gone, theft is never right...
but think of how your friend might feel, without a toy in sight.
Of course he may have borrowed it, cause friends they often do
I mean to say what is a friend? What does that mean to you
ReflectionsLike silent raindrops falling
reflections, shown in tears.
The agonies and sorrows;
a picture painted clear.
Each one tells a story
in, such a way
compassionately, as to make you feel
what words could never say.
Watch them slowly falling.
Listen, with your eyes;
to the pictures, painted before you.
See them come alive.
So very colorfully dancing;
in full detail
one, by one...
On and on,
you can't escape.
The story is never done.
Holding onto YouLooking out through the window,
my thoughts, only I know...
Since the day I left you
it's been raining, constatly
for days in a row.
As I sit here watching
I quietly ask myself 'when'
will I begin to smile?
Will the sun start to shine again?
For love with you was beautiful
so beautiful....at one time.
You had a way with words
a way, of making them rhyme.
On and on, endlessly
your sweet voice filled the air;
making me feel the love you claimed
- though, it was never there.
Now here I sit remembering
sweet memories, of then...
Hating myself for loving you
and wanting you back again.
You WereYou were a moment of truth and beauty,
that once had touched my life.
You loved me, you really did;
now, I am paying the price.
Paying the price for ignoring the fact
you were so deeply involved;
as I selfishly left you alone with a problem
I knew only I could solve...
Now all that's left to my life is 'hope'
hoping and wondering,... if, and when?
Will those precious moments of truth and beauty
ever touch my life again.
Angel of SuicideAngel of darkness
angel of death.
I wear you tight to my knuckle
hold you close to my chest.
Black is your color
with a face I can't see.
I wait for your touch
to transform me...
Me into 'you'.
To die is to live.
Freedom in ebony
My song is a scream
my bed is a grave.
I sought peace and rest
but became I
...Now I can't go back
and my deepest of fears
flow quick from my eyes
transparent black tears.
'Hell', she runs deep...
Endless others like me
have sought an escape...
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More