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Fortune DaysA crowd of people stop and turn towards a growing noise. Coming over the hill there is a group of people dressed in black with white featureless masks playing the drums.
Walking down the road they do not do anything besides walk and play. Some people stop and stare in awe while others hurry their children away. As the drummers reach an intersection they are met with other drummers all wearing the same mask and black clothes. Growing larger and larger until they become a small army. All perfectly in sync with one another. All heading in the same direction, the capital. Now the sound of the drums matches that of thunder, echoing off the sky scrapers and other buildings. When they reach the front of the capital building, all at once they stop. Never such an eerie silence has been heard. The guards nervous and the president in a state of disbelief.
Standing there, hundreds of anonymous people, one by one they start up again, the same tune as before. Slowly people start to gather, some wear
Project: Friendship (Unfourtunate reunion)
"Only the dead have seen the end of war."
Desert of Glass
Tuesday, 12:23 pm
A few years have passed since Cadaver joined the New Lunar Republic and there is now a full scale war between the Solar Empire and the New Lunar Republic. Along the way, Cadaver has witnessed war on the front lines. He has seen ponies die, and he has even killed. On this day he is part of a scouting party, searching ahead to make sure that it is clear for the rest of the forces in that area.
A blazing sun is beating down on an NLR scouting party in the Desert of Glass. Sand as far as the eye can see, reflecting the suns light making it seem like it has a light of its own. Crossing the same desert is a Solar Empire scouting party, trudging along in the heat. Neither side is aware of the other. And neither, are expecting what is about to happen.
"Hey lieutenant, are we almost there? We`ve been walking for hours," complained a light blue mare.
"Stop whining starlight," replied lieutenant Wallcroft, "Bes
Project: Friendship (Prolouge)
A heavy fog covers the surrounding area like a thick moist blanket, corpses are scattered across the ground. The outcome of a grim battle. In the fog there is a ruined castle, ponies bustling about picking up bodies and clearing rubble. There is a small group of ponies standing in the corner as to not get in the way of the clean up. Those seven ponies stand in silence, beaten and bruised from the fight against the deadites.
"So what`s going to happen now?" A brown pony with a metal leg asks; a tone of sadness in his voice.
"Were going home, and everything will be back to normal," A white pony replies.
"How can it, after this?" the brown pony asked, motioning with his head towards the aftermath.
"I don't know, but all of you will be going home soon," Said the white pony.
At that all the ponies looked up at the white pony, most had a look of relief in their eyes. But a black alicorn had sadness in his eyes. It seemed as if he didn't want to return to his world. The white pony with brown
Prolouge teaser/Story kick off."So what`s going to happen now?"
"Were going home, and everything will be back to normal."
Remember them please.Remember those who died over seas
Remember them please
They died with a name
But that we are unable to reclaim
They died with one
We brought back their gun
But not a name
So we give them fame
No one should be buried without a name
That is too great a shame
But we can`t help it
I`m sad to admit
So remember those who died over seas
Remember them please
Those who were buried without a name
And those we were unable to reclaim
Art tradeWith the tradition unbroken
Everypony will remain unspoken
For all ponies know on this day
Only the clown may have his way
So run and hide, fillies and colts
Shut the doors and tighten the bolts
The clown has come to play
And he is here all day
He has so much fun planned
Laughing so hard you wont be able to stand
Come now, hes waited all this while
Just to make you laugh and smile
So during this dark day
Why not come out and play
He has been to many towns
How come everpony is afraid of clowns
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
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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