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Creation MythLong ago, the sea was such a clear, calm, and serene place, that its surface resembled that of a great mirror stretching from shore to shore. There were no mighty waves that tumbled and crashed onto the land. This was before humans roamed this earth, and clams did not have shells. Neither were they sightless, soundless creatures who dug down into the sand. They were called cyeiila, and they were fish, beautiful fish possessing scales colored more radiant even than the sun itself. They were the prized creations of the god of beauty, Aishuaelanaoniovembo, and were the envy of all the fish in the sea.
In the beginning, the cyeiila were contented with the way they were and the cool calm water around them, and with life in general. They amused themselves by making silly little songs about the purple seaweed that lay in heaps on the flat ocean floor. One of these songs, in fact, became so popular among the sea dwellers that its tune still lives on today as the song, "Mary Had A Little Lamb".
To Petrarch, from LauraCursed is the day he had set eyes on me,
For no peace have I since that day and on.
Harassing me with sonnets most sappy,
Almost to the point where they just sound wrong.
With his rhymes he is obviously pleased,
And words that seem to have come from his heart,
I wonder what heart could be so diseased
As to cast me into such discomfort
I am telling him to leave me alone,
I have no interest in the stalking creep.
Though I'd very much like to pick a bone,
I think he's not worth it, I'd much rather sleep.
Though I have to say he's a good writer,
I think the rhymes of Shakespeare are better.
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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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