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Lazy DaysThe sun bakes the sand
Like a cake in an oven,
Its warmth on the backs
Of the steady beach goers.
They see the lazy draw
And push of the water
And fall into the peacefulness
That the ocean brings to us.
The glass-like blue stretch
Of water that reaches farther
Than the eye hopes to imagine.
And how the sea so softly
Rises and falls to the
Stable beat of nature.
For the blazing sun
Will fall to the depths
Of the leisurely
The people gradually
Make their journey
Away from the beach
That is being drowned
In the orange light
Of the sunset. Those
That remain behind
Are the ones looking
For a touch of the
Harmony in the
Thunder of close waves.
The sea collides with
The sandy shore that
Breaks the loud wave's race
And so come more waves
There will always be
Soundless knolls and tors
Rounding the sea's view.
the SouthMy South
My south is water skis and bumble bees, with a side of mashed potatoes.
My south has lightning bugs, but they're seen only as traffic lights.
In my south, food is a way of life instead of gasoline for humans.
My south is the new generation who want to be anyone but themselves, and the old who want to be no one but themselves.
In my south, blues and jazz and tradition of sorts are just memories.
Now in my south, hateful glances of the supremacy don't exist, only to be replaced by the ones shot from materialistic wealth.
My south is filled with hundreds of stories of concrete that attempt to scrape the sun.
My south is the generosity and love of those who try to live the life that defined the southern tradition.
My south has secluded paths to dreams just for the surreal lives of those who dare to escape the businessman's habitat.
In my south, I may not be able to see beyond the Appalachians, but we know what lies there.
In my south, the colors of variety surpass any rainbow, but
The BeginningHe told them, of course. He told those idiots everything, the whole damn story, including the blunder he'd made, and its consequences. Looking back on it later, he realized he had probably been in shock the whole time. It made sense, anyone would have been.
Soph was about twenty years old, and he'd been that way for a couple of years already, ever since the Hoarde had started attacking humanity from the past. Every day that passed, they ate at another day in the past. It sickened him. Those creatures had absolutely no regard for proper time and causality protocols.
It didn't seem to affect anyone else that way, though.
The Hoarde was the result of a human creation, of course, like everything bad in the world, though no one else knew about them. Then again, no one else had undiluted access to the power of creation. Even he didn't know much about the Hoarde, only that they appeared through some tear in The Fabric of The World and started killing people off. They appeared at some point in
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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