The difference between dignity and integrity
Is that one is honor while the other is honest
But should not the honest be honored
And the honor be honest?
And so shall the person then possessed of
dignified integrity
Be any different from one who possesses them

Posted 2 years ago / 5 notes #poetry #mine #spilled ink #time #sand #water #life

Time is often equated to sand
Running through fingers
Slipping through cracks
Always falling in the hourglass
But sand is pieces
And time is flowing
Like water, a river
An ocean surrounding
Eventually drowning

This feels
Fantastically foreign
But mindfully marvelous
Sitting down to
Pen pulchritudinous phrases
After an absence
Of badgering brevity
Yet robust reading;
Wistful writing
Can colorfully commence

Posted 2 years ago / 17 notes #poetry #mine #spilled ink #picture #words
Picture This

A thousand words to last forever
Perspective changing through a lens
Shutter closes and it captures
Chaos, love, hate, and zen
The camera hanging round her neck
Is more than just a fancy thing
It’s her life and it’s her escape
From life’s unending cruel ring
Share the memories
Or let them go
Just a thousand words
To let them know

Posted 2 years ago / 36 notes #prose #spilled ink #art #artist
I am.

My fingers may dance across the keyboard, my pen may twirl down the page, but I am not a writer. My words may rhyme, and disregard grammar, but I am not a poet. I may have studied three languages, but I am not a linguist. I may take ballet lessons, but I am not a ballerina. I may perform on stage, but I am not an actress. I may draw, but I am not an illustrator. I may paint, but I am not a painter. I may experiment with make up, but I am not a cosmetologist. I may learn piano or violin, but I am not a musician. The list may continue for ages, but I am not accomplished. I am an artist. And in creating I can be all these things and more.

Collaboration with the lovely amare-est-mori-dude. She is in italics.

- -

The seeds of sorrow blossom
In the garden where memories flourished
And the only flowers that grow here
Are the ones which by tears are nourished

In hopes of new, budding chances
To the dirt all pain shall fall
Poisoning all that wishes to prosper
Ridding life of all

Here the sun leaves ashes
Left behind by hungry fires
Burning away the corpses
Of those new budding liars

Broken promises rain down
Willing the forlorn to persevere
Birds of elegance grace this garden
Reminding all that hope is near

Posted 2 years ago / 11 notes #poetry #mine #spilled ink #death #hell #fear #pain
Tell it on the Mountain

It’s time to sleep
It’s time to die
And all outside
Will wonder why
They cannot face
What’s happened here
Can’t understand
The pain and fear
So here we hide
In darkest light
With this secret:
Our hidden plight
Dare you seek
To be let in?
For once you do
You cannot win
Let your gaze
Fall not upon it
The depths below
Or blood-stained summit Leave this mountain
And fair thee well
As you’re quick to flee
Our inner hell

Dream Catcher

Twist me into knots
And tie me tight at the seams
Cut a hole in the middle
For the passage of your dreams
Now place me where you wish
Leave me hanging by your head
Then promptly forget I’m there
As silent as the dead
Close those piercing eyes
And let me stand your guard
No nightmares will trouble your slumber
No matter how gruesome or scarred
I’ll be your shield you see
And protect you through the night
If only your dreams came true
And gave me my reason to fight

Posted 2 years ago / 19 notes #poetry #emilie autumn #306 #suicide #mine
The Instruments (Trigger warning)

Loud and obvious
Blood spilling on the floor
No need for second guesses
Metal sealed the door:
The Pistol

Easy to pretend
Just eat or take your drink
But something was added
A flavor better than they’ll think:
The Poison

Most difficult to construct
To hang from the ceiling
But the horror of discovery
Will leave them reeling:
The Noose

Dramatic and bloody
How many cuts will you make?
Will there be previous scars
So they see your smile was fake?:
The Knife

Or go like Ophelia
Don’t come up for air
Drowning is slow and “romantic”
But use any of these if you dare.

It’s a Circle

Once upon a time
Someone died
And still life went on

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aribelle-salliceAribelle Sallice

Hello, 안녕, Salve, Hola(:
I'm a 16 year old girl, you can call me Liz if you like.
Aribelle Sallice is a combination of Ariel, Belle, Sally, and Alice: 4 characters who describe me.
I'm a Killjoy, Thespian, Artist, and Writer.
I love music, books, theatre, dance, and art.
And all that is just a beginning.

My Poetry
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