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"Doctor", Parody of "Starman"Another lonely night in Leadworth by myself
Nothing to do, I was bored you know ow ow
This crack was scarin' me, something bout Prisoner Zero it said
Then a loud sound, then a man (not ginger)
Made me cook him up custard and fish fingers
That weren't no policeman, this was something much more weird
There's a Time Lord waiting in the sky
He's coming down to meet us
But I think he'll blow our minds
There's a Doctor waiting in the sky
He took me on his spaceship
Said he'd need me for a while
He tells me:
"I've heard children crying
To save them all I'm trying
And just this once, not lying."
He took me up and showed me everything ing ing
Left my fiancée and engagement ring ing ing
Met up with Van Gogh and with Winston Churchill too
I got pregnant, had a baby girl irl irl
She grew up and was then feared by every world orld orld
She was my best friend too, now tell me, is that not right?
So I'm Amy, floating through the sky
Then Rory came to meet us
But he always seems to die
So we're h
Watched by a godA god sat on his throne of clouds and observed the world beneath him. This was one of his least favourite planets, a pathetic little blob of green and blue in an old-fashioned section of the universe. He didn't know why he'd chosen to watch them, barely paying attention, the way they watched their televisions.
The inhabitants had named it Earth, but it was known by a much more offensive name in ethereal circles.
The natives here, a mostly sapient race called humans, had messed up. Many planets had races that had failed, but few had failed as dramatically as the humans. While other cultures explored the limits of knowledge and scientific advancement, humans had apparently given up, inventing instead a billion and one ways to amuse themselves without achieving anything worthwhile.
The slacker species of the universe a species predisposed to play.
Last time the god had watched here, the humans had just worked out exactly what gravity was and how it worked. It was hardly a mystery b
Xanthic LightAlice and Edward stepped closer together, examining one another in the streetlight. Both of them had aged since they'd last seen one another and looked curiously the same but so different.
"Can you believe it's been fifteen years?" Edward said, raising his hand to stroke Alice's hair.
"Don't," she said. "Edward, please don't do this."
"Fifteen years," he said again. "Great Scott, you can't tell me that the feelings aren't still there, even after all this time." He begged her to agree with him.
"I can't," she said, refusing to look at him now he was so close. Just run, she thought. Kicking herself inside, she wondered why she had agreed to see him. Love didn't fade, even after all this time.
"Maybe I should just go," she said.
"No," he said, firmly. "Oh please, don't go. Please, I made such a mistake when I left you. Queen of my heart, forever and a day." Roaring cars passed them on the bridge, a few of them wondering who the two people were chatting over the water. She wished she had j
Deceased - IIIDying hurts, and don't let anyone tell you any different. People bang on about how, "Oh, he died peacefully in his sleep" and shit like that but don't believe a word of it. OK, my death was violent anyway nothing prepares you for being catapulted through a windscreen but I've spoken to people up here who've died in their sleep and apparently it's no less painful. It's something to do with the soul having to be ripped from the body "ripped" being the key word here.
On the whole though, once you've gone through that, it's actually quite peaceful. I thought I'd be worrying non-stop about the people I've left behind but as it turns out, I'm not. That's not to sound selfish, it's just that once I'm up here, there's nothing I can do about them. Well, OK, so I can help one person, but you don't get any choice in the matter.
Everyone's a guardian angel up here, see. You die, you cover someone's back until the time they're destined to die, making sure they don't pop it firs
Painter - IIWith Josh gone, I don't know what to do anymore. I know we were together for just eleven months, but it felt so right. I guess it always feels right at the beginning if it didn't, you wouldn't press on. Art is my final class of the day but I'm not really with it. We're supposed to be painting the still life in front of us a mish-mash of fabrics, fruit, stuffed birds and the top half of a mannequin but my mind isn't on it. Everyone has made some progress but I still have a pure white canvas staring back at me.
I pick up a paintbrush and continue to think about Josh. It's been a week now. I had a few days off school for it but because I'm not family or anything, I can't get compassionate leave or anything. I've just got to press on. It's hard to think of him laughing and joking now I've seen him with his blood and brains smeared across the front of his car. My leg still twinges a bit from where it was caught under the dashboard, but it's not severely damaged.
Grapevine - IYou'll never guess what I heard! No, wait, I mean it! I shouldn't even really be gossiping about it but I had to tell someone. Do you remember Pete? You know, Pete thingy? The one who was going out with Tina but they broke up when she slept with his brother? You must remember! Think back, it was huge news like, last month. No, two months ago. I don't know. Yeah?
No, well anyway, you remember his mate Duncan? Oh you must know! You'd know him if you saw him he's the one who got really wasted at Anne's eighteenth? Jumped on the table and declared himself King of the Lesbians? Long hair? Anyway, never mind him, it's his brother, Josh. You have to remember Josh! That's right, the one who spent last Hallowe'en making eyes at you and your pumpkin costume. Totally hot.
Anyway, yeah, you'll never guess what happened! He was out driving with his girlfriend Becky you must know Becky and anyway, what they're saying is that he swerved to avoid a deer and crashed and he's dead.
I wake up.I wake up.
I'm on a dark desert highway and I don't remember how I got here. There are a few stars in the sky but no moon and not enough light to guide me. I reach into my pockets and pull out a torch, but with nothing for the light to bounce off, I cannot tell how far I am from anything.
I begin to walk, and I walk for several hours, or maybe days, or maybe just a couple of minutes. I arrive at a house with lights burning from every window. I knock on the door and the wood sounds like metal. There is a clank and a clang and the door opens slightly.
An old woman's face looks out at me. She screams something in a language I don't understand and I feel a bullet lodge itself in my lung. I choke and I wake up
I'm leaning against a set of lockers in my school corridor and I don't remember how I got here. It's after hours, still light outside but the school is empty. I walk down the corridor, which seems longer than I remember. It takes an hour to reach the door at the end. It's locked
Letter To The Future21st July 2010
To Whom It May Concern:
If you have found this letter, congratulations. I am writing this in the year 2010 and hopefully, nuclear war permitting, it will have reached you in the year 2110. The language I am writing in is English which, while I assume will still be a dominant language in one hundred years time, may have been killed off by the Chinese.
2110 sounds so futuristic, but once upon a time 2010 sounded like that, yet here I am. It's weird to think that this year is now history to you, the way we look back at 1910 and think they were a bit backwards. You probably think that about us.
It's 41 years since humans first landed on the moon (unless that has since proved to be a hoax) and we've currently no signs of heading into space again. They keep talking about it, but there's nothing happening. I hope we're on the moon by the time you read this. Hopefully you've got to Mars by now. Maybe you're reading this on Mars!
Are there aliens yet? The closest we get is Doctor
Excerpt: 2117The first noise I heard in one hundred years was a gentle hiss. I felt dizzy and realised that I was lying on cool marble table wearing only shorts. There was a mask over my mouth, feeding me oxygen. I turned my head gently to the side and noticed that the mask was connected to a tube, which fed down into a small glass dome. Inside the dome was what appeared to be a bonsai rainforest.
What I presumed to be a clock was on the wall just above it, although it was hard to tell. It had no hands but instead four circles of various sizes were in place beneath the numbers, one of them ticking with what I presumed were seconds. One was moving too fast to be properly seen.
The hissing continued, very faintly. I wanted to sit up but I quickly realised that my wrists and ankles were fastened to the table, although I could feel no fastening at all. It was almost like I'd been magnetised and stuck to the fridge.
I heard a door open and someone entered the room, and at the same time, the oxygen mask
Beyond LoveYou say 'beautiful' like a mistake -
like it slipped out unwarranted
from those dark parts of your mind
that you don't want me to go to,
you say it like that.
You caress like it's worship -
like if you pressed too hard
or took too much, you'd pay the price
and I love those urgent times when
you're willing to pay it.
You teach me love like I'll die without it -
like if you don't defrost me
and my frozen image of myself,
then I might stop breathing
and extinguish beneath my own icy damnation.
You kiss me like you have to -
like we're sharing an oxygen tank
in a toxic, broken-down universe
and you are trying not to breathe
to save me.
You kiss me like that.
You love me, like that -
how am I supposed to resist
a man who loves me beyond his own sense
and senses - beyond love ?
In SanityI find myself in a world of white,
This place it feels so pure.
The Sun's rays are warm and bright
I've never felt so sure.
I explore the land and all its sights,
I enjoy the world's grand tour.
I wander around until the night
Shows what it has in store.
In the darkness, a speck of light
Reveals a hidden door.
I turn the handle and peer inside,
A sight I can't endure.
I turn to run, to escape my plight,
I dare not to explore.
But something inside catches my eye,
I can't resist the lure.
I awake to find myself tied tight,
A voice tries to assure,
"This one may finally fix you right,
Maybe this is the cure."
kafka has been dead foreveri.
I am going to cut the veins out of my neck:
pull the stars from the legiments
drown the cities in bruises
I am going to burn in hell:
tear down the pyramids, the faces, the continents
the weight of the universe
(if I live to be 20
I will know the landscape of my mind
as well as the bottom of the ocean
& people I've never met)
CarcinogensMy hands smell
like antiseptic solution
and cancer, because
the peroxide won’t
cleanse your cigarette
ashes from my nails,
and the cremation
jar is still smoking.
Pop Rocksbeads of roman sweat and dust
lace the wind like meth into pop rocks—
feel the fizzlepop of history flamenco
across your justahuman tongue
and wonder why your professor never
lectured on the strawberry tang
of crusaders' sloshed blood.
sunset soon forgottenin a single moment all her greatness collapsed,
her soulfulness small and full of absence.
i am wild
with infinite shades of yes -
and a careless smile
so kiss me quick
under the sun
(just until the pain leaves)
DunesOut on the dunes, you could be walking on the moon
Maybe you are, maybe we are; see that planet in the sky?
How much more can be said about body heat, about
Sucking the marrow from bones in a vain attempt to quench?
Disheveled by dust-storms in an ocean of sand, we walk
Blank-window eyes searching for what, some sort of life?
Our feet are heavy, the ground wants to eat them; no moon, this
Now the sky is the color of sand, and there are no stars to wish on
Sweat and dead weight, we wait for the coolness of night
Fatigued, delusional, we see a rusty car approach; we get in
the secret is the almond
in your brain
you should listen when it screams
to run away
there is nothing
in your ribcage
one half of a clichè.
if I'm made
of bones and chemicals,
cold calculus, or
man of science
tell me why
think away the pain.
Do not be ridiculous,
love was just dark chocolate,
of rancid coffee.
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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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