Vote for "Artist of the Week" #99 Literature (Artist Spotlight #2 Read Here ---> http://allartsupport.deviantart.com/journal/Artist-Spotlights-218391193)
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:thumb403563277: SomberNocturna
Unclassified.Unclassified.
I am not British nor am I English,
I am a member of the planet earth.
My skin is black making it hard to distinguish
That I do not belong to any specific turf.
Although my passport may say otherwise
And there may be boxes I am forced to tick.
My Continental ties are instrumental in their eyes.
Just like you, I am vulnerable to stones and sticks.  
My hair may be curly and my nose may be wide
But my extremities are bound to any communal cemetery.
If you would be willing to compare a picture of our insides.
You will see that our differences are purely elementary.
Yet you are conditioned to see me as incompatible
And this misplaced backhand is something I can understand.
Even though your judgments are far from factual.  
Despite our fathers demands, I will still openly shake your hand.
I may wear trainers and you may wear shoes.
You might like rock music and I might prefer rap and reggae.
My team may win today and your team may lose.
But we both will eat, sleep and KelaLewis-Morin
Love's Colourthere are things
that matter
and even more
that don't -
but the colour
of your soul
does not
count to the
latter.
please tell me the
colour of your soul..
tinted in bright red 
or maybe a
faint green?
please tell me the
colour of your soul.
are you full
of passion
or left with
blues?
are you a
happy yellow
that shines
and lights
the night?
please tell me the
colour of your soul..
I would live through
all the clichés
to have you
even should it
mean just for
a second.
I would do
all these
foolish things
that lovers do,
because it's
for you. 
I will do all the
things that
dorks would do,
but please tell me
the colour of
your soul.
let me be 
the sun that
lights your dark,
a lucky yellow
if you feel but
blue.
let me guide you
through your
darkest night,
light your torch
when your's
dies out.
let me see you
shine so bright
and
let me take you
on a flight -
through the
ill labyrinth
that is
my mind.
but please tell me first
what is the colour
of your soul? ArtCrusade
The Queen and The Fading Storm
Loosen the sickly grip of the false reality,
where broken promises grow abundant in ash laced fields.
The ashes of chances gone by.
Disgusting is but a single title in the series I could bestow to you.
Our relatives of the jungle, living in filth and cannibalism,
Do fine compared to the beast with countless faces I know by your name.
A game long ended by the pawn now a queen,
the master of her own free will,
shattered many times by rules created as gone along.
You disgrace all, dragging your self-proclaimed
passions down to the hole you've been digging, where the sulfur levels have only
risen with all motions of the rusted shovel...
it is only by miracle that you breathe like the rest of us...
The obliteration of illusions and conquering of the ash
laced fields has remade that queen out of
the broken down state of mind and being.
How pathetic that you should be called out by one you've endlessly judged,
and another that you've only used and taken for granted.
Flesh & blood should only GrubbsWriting
2075: The ProloguePrologue
                               
                     Three skinny figures walked across a barren landscape. They had been told he was here. Here, in the middle of the baking desert once filled with life. I suppose we ought to have left him, under the circumstances, but if there are any survivors, we have to find them. Susan walks in front, her knife in her pocket with her hand. Her dark African-American skin glitters with sweat in the blinding sunlight, her fuzzy hair sticks out of her ponytails at odd angles. She is fifteen. I am in the middle, with my long brown hair tied back in a long braid. My pocketknife is in  my satchel that I carry around my shoulders, because I trust that Susan will protect me, not to mention I’m still in training, I’m ‘just twelve’. I swear, the moment she turned fifteen, she knew everything.  Bringing up the rear is Juan, with his shifty brown eyes seeming to look everywhere at once, his crossbow drawn and his Hispanic skin RandomWriter888
As I Follow YouWhy does it feel like you are never there
I have got my arm stretched out
But, now I believe my tired mind is playing tricks on me
There is no hand there for me to grab for
I open my mouth and take a breath
Crying I call out for you
But, you won’t turn around
You won’t acknowledge my pain
Instead you mumble one word comforts
Over your shoulder
You won’t even face me now
So, you miss everything
The tears, the threats, and the fresh scars
You won’t even reach out a hand
When I am struggling
Just to keep my head above water
But, I am not mad
How could I ever be
I was the stupid one
I was the one that said you could walk away
So for now I walk just a few feet behind you
Reaching out, ready to grab your shoulder
Wishing more than anything that you would turn around
Just that you would see me now
I walk right behind you
Crying silently to your deafened ears
Searching for a solace that you no longer offer
Yet, I keep reaching out with my bandaged hands
But, now I grow Sakura2349

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