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Emilio's Flirty PastaMy good friend Emilio Mazzanti from the most romantic Venice sent me one of his new recipes in the view of Valentine’s Day next month, “Flirty Pasta”. This is a very unique recipe, especially for those in love with sure results, triple tested by Emilio, if you plan on proposing to your other half. Actually, Emilio cooked this dish on Valentine’s Day for his then girlfriend now MS. Mazzanti under the starry sky. So, my precious lovebirds, wear your aprons and start cooking…
500 grams strawberries, chopped in squares,
A package of heart shaped pasta,
50 years of marriage balsamic vinegar,
A can of pureed tomatoes,
Salt from the great lovers’ sea,
Passionate Chili peppers,
3 Valentine’s Day kisses,
Goddess Aphrodite’s Basil,
Grated Parmesan for serving,
Bring a large pot of water and 2 magic teaspoons of salt to boil. Add the pasta and cook until al dente (or follow the package instructions).
In the mean
Marina's Laughter PattiesThis is a variation of a very old and secret recipe of my grandmother, Eugenia, “Eugenia’s Smiling Patties”. I changed this recipe because of my sister, Cranky Sofia, because, since a dragon – elephant sat on her mallows, she was constantly sulky and grumpy. However, since she ate the patties, she is smiley and cheerful. She replanted the mallows but this time she put repellent with mouse flavor…
Ingredients for the crust:
250 grams all -purpose flour,
1/3 br. tea cup olive oil,
¾ br. glass of lukewarm water,
1 pinch of salt
Ingredients for the filling:
3 morning smiles (preferably fresh),
2 m. teaspoons tickling powder,
5 drops of sugar-eraser syrup for the bad memories,
1 handful chopped chocolate
In a bowl put the flour, oil, salt and little by little add the lukewarm water, kneading until you end up with dough that doesn’t stick to your hands. Put aside.
In a bowl add the smiles, the tickling powder (caref
Caged Self-destructionThe beast moved slightly. His frozen expression started to break. This change was petty, almost unnoticeable but he realized it. He raised his big head and stared with cold, green eyes the bars of his cage.
“Soon.”, he thought.
He, then, returned to his previous position and closed his eyes. He was still too weak but he concentrated. He noticed that an unknown source was feeding him, making him stronger. Feelings. Strong feelings for someone. A man; as always. When the beast first decided to reside inside her, she looked like an easy target. She would break instantly. But yet, it took her 7 years to finally start doubting. But it didn’t matter. If the engine had started working, it would be impossible to stop the procedure.
“Soon but why to wait?” he thought and smirked.
He had regained a tiny fragment of his former power, a fragment enough to break her resistance. He didn’t need to do much. She needed just a small push. And it’d be over. So
The Foolishness of DesiresThe woman crossed the small bridge with quick steps. Her heels echoed on the cold stone. Behind her, a man followed her hurriedly with long, quiet strides.
“So easily will you leave our children and me?” he asked her with desperation.
The woman didn’t turn around to face him. Tears were running on her cheeks.
“I-I have to l-leave…” she managed to say. “I-I want to get a-away of this place. C-can’t take it anymore.”
With those words, strength seemed to leave her body and the woman fell on her knees on the grass. That grass was brighter there. Her husband, surprised and confused, didn’t know how to react. He stepped closer to her, trying to hold her in his arms, but the woman’s sobs become louder and harder. She leaned over the crystal clear waters of the lake. She saw her face, tired and aged before its time. Her youth had flown away too quickly; hardships had replaced happiness and carelessness. She had achieved too
5 a.m.It’s 5 a.m.
And they kicked me out of the bar again
The third one this week
They said I got drunk
and had a fight
for an imaginary woman
You only exist in my head now?
I don’t go home anymore
It’s suffocating to watch our past
So, I roam around every night
With fuzy eyes
To see you again
One last time
Before dawn finds me dead
Red is the theme tonightHe stood there, staring at a big, white emptiness. His eyes blank, hollow. It had been months since the passion had left his body transforming him into a cheap replica of what he used to be. Many didn’t notice the difference, but for the few ones he mattered the most, he was a different person, a stranger. He knew they would criticize him; his best friends. He hadn’t called them or kept in touch for months. They waited there for a sign of his to know he was alright. They waited patiently but the only thing he could do was to stare the white wall. He hadn’t noticed the empty packs of cigarettes and the filthy coffee mugs thrown all over the place. The heavy atmosphere from the smoke didn’t bother him. His body, tired and malnourished, was complaining for comfort but the only thing he was hungry of was passion, inspiration.
Disappointed, he took a half empty mug from the table and walked to the window. With the same resigned look, he gazed the view of his balco
An Underground City (4 Final, Extended End)Ralf and his gang walked out of the centre of Celintium. They headed to the west side of the mountains towards Miritror a small deserted village with hardly any people and ravaged buildings. They passed some dark buildings ready to fall and took an alley headed to the upper levels of the mines. No one walked there so the four men took of their masks and lowered their hoods.
After ten minutes of a rough climbing they met themselves in front of a tall and imposing tower made of red colored rocks. That building seemed new and well preserved and a sense of vibrancy was wafting on the air. Ralf got closer to a wooden door and even though the place desolated he checked the area around him. When he made sure it was clear, he pushed the door open gently and made a motion to the rest.
“Don’t move an inch.” he hissed.
They others nodded anxiously and positioned themselves in front of the door. Ralf climbed the stairs of the dim lighted building and stopped on the top level of t
An Underground City (4 Final)“Who is Gilda?” Emma asked Gresilda.
The woman had refused to answer any of Emma’s questions the previous night and insisted that she should get some rest. Now, as the sun had risen in a hot and suffocating morning, Emma, Gresilda and her children were pacing down the paved roads of Celinthium. They passed through the populous and alive neighborhoods and then took a channel out of the centre of the city, deeper into the mountains. There, the air was pleasantly cooler but the moisture stuck on Emma’s exposed skin and made her joins hurt. Anne, Hugh and Nicolas didn’t seem to mind and ran before the two ladies chasing one another and giggling. Gresilda, on the other hand, had a difficult time.
“She is a very spiritual woman,” Gresilda replied and wiped the sweat off her face. “She is a healer and a priestess. She isn’t very easy to approach, you’ll see it by yourself, but she never failed to cure any disease or predict immanent
lost my voice.I wrote "I love you"
in the sand at the beach.
The tide swallowed the words
and drowned them
before I could speak.
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
Loving A Guy Who Cannot Love Himself.Firstly, tell him that he doesn't necessarily need to be the “strongest” man in the world,
that if he cries, you won't look down on him for it,
that you won't call him weak.
Tell him that he doesn't have to like sports, or fishing, or football, or any of the “mainstream” things that boys are “supposed” to like.
Let him know that liking art, or dancing, or singing or acting doesn't make him gay, doesn’t make him any less of a man, it just makes him who he is.
A human being.
And for goodness sakes, tell him that blue does not have to be his favorite color, than he can indulge in pink, or purple or even magenta!
And to the girl who take on the task, remember please, that it is not always the Knight who saves the Princess.
No, this time, the Princess may need to save the Knight.
Do not pour your problems onto him, rather, balance each other out.
Be a shoulder to cry on. A friend to be there. A love that never leaves.
Perhaps more than often,
On WritingWrite for today
And like it’s all
That’ll be left of you
Never write for popularity.
Write with clarity, but
‘Don’t make everything said’.
Write a million things;
An ode to the voice
Inside your head,
An elegy for the living,
A carpe diem for the dead.
Write to tell
To just keep
They’ll find a way out.
Don’t write for approval,
That way misery lies.
Poetry can’t be judged,
Not properly –
Write for yourself;
Doesn’t matter if it’s
Good enough for
You’ll never be Shakespeare.
But he’d never
Have been you;
Pour your heart into it,
That’s the best
That you can do.
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
I Fell In love Inside of a DreamI fell in love,
inside of a dream.
And woke up,
with a broken heart.
But it wasn't my heart,
that was broken.
It was his,
and I'll never see him again.
That long haired, pale skin,
blue eyed boy, will forever remain,
a figment of my imagination.
So close, yet so far away.
And I will never be able to apologize,
for my mistake.
ShatteredIf I found you, on your knees,
trying desperately to collect the shattered pieces of your heart-
I would kneel beside you and help you pick them up.
I would not cast a blind eye,
and pretend I had not seen you.
If I saw that your hands had been cut,
by the very shards of hope you were trying so hard to gather-
I would take your hands in mine, and hold them until the pain subsided.
Then I would kiss every wound- no matter how big or how small,
until I was sure you would be able to use your hands again.
If you were crying from the fear that you'd never be able to pick up everything,
I would hold you until your tears stopped, and I would comfort you with gentle words.
But I would not lie to you- I would never lie.
The heart is a frail thing- once shattered, it can never be fully repaired.
Parts will remain missing, and the mended hope will always bear cracks.
If we found that we'd gathered all that we were able,
and that there were a fine powder remaining of what we could not collect.
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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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