Betrayal
144 creative works found
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referenced off a photo by one of my favourite photographers – / http://memelsteak.deviantart.com/
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The abduction of Persephone “Far from Demeter and Zeus, she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Oceanus and gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus which Earth made to grow at the will of Zeus, to be a trap for the bloom-like girl—a marvelous, radiant flower. The meadow was a thing of awe to see: from its root grew a hundred blooms and it smelled most sweetly, so that all wide heaven above and the whole earth and the sea’s salt swell laughed for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands; but the wide-pathed earth yawned, and Hades sprang out upon her. He caught her up reluctant on his golden chariot and bore her away lamenting,to the underworld forever more.” * / 8 days of countless hours, trashing it and starting over and over and over till I got this. I think I am happy now! !0.redbubble.com/img/art/border:blackwithdetail/product
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your empty, lifeless promises… companion piece
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A morbid history of St. John’s… the hill in the background is known as Gibbets Hil, it is where all the criminals were hung in public executions. The body of water at the base of the hill is where the executioner would throw the bodies when they were dead. The pond is known as “Dead Man’s Pond”. / / Visit my website On The Rock Photography / /
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This painting is an accurate rendition of one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. She was that, yes. / Her eyes, strangely, strangely, sweetly, were naturally permanently dilated. She shared this bizarre trait with another woman that I loved fiercely… / Both of them were, and remain, monstrous. Utterly and uniquely… separate as the poles that ice our planet, different as nails from knives; from the deadness of a shattered spine to frothy seizure to poisoned wine. / Amy, this woman, is the most damaged person I have ever met. The best metaphor I have found falling from my own lips to describe her is this: / “She is a running chainsaw thrown into a crowded room.” / I will post a little more and tell a few shreds of the hell the fucking HELL that she caused, boiling sick in her deadly empty head. She SMILED for. every. moment. that. she listened. when i played it for her. Nothing Endless / These are the lyrics. / NOTHING ENDLESS, song for the Frail Sisterhood. I can see your faded heart Only Because I can see in the dark Behind the skin within Your carefully Attractive scars Mouthing silent answers Gently, through the glass Where it starts Promise me, baby That you will cut my arms Because I never, never Wanna have to ask CHORUS Bleed into me, and stay Kiss me as you fade away Find a way, find a way Crying, and afraid She wants hunger and hurting In a black fever humming So she is hunting in jeans Still sticky from sinning The un-healing taint That deep – wound of fate This is what she makes This is what it takes This is the shape This is what she makes This is the shape (Overlaid with chorus) Seven is the number If I wanna get her any wetter She needs me to hit her She aches, she aches For a hammer CHORUS X 2 The torn edge of the night Makes myou think that maybe, maybe it might Warm the cold streets and your bare feet Freezing small and white Soaking the edge of the sky The bloody, beautiful night The sweetness the softness The toxic… endless NIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGHT The way you live your life The torn edge of the night My love… my love. Close your blind, dying eyes.
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drawing in bic biro.
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This is the first piece in my HSC major works. The series in total is called “Ascendancy” which means domination or influincing figure, but also has connotations to the ascention of Mary in Christianity. Basically what i tried to do was to show how humanity’s expression of faith has changed, evolved, or even stayed the same. “The Betrayal” is basically a contemporary version of the betrayel of Jesus my Judas. Compressed Charcoal on Paper / size: 110×59 cms I would like to thank the wonderful photographer who allowed me to use his brilliant photographs as references throughout the series: mehmet turgut . His page on DeviantART is (http://mehmeturgut.deviantart.com/) and the link to the particular photo for this piece is (http://mehmeturgut.deviantart.com/art/gravity-part-2f-26831677)
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It says King David danced before the Lord, with all his might. And dance he did, out of worship, thankfulness, absolutely, but also for the sheer, joy of it! I think we all could use a good, joyful dance!!!1 Original: sold / Size 11×14 / Media 140lbs smooth Bristol / Materials: color pencil,marker
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Befuddled, Bamboozled and Betrayed
by lianneREADER BEWARE: what follows is a perhaps tedious, lengthy, self-indulgent bit of prose that reflects a somewhat disheartened spirit today…
READER BEWARE: what follows is a perhaps tedious, lengthy, self-indulgent bit of prose that reflects a somewhat disheartened spirit today. Tomorrow will be another, better day, I’m sure. Lay the blame for it – should you manage to get through it all – on the fact that today I accomplished the tense task of filing my taxes – lol. (And to give credit where credit is due, I borrowed the phrase tense task of taxes from my dearest friend, Joan Ireland.) All my adult life, if you asked me who I was / I’d have responded in this order: / I’m a teacher, a reader, a political animal, / a private, part time writer as a means of / personal expression only, a thinker. / Then I’d have added wife, mother, daughter, / sister, friend, kind of artsy-craftsy artist of / no note whatsoever. / Teacher – that’s how I identified myself / first and foremost. For the last 25 years of my teaching career / I taught sociology, social justice and religion / to high school seniors. / My passion was justice – / in politics, in the economic arena, for the poor, / for the middle class who were caught / in the struggle between those who have / too much and those who have too little, / justice for the oppressed – / for reasons of race or creed at home or elsewhere - / in El Salvador, which broke / my heart, the Sudan, Ethiopia, / East Timor, Tibet, / justice in the Middle East, / justice… giving each sacred human being his / due, his basic human rights that exist simply and / undeniably because he’s a human being, / justice for the environment we all share, / justice – period. And I tried not to just talk a good game / in the classroom but to model it, / to get my students involved in / taking care of their little piece of turf / to make a difference, / teaching them, by example, I hoped, / how to be critical thinkers / and problem solvers, / good decision-makers who regard the / needs of others at least as equal to their own. / I engaged them and others in what / I hoped was intelligent debate, / engaged myself in political campaigns, / the occasional protest against wars / or the rape of the middle class / or toxic waste. I gave that all up – most of it unwillingly, / beaten, I suppose, / by forces against which I apparently / had no weapons at all. / Gave up the husband to colon cancer / and a heart attack, linked by the / government’s own admission to / Agent Orange and his time in Vietnam, / the children to freedom, pursuing their / own paths in distant parts of the country, / the friends to distance too. / But I gave up teaching for other reasons / and they are what trouble me today. I tired of the struggle frankly – / The students I faced in that final five years / were very different than those / I’d taught in the first twenty – / more spoiled, more self-indulgent, / academically lazier, with little intellectual / curiosity and a kind of brainwashed political / ideology handed on over the dinner table / by ruggedly individualistic parents – when / they ever had dinner together. / These students, whether children of affluence / or children of struggle, had become hedonists / or escapists with no interests beyond material purchases, / the virtual reality of video games and computers, / the casual sex of entitlement, parentally supplied / alcohol or pervasive recreational drugs. / I saw even very good schools graduating / functionally illiterate young men and women, / universities unable to remediate that failure, / standards declining, literacy rates dropping, / a cultural negligence of all trying to seek / the lowest common denominator within / a grossly overindulged youth mindset. / When even the school administration supported / parents who wanted their babies to have fun instead / of challenging assignments or homework, I left. / When I no longer had the wherewithal, even / in partnership with other like-minded people / to affect educational standards at all, I quit. Politically, I was bamboozled once too often / and betrayed by those whose lofty rhetoric / was left behind after election, / like dusty volumes in an anachronistic library, / when confronted by the wheeling and dealing of / contemporary government. I sincerely / still believe, as I once so idealistically did / and adamantly taught, / that no single politician can / substitute charisma for character or the / courage to lose for telling the whole truth. / The last such politician to tell the unadulterated, / unvarnished truth was Jimmy Carter – / who spoke honestly about our malaise of spirit / and was promptly trampled for his truth / by wrathful patriots hungrier for sugarcoating / and slogans than for substance. / It only took another twenty-two years for him / to win the Nobel Prize and be recognized / for the decent, honorable, quietly determined, / peaceful man he was. That won’t win me kudos / I’m sure from big defense advocates, but / I’ll take peacemaking over saber rattling any day. So I’m disheartened, disabused, and / feeling hollowly empty of purpose. I fear / for those who still cling with sincere / hearts and strong conviction to dreams of / big change tied to the raft of rhetoric. / But perhaps I’m just an aging cynic / who has outlived her usefulness. / In the shelter of my own small circle / of affairs, I feel more in control / and less befuddled, bamboozled or betrayed.
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with a thousand windows watching
by careless rapturerosy red gifts and punchy walls
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If Only
by jcmontgomeryWould we burn so hard, so bright? Would we consume the world around us as much as each other?
What one dearly wants is usually what one should, never ever have. If only…. If only ones passion, ones unquenchable lust, would come without causing so much pain to others. If only…. If only ones heart did not belong to another when it finally falls in love. Oh yes. If only. Note: This is a work of fiction. Merely a musing, a fantasy, a thought.
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Moving on
by kimberleigh sarahletters cry like friends who didn’t see eye to eye / the best note you ever wrote destroyed you / and I’m sad to say the blames on me / ever…
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heart break
by JC/SS Strodder“I’m sorry Cal but I just don’t have time for you any more, I think we need a break” these words send my world crashing down, for a momen…
another emotionally inspired peice
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Judas Betrays Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, for some money. Arguably the most famous betrayal of all time. What flashed across my mind, was Judas’ brutal materialism, and the lack of satisfaction it gave him. He topped himself a few hours later. It’s particularly poignant in this part of Germany-completely unaffected by the war (the rest of Germany was pretty much destroyed)-and wealth flows like a river. The Western philosophy of consumerism equates possessions and money with happiness and self fulfillment. But most people have an expression of utter misery on their faces. Still, most of us would chose to be miserable millionaire than a miserable pauper. Helps pay the bills. The image is a slightly enhanced wood carving found on the door of Constance Roman Catholic Cathedral, Germany. What is also interesting, to me, was the portrayal of Jesus. Jesus has often been portrayed Jesus as a white Anglo-Saxon—long hair and goatee beard. It seems the enduring image of Jesus in the West, to the point of caricature. This wood carving offers a different physical depiction, although it’s interpretation seems artistic more than literal. . As we know, the official gospels themselves give no physical description, they focus on Jesus’ words, actions and interactions.
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BETRAYED
by Sally OmarWhen she looks in his eyes she sees it / Look of dismay and grief / When he looks in her eyes he sees it / Loss of hope and disbelief / A lie…
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Liberty and justice may meant for all, but that doesn’t mean it’s doled out in equal amounts, or that it’s even available to all, for that matter.
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The Siren (A poem)
by InfinityRainThe Siren / By Rain / June 16th 2005 Funny, who think talent drips from fingertips / Like blood from cut fingers run. / When moisture…
A short poem I wrote a while back
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This is Glennifer Church – the inspiration for the glass church that Oscar floated down the river in Peter Carey’s Oscar and Lucinda. It was a story of love, betrayal and ultimately betrayal. / / Title taken from a list of water-colour pigments. / See my JE for further details. / / Christmas / Beautiful People / Bellingen / Great Gifts / Sport / /
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PAIN
by Samantha Cole-SurjanYou firstly say that I am not at fault, / And then you made your last assult.
This was written about someone who meant a great deal to me and I thought felt the same way, but instead crushed me like I never thought possible.
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Lisa C. Weber ©2007 (Created with Bryce 6.1) Visit My Complete Bubble for all My 3D Artwork. Thanks for dropping by and enjoy!
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Butterfly Girl
by Melissa ParkYou’re sweet and you’re soft, my butterfly girl, / And oh, how you have my heart in a whirl, / You flit and you float, all over the world / ...
Contact The Artist / / Enchanted Forest BY Cliff Vestergaard
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“We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” / The eagle has been betrayed and soon will be caged, for “we the people” have failed to uphold the responsibility of our Constitution. /
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Emotional Phases of the Betrayed Lover
by Alexia Wardell...whispered words, teasingly indistinct.
When I was younger I used to write quite a bit. I have never been great at grammar, or even placement of the phrases. Poems were not my strong suite,but I thought I would give it a try again. I figure it was once a talent, and with some practice, it could be again. / Emotional Phases of a Betrayed Lover deals with the emotions of uncertainty, disbelief, anger, pain, hurt and finally resolving to take care of yourself. / Comments are welcome, any thoughts or even critique is fine.
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