Shop More Submit  Join Login

The Journal Portal

Tune into the voice of the community by checking out deviantART's Journal Portal. Join the conversation by browsing, adding faves, and leaving comments, or submit your own Journal to let your voice be heard.

Submit Journal

Community Mood

  • Love
  • Joy
  • Wow!
  • Affection
  • Adoration
  • Love 22755
  • Joy 18478
  • Wow! 4703
  • Affection 1752
  • Adoration 1069
63,518 Deviants Online

Norman Rockwell, All American Deviant

Tue Oct 28, 2014, 7:51 PM
Norman Rockwell Tribute by Sarafinconcepts

Few artists have so definitively reflected the lives of average Americans as Norman Rockwell.

He began his lifetime dedication to being the “America’s Illustrator” as the 19-year-old art editor for Boys’ Life, the house publication of the Boy Scouts of America. A few years later he assumed his more famous position at The Saturday Evening Post, though he never broke his ties with the Boy Scouts.  His first great achievement painting everyday scenes of America in his signature hyper-realistic style was “The Four Freedoms,” a series inspired by a speech by the U.S. President, Franklin Roosevelt, in 1943 during World War II.  Two of the four paintings, “Freedom from Want,” depicting a family Thanksgiving dinner scene, and “Freedom of Speech,” with an average Joe voicing his opinion at a Town Hall meeting, have become all-American visual icons in the decades since their creation.

Freedom from Want
by Norman Rockwell

Freedom of Speech
by Norman Rockwell

Freedom from Fear
by Norman Rockwell

Freedom of Worship
by Norman Rockwell

Rockwell was a true American patriot, lending his talents when needed as a propagandist of war during World War II, but also painting pleas for peace and reconciliation when inner strife tore at the nation’s fabric in the 1950s and 1960s. He painted his version of the WWII female icon, Rosie the Riveter, for the Post, and not to be confused with the “We Can Do It” J. Howard Miller government commissioned poster gal. Rockwell’s “Rosie” cradled her riveting gun in her lap as she had her sandwich for lunch, the heel of her shoe resting on a copy of Hitler’s “Mein Kampf.”

When the threat from without was quashed and racial division boiled over as the threat from within, Rockwell, the visual “spokesman” for the majority of average Americans, painted “The Problem We All Live With” (1964). It depicts six-year-old African-American Ruby Bridges on her way to an all-white public school in New Orleans on November 14, 1960.  School desegregation brought threats of violence against the child’s admission, so she was escorted by four deputy U.S. marshals. The wall behind her is vandalized with the n-word and the letters "KKK".  A smashed tomato thrown at the little girl drips on the sidewalk.  Rockwell obviously felt it was his duty to tell hard truths when needed about his beloved America, and he did it as forthrightly and effectively as he did when evoking the joy of a family gathered for Thanksgiving.  He truly defined for all time “American artist.”

Your Thoughts

  1. What is your favorite Norman Rockwell painting?


Mon Oct 27, 2014, 4:45 PM
know this; i loved the fire
and i walked into it willingly, heaven
is not up above but deeper down below

(there is a snake with the world in its belly, eat it; you are a killer the same)

Collection: Stars

Mon Oct 27, 2014, 5:12 PM
Midnight Rainbow by spatarozliev


Photographs and paintings of stars occupy that category of things you know are so, and yet it’s not quite possible to believe. One example is radio or television “signals” traveling in “waves” through the air, only to be reassembled for your listening or viewing pleasure in your living room radio or TV. Looking at clusters of stars lighting up the night sky like massive storm clouds, it’s impossible to think of those stars, those points of light, as separate massive burning suns, even though I know it’s so. Sometimes the most powerful magic requires no deception at all. The natural universe is more mystifying in its sheer numbers than any magician’s most mind–bending sleight of hand.

Stealing this idea from Point-Master-Pete (hope that's okay with them!)

In celebration of one of my favorite holidays, I wanted to hold a giveaway of sorts with various different prizes! Please read this journal before entering!

There are a total of 20 treat bags to choose from. Some contain treats (one of the prizes listed below) and other contain tricks (nothing!). If you picked the right bag, you get the corresponding prize. If you picked a trick bag, you sadly get nothing! :c The bags are already pre-labeled to their corresponding prize in a word document. My sister Terrierking can verify this! 

I'll be drawing 10 numbers. So only 10 of the 20 bags will be chosen. If I draw your number but your bag was already chosen by a different winner, I'll redraw a different number. That way I'm not giving out say, 10 of the same prize!

Jack O Lantern by Angelic-Sakuras Must be a watcher of mine!
Jack O Lantern by Angelic-Sakuras Must +fav this journal!
Jack O Lantern by Angelic-Sakuras Comment with the trick or treat bag number you choose.
Jack O Lantern by Angelic-Sakuras If you feature this journal in a poll or journal, you can either a) pick another bag to double your chances or b) choose to double your prize. Please specify which you would like when you comment with the link.
Note: each person will only get one number assigned by me. If you feature and choose option a, you'll receive a second number and get to pick a second bag. If you choose option b, you do not get a second number but your prize will be double if you're drawn as a winner.

- 100 :points: OR $1 via paypal
- 100 :points: OR $1 via paypal
- 100 :points: OR $1 via paypal
- 100 :points: OR $1 via paypal
- 1 week page feature (valued at $2)
- 1 week page feature (valued at $2)
- 500 :points: OR $5 via paypal
- 500 :points: OR $5 via paypal
- 500 :points: OR $5 via paypal
- 1 character flat color 100x100 pixel (valued at $6)
- 1 character shaded pixel chibi (valued at $8)
- 1,000 :points: OR $10 via paypal
- 1,000 :points: OR $10 via paypal
- 1,500 :points: OR $15 via paypal
- 1 character flat color large simple pixel (valued at $25)

1) trick or treat by ichadoggi         2) trick or treat by ichadoggi           3) trick or treat by ichadoggi          4) trick or treat by ichadoggi          5) trick or treat by ichadoggi
6) trick or treat by ichadoggi         7) trick or treat by ichadoggi           8) trick or treat by ichadoggi          9) trick or treat by ichadoggi          10) trick or treat by ichadoggi
11) trick or treat by ichadoggi         12) trick or treat by ichadoggi           13) trick or treat by ichadoggi          14) trick or treat by ichadoggi          15) trick or treat by ichadoggi
16) trick or treat by ichadoggi         17) trick or treat by ichadoggi           18) trick or treat by ichadoggi          19) trick or treat by ichadoggi          20) trick or treat by ichadoggi

Happy Halloween!

Please let me know if you have any questions!

End October 31st at 11 pm CST

Who is Dr. Strange?

Mon Oct 27, 2014, 4:59 PM
Dr Stange colored by DM-P18

For several months the world has been asking the question ‘Who is Doctor Strange?’

The faces of Ethan Hawke, Johnny Depp, Jon Hamm, Joaquin Phoenix, Tom Hardy, Jared Leto have been click bait for a thousand sites waiting for news of the star of the next Marvel movie franchise. According to Mike Fleming over at Deadline it now looks like Marvel have finally landed their perfect Doctor Strange in Sherlock’s Benedict Cumberbatch.

But while everyone is chasing the casting news, who is asking the real question here of ‘Who is Doctor Strange?’

In the Marvel Comics Stephen Strange was a brilliant neurosurgeon with a bright future ahead of him and was the envy of his collegues for his achievements. Unfortunately his success consumed him. His desire for more and greater wealth blinded him to his sacred doctor’s oath of first and foremost caring for those in need.

All of that came crashing down in an instant one evening when Strange was in a car accident that ends his medical career. Damaged beyond repair his hands were no longer capable of surgery. Strange’s stubbornness leads him to exhaust his considerable wealth to find a cure, traveling the world and ending at the doors of a hidden temple in the Himalayas, home to a humble hermit known only as the Ancient One.

In reality the Ancient One was our worlds Sorcerer Supreme and Stephen’s last chance at finding a cure. The Ancient One refused to help Strange but allows him to stay at the temple until a snowstorm passes. Also at the temple was the Ancient One’s disciple, a nobleman from Transylvania named Baron Karl Mordo. That night, Strange selflessly foils Mordo’s plan to kill his mentor. With this noble act, the Ancient One sees Stephen’s potential and while casting out Mordo, takes in Strange as his new disciple. Mordo leaves to become Doctor Strange’s mortal enemy.

Eventually Stephen returns to New York and takes up residence in his Sanctum Sanctorum in Greenwich Village as Doctor Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts.

But where did Doctor Strange come from and Who created him?

Doctor Strange was created by Stephen ‘Steve’ Ditko in 1963. Steve Ditko had already co-created the Amazing Spider-Man but now he was set to create something himself rather than step into something that had been started by others (Spider-Man had previously had Jack Kirby working on it but Stan Lee was looking for something different). One day Steve turned up at the office with the first story already drawn. The dark character was clearly something different than the bright superheroes that Marvel was starting to make its name for but Stan decided to give it a try.

Stan Lee in February-1963—

Well, we have a new character in the works for Strange Tales, just a 5-page filler named Dr. Strange. Steve Ditko is gonna draw him. It has sort of a black magic theme. The first story is nothing great, but perhaps we can make something of him. Twas Steve’s idea; I figured we’d give it a chance, although again, we had to rush the first one too much.”

Stan Lee may have sounded a little negative about it as his contributions to the character was mostly dialogue and Steve went on to write most of the stories he worked on with Stan supplying the dialogue.

The method that Marvel used for writing in the 1960’s later became known as the “Marvel Method”. Stan Lee wanted to have as much control as possible but clearly story and plot weren’t his strong points. By having Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko write their own stories with only a brief call or note from Stan they were able to move a lot faster and produce the material quickly. Stan would dialogue the comics leaving him more time to spend handling marketing and distribution.

We are definitely looking forward to seeing Doctor Strange on the big screen in November 4, 2016, and Steve Ditko getting the recognition he so rightly deserves.

By the sands that time has shifted, By the Winds of weird Watoomb, Let the masking veil be lifted, Though it means a demon's doom!”

— Dr. Strange

Your Thoughts

  1. Do you believe in magic?

Collection: Masks

Tue Oct 28, 2014, 7:22 PM
TB by dasTOK


Halloween is a time for masks. Aliens, zombies, vampires and werewolves will soon walk the suburban streets in search of tasty treats. But then there is the next level of masks—the likenesses of movie stars, politicians and other celebrities with their most unflattering features exaggerated. Cheap shots, to be sure, but alibied as “satire.” We finally arrive at the “non–off–the–rack” mask–making of actual make–up artists. Here’s where the mask one chooses tells us things about the person we only thought we knew. You see, the scariest thing about masks is their very concept—of a friend or loved one, beneath the surface, not really being the person you know at all. That is a truly fearful thing.

Second DD and ART Feature

Wed Oct 29, 2014, 4:32 AM

On October 27 I received my second DD and it was a big surprise !!!!
I want to thank :iconginryuzaki: for suggestion and :icontehangelscry: for featuring as DD.

Enchanted twilight by RazielMB

:heart: :heart: :heart:

Also, I want featured recents DDs suggested by me:

Chasing the sun by tassanee

Bicycle 2 by chatte-bleu

Red Forest pt.I. by realityDream

:heart: Now... FEATURE TIME :heart:

My last work

The shining Path by RazielMB


Unfinished Story by k-i-mm-i-e

Laguna by Chaerul-Umam

Halloween 2013 by UnidColor

Xuan Van by duongquocdinh

Just another sunset by Stridsberg

Shooting Godafoss by erezmarom

ShAtTeReD by Fajralam

Infrared Trees - pt. IV by myINQI

Spring Wolni infrared... by MichiLauke

The Haunted House by DAN-KA

Portal by EnchantedWhispersArt

Le Cabinet de Curiosites - Clockwork Fairy by AlexandraVBach

Girl in the Sunset by RankaStevic

The Last Stand by Aegils

The Scarlet Hour II by nina-Y

Entre et tu nen ressortiras plus by Marjie79

Divine by Katarina-Zirine

Pyramid another planet - night by KPEKEP

I'm fabulous by TammyPhotography

Iwan. by Anoya

The Saints And The Dead by Corvinerium

Ready for Halloween by EstherPuche-Art

Face the unknown by AquaSixio

Little Mermaid Ariel by Maryneim

Once upon a time ... by NebelelfeNaemy

Minneapolis MN by rsiphotography

The Land of the Dead by neverdying

Damnation by J-u-d-a-s

Vanity by AndyGarcia666

Treasure by Black-B-o-x

Red sky by andrework

Pain Games by vampirekingdom

Luise by megan7

Temple by MachiavelliCro

The Obelisk by MarcoHerrera

Fragrance of Peace by Kurtzan

M a k e  a  W i s h by NoorBlncyah

Ring of Fire by Andaelentari

An Autumn Encounter by CrystalClear-Art

Creating The Magic Garden by x-bossie-boots-x

Strange Fog. by LittleWolf-Dreamer

red hair by Lolita-Artz

The king of the underworld by CharllieeArts

King of the Underworld by TaniaART

Enchanted Keys by La--Boheme

...Time To Go  Darling... by SweediesArt

Have you all a great day!

:heart: :heart: :heart:



Mini Horror Review - Blade

Mon Oct 27, 2014, 5:14 PM
Blade Trinity by RHuggs

Movie Poster


It's October and the sacred 31 days of Halloween are upon us-time to get your gore on! The chill is in the air, the leaves are on the ground, and Halloween candy has been out since Labor Day. So while you’re waiting in the Starbucks line for an overpriced double pumpkin spice whatever, pass the time with this year’s scary movies reviews!

Blade (1998)

Review by RWSlavin

In 1973, Marvel Comics, leading at the forward edge of the zeitgeist as usual, introduced “Blade,” the half–human, half–vampire slayer of vampires. A hip black hero for a change. In 1998 the role of “Blade” was assumed on film by super cool Wesley Snipes. In this first of the now three “Blade” movies, the plotline involves Blade vs. the vampire leader who created him by feeding on Blade’s pregnant mother. The evil megalomaniacal vamp wants vampires to “come out” as rulers over humanity, rather than remain hidden in the shadows. This is the film’s weakness. Other than Wesley Snipes killing vampires with his Kung Fu moves punctuated with silver throwing knives, while looking totally bad–ass in his black leather outfit, there’s nothing new in this story, it being a stale stew of other vampire movie plot devices and ideas.  But just with a really cool black hero. OK, so you have to take progress as it comes, e.g., sometimes really slowly. What we do have here is precursor to a far superior film in Blade 2 directed by Guillermo Del Toro.

This is Halloween!!

Journal Entry: Tue Oct 28, 2014, 6:24 PM
Facebook l Official Blog l Twitter l Hot Naked Photos of Me XXX l Services l FAQ l Gallery

Beginning of the End by NanoMortisOnce upon a time in Scotland by KaarmenQueen of Cups   TAROT APOKALYPSIS by Elric2012Sand Ruin and Gold (E-book cover reworked) by dreamarianA draw after so much time... by NatMonney
The TransferIn recovery after the transfer, surgeons assured me I was alone.  Six hours later, the anesthesia is wearing off...and there's something slithering beneath my new skin. the observant curator will notice...the observant curator will notice...
fertilizer falls
softly, mocking the rain, and
horses shuffle, shy
of what could kill
or sustain them
fertilizer rests
slowly dissolving, diffusing
into the earth
of how people curate
their lawns instead
of their families
Connoisseur by FramaThe Bridge by CathleenTarawhiti her's was gray just like her skinwhen i was nine, she folded two origami cranes
out of gum wrappers she plucked from the sidewalk
cracks. she placed one in my palm and curled
my fingers around it; told me
one day they're gonna come to life and help us
fly away.

Regno In Riva Al Mare by LenteScuraAnother side by ma-ry2004The Signs Of The Zodiac by ralfw666Contemplation2 by MarquisAmon An Exercise in Romantic Optimismi.
I want a man with a pen behind his ear,
the kind who carries books of poetry to parties.
Could I see him over my drink, only slightly tipsy,
as he misses the girl in the punch bowl for the last stanza,
the last sigh? I’d want to ask him about paint splatter.
I’m addicted.
your chest.
Distance smells like ozone.
I wish I could figure
the sum of charcoal
you’ve scratched into your collarbones.
Or just—taste

facets of the heart, and one is burst,
I cannot stem the tide longer
of its plasma seepage,
or repel my darkest messenger
never to claim it as my own-
nothing about this is mine alone
as someone sinks into oblivion
while I think of them doing it
jumping the gun, racing the bullet
to quickly turn and take it
into their mouth, to chase the storm
that makes beggars of us,
burning retrograde of the moon,
slow grind of repressed memories
of an incomplete life
from the past coming full circle
in the pillaged remains
within the fault line,
my own slip between moments
entirely of dust and light-
I want to recite you poems
never conceived of,
and to listen, enraptured
when you sing me your last
my wishes are of no import,
the journey begins when it ends
leaving no time to linger
and nothing more to mend
The End of the WorldI didn't prepare for the end of the world.
I somehow thought that we, reclusive in a hardened bubble-shell, would survive it.
I didn't brace for impact, I didn't even consider it happening to us. Why would I?
I didn't prepare rations, bedding or bunkers.
It didn't occur to me to imagine a post-apocalyptic world in which our love wasn't enough.
I didn't see it coming. It destroyed me nonetheless.
The end of the world doesn't care for your readiness.
.: Porte de l'Eternit :. by retro2kAttack of the Earth by Altair-EKoi #2 by kusodesign
I came home yesterday
Closed the door and
Locked it tight
"Say nothing." I asked.
Went into the cold bathroom and
Turned on the water, very hot
Wriggled out of my skin
Hung my inner organs up to dry and
Gave my heart a place to sleep
"No lullabies tonight," I said.
I like hot water
Burned up my veins so they could
Regrow tomorrow, try again
Shivered once, then just let my soul stand there
A ghost through the curtain
Naked to nothing and no one
"You did good today," I sighed.
Divine by Katarina-ZirineMade of Fire by BrookeGilletteBatratu by juhoham Rest in PiecesI am inadequate in the way
that our hands don’t fit together
as well as they used to.
But will you still keep me warm,
even after I’m gone?

Set Me Freeset me free
from this man-made cage
with a pack of crayons
in my hands
and i promise i will draw
you an escape route,
using lines
and many arrows
i'll guide you through
our urban jungle,
exchanging the sights
of looming city streets
to leaves on earth
and tall grass swaying,
and when we'll meet
again on that bridge
between here and there,
rest assured, you'll have
no more questions
for the journey
will have opened
your eyes to another
way of living.
Midnight Sadness by KaramissaDevilish plan by aninur The Wither-manThey warned me about
the wither-man.
He carries himself
like a broken skein,
With a
shambling he leans,
softly padding forward.
They told me
how three men were found,
shriveled husks beneath the leaves,
naked shells.
They told me how
they found the pellets
by the pebbled lake,
clothes and bones
and nothing else.
And how I shake to see him retch,
his breath-fog catching moonlight
and he raggedly turns to sniff,
his deadened sockets find my shadow.
His maw unhinges
and his throat rattles soft.
They'll know me by my boots
and crack-ed teeth.
I only hope
they never know him.
Il Marchio by LenteScura
Reaper by NewmanD vaporThere's no moment quite as haunting
as coming down,
the lights pulsating to the hollow beats
quaking below the vinyl from the stereo.
I hear you, then, breathing through the floorboards,
your teeth edging from the coldness between our words
and the emptiness of the silences that balloon
from our chests.
You are starved, desperate,
snaking between my knees and pressing into my stomach
as though consuming me from outside, inwards,
is all you know.
And I let you, watching your lips move along my skin,
chanting and evolving,
as the resistance within me ripples and diminishes
until I am the hollow temple within which
you choose to reside.
Wake in VegasIf I could drink you from the sky tonight
I would -
drink the brown bourbon blackness
with stars for ice -
as the moonlit-salty neon line
separates the land
from the lonely battered void.
I'll raise a glass to the sky tonight
while the neon splits and the world crashes through
like a broken neck
see me praying you were here - through tumbleweed canyons
through all the static porno waves
that crowd the space between us,
and in swollen spite 
watch me clean my bony drunken theatre
of all your hungry, truant atoms.
Fear ebbs - a sober starlight wakes me
cold - inside paltry sobs
I gather you like kindling from the ground - tossed polaroids
in the wind
stack you upon your pedestal
with you watching down
through all this madness
through the bleached love/guilt curtains
like an angel.
Watch me drink to you in the sky tonight
with me still caught in this thickening land
like a quantum boxed-in slave,
like Schroder’s cat, like I might be alive
but I might be dea
Lady in Waiting by JCCJ756 For Giles CoreyThe embers from their fingertips
lit the courtroom that day
singing the warm melodies of Barbados
as they burned the book of Judges
on your tombstones in bold print
all the outlaws under trees
and skeletons on riverbeds
woke from their paradise and watched
the sunlight char your bones just like theirs
it was really something
your frame turned into black art
outside the courthouse
as you pressed against the law
raining broken stone down on Salem
from the sunlit skyline that night
it was really something

Ahab - awaiting the white whale by ThomacekNeytiri: Finished! by SlashagasaurusFury - SMITE by UryennFairy by Black-B-o-xForest path by LillianEvill
just our hands clasped so tight by plumwined resolvei am delicate and clumsy:
a bag of marbles rumbling around,
scuffing up her mother's wooden floors.
i often find myself asking why i couldn't be made of feathers.
i want to be soft and gentle, like mother:
weightless and wistfully blown somewhere i'm wanted.
no, i had to be a heavy thing
that stays when it should roll away.
i swallow them one by one.
smooth, cold, and round, the glass goes down easy,
but words fumble their way out of my tiny mouth.
hammers crack, crack, crack at the little orbs
until slivers and chunks of each one embed in my stomach,
in my chest, and in my throat.
East Wind (Wallpaper size) by ChristinZakh A MURDERER'S TALEShe laid crumpled in the stairwell,
a pile of flesh and bone emptied of any pale
blot of light animating her lifeless corpse,
only the streetlamp would dare tell of how
she fought against the thundering hooves
of some Nightmare assailing her in the dark
damp street, only a slab of concrete was there
to catch her when she fell like a ragdoll,
her neck bruised and broken and forever carrying
the imprints of my fingers when I found her,
so ready and willing to die as my hands squeezed
the life from her, I stared into her amber eyes
enraptured by the fear I saw embalming her
mortal depths with something almost profane,
she choked and gasped-pleading to breathe-
still I wouldn't release her from my deadlock
vise, my hands squeezed her throat until I heard
the crunch of bone and the exhale of her last
breath, her eyes were as empty as my black heart...
she laid a crumpled heap of nothing at my feet,
no one saw her fall, no one heard her cry,
no one but I and I was the moster who had
Night Comes by maiarcita
Persistence by Softyrider62Bewitched by MADmoiselleMeliSweet Girl and the Guardian by Wesley-Souza Memory Remember that day we sat in the open field? No? Well I must have been alone, thinking of you. I remember your presence there. The field went on for miles and miles, becoming a blur of brown, sienna, yellow ochre. When I stared at it for too long, I lost my balance in the waving grasses. I had to find the tree to right myself again. One lone stubby tree in a million miles of dreaming field.
 I remember the light coming from the left somewhere, because it struck the tree in a most magnificent manner. Its shadow stretched long and thin, finally fading into blurry little fingers. I don’t know the brand of tree it was, it was unfamiliar to me. Short, stubby, gnarly trunked, with large bushy leaves over little pods. Well actually, the pods and everything else must have been bigger than I remember. I was a very long way from the tree.
 The sky was malevolent blue that day, with long rust-and- grey clouds sweeping sideways across it. A thin strip of pink on the horizon ga
Captain Nox by Nazgul-w
Autumn path by aneresiaSorrow by diphyllaPsychic Botanist by Cnids ReflectionsDying was strange. He’d expected to die in his sleep of old age. Not this, not with his legs pinned and the hood of the secondhand Honda crumpled. The driver’s side door was crushed and he could smell blood. His own, hot and coppery. His awareness was spotty, coming in brief flashes of imagery in between the black flickers that threatened his vision. Red and blue flashing lights. Flicker. The sound of a siren in the distance. Flicker. A woman standing on the sidewalk in a black leather jacket and jeans. Watching him.
Voices, urgent and buzzing like summertime bees. Seymon waved them off weakly, irritated by the noise they were making. All they were doing was keeping him from the nap he wanted.
Something plastic covered his mouth and nose, bringing with it the taste of fresh air. He slumped, closing his eyes in exhaustion. “Leave me alone…”
The voices were frantic now, a white coated EMT saying something that he couldn’t quite make out. The words were
huntthe rats are fat enough
to die happy
and this is where
I should be:
a dirty screen and light.
the weak, thin music
you hear in waiting rooms,
in supermarkets
in bed, face up,
alone enough to find lust
this morning I bought
a loaf of bread-
and reflections of the lights
limped across the plastic.
I left, went home.
found twin peaks on tv
and watched strange people have
strange visions.
after an hour or so I
turned off the tv,
turned on the light
went upstairs, without
any bread.
the sun was down
under a blanket
and I am the sun.
I lay face up
and plan out ways
to slay the night.

Capuchin by ohara1901Abandoned Barn by quasi-VirtuosoF r o z e n by cristiiSkull girl by KissxXxMe Retrograde LullabyeA slow fall
back into the primordial ooze
happiness and sadness are equally elusive
The human condition does not allow one
without the other
After a time, we cannot but help
turn tragedy into comfort
and angst into homecoming
for nature does not decree this
only we, as we heed the call of the ooze
Restless are we who sense the slide of time
Thought cannot save us
Emotion betrays
We must embrace eternity in the briefest of moments
and ride scarecely coffined into the ooze

Vietnama cellar door was beginning
to open somewhere in all of us
emerging somewhere between
the throat and the spine,
spitting out ink as it burrowed deeper,
giving a new place to hide and store
smiles for better days,
a place for matchbooks and
milk cartons and anything in-between
a place to harbor unkept promises and
other multitudes of sorrow.
memories that
had been placed on shelves with chipped
white paint
high above the earth
were brought underneath us once again
at this not-quite cemetery,
the all-encompassing "i-love-you"
buried deeply in the mix
of scattered blades and bones
as we learned
how to confront skeletons
belonging to strangers other than ourselves.
from passing by the roses strewn
at the feet of the fallen and feeling
the names of the dead on the cold, wet
stone, there became a certain
satisfaction in breathing
and even more in realizing we still could.
Portrait Practice 9 by AaronGriffinArt news from wonderlandcricket girl,
i'm glad to hear from you.
and i know just what you mean, i hate
flies on my food
so i have given up on picnics.
sometimes, i eat in bed
under the blanket; i'm usually
too afraid
of crumbs. they make paths
for lost children but i
don't want to get out
don't want to be found;
i like my fairytale woods.
(it's beautiful, if you bring your flyswatter
we can eat together)
it's quiet and dark and i was
hoping to see the stars in italy
but all the clouds were out,
singing for you.
be glad to be a little cricket,
i doubt anyone sings
for fireflies
(they couldn't hear you through
the thick glass of the jar,
your words, they mean the world
i know you would never
try to catch me, but i promise
i would come in through your window
(like a fairy, don't be afraid)
and sit on your nightstand for a while
to light up the dark
and hear a song or two
because your voice is sweeter
than honey or the smell of roses
and there's no song lovelier
than that of a friend.
i hope the night is
Nightwalker by MadameThenadierDon't open your door on Halloween by pranile

CSS made by TwiggyTeeluck
Image from
  • Mood: Wow!
  • Listening to: The Ramones
  • Drinking: Peg Leg Stout