Daedalus "I do not care"Daedalus5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Murmured the Sun.
Burning above an obelisk-
of terror and somehow Daedalus,
breathes alone in a darkened room.
In slow gasps; the phone is down,
the metal blinds are drawn.
"Everything now is different.
But I am just the same."
The Measure of a ManCan you tell meThe Measure of a Man3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What a mans' to do
When he finds himself looking down
Between his shoes
Trying to find a reason for his life
Atop the littered sidewalk
Will anyone sing your song
When at long last
You take your final bow?
Ushered into the wings
To rendezvous with the Reaper
Who will lament your fate?
Can you name anyone whose life
A heart you've warmed
A smile rescued from a frown
A child who has held your hand
On your daily rounds
In the hustle and bustle
Will the record show
That you stood for honor and integrity?
Not with mere words
Adhering to a higher standard?
Can you lay claim to the divine appointment
With an open door and open arms
To love without judgment or exclusion
To cherish and savor the ones in your care
Knowing that they are on loan to you
From our Heavenly Father above?
Was your wife the apple of your eye?
Did you encourage her?
Protect and love her?
In times of distress, when exasperation
Threatened to exceed yo
The Troubles of DatingThe Troubles of Dating (and Time-Travel)The Troubles of Dating5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I suppose she was the first girl I fell in love with because of something other than a nice pair of breasts, and therefore, the first girl I fell in love with whom I actually succeeded in asking out on a date. More than anything it was her hair, the way it was neither curly nor straight, but wavy, and in a dark and dreamy shade of red that nearly seemed black. It reached down beyond her shoulders, and I could find myself staring at the back of her head for hours during our classes, mesmerized by it. Breasts weren't half-bad either though.
And she was a nice person. At least, that was the impression I had gotten during our after-movie dinner at Alessandro's. Passionately interested 70s music, loving long walks in the wild, preferred old-school horrors to the film we'd just seen which we both agreed was tragic. All in all, we seemed to go along quite nicely. After finishing our capricosa, I led her to the car thinking this might as well have been
ForgetRusted metal skeletonsForget2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wait to be smelted
Into molten calligraphy
To slowly fill the molds
Of our ancestors
If only we could wield the fire
To burn away the dross
Shaping the metallic lava to our will
But what would we create
From the detritus of chaos?
No fiery phoenix will ascend
To Heaven from these remnants
It is better that we forget...
How the trains moaned through the night
Carrying death and champagne
To faraway lands
How red lips beckoned recklessly
Neath' the pale chiffon
Her gilded promises
A satin-covered scalpel
The lonesome sound of the whistle
Echoing in the dark green twilight
As we careen past an old depot
Drowned long ago in silence and neglect
A toast, my dear
To our selfish dreams
In time may we
Forget how to chase them...
AmarAmarAmar7 years ago in Other More Like This
porque es el otro quien no escucha....
porque es el otro quien no te busca como vos a él...
Duele cuando no se sueña en conjunto
yo lo sé.
Duele, si duele...
ser duele y
estar frente al que no oye
Al que no ve
que uno se entrega
solo por amor....
Ni conjuros ni pócimas
devuelven lo que se entrega con sinceridad,
nada se puede ver cuando se mira al sol,
nada se puede sentir cuando se esta frente a quien se ama,
nada mas que lo que se siente
y es injusto
Solo cae el que vuela
solo sufre el que siente
pero solo ama el que se entrega.
El futuro será del que construye,
el camino será del que avance
y los deseos se cumplirán
solo para el que los busque.
No pierdas tu corazón en esta tormenta
no renuncies a tus sueños....
despierta como siempre lo haces,
se que no podrás escapar a tus pesadillas,
pero también se que solo podrás seguir
Ata Interview Transcript.Ata Interview Transcript.3 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Interview with Endling
Welcome to ASKtheARTIST. My name is *thefluffyshrimp and today I have the great privilege to interview `Endling, an incredibly talented comic artist and creator of many of your favorite series on deviantART.
Thank you for presenting us with this opportunity to interview you, Endling.
Hey all you folks there in AtAChat! Go ahead and start posting questions now.
Thanks for having me Fluff!
I warn everyone I'm on my second triple espresso coffee of the day. If my answers are incoherent and/or jittery you'll know why. I'M WIRED TO GO.
*RedVenture asks "How did you get started doing art, Endling?"
When I was little, my dad would bring home paper from his job. He worked with computers and stuff and often had tons of it lying around, so I'd make use of it and draw. (With his permission. Occasionally.) After a while he noticed I had a habit of doing this. Usually robot caterpillars. I'm not kidding
Nunca te dije que....Quererte resulto dificil y tristeNunca te dije que....8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Comprenderte se siente mas como un pesar
Tu felicidad siempre fue primera en mi razon
pero hay algo que tomo su lugar.
No quiero que me pidas paciencia
No quiero que me pidas perdon,
Solo quiero que seas humano
solo quiero que seas tu...
No importa si me rompes el corazon mil veces
te querre aun si cometes errores
Aun si te cierras en tu mundo como siempre.
No trato de moldear tu mente,
se que luchas como yo por ser tu mismo.
En esa lucha estamos ambos
y por eso tenemos malos ratos.
Por que no puedo cambiar solo para hacerte feliz
Estoy tratando de encontrarme en ti
Quiero que me encuentres en ti
No marque tu vida y no soy indispensable
cuando le tiempo cure tus heridas y vuelvas a mirarme
y aun sientas que te duele, espero te encuentres con alguien cada vez mejor.
Lo que siento yo es muy mio
Lo que pienses de mi debe ser nada mas tuyo.
No pude ser quien querias que yo sea
Aunque trate y me gaste la vida entera
Nunca es suficiente el intento a menos qu
Shells On A TuesdayBreaking dawn over a red-strewn coastlineShells On A Tuesday2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wreckage contains the ghosts of glory achieved
In defiance of a foreign invasion
A tattered standard still flies above a gutted ruin.
Black holes in the brick gape, drooling smoke
Like toothless mouths as pipes jut awkwardly.
Were there winners? Or only lesser evils?
Valiant men and women fought to stem the tide
but alas, nearly all were lost.
In the end there fell a desolate peace...
The peace of empty deserts which lie beneath the sun
Their vastness swallows sound, returning neither
Comfort nor nourishment...
Only a dread cessation of life which knows
Neither friend or foe...only dust.
HypothermiaI am two myopic shades away from blindness and the glow you shed me is insufficient photosynthesis. You ignite a starless sky sprinkled with ifonlywhatifs and smother navigation lights in dusty greyscale hues. For you I would deconstruct and build a silver constitution to your will, but I am procured only the blueprints of slammed doors and paling resonance of receding footfalls. Fold me away unseen, a lapse of conjuration in the remoteness of your conscience. A white petal of oblivion.Hypothermia5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Beneath the Acid SkyThe sky hangs low above our heads. It's more like a tarp, really. A white membrane suspended above a tiny, artificial planet. Structural formulas of various acids pattern the sky. Acetic acid. Hydrochloric acid. By the time you're five years old you know every pattern by heart.Beneath the Acid Sky6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
"Phosphoric acid. Boric acid."
I whisper to myself, laying on the vast expanse of grass. Soft folds ripple across the sky. Absently I scratch at the gravity generator clamped around my right upper arm. This planet is so small compared to Earth, at least that's what people tell me. There isn't much gravity, so the sky hangs low enough so that if you tried you could throw something up through the delicate membrane. You're not supposed to, but us kids do it anyway.
"Sulphuric acid. Citric acid."
I name two more wavering patterns printed above my head.
Suddenly something rockets through the membrane. A clean hole punctured through the white. Almost instantly it starts to knit itself back together, bu
Rhapsody In Zero GravityIs deep space silent?Rhapsody In Zero Gravity3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Amid the revolving spheres.
In perpetual night.
Or does God whisper?
Echoing across light-years vast.
Filling the void with song.
Gunners, Chapter OneApril 11, 103 PNGunners, Chapter One5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
One day, you will find your own Wonderland."
My father often told tales of an epidemic called the 'Red Scare' and how it tore through the land, turning friends into targets, and bringing forth a new terror to the world. Countries that were once allies in the old war now had each other in their cross hairs. Spies had infiltrated the enemy's land, gathering information for their side. My father, with a flash of disappointment in his tone, told us of how the war soon turned to a standstill, and how no lives were lost, until a single press of a button unleashed Lucifer from Hell. In an instant, children who were walking home from school, mothers who were cleaning house and preparing a roast, and men who were puffing cigars while laughing their cares away managed but a confused glance to the white flash. There were those who were dubbed lunatics by their friends who had registered their loved ones to shelters deep in the earth.
To the crazy prophets, the world ended on Octo
Te amoQuiero poder tenerte a mi ladoTe amo7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Quiero poder besarte cada vez que quiera
Quiero cerrar los ojos y que estés a mi lado
Y que cuando los abras sigas ahí
Quiero que me abraces cada segundo
Y que tu voz llene el aire en cada minuto
Necesito ver tu sonrisa
Esa que tanto me hace falta
No quiero decirle al aire: te amo
Cada vez que pienso en ti
Quiero tenerte a mi lado
Y que seques estas lágrimas
Que surcan mi rostro
Estas lágrimas de las que eres el dueño
Estas lágrimas que surgen cada vez que pienso en ti
Y en lo mucho que te amo
Ode to my grocer...The grocery cart had old fruit smashed and dried to its grated floor.Ode to my grocer...3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
"Someone really ought to hose that off," thought I.
I've had this cart before,
and thought the same thing then.
The parking lot was conspicuously short on cars.
Saturday morning is usually busier.
A corporate megamart has opened
just five minutes from here.
I pushed the cart into my familiar market,
defiantly devoted in the face of change
to my beloved grocer, unpolished, unrefined
and unapologetically human.
The Pinova apples are painted vibrant shades of yellow, pink and red.
Perfect in their imperfection. Better there be scars than a thick polish of wax.
And the voices around me are they from Russia or Ukraine?
Is that Farsi or Arabic? I'm too ignorant to tell, but I love them all.
Alien music wafts through the aisles like invisible fog over a transparent bay.
Languages I don't understand, unique rhythms and instruments, too.
Wait! Is that Alsu singing Inagda? I haven't heard that since I was in Moscow.
Death of the ArtistRoland Barthes said, "Death of the Author," and society said, "Hey, why not?"Death of the Artist6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
They didn't actually kill them, and it wasn't just the authors, either, though there isn't much written about the artists in those early days. The theory was to pretend that there was no author, to better separate the text from the experiences of the writer. Of course, that's impossible to enforce. So society went the other way. If they couldn't separate the author's experience from the text, they'd separate the author from experience.
It worked well, at first. What author or artist wouldn't leap at the chance to live in a commune full of no one but other artists and authors? They lived a kept life, with nothing to do but further their art. Everyone chosen to go for those first test runs was ecstatic. So they say.
Non-fiction authors don't go, of course. I've always wondered if they resent that.
I like to think that my parents are glad that I never showed the artistic talent to get myself shut away in one of
Me invito a pasar a su CorazonMe invito pasar a su corazónMe invito a pasar a su Corazon4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Entre y era tan extenso que no llegaba a ningún costado del derecho ni del izquierdo.
Y es su corazón tan grande que al ver arriba no conseguí ver el tope.
Y conocí a gozo.
Gozo tan grande y vivo que era como el mismo sentimiento que tenemos cuando todo es perfecto.
Encontré a paz.
Esa paz me cautivo era tan grande tan relajante que nunca había sentido.
Es como cuando Dios dice, está todo bien no desmalles yo estoy en el control de todo.
Al ver a un lugar apartado también encontré bondad.
Me quede con ella platicando durante horas.
Todo lo que encontré en ella, era actitud inimaginable.
Era tan humilde y sincera, era tan callada y honesta.
LoveLove Never Fails...Love3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Amid the dark rapids of time
That drag us away
To hold you close to me
His Master, Deceit 2His Master, Deceit 24 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Setting: our time, actual time, currently the time and space era we inhabit this very moment. Or, as some may call it of this very moment 2011.
Traffic was horrible, it was as if all of London knew that I was in a hurry and was hell bend on making sure I reached my destination as slowly as possible. I could go into a long recollection of how I attempted to outrun other cars, beat traffic signals and try not to run over pedestrians, but that would take too long.
To put it simply, I abandoned my car- well, technically Ciel's car- in the middle of a busy street and decided to run to the airport.
A bit out of breath I stride to the first entry onto the plane, the attendant takes my pre-ordered ticket and rips off the piece she keeps. Her large brown eyes briefly survey my body, her sight staying locked on my eyes before flickering to my chest. Sighing I quirked one eyebrow in a silent plea to continue on with my journey; I know I'm attractive, demons usu
Turning Inward - Asperger Syndrome and discoveryPrologueTurning Inward - Asperger Syndrome and discovery3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Vignette One - Floating
He floated near the ceiling, up in the front right corner of the classroom. Looking down, the six year old boy could see the top of his teacher's head and the faces of his classmates. Further down the row closest to the door he saw himself watching and listening to the teacher. The boy felt like Superman since he could now fly.
He would often imagine leaving his body during times of increased stress, caused in part by the teacher herself. She wasn't exactly a mean woman, but had a harsh manner that frightened him. At home in the mornings he would sometimes become nauseous from the dread at the thought of going to school. This was made worse by the apprehension he felt with the anticipation of trying to interact with his classmates. He would continue to have a knot in his stomach every morning before school for the next twelve years.
Vignette Two - Focus
The monster was attacking him again. Its hairy paws came out of the igloo through holes on either sid