The Future of DeviantART?The Future of DeviantART?10 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Over the course of the last 23 months as a deviant, I've seen some things that most others never get the chance to, and I've seen the highs and lows of the community. I've seen the transfer from version to version with the each new August; I've seen what it's like to be a deviant; I've seen what it's like to wear the staff hat as well; I've even seen being banned. But, I ask you this: Why am I still here? What makes me keep coming back here, and supporting this place so strongly? What it is I'm yet to find properly and define, but I know for sure, it's slowly dwindling away, fading into the distant memories of better times when deviantART was simply the best website around without the slightest shadow of a doubt. No'urdays, community seems to be taking a backseat to the corporate ventures the site seems to be undertaking at an exponentially quick rate. With every passing day, a new move towards turning dA into exactly what it is not: a corporation.
When it was founded in 2000, t
Dear TeddyTeddy, I've been bad againDear Teddy6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My mommy told me so
I'm not quite sure what I did wrong
But I thought that you might know
When I woke up this morning
I knew that she was mad
Cause she was crying awful hard
And yelling at my dad
I tried my best to be real good
and do just what she said
I cleaned my room all by myself
I even made my bed
But I spilled milk on my good shirt
When she yelled at me to hurry
And I guess she didn't hear me
When I told her I was sorry
Because she hit me awful hard, you see
and called me funny names
and told me I was really bad
and I should be ashamed
When I said, I love you Mommy
I guess she didn't understand
Cause she yelled at me to shut my mouth
or I'd get smacked again
So I came here to talk to you
Please tell me what to do
"Cause I really love my mommy
and I know she loves me too
And I don't think my mommy means
To hit me so hard
I guess somtimes, grown ups forget
How really big they are
So Teddy, I wish you were real
and you weren't just a bear
Then you could h
I get so mad. . . .I get so mad. . . .10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I get mad
when I write my name,
and I know how it should look,
but it looks wrong.
My father says writing isn't easy.
I just get mad.
Ghostly ChildGhostly Child4 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
It couldn’t have been a more beautiful night to walk among the stars.
Vivi and Lewis were out on one of their nightly strolls, the air beneath their feet just another walking surface to them, as the world below them continued to move on without them. Lewis had taken one of Vivi’s arms into his, his back straight as his built chest was puffed out like a proud ghost should be.
Vivi walked next to him, dressed in a dark-blue trench coat and silky gloves for the somewhat chilly night, her hair pulled back into a small ponytail, as silver skulls dangled from her earlobes. Her eyes were closed in thought at the moment, a warm, comforting smile holding her lips together to create a tranquil face for the lovely lady of the mansion.
It had been 3 years since the two were officially wed, as official as it could get for a ghost and a human, and since then the two had lovingly lived in Lewis’ mansion. Arthur, who was welcomed with open arms to join them, had held off from staying
The Lyrebird and Writing DeskThe Lyrebird and Writing DeskThe Lyrebird and Writing Desk10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is a frightening lung,
a not-quite-natural red swell beneath feathers,
that grates like a shaken sack of nails.
This bird is a chameleon
of voices, modulating its shriek
to whatever frequent note might rise
through the trees. Today
its cry has become the gargle
of splinters and split wood:
the chainsaw's growling melody.
In my own climate, adapting
to the shift of pages and their stains,
my voice strains; I almost crow.
Perspectives of a Hallucino...Comfort. The softness of the basement couch. Misery loves company.Perspectives of a Hallucino...7 years ago in Open More Like This
Trickling through my fingers. Whispering across my face, her disappearing
lips trace across my cheeks. The smell is sweet, but she is rough against
my throat. Her smell isn't so much intoxicating as it is suffocating, yet
the smoke paralyses my senses and touches my soul. Her street name is
undeserving of her effect on me. Forever, she shall be known to me as
Mary-Jane. I will never know her beauty.
The Official Ode to the ForumsThe Official Ode to the Forums11 years ago in Ballad More Like This
I can't stand to see another thread,
beating a horse that's already dead.
Do you like "s3ks" and what does art mean?
A poorhorse cult for illiterate teens.
The forum descriptions must be Greek,
or maybe the newbies only read 1337.
The Welcome Center to get a tour.
Thumbshare Forum for commentwhores.
'Deviator' no longer exists
(The Forum's still there 'cause jark insists)
Don't post there- it's useless you know
Read the thread that tells you so.
Elite ForumWhores: they're better than you.
Accept it now you know it's true;
If you see a lot of the Blank Stare guy
stupidity is the reason why.
For those with a brain that can't be found
watch out for curran if he's around.
With legendary wit and sarcastic replies
he cleans up the forums (or at least he tries).
We interupt this poem to distinguish
that "kewl" and "k@wa1i!!1!1" are not English.
If those are in your vocabulary
please buy yourself a dictionary.
Do you think you are a squirrel
instead of a normal boy or girl?
AwakeningAwakening10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Morning reaches out to you
- you look shocked, confused.
Stretch your concrete arms
a block further.
Bow steel legs over the muddy river.
Your mouth fills with traffic.
- break lights are lipstick.
Your yawn is a train horn.
Now morning has made up the ground
you rise, begrudging.
Poseidon's GracePoseidon's Grace2 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
“Evacuate the ship!”
“Women and children first!”
“Hurry, before we’re all impaled!”
Metal doors slammed open as people scurried to the nearest exits. What once was a pleasurable cruise had twisted into a nightmare, the night sky blotted out by thunderous dark clouds, stinging rain and fierce lightning. One of the electrifying bolts had struck the small cruise-line, knocking out the main controls to steer the ship. Now the vessel that carried at least a few hundred passengers threatened to crash into a gathering of jutted rocks, a horrible end to them all.
One of the mechanics who worked on the lower floors sprinted her way through the halls. Her black hair wiped behind her in its small pony tail, a few streaks of her hair a bright orange as her brown eyes were set on the end of the hall. It left her nauseous to think that such a sturdy ship would be abandoned so quickly, but there was no time to try and fix what had been short-circuited. It was
Nobody Liked The MothNobody Liked The Moth9 years ago in Humor More Like This
Nobody Liked the Moth
For Siân, for Art and for Acquired Tastes.
I love you all.
Staggering through his studio like a penguin avoiding the cracks Arvo Tikk announced his return by belching loudly and falling on a little toy telephone with wheels, rather than the sofa he'd intended to land on.
"Fuck!" he bellowed. "Fuckin' fuckin' fuck arse bollocks!"
Upstairs, Meredith groaned and stuffed a pillow over his head. Arvo had obviously been drinking again.
"S'no good! I'm gonna hafta kill myself!" Arvo slurred, levering himself up and depositing his bulk on the arm of the sofa, then toppling over onto the cushions. Meredith ignored him. "You'll have to as well, obviously! No use just me goin'. That'd be pointless."
"I got a gun! We'll do it properly this time. It's got bullets and a trigger and all that malarky. Bang, bang, thud, thud, end of matter!"
Meredith took the pillow off his head with a grunt and donned his dressing gown. "Arvo, we
apples, dammitThe Big Secret to Learning How to Draw:apples, dammit7 years ago in Editorial More Like This
In the Beginning... You see an apple, and you draw an apple. You look at your drawing, and it's utter crap. It looks nothing like the real thing, and you wonder why. "Hey, a real apple is red and round. My drawing is red and round. Huh. What's wrong?"
You draw some more apples. Many times.
And finally, one day, you have a Eureka! moment. You realize, *d'oh!* a real apple isn't entirely round! It's wider at the top, narrower underneath. It's got funky little lumps at the bottom. It's got a dip like a crazy deep belly button at the very top. You draw another apple. The result is better, but it's still crap. Much nicer crap than before, but still.... Hmm.
You draw more apples. Repeat.
Another day of drawing, another Eureka! moment. Hello! The red isn't really red. This particular apple is slightly darker than true red. And it's got some tiny tan spots on it. And at the top, the red turns into a pale green color near the stem. You draw an apple once
Attention SeekingBollocks to the lot of you! This is my new hat!Attention Seeking8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But it looks exactly like your old hat, Charles.
It's my new hat! It's a new fucking hat!!!
There's no need to use so many exclamation marks, Charles.
!!!!!!!!! !!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!
Now you're just being silly.
A 3-Pronged AssaultPRONG ONEA 3-Pronged Assault8 years ago in Humor More Like This
Prong One is ten and three quarter inches in diameter and seven in length. Constructed out of a hybrid plastic with the texture of pastry in order to confuse the enemy, this Prong can theoretically reach speeds of up to seventy miles per second, but unfortunately has proven to be much more lazy and sluggish in tests.
It is fitted with a rudimentary alarm system, three loosely dangling strands of something, a cup and saucer, assorted shades of blue paint, a fully-functioning hovercraft and pages 27-104 of Dan Brown's popular novel The Da Vinci Code coated liberally with spittle.
This Prong shall attack Opposing Prongs 7, 9 and 12-15. It may also disarm Opposing Prong 17 if there is time left before dinner.
Prong Two trained for several years as a matador before being forced to resign on grounds of decency and wood.
As a Prong, it is simplistic in design – sauce-based, it comprises of 32% ketchup, 9% mayonnaise, 43% thousand island and 15% chutney
beauty"you're beautiful."beauty4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"why don't you understand what i'm saying? you're beautiful."
"because girls tell me it all the time."
"yeah, but they don't mean it like i do."
"your face is beautiful, i'll give you that. sad puppy eyes, birds-in-flight lips, rocker-sloppy floppy hair. but your heart --"
"no, let me finish. your heart is so much more. you could fit the world inside there and feel it ache. that's what your pulse is. it's not blood, no ventricle contraction or atrium expansion, it's love. it's the ache of the world in your chest. that's why you're beautiful."
"why does it hurt so much?"
"because love hurts. and that's why we love. to hurt for others."
"to hurt for, or to just hurt others?"
"i don't want this."
"nobody does. everybody does."
"my heart isn't mine anymore, it's --"
"-- everybody else's. i know."
"what's wrong with me?"
"you're more beautiful than anyone in the world, that's what's wrong with you."
"that's a problem?
StalemateStalemate6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the heart is not a peace treaty.
and, making your way from love,
you are always a casualty.
only given leave enough to heal.
front line shifting
you can go on gaining
medal and scar
half your life,
never seeming to note
that all you fight to gain
is that few extra feet of soil.
is always coloured with the blue of distance.
or else it lies,
where a stray bullet found purchase.