OnlyOliveOil, because she's simply an amazing artist and great friend. She always inspires me with her incredible art!
herbodyismycoffin because she's a mind-blowingly incredible poet and awesome gal. I miss herrr.
cality, because she never fails to showcase excellence with her poetical insight, her kindness, and talent. She's incredible.
rociobelindamendez, because Rocio is an inspiration and beautiful deviant. She's wonderful!
camelopardalisinblue, because Dawniface! That's why! Haha, she's a truly magnificent writer and even better person. Dawni's just amazing.
Sydnut, because Sydney's a super cool girl. And a great writer. She's awesome. Plus she's got a great ear for music.
br0kenbutterflies, because Becky's writings are brilliant and she's a really sweet girl.
nightshade-keyblade, because he's one of the kindest supporters I have, a fun guy, and one of the more creative artists around. He's great!
Regal-Pinion, because this dude is the one of the bros, one of hell of a rhymer, and the dude's just a total boss.
shehrozeameen, because he has incredible community spirit, mind-blowing talent for poetry, and a great friend. Great man.
DrippingWords, because she's one of my greatest inspirations as a community leader and writer. She's just a boss with an epic username, too.
the-solimnludic, because M is one of the sweetest girls around and is such a talented writer. Love her!
Nullibicity, because Kelsi is a wonderful ball of positivity. Gorgeous poet and beautiful girl. She's amazing.
SpiralingSpontaneity, because Jen is a wonderfully sweet girl and amazing poet. She's awesome!
Tales-of-Tao, because Tao is an extremely sweet girl and wonderfully talented poet. She's fantastic!
FuzzyHoser, because Rachel inspires me so much. Her poetry is simply some of the best around and she's so kind. Plus I love her username. Haha!
Undomiel321, because Jennifer is so sweet and one of the best writers I know and is a wonderful supporter. She's fantastic!
Lady-Yume, because the Dreaming Lady is one of the most beautiful people. Ever. From her soul, to her poetry, to just everything. She's beautiful!
Xssys, because she's so nice! And I love her Sonic artwork-- it always takes me back to when I was younger and I love those times.
wolves-rockk, because my sis-sis will consistently put me on the floor laughing. And she's a rocker and awesome girl.
Calexy, because she's so kind. So hilarious, and again, like all of the people here consistently puts a smile on my face. And I really enjoy her writings too! If you're a Hetalia fan, this girl's fanfiction you'll wanna read.
TheGalleryOfEve, because she's only the woman I know that has a signature use of emoticons. Haha! But really, talk about kindness? You look the word up in the dictionary and there she is. She's amazing.
Nekothebro, because she's one of my oldest supporters and just uber-fantastic. Gillian, you're a wonderful person and I miss you!
Ambercatlucky2, because she, like Gillian, is one of the oldest supporters I have and she's also amazing. We gotta catch up soon!
UntamedUnwanted, because she's one of the best supporters of me and my endeavors. Because her art is so fantastic and because she's ultra-magnificent! Nikita is gorgeous.
hopeburnsblue, because Melissa is so strong. Her artistry is magnificent and I admire her so much. I've only known her for a couple of months but I can already see why so many people love her!
A-Shadow-Rose, because Ashley is one of the best poets on dA. Definitely one of my favorites already and I love, love, love it when I see her post. She's fantastic.
introverted-ghost, because she and I can have so many fantastic conversations. Because she's an inspiration for me and because her poetry is some of the most stunning pieces of art I've ever laid my eyes on. She's magnificent.
TAClT-RONlN, because Fins is freakin' epic! Duh! I love this goofball-- she never fails to make me laugh and her art is some of the most interesting things I've really ever seen!
rainylake, because she's an inspiration for me. Kathy does so much for the deviantART community as a whole and is just phenomenal. She should be a Senior Member by the time it's all said and done. I think that highly of her.
TheImpossibleWriter, because she inspires me to be a better person. She's amazing and I admire her so much!
learningtobefree, because Meghedi's poetry is outstanding. She's so kind and she's just brilliant.
Aurora9912, because this woman is so amazing. She makes me laugh, smile, and she's so strong. I admire her.
Ashes-Mari3, because her poetry still astounds me. She's so sweet and she's such an inspiration.
Now, none of you have to be anywhere near as comprehensive with your lists but I wasn't gonna forget anybody!
I can't wait to see your comments!! Show love! It's good for the soul.
And who knows, maybe there'll be something extra for those that commented.
And remember! You're all beautiful, amazing, and incredible. YES, YOU.
Poem written by an 11 year old Afghan girl
This poem was recorded in a NYT magazine article about female underground poetry groups in Afghanistan. An amazing article about the ways in which women are using a traditional two line poetry form to express their resistance to male oppression, their feelings about love (considered blasphemous).
Soft Planet - Chapter 1
Xander felt a tug on his shirt. He looked down at the younger boy's face peering up at him. Armondo clutched a red, rubbery ball with one hand. He pushed up to his toes and then, in slow motion, landed softly back on his heels.
"Oh, alright," Xander said. "We'll play just one round. But that's it, okay?"
The black haired boy nodded before heading towards the indoor court nearby. His light frame glided between each step, as if moving through water. Just inside the doorway he stopped abruptly, then turned around. Above him the gymnasium was filled with late morning light streaming through the transparent dome over the court. A glittering of pale pink dust rose on currents warmed by the sun's rays. Off to the side a sagging metal cage held dozens of solid-colored balls, similar to the one that Armondo had in his grasp.
"So, will it be tournament rules or free-for-all?" Xander asked as he entered the room.
the clockwork liari. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season. you'd take one and rest it on the center of your tongue because you hated the taste of ice cream and wanted to reset what cold tasted like to you.
you taught me that the cold could be bitter, and so could people's dreams.
you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself.
i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down.
ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars.
and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so many, one of them was bound to remember you.
but we both ended up laughing hysterically with protruding knives on a bloodstained floor, didn't we?
iii. i talked to clockwork towers and told them to lie because if they stopped for just a while, all the time in the world would seize.
one human, two human
MarionettesThe old woman finished her last two marionettes and laid down the tiny paintbrush for the last time, her pale cream hands with soft blue veins spidering the back of her slightly wrinkled hands, finally given reprieve. No more would those arthritis ridden hands, nimble even in old age, again paint or create marionettes. These last two were her finest carved and painted creations ever. Sky blue eyes that were beginning to cloud over with blindness glittered with happiness. She caressed the small marionette's painted black hair.
Bringing him close she blew into his face, the wood growing resplendent, sunshine seeming to make it softly glow.
"I gift thee with my breath the exuberance of summer that is busy with life." She whispered before slender deft fingers tied fishing line around his neck before laying him down on the mahogany desk. Picking up the other puppet, this one taller than the other, she also blew a stream of air into his face though her breath was now as cold as the harsh win
honestyI am the feeling of rain when it’s only just started;<da:thumb id="386831922"/>
The condensation on the outside of a cold glass.
I am the sparks that rise out of a fire to fly around your face;
The long-forgotten dried paint on a table.
I am the creases on the spine of your favorite book;
A pencil that’s not quite sharp, but not quite dull.
I am all these and more,
And I just want to be good enough.
RelativityWhat could do me some good, you ask? A deep-tissue massage and a nice, long nap. No alarm clocks, no fitful dreams, no banging on my door, yelling at me to get my ass in gear. Just a few hours of undisturbed sleep.
Sleep is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy. Benjamin Franklin said it was beer, but I think it’s sleep. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good beer, but let’s be honest, what’s better: waking up with one bitch of a hangover and a bad case of the shits, or waking up refreshed and realizing you’re not quite as dead as you thought you were? And let’s not forget, sleep is more important. That might be hard to believe, but think about it. You can go your whole life without a drink, but try and go one too many nights without sleep and you start climbing the walls.
You tell me I look a little outta sorts and then clap me on the back. Real hard. The force almost sends me hurtling to the floor. And then you tell me you
Translucent ThreadsTranslucent Threads of a Fragmented Dream 1/1/09<da:thumb id="353802412"/>
She interweaves through multiple dimensions.
Sometimes she lets me be.
She travels on bridges suspended
by nothing visible that I can see.
She hides in shadows of living fear.
She fades into vapor when I am near.
Strange, that I can feel her
without my sense of touch.
Odd, that I love her without even trying.
She exists in fragile bubbles
filled with poison air...tainted
oxygen that I willingly share.
My hand holds hers briefly and then
erupts the searing pain.
Lava flows through her thinly lined veins.
Tender tendrils reach for my deepest
emotions and gently prods till I confess.
She holds my heart in her palm and
massages away all my stress.
She exudes an everlasting light
that I grab onto tightly - a bright star
for my black hole.
Everyone misses what I so plainly know.
There are some places I can never go.
Her breath is fire that soothes my crawling skin.
I would gladly go blind to stay within -
From Afar, Thunder RoaredLike a bright-eyed magpie, I have scratched out and collected pieces of Joseph for years. His indecision fuelled my nest building, my belief in another tomorrow and my regret for yesterdays wasted.
On good days, I took the wrinkles around his eyes. Filled with memories, they glittered in the night -- beacons for lost hearts and flightless souls.
On mediocre days, I took the roughly jeweled scars from his arms, hips and thighs. In their imperfection, I found facts -- each with one thousand shimmering facets.
On bad days, I took the marrow from his phalanges. In the soft light of morning, it turned to mallow and stuck to my bird bones -- a constant reminder of those things you cannot shed, no matter how many years you spend trying.
Like all nest-makers know, there comes a day when the fussing is over and the children must come home to roost. But instead of children, tobacco fireflies fell upon our arms and set us to screaming.
Invention of a CharacterMy character took me by the hand when I was six
Whirled me through the sea and the sky and the stars
Laughed with silver eyes, and I, enchanted
Shared with him my innermost desires.
I wanted to be a librarian
Because they could read books all day, and it
Didn’t seem like too much work.
Check in, check out, apply a sticker or two
On the books’ unbroken spines
And when a page ripped, I’d tape it up
With that special book tape all librarians had
My father wanted me to be a doctor. Instead,
I would become a doctor of fairytales.
So my invention played his part in my land of fiction
And smiled and danced me through my dreams
Changing face and form with breathless fluidity
Black-haired one day and gold the next
One time he came from a faraway forest
Traveling miles and miles and miles
Just to meet me. Another time
He lived in the house next door
A welcome replacement for our cantankerous neighbor.
We were best friends, he and I
One time in class, he sprouted wings
pebblesthe sifters discover
among other flaws
lack of imagery,
absence of flow,
and scatter of adjectives.
deciding my poems
are nothing but pebbles,
paper and pen;
send me packing underwater.
for the moment
i get by
using squid ink,
i might imagine
or that a starfish
sees my work
march 21, 2012
honey-filled heartshe asked her if she loved him
and she looked at that golden boy
with a bumblebee smile and sad veins
like good champagne leaking onto the stars
only a million words were left unsaid.
Gardening for dummiesHer head is a flowery poem,
filled with pots and weeds
and mother earth
dug deep in roots and taciturn.
Now no one will come near,
but she has thorns
and worm-filled words,
and a spade for planting
the lesser verse…
but the loneliness
beneath roots and words
and stanza stems
until it digs ant tunnels
The Increasingly Absurd Endeavours Of Gretchen (1)I had been living here all my life, looking over the quiet valley of Upshire. This is where I have remained for many years, walled in by the prominent limestone cliffs. My abode? A stout, ramshackle cottage built from red wood and stone, an eyesore on the outside, yet cosy and warm inside, a place that could weather even the harshest of winters that the English seasons hurled my way.
My name is Gretchen Goosander… Sadly I have no middle name, so I cannot tell you that. At fourteen, I am not legally supposed to be running a home all by myself, yet no-one even knows I’m out here, no-one ever bloomin’ bothered to check but, hey, the solitude is peaceful, albeit lonesome. There isn’t much to say about myself, other than the fact that I have my mother’s freckles, and also my aunt’s hell-to-tame ginger curls, which turn to frizz in even low humidity. Other than that, I am a dull person in my opinion, with no outstanding interests other than an avid collec
What's really going on?I used to feel like we were always going to live forever
Had to face the day, it's time to get our shit together
Sometimes a rhyme inside your mind can seem to switch the weather
It's been a thick endeavour, trash will never bring me treasure
Musics worth more than anything a critic measures
You're not a boss to me, the kid went and skipped a level
So now I'm spitting better, probably cause I'm living better
We made these hits together, one day we'll be niched forever
Some people hit me up cause now they see us coming up
I don't give them nothing, wouldn't lend a couple bucks
When I couldn't even eat, that was something rough
And wouldn't come and pick me up when I was broke and stuck
Understand that money really makes your people change
I spend my time alone but I'm not feeling lonely man
It helped me find myself and now I feel my soul again
I'm in control again, and musica been my only friend.
Life is tough but still were smiling through the pain
On top of gas works, an island in the
streamI believe it is best heard: https://soundcloud.com/gravitycorner/stream-1:thumb373479050:
let me be honest with you
I am small enough to fit into pockets and be forgotten
tangled up in the loose ends of jeans
quieter than the twinkle of coins against keys
is how small I am
to every hand I've been in
and there are not many I let hold me
in this form because honestly
I said I would be honest
I am so much larger than pocket change
or I try to be
far away and expansive
somewhere where you
one cereal box over
not hiding from your grasping grasp
I want you to
take me away and
spend me to fill you
but looking closely into my
window to my naked soul
is not a glance I offer
(I think the ground is the only one to stare so deeply)
is my honesty laid out like
bread crumbs to the universe,
me, brimming with its nature
a nature in you too
but even with this, vastnes
miles, miles, milesi have so many things that i want to say
that i'm dizzy with it.
it swims in my head
and in the spaces between my ribs.
and i know that i'm not magnificent
but i can tell you that i'm like the stars;
the streetlamps dulling out their luminescence
so you only see them
burning faintly alongside the moon
i can tell you
that the already-set sun
turns the night sky a dark navy
and that if i try hard enough
i can turn it into the depths of the ocean
and exhale for good
and i know that i'm not magnificent
but i know you're in milwaukee,
just a silhouette to a passerby in the street
through an open window--
hold the sweet,
because all i taste
[ and i could see for miles. ]
An(n)a.an(n)a sleeps with the stars:
tight-lipped & panting, she
took them all
apart until they
The ChalkboardWe had a chalkboard on the back wall of our kitchen. It was green with a wood trim and big like a front door. It did more harm than good I think.
I was nine and my big sister seventeen. Every morning we ate breakfast together across from each other and it was usually the only time I saw her.
Every morning mom wrote a new word from the dictionary on it. Winsome. Subliminal. Inept. The word in red chalk and the definition in cursive white. Every morning a new word was there, under the Maxim — a short, pithy statement expressing a general truth or rule of conduct — mom made up and taped onto the top of the board.
The Early Learner Bird Gets The Word.
Between bites we said the word and the definition, over and over. Dad liked to say we sounded like broken record players. Mom said we were learning by Rote — mechanical or habitual repetition of something to be learned. After I said it ten times I could ask to be excused from the table.
It’ll let you express yourself b
6wortgeschichteIch träume von deinen Händen; Erstickungsgefahr.
The Transformation Of Waste (A Qit'ah)He was a bad artist, from a good-society family: we fucked in his solarium once.
I couldn't appreciate his suicide scenes, the ones he painted onto his own skin.
david and ruth laskini have to be honest;
seeing you has always felt like
looking inside a cityscape, nightlight kaleidoscope
and i've grown accustomed
to fragility and our literal,
we flicker on and off at the speed
of improbable, dysfunctional
light. i have to be honest;
i am honestly afraid
of your sorrowful sighs, and eclectic
gaze, though eerie and off in its
lissome niche, still crawls under my skin
and plants little foxgloves
where i can never find them.
you worry after events so impossible
that your aura of floral hues
giggles and reminds you
that kept-secret cardamom leaves have stayed
for as long as you asked
and let you sleep soundlessly with
midnight traffic lullabies. morning,
we both know, is tainted with the dull mauve
of my departure and now that it's time
for yours, i have to be honest;
you are more than a secret
that will be forgotten with the creak
of a silent grandfather clock, and your
petals, my sweet, your beautiful petals,
still grace me in
Grains of Sand.A series of heavy poundings on the front door jerked me from a peaceful slumber, a nice change from tossing and turning. I thought for a second that it was a mistake, the wrong door on the off-chance, but it kept going on and on. A husky voice in the hallway bellowed, “Miss Boudia, are you home?”
It wasn’t anyone I recognized or expected, which drew me out of my bed in a groggy frenzy and to the door. Caution had taught me in the past to always check through the peephole. Crowded in the hallway outside of my door were a gaggle of men in blue uniforms, guns slung over their backs.
The first three men entered the apartment as soon as I let them in, without uttering more than a word or giving any indication as to why they were there. A fourth wandered in after them, taking his time and slowly laying his gaze on every object in the living room. The fifth, their commander, shook my hand with his stubby mitt before removing his sunglasses. He mumbled something about
It wasn't the same as throwing away an old couch.
We didn't peek around the curtains every hour,
half expecting to see someone lifting it into their
truck bed secretly hoping it was still on the curb
Stillness was in the air because the house knew
something was missing. Something is always going
to be missing. We can manage buy more things. I know
we are lonely consumers. The more the merrier.
Make the walls happy. Spring for the surround sound.
Maybe I won't hear your permanent laughter
resonate from the kitchen. Haunting.
I want to know what the spider was thinking
as it crawled across my IPod.
How many electronics can a man fit into his soul?
There has always been a compulsive need to own.
Nobody reading this is free.
In Fair VeronaIt was one of those houses dropped on the corner of the street, squeezed so tightly by the two other houses on either side that it was hardly noticed. It was one of those houses where the hot water never ran out in the winter and the air conditioner never broke in the summer. All of the neighbors in the similarly shaped houses, although never perfectly identical, shared gossip and brought over casseroles and generally pretended to like each other until the door closed and the lock clicked and their sincere thoughts on the daughter’s new husband came to light. It was a neighborhood with the normal levels of superficiality one could find in the suburbs.
And I was drawn right in.
There was something about the idea of having a comfortable little life, a quiet life where I would never be alone yet always be lonely, that somehow appealed to me. It’s easy to be lonely. All you do is turn on the TV or open a good book and it goes away. I could never sit around feeling sorry f
Fire With an Aftertaste of Chocolate“Lily. What are the trees like?”
The two children sat alone under a great oak tree on the playground. All the other kids were gone. They’d found others to run around and play tag with or build small ‘castles’ that looked rather like mounds of dirt. Ethan couldn’t do any of these things, though. He couldn’t see the sunlight or the trees of the ground beneath his feet, not even his mother’s face when she kissed him on the forehead goodnight.
Ethan was blind.
“Trees are magnificent,” Lily began. She didn’t really know how to start. How do you describe something to a person that’s never seen anything? “They have a thick base, it’s called a trunk, which you know, and it’s grey-brown/ That’s the color of a winter day or the sky when it’s sad, that feeling in the air before it rains.” Lily knew she wasn’t making any sense. Her mother told her so, that blurting out the first thing
Chaotic Arrows and True Trajectorythat bundle
holds the greatest
of blunt arrows
and the giant joy
bursting at the center
sends them flying
and only the
with a baby
greater than one life
an energy bigger
than that little
head and body
sadness, strife or
that what they don't know
is what makes them
the beautiful heroes
that we spend
the rest of our lives
trying to ruin
to our own regret
don't listen to me
as the true trajectory
of my love
in my words,
but in the
that you carry-
the silly lantern
that lights up
entire rooms, faces
ProcessA spoon departs the tips of my fingers.
Ponderings of greenery.
Spillage of assets.
.Pastes of pity.
A vanishing, perhaps?
flowers only grow 'round graves made of bonesi knew a boy with ice-blood
and no grin to be
seen on dimpled cheeks; he's
gone, now, disappeared
somewhere into the dusk
with the clouds
he never could learn
how to tame;
he never laughed
when he was happy, but his words
came out cold as stones
when skies rained
down upon his skin;
he wore sadness in his
bones, and his eyes
held sketches of the things he could
never be; the words on his
tongue made for
he scattered around his
feet, but they
never loved enough
to make the plants grow;
his skin felt like paper --
and he was the book nobody'd read
since '79, the one forgotten
on the shelves because
the trees weren't happy
dawn didn't break;
he was a soldier
without dog tags, slain
on the battlefield with his
eyes still living,
and he saw the
carnage we bring upon
our own; makes it
no wonder why he was
a stone angel without the wings --
PurityI was asked to find the most pure object.
An object to save human nature.
An object that we can learn from to throw our wicked ways.
I looked far and wide.
I looked high and low.
I scaled mountains and swam across rivers.
I peered through both telescope and microscope.
It took longer than I could've imagined.
Years of my life spent searching.
All for this one answer.
"What is the most pure thing in the universe?"
AddictionCan we become addicted
To something that's not there?
Nothing at all, but presence.
The feel, the smell of hair
That brushes soft and daisy
And tries in vain to hide
Intoxicating gems that appear
To me as eyes;
Eyes, deep with ice and fire
And spells beyond arcane
Bewitching in just a moment,
Then in their wake is pain.
To hear that laugh, delightful
Just like the waking sun, -
But left just to imagine,
Unwound, my heart's undone.
With you I'm clay and happy
To be shaped by your hand;
Without my craftsman's touch, though,
Her work can hardly stand.
Prince CharmingJust a year
in the blink of an eye
I saw it happen.
and bruised innocence
behind your eyes.
the purity of us
what we once were.
is what you said to me
a voice I don't know.
So it goes;
grandiose Prince Charming
falls from his throne.
The very throne
that I myself built for him.
"Forgive me, my love,
for holding you so high."
Rotten LeadershipShine a light for those in darkness,
For they shiver in deceit.
Raise your voice over the lost ones,
For they need a freedom shriek!
Don’t you dare forbid their lives,
For they are not yours to handle!
Neither is their right to lies,
Nor the knife from under the mantle.
Leader life you tasted now,
Treason you gathered around you.
How long will it take you to bestow
Freedom on those who haunt you?
NightmareHow do you fall and avoid the break?
How much torment can one life take?
Where do you run when you cannot escape?
You can't fight the nightmare that haunts your wake.
The Reign of Terror (2/16)When you get her mad,
trust me, it's close to being
The candle's warm light flickers in the gloom
Where once the heat waxed it wanes
Only that wan smile now lights the room
Eyes cast down, wracked by adulation's pain
He waits for a sign, any at all
A whispered word to keep the candle alight, aflame
But his face remains a storm, a squall
Wondering if he is the one to blame
Doubt's fetters rest heavy on his heart
The candle gutters because of him
It's life unbegun, already cut short
Where a blaze is needed, dimmer grows the dim
Yet still she sits, for whom the candle glows
Does she not see? Does she choose not to see?
Lit in slighted passion' ardent throes
For a future that will never be
Before her stands his meraki, burning low
It's flame writhing, crying, dying with demur
Under blind eye, the flame ebbs with woe
It's past radiance always in deference to hers
One of Those DaysIt's just one of those days,
You want to turn back the clock,
Take it back to a time
Of happiness and joy.
It's just one of those days,
You feel so lost.
Abandoned to fall off the path you know,
With no one there to catch you.
It's just one of those days,
You wish you knew what to say,
To stop the tears,
And bring comfort to the broken hearted.
It's just one of those days,
Filled with sorrow and regret,
With words left unsaid,
And of never getting the chance to say goodbye.
It's just one of those days,
You can only sit down and just cry.
Single for LifePlastic surgery can't reach into the past
A new skin will still wear the facts
You can't win chess when playing with lust
Better crash the car before you finish last
Hardcover with a title, joke of the class
All the blurbs talk about the kicks to your ass
Never touch a girl before you ask
Never try to control her with a glass
Everyone can read that history of violence
The shitstorm you caused masked by silence
Loud victims are still victims
Easy targets for the education system
Chew you up and eat the marrow of the bone
While the emperor takes another throne
You're not the type a woman would lay down with
The shit you ate is all over your teeth
It's sexual harassment if you try to kiss
Your spit is a cocktail of blood and piss
You don't need soap, just a little love
But who's the dope to take such a dirty job?
It's only one person to talk to and it's God
If he doesn't exist, turn to your own blood
Only to discover that you're so tough
Even your self hatred is not enough
To push you off
Take a walk with me.To the end we shall go, were ever it may be,
Take me down the path less travelled, walk me through the sea.
The broken glass of crackled hearts, were bare feet may tread,
Along side the river of the dammed, the water coloured red.
Hollow bones and bullet holes litter the sandy plain,
Dried blood is the mark that only death may reign.
Yet here we stand in fire and smoke,
Drowning in it's gentle choke.
and off I'll sail.
To a valley of eternal bliss.
Skiing It’s so quiet that I almost don’t want to breathe, lest I disrupt the silence as we ascend noiselessly up the hill. The world around us wears a white robe of snow.
I knock my skis together. Even the smallest of sounds is magnified in the quiet – my jacket rustles noisily every time I move, and each breath sounds as loud as a dog’s pant. I haven’t gotten much exercise yet – this is the first run of the day for me. My feet feel like they’re made of lead. It’s only the weight of the skis, really, but it feels as if someone’s tugging on my feet from below, someone with impossibly long and strong arms. If they pulled any harder they’d drag me down.
There’s a small burst of momentum as I get off the chairlift. It propels me across the snow for a couple yards, but then I have to awkwardly pull myself forward by driving my poles into the ground. It’
GloryThe ancients adorned their temples
in the gold they melted
in the shape of living things,
dead and glittering.
It served their lord,
to watch their spirals,
ink on hands,
hands on hearts,
Does this please you?
Send away the famine,
the fire and the flood.
The ancients drew lines in lines
left children on rocks,
shaved heads, sackcloth chic.
But I serve a different purpose,
lines in lining,
pulling layers of my skin back,
living skeletons draped in fabric,
teetering on their altars,
dead and glittering.
Does this please you?
Send away the Famine,
the fire and the flood.
The Devil's GlassYou stare at the Devil, then back to the glass
He's holding it out for you
You take the glass, he nods and grins
You are not sure what to do
Inside the glass, you take a close look
Blood is what is inside
The Devil keeps nodding and grinning at you
All you can do it sigh
You take the glass of the Devil's blood
The taste didn't taste so bad
Salty and sweet, the perfect combo
It's the best thing you've ever had
You drink and drink, the Devil smirks
You smile right back at him
The more you drink the more evil flows
The good is getting slim
You drink the rest, set the glass down
And give a sigh of content
The Devil's lips curve, pats you on the back
You didn't realize what this meant
The Devil taps his foot impatiently waiting
You smile, your teeth stained red
Two seconds later you're on the floor, the Devil's laughing
He's laughing because you're dead
Little Blue BirdThere's a little blue bird trapped in our warehouse. It's way up high, flying from skylight to skylight trying to escape this enormous artificial cavern.
It just tweets and tweets, occasionally slamming itself into the glass. I guess it keeps thinking, "Now? Maybe now? How about now? No? Now?" All I can do is leave the bay door open, in hope it realizes it can't go out the way it keeps trying.
The sun can fool; give false hopes. Like waking up to the illumination of your room and thinking, "This day is gonna suck," but it actually turns out to be amazing.
DrawingPut your pen to the sheet,
And let the ink seep.
Lines and shapes you'll make,
with your pen and ink.
abandon all thoughts that you think,
all your imagination it will take,
to stroke your brush,
Let your creativity take flight,
And you just might,
No, you will,
make a piece de resistance.
So that your existence will be here still,
PerfectionDon't do this<da:thumb id="435210340"/>
Don't do that
Don't make the same mistakes
Don't follow my path
Then what should I do?
Repay our debt to them
Focus on your studies
Go home right away
Be the good little girl, unlike her
Yes, I should be perfect
Listen to your mind
Forget your heart
Don't make mistakes
Perfection is what we aim
Ah, and now its a drug
Perfection is my addiction
Or rather my mission
A cage that keeps me
From learning what not to be
Love this kind of guy
Stay away from this kind of guy
Stay realistic and bland
Imagination is but sad
A lonely addiction
God, are you listening?
Please set me free
Goodbye PuppeteerYou let me build my house with glass,<da:thumb id="435299371"/>
and filled the rooms with sharp objects.
My doors are made of sick fantasies;
the locks fashioned with lies and political prescriptions
I adopted a pet and named her Insecurity,
she sleeps at the edge of my bloodstained bed...
...follows me to Kingdom come with catharsis.
My meals are comprised of synthetic spirituality.
Consuming cryptic metaphors in dusty dinner chapters.
I drink cisterns of concerned contempt
as the eyeballs roll in corners with toothpicks and martinis.
Popping pills for phantoms they call 'problems',
your comfort is a tranquilizer disguised...disgust.
Arms wrapped me in wrath, constricted by Wisdom.
You clothed me in Judgement but left me naked,
shivering for lack of a face behind the mask...
...you built it from dreams you never attained
My entertainment room is your theater,
you string me up with Judgement Day and Obedience
I'll take a furnace to these whimsical walls,
watch it melt to a molten mass with my paper face
Maybe . . .Maybe someday
I'll be okay,
All of the tears
Will be all dried away,
Sky will be blue
And no longer grey,
Monsters and shadows
No longer to stay.
My heart will be healed,
Love and elation
Be things that I feel,
Moods no more changing
Like turning of wheels,
No longer burdened
By things that I feel.
But, for today,
Skies remain dark,
Love and elation
Seem something so far.
Are just out of reach,
Things that I want,
But just cannot believe.
Life's PagesPeople always say
Stop living in the past
Live in the present, the now
Why not live in the future?
The future is what we make it
The future is improvement
The future is unwritten
So grab your pen
Write your future
Narrate the life you want
So that you can come to live
The life you have written
Erase today's problems, dilemmas
They need not be published
Best forgotten on a torn out page
You're the author and narrator
The power lies within your thoughts
Executed by the pen in your hand
Published on life's pages
Read by life's audience
Chapters waited on by family and friends
But they don't want no sob story
Take note of this moment
Your feelings, your thoughts
Your depression, your sorrows
Don't forget them, simply ignore
Look to that future
The future you have written
See how it glistens
Now look to your notes
Your current situation
Now think for a moment
Is this where you want to stay
This dark, torturous world
It's suffocating your fire
You want to get out
Stars - StelleOn the black curtain
of the night
Nel sipario nero
Dwellers in the Dark, Part V: Still hereHalf-consciously Sheva’s hands wandered over the crumbling wallpapers and mouldering interior of Adam’s house, as she tried to suck in the essence of this place.
When finally her legs quit their service; she tiredly dropped onto the next chair, suddenly finding herself face to face with her reflection.
It was no pleasant sight staring back at her from the cracked mirror of the old dressing table, whose splintered white painting seemed to echo the lines under Sheva’s subsided eyes, causing a double reflection – one literal; one metaphorical.
Slowly she let her finger wandered down the uneven rupture in the otherwise perfectly smooth surface.
“Memory…” she whispered remembering her nightly walk, as it became increasingly painful to focus on a continual string of new notions. Somehow it was easier to simply recall a short-memory rewind.
“…a cracked memory” was all the new she was able to bear.
“It’s not a memory
the soft current*
you are my blood flow,
my blood overflowing
i belong to no one as i belong to you -
my self outside myself
so it is that in the space between your fingertips
and my skin i come to exist
entrusted to your arms alone
tracing my edges
drawing out my shape
The JourneyThe superfast races across the green yet rugged landscape of Bihar (middle eastern state in India). There are farmlands stretched across the bosom of the earth, as far as the eyes can see. The winter evening closes its drapes upon daylight, and the heavy fog slowly starts creeping up from the horizon.
Somewhere in the distance, the white smoke from a house chimney rises up in spectral shapes and hangs upon the air. Far away, trees stand out in the distance, like ghosts, their dark shapes breaking the cloak of fog.
Aquamarine, pink, orange and finally a deep inky blue, the sky changes colours so fast.
A lone farmer winds his way across the carpet of green, with a load on his shoulders, closely followed by his dog at his heels.
Patches of brown contrast with bright green and golden where one section of the crop has been harvested and the other is still standing. A silver stream lustily weaves its way across the curves of the earth.
Unmindful children still playing outside on the
and every other week in between-there's nothing worse than being stuck between
wanting to d r i f t
and, to keep the soles of your shoes sewn tightly
to the brittle ground, waiting for the day
when the weeds will burst through and
break your hold anyway
(because at the end of today
you'll find yourself sitting at the window
staring at an eternity you're not sure
you're a part of
I've been thinkin' about this idea for AGES and now...I think I can make this happen. These are the list of wonderful deviants who are gonna join me on this super collabo'. <3 If you guys want in, comment here, on my latest poll or note me. At midnight I'll post another poll on the topic and we'll all vote on it, then I'll note all of you guys and we can get started. There's absolutely NO deadline, but I'd really love for this to be finished by the end of the year. Sound doable, right?
Please! Don't be intimidated or anything, I want a ton of people to join in, so don't hesitate if you want to write with us. I think it'd be so amazingly fun for everyone. Creating art and sharing it with the world of deviantART. Sounds pretty epic to me! In my mind, I wanted ALL of us to write on one topic and make it our own with only a few short stanzas. (A maximum of 3 stanzas by each writer.) Then we'd mesh them all together, post the super collabo' on our pages and hope people enjoy it!
Also, if you're just interested in reading it (But not necessarily joining), leave some suggestions on the topic if you guys have any. I'll be posting 10 (All general, I think) topics (Hopefully) and everyone will vote to decide what we can write about. All of these artists are SO versatile and creative, it's gonna be an absolute BLAST to do this.
For those of you on this list if you want me to add a "maybe" by your name if you haven't decided yet, let me know! Also, for those that have the maybe, let me know to get rid of it if you're completely on board!
EDIT: I have ten topics ready to fire and the rules I want just about ready, too! If I find everything covered, I'll post it before midnight, but that's the latest I'll be postin' the poll and the wonderful participants are STRONGLY encouraged to vote as we will be the ones writin' this.
SECOND EDIT: JOINING ENDS NOVEMBER 1ST, at MIDNIGHT. When it hits 12:00 AM immediately after October 31st, joining requests will NOT BE ACCEPTED.
THIRD EDIT: The poll winner will be decided at MIDNIGHT, TONIGHT. I've decided to make this a quick decision as votes have halted, tremendously. Why put it on hold, right? If you disagree with this decision, let yourself be heard before midnight. And if not, we'll prepare ourselves to write about nature-based things. If we end up with this current poll result, I'll post another poll on how all of the participants would like to go about the poem. We shall see!
FOURTH EDIT: The Oceans, Skies, Clouds, Trees, etc.. (Basically, nature-based things.) topic has won out with 8 votes out of the 41 votes we've received. I'm really tired and dA wasn't necessarily the last thing I wanted to see before bed, but if I didn't post this now, I would've put it off which wouldn't have been a good thing. Now that we have the subject settled, tomorrow (When I'm not so exhausted), I will a post a poll asking only the participants, how they would like to go about writing the project. i.e. writing a stanza or two off another one, or simply writing your own stanzas separately and having me compile them all up into something that flows better. You guys all think about that and y'all should see a poll at the very latest; at the end of the day. I'll get to everyone's feedback to respond and thank everyone, tomorrow.
FIFTH EDIT: Joining has ENDED TODAY. Thank you to everyone who decided to participate in this super collab', we've gotten quite a bit done, thus far.
(I figured I can work in order of participants. What do y'all think about that? Let me know and I can write mine, then give it to the next person up. )
Ambercatlucky2 (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if she so chooses)
camelopardalisinblue (Must get back to her at a later time)
A-Lovely-Anxiety (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if she so chooses)
hypermagical (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if she so chooses)
Aerode (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if he so chooses)
adeline-renee (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if she so chooses)
ithaswhatitisnt (Must get back to her at a later time)
rigor-samsa (Sent in stanzas, one more stanza available to write if she so chooses)
JessenoSabaku (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if she so chooses)
RealBeastie (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if she so chooses)
solis-ortus (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if she so chooses)
SereneCyrene (Must get back to her at a later time)
Secke (Used all 3 maximum stanzas)
1bookfish (Sent in stanzas, one more stanza available to write if she so chooses)
RoseScarlet (Sent in stanza, two more available to write if she so chooses)
Lady-Yume (Used all 3 maximum stanzas)
AyeAye12 (Sent in stanza, two more available to write if he so chooses)
RedRevanna (Not available)
EveryoneILoveIsDead (Sent in stanzas, one more stanza available to write if she so chooses)
ave-dottore (Sent in stanza, two more stanzas available to write if she so chooses)
Regal-Pinion (Used all 3 maximum stanzas)
Gryffgirl (Must get back to her at a later time)