The Future of DeviantART?The Future of DeviantART?11 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
The Importance of Being FrankThe Importance of Being Frank11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The Importance Of Being Frank
At the end of this story, a Frenchman will be eaten by African driver ants.
* * *
Silvie closed the stall door behind her; she closed it timidly, with an empty expression on her face. Her hand shook. She paused for a moment, her mouth half open, her lip curled upward, and a frown on her forehead.
Then she walked over to the wash basins.
A fly buzzed between her and the mirror. She turned on the faucet, filled her cupped hands with water, and splashed it on her face. She looked at the stall's reflection in the mirror, closed her eyes, and slapped herself.
Let us slow down to take in the sights. At the exact moment Silvie's hand hits her cheek, everyth
OverdoseItchy,Overdose12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It'll all be better soon.
exchange of hands,
Life has never cost so much.
cold wind and rain,
Wherever that is today.
and push that fucking plunger.
I would spend,
in this moment.
If I could,
it feels so right,
so empty and forgotten
like the joining,
of body and soul,
Constrict the flow,
of the air you're breathing.
Ripping through the paradise,
of where you were hiding.
What good is circulation,
if it's just feeding your destruction?
Show some fucking respect,
and accept your fate.
No complaints now,
it's all your fault.
Feel the nothing,
Now pay attention,
to what you are,
and what you were.
Close your mind,
and close your eyes.
It's all over now.
WasteWaste10 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Call me Anna, she says, hoping they'll get the vague reference, but they never do, mainly because it's too obtuse, and partly because nobody really reads Moby Dick these days.
But it matters not, nothing ever does. She wears her hair swept up and her mind swept away. There are the remains of a meal speckled upon her collar and down the front of her top, but people make sure not to comment. It wouldn't be right, but that's for later.
First, call her Anna. Heroines always had such exciting names, she mourned, drowning in jealousy that she instantly hated them all. She embraced the plain out of spite, and insisted that people called her by her boring middle name, started work as a librarian, and married a man who was the human embodiment of beige.
He didn't stand out anymore than she did. He wasn't tall and wasn't short, wore glasses in the least imposing way and sometimes spoke too quietly. He hated repeating himself, so told people to forget he said anything at all if they hadn't heard
Why poets love the rainWhy poets love the rain11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Have you ever noticed..
how poets love the rain?
And chances are you thought…
That they are all insane
In rain, the other people…
All their moods go down
Poets kick their boots off…
And go outside to drown
Why is this? I ask myself…
An easy thing to ask
But it's tough to figure out
And that will be my task
Is it love of nature..
That others just don't get?
Maybe it is simply that…
They just like being wet ?
To them is it the same...
To simply take a shower?
Or must the water come...
From mother nature's power?
Perhaps those stormy clouds…
Help to bring inspiration
Maybe they're reminded of…
The beauty of creation
Maybe it's the way…
The flooded rivers flow
Or maybe it's a poet's hope…
The hope of a rainbow
Maybe it's the smell…
The air that smells so new
Maybe it's the mist…
That carries morning dew
Maybe it's the trees…
The way they sway and dance
Maybe the wind carries…
The songs of sweet romance
Maybe it's the wind…
The wind that howls so soft
Or maybe it's the leaves…
That nature h
When Your Heart Stops Beating When Your Heart Stops BeatingWhen Your Heart Stops Beating9 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
My first thought is that she pronounced his last name wrong.
My second is that she's lying.
When you think of a person, a tiny file of memory opens in your brain, containing everything you know about them. All the good memories you've made, stupid jokes that have been laughed at, every tear that you may have shed think
MirrorsMirrorsMirrors10 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Mirrors have long entranced human minds. Visiting sailors would trade looking glasses with the savages, who would be mystified by the reflected world within. In ages past, Narcissus, for want of a portable mirror, withered away above a lake. The 'Hall of Mirrors' is always popular, with children worried, alarmed, intrigued by their misrepresented alternates.
I am today scared by mirrors, because I am compelled to look into them. The image I see, I hate. I hate that it may be this myriad assortment of reflective cells that determines whether I get second glance or not, rather than what I say, do, or the company I keep. I hate that the image is visibly imperfect, as if my private cankers were advertised with every blocked pore. I hate that it is not me, just a shell- I hate how people don't realise this.
I hate that, after all this: I still look.
In Peter Hedges, 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape?' Gilbert, presented with a mirror, looks into it for only a
...And Beauty Lingered--...And Beauty Lingered10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and beauty lingered while we played
spirits infused with a sunlit day
a smile so precious as to guide our way
and beauty toyed with our senses keen
finger kisses on stomachs lean
desires so fed as to strain against stray
and beauty sang as we lay together
spirits infused with each other's tether
exertions so vital as to need no stay
and all the nights capered with beauty's dance
spirits infused in the glow of our trance
lust never quenched in our sweet passion play
and beauty settled like motes of dust
slowy forming a mantle ...
....a sugared crust
spirit's delight for so many years- so little grey
And as i place this rose on beauty's grave
( a kiss for your soul for the love that you gave )
I hope i'll be with you again .... i pray
Spirits whispering of entwinement...
.... some day
VoyageLet's journey to old and distant points of light.Voyage5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the one's of most wise elements.
to the edge of creation.
Let's dive the depths
of superb pressure.
to the dark parts of oblivion.
Let's wander the colossal expanse
of sensory nirvana.
to limitless conception.
Let's trek through the cracks and crevices
of life's contemplation.
to caverns of ethereal salvation.
Let's pass through the ring
of time's fiery womb.
to our next incarnation.
Without a destination.
The Color Of LifeWheres this shallow ghostThe Color Of Life7 years ago in Other More Like This
Whos supposed to come and save us?
When will life be simple,
And everything clear?
Why are we hearing mosquito bites
And feeling the strange sound of buzzing wings?
Our eyes are dry
Why should everything make us sad?
And remind us of tears?
Its mad, the weeping
And wailings of our canvas
But thats the heartbeat of our lullaby.
Shake your hot stuff baby.
A hunger for red nylons.
She wants it we want it.
Hot loves singing in our ear.
Shes a genius
And wants our crotch,
Drugs and booze.
Who are we to complain?
These are such perfect days.
Cool water melodies
With razor sharp tongues
From head to heel
This is really,
The color of life.
Take meTake me11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Take me to the darkest place in the sky
A place where I'm not afraid to die
Where no one can see us, take me far
We will be shining just like another star
Just take me...
I'd Get That Worm For You===I'd Get That Worm For You9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
If i was a little bird...
i'd get that worm for you
I'd flap my wings till they were tired
just so by you i'd be admired
If i was a little bird
i'd get that worm for you.
I'd fly all around
and scour the grassy ground
in search of those wiggly things.
So happily bound
to bring you what i'd found;
Show the goodness my beak brings.
I've heard songs before
about " if i were this ..."
and " i were that ..."
But i'd do so much more.....
to give you bliss
with a worm real fat !
If i was a little bird
i'd get that worm for you.
I'd pull and tug
on his wormy ass.
An if he got away...
i'd bring you a bug
...cause you's my LASS!
If i was a little bird
i'd get that worm for you.
And at t
trunkringsstanding motionless,trunkrings10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
leaves splayed, high-fiving the Wind;
branches reaching out, skyward.
Youth- he wants to be heard
he whistles to the Wind.
he wants to dance
he dances with the Wind.
staying where he is.
Growing- becoming larger, establishing himself.
the others huddle together
their words come in the Wind;
the same Wind with whom he dances.
the Wind comes, she tickles him
stroking him, touching him
for then She is gone.
He rebels, fighting Her
-no more of Her games.
he stands steadfast,
scorning Her power.
Now old- camouflaged by a veil of green.
landlord to nesting tenants
still balanced on one leg
balding, leaves drop off, one by one
carried by the Wind.
SeedSeed9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the savoured crop, hoarded, ensiled
of two years, n'er to harvest grew,
not for lack of effort, having sowed, having ploughed
the fault was anyone's but his.
blame the weather, her myriad fickleties chanced
to dry out any hope that green may yet show,
or some legged creeper, in the meadow,
whose attention was this plant's undoing.
blame the soil it fell in, jejune, bereft
of the sweet gifts that would give green birth
or the winged creatures, abroad, who'd take their share
and leave but a feather in return.
yet blame not him, whose wearisome toils
were undertook before he even knew bud's feel,
who was willing to plant seeds and wait
leave all that he knew underground, out of sight.
this crop, my love, for you, my love,
two years ran deep in the furrow
only when you saw the first shoots this summer
did you tell me: you won't eat GM.
See Spot.See Spot.See Spot.10 years ago in Other More Like This
See Spot run.
See Spot run run run run run.
See Spot Spot.
See run run.
See Spot run Spot
Insomnia-A dark nursery rhymeInsomnia-A dark nursery rhyme13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I see you've come
to play again
lodged here in my soul so tight
turning brightness into night
please let me sleep
to never wake….
…now I lay me down to sleep
my life in tatters at my feet..
if I should Wake before I die
I pray these tattered wings can fly..
I never want to feel again
trapped here in this world so cold
where self is wrong
and Us is gold.
how i wonder why i'm here..
Chronoscape, Chapter OneChronoscape, Chapter One10 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
Can a line of events be traced to its origins, only to connect with its end?
Sept 17, 14:15
Apex clouds converged around the azure mountain of ice. The polar ocean rumbled, somewhere beneath, grappling into the iceberg, gnawing away at its foundations.
Grim, fluttering celestial arc released a blinding sphere of light has from the cloudy grasp. Scorching beams of sunlight smashed into the iceberg with relentless fury and the iceberg screeched in fear of their attack as glittering veins of cobalt and silver pulsated upon its surface. The temperature was rising, as the iceberg drifted south, pushed forward by the slashing wind. The iceberg fought against the warm currents till its last breath, but all was hopeless. An unyielding crack started to crawl across its surface, explosions of cold mist whooshing as the iceberg crumbled, expiring away; connecting with the clouds and the ocean.
Oct 4th, 9:12
A tiny, conical drop of water spiraled through the gray and blue mush of fog tha
For Amy Part 2.You are my painted starry night.For Amy Part 2.5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You are the spin of galactic swirl.
The diamond swept vista
that makes my heart unfurl.
The Furama Crew's Quote BookThe Furama Crew's Quote Book11 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
"Taekwonese" - the n00b
"Don't most Korean wrestlers have knees?" - ninjaplick
"No, not for me, I like to keep my pants on." - ninjaplick
"She's speaking Canadian!" - dictits
"It's meeeeeltinggg!!!" - everyone
"I didn't even get a dildo!" - someone who didn't get a handle for the shocker game
"Check the white balance" - picald
"Bad guys in star wars are always white British black guys" - dAMPHYR
"Are you a science genius?" - Wack woman to picald
"THE LEAK!!" - everyone
"Is he even a subscriber?" - elitist bitches
"I'm red/purple/green!" -
NibiruIt seems evolution is catching up with usNibiru8 years ago in Other More Like This
and there really isn't a future anyway
This was the best it was going to get
No legacy, no left behinds
So live for today
Because tomorrow isn't a promise
It seems my whole concept of time
it's warped and off balance
There aren't any leather sofas
This was the best it ever got
and I am happy
It seems this is the happiest
I've ever been.