I Loathe the UndeadI Loathe the Undead10 years ago in Humor More Like This
I loathe the undead.
They're always whining about "brains" and "guarrrgh" all the time and they're clawing at you with their nasty clammy maggoty-infested hands and biting your wife with their rotten yellow teeth and trudging along in a big stupid horde, losing their limbs all over the place and blocking traffic like they owned the world. Would you believe there was a zombie stampede on the I-41 this morning? Yeah, they held up traffic for like an hour. It was a huge stampede. They made me late to work and I think they almost cost me my job. Never mind that the boss has been later for less important reasons than a zombie stampede.
Some day I'm going to stick him in a room with a zombie in it and see how he likes it.
Anyway. I would have been later to work this morning ('cause I think that stampede's still going on, I mean they just said on the news half an hour ago that the last body count was like sixty, and that's way too many for just an hour-long stampede) if I hadn't gone and inst
Dinosaur FactoriesThere used to be smelly old dinosaur factories,Dinosaur Factories7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Offensive to all of our senses olfactory;
The public complained they were dissatisfactory
In the rate of production of things pteridactory.
Those factories were, as I've heard, quite eyesores,
And each day they sent out big earsplitting roars
The government issued a ban, furthermore,
And that was the end of the great Dinosaur.
a little help from my friendsliarsa little help from my friends5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
though we were
never really seperate
i had a
dream we were
drowning outside your
lost in goodnights and goodbyes
there are lies
between our lines
can we really call this home
waves and crowds still
i'm not too fond
yet i'm still
i haven't finished writing
my dead letters
Love Song of the Traitori have no gift of wordsLove Song of the Traitor4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wings i was given in their stead
to write my love across your skies
and with coal-dark quills inscribe it
on your palms
Communist QuotesThe Anthology of Communist QuotesCommunist Quotes4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
"Capitalist production, therefore, develops technology, and the combining together of various processes into a social whole, only by sapping the original sources of all wealth - the soil and the laborer." -Karl Marx
" Capital is dead labor, which, vampire-like, lives only by sucking living labor, and lives the more, the more labor it sucks." -Karl Marx
"You show me a capitalist, and I'll show you a bloodsucker." -Malcolm X
"Democracy is the road to socialism." -Karl Marx
"Greek philosophy seems to have met with something with which a good tragedy is not supposed to meet, namely, a dull ending." -Karl Marx
"A revolution is impossible without a revolutionary situation; furthermore, not every revolutionary situation leads to revolution." -Vladimir Lenin
"Capitalists are no more capable of self-sacrifice than a man is capable of lifting himself up by his own bootstraps." -Vladimir Lenin
"Crime is a product of social excess." -Vladimir
Case of the Hiroshima HotelCase of the Hiroshima Hotel9 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I knocked on the fifth floor hotel door and it flew open almost instantly, sending me a step back into the hallway to avoid running into the shoulder of the young man sticking his head out, and his two companions pushing out the door behind him. All three started talking at once. I hadn't initially believed them when they had called me on the phone, but the emotions and excitement spilling from their mouths were genuine. Maybe they weren't pulling the my leg. The three males sputtering and tripping over each other's words were appropriately nicknamed Waldo (since we had two Andrews on the trip, and Andrew Wald was used to the nickname Waldo), Mikio (which means "tree trunk man" in Japanese, which was how Mikio was built), and Jesus (who looked like the common image of Jesus -- long brown hair, beard, and skinny beyond belief). Jesus had opened the door and was giving the most animated story. I held up my hands to stop them from all speaking over the others, and asked what h
Can't Stop Thinking Of YouCan't Stop Thinking Of You10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shy away from the light
Crying out into the night
I don't know what to do
Can't stop thinking of you
Your always on my mind
These feeilings I can't define
I don't know what to do
Can't stop thinking of you
Tender nights I lie wakeing
My poor heart is acheing
And no matter what I do
Can't stop thinking of you
My body is sore
All I ask is No More
But know matter what I do
Can't stop thinking of you
Don't stop me now
While I'm thinking of you
Don't tear me out
I'm thinking of you
Can't escape this dream
Its all about you
But your all that I see
When I'm thinking of you
Existential PrecipitationWhatExistential Precipitation8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
a first impression?
is it in any way
As the water begins to fall around me
I reach a place I have waited for.
The preparations have been made;
the soundtrack mixed with subtle perfection.
It reminds me of a day long past
two years ago.
dArama - ISSUE ONE - Love.dArama - ISSUE ONE - Love.6 years ago in Editorial More Like This
The dynamic between core staff, volunteer staff, and the community can at times be pure quality dArama.
It's worth noting that for years I've worked pretty hard to remain neutral on community politics. Today, I'm going to shatter that concept.
Needless to say, I am extremely politically aware of the inner workings of the deviantART community. I read *a lot* of journals, comments, forums, chat rooms. I have fake accounts. I spy.
But I don't spend my time talking politics, instead I focus internally at deviantART designing technologies and implementing understandings with core staff to address the issues I see pop up.
It's time to take a moment to be a bit more petty.
In the inner workings of our politics exists the soul of deviantART. What is this place? What was it meant to do? What does it do? What could we do better? And it's the politics that give insight into how well the greater plan is running.
There's $core staff who are employees or contractors and work 8+
the greatest gift of all.conflicted shifting levered weightness;the greatest gift of all.7 years ago in Other More Like This
never understands the fools
who combine with climbing leathers,
and in time rewind the whools.
clever woman with the photos,
always seeking, never shright.
collect the tokens while the walrus
flies his merry little kite...
and the kitten; oh, the kitten!
see her tender little paws?
if you frighten her
you might just find the sharp end of her claws!
not to worry
for the windstorm will end by the break of day,
and well neer regret the moment
that we stopped, and chose to stay.
as the houseboat shakes and rattles
amidst the howling of the shores
i can see the blissful grasping
of her waiting, wanting pores.
when its bedtime
and we change into our softest linen sheets
we reflect and sometimes feel
how the evening is complete.
then its dreamtime
and we float into our foggy mental keep
where the sweet young girl is unaware
how soundly she does sleep.
never knowing is the greatest gift of all.
L o v e rL o v e rL o v e r7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
are you a lover?
are you a friend?
are you in love with the girl at the end.?
Are you wise?
Are you of wit?
do you love?
do you love with out quit?
How does it feel
How dose it think?
what are the thoughts
which circulate and sink?
What are you lover?
lover of love making?
Or lover of heart breaking?
lover of money?
lover of the sport?
lover of the drink?
lover of all sorts?
You must be a lover?
A lover of some Thing?
Perhaps its riches and rings?
Tell me you
tell me Who
No not you, ...but You
who is who?
I am small
I am of simple heart
yet My mind is complex
so many thoughts and IDEAS...
It has become flex
and I must know
What drives the world
What makes it go?
It must be the lover!
The lover must WIN
To carry my naivety and innocence with IN
These are imagined?
They are not so?</b>
No! No! they have to be so.
You can not tell me that the world is
Madison's Bakery - StoryMadison hated dogs. This was a problem, because she owned one. It was purchased one lonely sunday afternoon after Madison noticed during her morning walk how close-knit dog owners appeared to be. Like a flute seducing rats, Madison had visions of new acquaintances, soon to be friends, trailing in her wake all the way back to her once lonely apartment. Axl Rose (That's what she called him) lead the parade with his glistening coat and expensive leather leash. However, this time, truth fell flat compared to fiction. Axl got all the attention. "He's so cute," they'd croon. Her knight in shining armor was basking in the praise of his heroic deed, forgetting all about the princess he had been sent to rescue. Madison began to notice with painful regularity how cute dogs really were. This soon lead to jealousy, which in turn lead to hatred. Madison stared into the mirror examining her pale face, stringy red hair, and small nose that turned red at the slightest hint of cold. She then looked toMadison's Bakery - Story7 years ago in Humor More Like This
Out of ContextOut of ContextOut of Context7 years ago in Open More Like This
A midwinter ceremony
Rapt, solemn faces
Lit with candles
Of the human sacrifice
On their tongues.
On this day the tribe
In defiance of the darkness
Drinks the victims blood
Diluted with water
To make it last.
And with their voices raised
In the language of their god
They give thanks.
Biology of the Staple RemoverBiology of the Staple Remover8 years ago in Humor More Like This
The Staple Remover (Connectiva Chompicus), while one of the smaller creatures in the office, still holds the reputation as a much feared predator in the ecosystem.
The most prominent characteristic of the Staple Remover is its four long fangs that give it an almost menacing smile. Non-venomous yet quite sharp, these fangs are capable of latching on to its favorite prey, the Staple, even when it is firmly rooted in its most secure habitat. Its deathgrip secure, the Staple Remover crushes the helpless Staple's defense and drags it out for a viciously rewarding meal. Although more often observed as a solitary animal, a pack of Staple Removers has been known to strip the metal from a conference presentation in less than a minute.
Once a year, the male Staple Remover instinctively returns to the office supply store where it was purchased to engage in a savage mating ritual: the capture and takedown of a Multi-use Color Copier. Many are lost
The GirlStars.The Girl3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Every night, she focused on the stars above her head as the monster invaded her room. It's wet tongue and hot breath sickened her almost as much as its touch. She knew what the monster wanted. It was time to let the Stars take her away again, and forget this pain.
Every day in school seemed the same to her. She tried to focus, but the nightly monster attacks just made it so hard to study. In fact, they made her fearful to do anything, really. She just sat in the back of the classroom drawing stars all over her books and papers while the teacher droned on and on.
She had almost resigned herself to the fact she was never going to escape the cycle when she met a purple pony named Twilight Sparkle one Friday after school. This pony was just like her in ever so many ways. She hid from the world, she didn't have friends, and she even liked the stars. The girl and Twilight soon became fast friends, and the girl soon was joining in on everything her new friend Twilight Sparkle experienc
Tin and GoldOutside the forge he labours dailyTin and Gold4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the heat of sixteen-hundred degree smiles
Stoked by one breath from his wife's lips
until his own existence burns him.
In the warm dark he lives
In the forge his shaky hands are sure, working
from hunched lumps into things of use
Day after day he tries to pound his soft heart hard
But it will not take an edge, not even that of gold
To conduct a line of his should-have-been father's making
It is no rich useless gold, but tin
Of which ten thousand things are made for a purpose which is in the end
To be discarded.
FateFate10 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, a white shirt and a garish, comical tie. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER. Beautiful weather today.
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] The name's Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. Um… God?
PETER. Not to be rude, but… your name is God?
GOD. I am God. Or at least I was God.
PETER. I… see.
GOD. You don't believe me.
PETER. Would you?
GOD. No. But it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in me.
runing through trafic withoutuJust plant yourself in my soilruning through trafic withoutu5 years ago in Other More Like This
And wait for it to grow
I'll water you once a day in case
Connecting root to earth so strong but sour acidity we like to play
in fertile depths
I sat my self in soil just yards away from your door
waiting for time to elapse and rain to fall but I cant grow with out
sinking feeling the roots latch into the earth,
without your love im doomed to death with lack of
and yellow leaves.
I'd rather sink so far in bleach you poured
Than wait to wither and dust to fall.
A serenade orangesWhen I was littleA serenade oranges8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there were uses for orange peels.
they capped the bare heads
of an army of pebbles
migrating handfuls by handfuls
from the-- still glossy with wet--
from the creek rolling green.
under my bed they stood guard
and the dust retreated
in sweeping curves
pepper-spray that splashed
and chased the neighbors below,
pigtail cousins and schoolmates
even a scowling grandmother
who scolded my scraped knees
and loved me best.
Clementines made me
a chaser of memories
gave the streetlights number
the miles from home
and growing days
I'd lost count years ago.
But if I had all the answers
it would buy us peace
so we wane as we wait
two moons, a sky, a wave
the last of our orange peel sailboats-
one for each streetlight
that had waved us through.
away away salty free
rise and fall the flickering seas.
Waiting is a new years eve
but snowy like the others
and what's there left to say but-
aren't we all,
JihadJihad9 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
It was once a word unfamiliar to American ears. But in recent years it has become all too familiar. The actions of Muslim militants and terrorists have seared the word into American consciousness.
Yet even with thousands of innocent civilians killed on American soil by Islamic terrorists, the full significance of the Muslim concept of jihad has not been grasped by the American public.
In the days after September 11, 2001, American leaders rushed to portray Islam as a peaceful religion that had been "hijacked" by a fanatical band of terrorists. One hopes that these assurances were merely tactical—that nobody was meant to believe them and that they were meant to assure the Muslim world that the inevitable American reprisals were not directed at their religion as a whole.
If the world Muslim community perceived America as attacking Islam in general then the duty of every Muslim to fight for his religion—the duty of jihad—would have been invoked on a broad scale. The war against ter
TrendyTrendyTrendy9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Carlos is a friend,
is 34 floors up,
with a balcony and a view.
He has a poster on one wall,
in letters eight inches high.
A sign on the door,
with a picture of a finger,
bisecting androgynous cartoon lips.
Carlos throws parties,
glittering cocktail soirees,
for the artistic set,
he brings home from the gallery.
Carlos is an artist,
He holds court on a corner of the balcony,
discussing his art,
with a flowing dance of signs.
He glares imperiously at random conversations,
and points to the sign on the wall.
"I can't hear myself think."
and returns to his conversation.
rich, well connected and beautiful,
whisper self-consciously to each other,
so as not to disturb the artist,
silently discussing his work.