Genesis, To FlyGenesis, To Fly11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Genesis, To Fly
Main Entry: 1vol•a•tile
Pronunciation: 'vä-l&-t&l, esp British -"tIl
Etymology: French, from Latin volatilis, from volare to fly
1 : readily vaporizable at a relatively low temperature</i>
An era of Edenistic emotion
curls around my finger tips and toes,
slowly working its way to my heart—
felt cold, inside,
in the summertime; and winter fills itself
with warm motion pic
Humiliation by rapidographHumiliation by rapidograph14 years ago in Humor More Like This
I stumbled half-asleep into the main office like I'd done hundreds of Mondays before, but was suddenly struck speechless by the adorable new receptionist behind the desk.
I choked on a mouthful of donut. She was a petite brunette with huge turquoise eyes and a natural peach blush to her round face. When she smiled, I swore a cloud of pixie dust swirled around the lobby. Glassy-eyed, I managed a "G-g-g-goo' morngh," or something that resembled a greeting and swallowed hard as I headed to my desk.
My buddy Tim came up to me and whispered hoarsely, "Dude! What do you think?"
"The new girl? Geeze, she's a knockout!"
"You gonna ask her out?" he asked.
"I would be a fool not to, but..."
"But what? She was checking your butt out. I saw it! She wants you man!"
I wiped donut crumbs off my chest and took a slurp of some cold coffee. "She does NOT want me you dork." I found my
Annie Comes Home to RufusAnnie Comes Home to Rufus11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Annie tumbles from the car
and onto the driveway.
I watch from behind the curtains
as Mother and Father trudge behind,
dragging duffles full of god-knows-what
(sweatshirts, I figure, and a toothbrush, and gallons and jars
of bitter white pills and injections).
"Daddy – keys!" she cries,
and his mouth stretches, baring teeth
(he smiles, he thinks)
as he tosses a jingling cluster.
The latch clacks, and Annie comes home.
I hover in the kitchen –
I never know what to say.
She spots me before even hanging up her jacket and kneels.
"C'mere, mutt," like she expects me to pretend
I'm happy to see her
eight pounds lighter than last Sunday.
Annie is tired.
Only I am allowed in her room,
where the angled light shafts and the dust motes
turn the plastic hairs of her wig
into faceted filaments.
She slides it from her skull
and drapes it on the sleeping styrofoam
The Littlest PresidentThe Littlest President11 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
The Littlest President
At the age of eleven I was elected the 50th president of the United States of America. My analysts put my win down to youth (I was the youngest ever to run) and to the unfortunate late-October acne breakout of my incumbent rival, an eighth grader from Massachusetts. I have a stronger faith in the New Rules than do my analysts, who are always looking at polls and running them through sacred formula. I ascribe my presidency to the good sense of America, my hard work at Security School, and the stunning leadership of my handlers.
Once my presidency was officially announced, my face was given another coat of foundation and I was ushered up to a podium in front of a large crowd of my supporters. There was a crashing sea of applause. Most of my supporters were dumpy women in their thirties – just barely old enough to remember a time before we had the New Rules – these were my core demographic, although my handlers dutifully i
Daddy's bellyDaddy's large belly protruded past the rest of us,Daddy's belly11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes it gurgled
if it sensed the presence of an
In N' Out Burger close by.
It would shake a little
when he laughed.
It would rise and fall
when he slept.
It would demand much room,
when he drove mother's car.
It came to be that I was convinced
his heart was in that belly,
that it was big simply because
he needed more space.
His Death Certificate reads
H e a r t A t t a c k -
and a small part of me still wonders
why didn't his belly collapse?
Why couldn't his stomach
have attacked him instead?
Not his loving heart -
not his love that everyone envied, admired,
that beat so loudly
as though it were a Chinese gong.
I look in the mirror now
and wonder if my heart too,
is lower than it should be.
AirbagAirbag13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
His eyes flinched, twitching
Like bats ears.
"Pick up your mother at 7, meet us at the restaurant."
The world seemed an unhappy place,
His placid tears set to fill the Nile in a few short hours,
A half charged cell-phone
On the seat like his blonde haired blue eyed thin framed
Darkness and obsession a prelude to a needle,
Exasperation, struggling respiration
And an elongated, low pitched sigh.
The slick roads washing like soap suds,
Dry as desert
But in the incapable hands of our main character,
They were as slippery as a bathroom floor
When he d r i f t e d
Into a lamppost,
Percussion cracked his skull like a sledge hammer,
Each bones fermata captured perfectly with a bass and snare,
Befitted perfectly with the occasional cymbal crash.
An airbag can only cushion your face for so long,
what it is to tame a lionwhat it is to tame a lion11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
12am rapid eye movement
cars speed down an instinct interstate
a little slower than they once did;
in the distance, city glow.
here only bad talk radio bathes
coffee stained seats
decorated with cigarette burn mosaics.
9am zombie walk
cattle chatter clatters to the floor,
where yellow light burns tired eyes.
chipper idiots dance to the sound
of a corporate drummer
in eternal accelerando.
6pm microwave dinner dementia
in an aquarium
where vibrant colors did abound,
green algae lurks.
a dull fish paddles belly up.
10pm metropolitan lullaby
staring at the cracked ceilings
of train noise tuesdays,
the city stench fades.
reality in the mistwaitiing in the darkroom, please open up your eyesreality in the mist11 years ago in Open More Like This
please look past the crying, please look past the lies
i cant take this anymore, ive hurt so many times
and layed awaking just staring, writing down endless lines
a song to end my suffering, a note for freedoms sake
but everything is pointless, everythings so fake
i cant go on like this again, seeing you cry alone
i look at what ive done to you, cant belive how much ive done
im only a child, but where has my playtime gone?
i stripped your soul til you were naked, then danced upon your wrongs
and id take back all those words, but i cant remember how
the only memories i have, is seeing you numb right now
suffering in innocence, i cradled all your secrets
promised that id be there forever, promised that id keep them
i cant take this, i cant hurt you anymore
your just another toy, that ill disown and throw on the floor
please show me how to care, please someone out there save me
i cant cry anymore, theres to many tears that i ha
exclaimah!exclaim11 years ago in Typographical More Like This
the pound and the thud and the gasp
and the italian gesture
(! - !) verbose
physical - !
of clenched fists and swooping arms
-but this is
the sun !-gloriously! climaxes over the trees
the silent !-scream! of eyes
as they !-beam! and !-shine!
and - !
just - !
isn't it wonderful!
overriding any question
-a state of ecstasy confined to a mere dash and dot
it just is
a jump a dance a song
(the prelude to a smile)
it is the peak!
and the climax!
and !~vibrance!~ herself
but is also an acknowledgement
(in its silence)
of the silence
but that is tomorrow
HIT ME RUNNINGDon't sell me funeral plotsHIT ME RUNNING12 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
on late night television
if the end is already in sight
am I supposed to pull the sheets up to my neck,
count to zero,
smile, and cease?
keep your pills, in all their pretty colors:
celebrex, propecia, allegra, lipitor, zanex, viagra
keep them for scrabble
keep your rogaine, your facelifts
keep your death insurance
keep your graveyard reservations
hit me running.
let me go down swinging
make it a sport:
give me a ten-minute head start
and an obstacle course.
place a beautiful girl on the far side of a mine field
and whisper, "she wants to kiss you"
target me on my feet
dodging doomsday's in slow-mo bullet time
let me duel the grim reaper in a poetry slam
but let me lay where i fall
let the buzzards and coyotes
pick apart my bones
don't stuff me and sew me up
waste my estate on alcohol for my wake
instead of wood for a coffin,
build me a funeral pyre
and set me ablaze like a pagan-warrior-king
breaking in wild horsesbreaking in wild horses13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she screamed out her pain
as you lashed her neck
with the leather strap
but you never heard
you never noticed
she was just wasted sperm to you
wearing her heart on the sleeve
that you ripped
as you pulled
and beat her senseless
she still has more sense
than you ever did.
yes. i'm angry.
Angry that people like you
slip between laws like
cracks in the pavement
that our tax money
never seems to fix.
Angry that this lover of words
takes all that you said
and believes it
leaving her thinking
to be held
to be protected.
to be alive.
I am angry.
Is this how you felt
when you let your hand
form a fist
as you released it
across her face
all those nights
as she cried
'daddy, i'm sorry'?
She told me once
You know how a wild horse
He Thinks By FireCastlesHe Thinks By Fire11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Set the scene in Vienna, Rome
Tripoli - countries in cities.
Restaurants in the shade.
Men in chairs
With white straw hats, the sun curve
Of the day, and buzzing of motors on
Family visits an old man.
A hearty dinner, the sun a shine on the glass.
She says tell
Like you used to.
The boys poke the ground,
Fiddle with the earth,
Before he sighs.
I sign in blood.
A column splits, spoken
Ramparts, assailed corridors.
Degraded anarchs in the veins.
I hear Fire.
Random chaos in
The voi- voi- Void.
And my entry read:
'Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate!'
Abandon all hope, ye who enter!
The stun is complete. Boys caught moving
Sag down and shake.
She asks why? How?
And he repeats, numbly:
Abandon all hope, ye who enter.
'Poeticks: On Angst' 1 of 2'Poeticks: On Angst' 1 of 211 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Angst. People admire and despise, protest and support, immerse in and shun, indifferently yawn, while holding very firm opinions as their respective buttons are pressed when they hear the word "angst." As a starting point of Poeticks, we have decided to take up the differing opinions from inside DeviantArt, to lay out those arguments for all of you to read. Please keep in mind that these are "your" thoughts, as they are, and you are completely free to agree or disagree. Our objective is not to push forth an ultimate commandment, but rather to present to you the many (and often times conflicting) opinions we have received from fellow DeviantArt writers, in hopes of perhaps enlightening, sublimating or organizing your perspectives on the matter; or even to entertain you. We would be extremely pleased if it would serve as a personal reference point, or if it would incite writers to question and re-debate in
Coffee MugsCoffee Mugs11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's a man's world,
you can tell
from the dirty coffee mugs,
huddled together on the table.
The lone water bottle stands above them,
imposing, clear and tall, as its owner,
Her pregnant belly precedes her like a shield:
a neon sign flashing "here I am".
In the elevator, two people dare a smile
while they talk of things they know
no-one else cares about.
They wear glasses and awkward clothes.
In this place time hangs like tepid air,
which no fresh wind can ever disperse.
Sgt. DivineSgt. Divine11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
A few of the men say this used to be a church, but it's hard to tell anything in this storm. We are pinned under a black and violent sky that has held us inside this crumbling room since we arrived yesterday morning. The water slides along the cracked ceiling and bombards us from different spots.
Captain tells us to keep our weapons dry, but he knows it's impossible. The floor clutches our boots with three inches of sucking wet mud. If the wind ever dies down we'll have a better look around this old place, but for now we just listen as it batters the trees into the stone.
None of us know how long we have to wait here. Captain says we are to protect this structure so our side can launch rockets from it if the war ever begins. Barnes says there isn't going to be a war. He says neither side is willing to start it; but here we are, drenched and freezing, just in case.
In the brief moments when the wind and rain pause we can hear the water trickling down through
Going UpGoing Up12 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Going Up (Draft 3)
An original story by Ben Rausch
This is the script to an eleven minute long animated film.
Int. small flat
Fade in to choker close up of a man (MAX) with his eyes closed. After a few moments the camera slowly dollies out to a long shot, while tilting up 90 degrees to reveal Max is sleeping. An alarm clock wakes him. Max gets up, puts on a black suit, grabs a black briefcase and leaves the flat.
Int. Bus Day
Time lapse shot of Max looking bored, standing on a bus.
Ext. Street day
Max gets off the bus and enters a large building
Max enters and then goes into a lift.
Max pushes the button to go to the second floor. Stands waiting for the lift to reach it's destination.
Int. Second Floor offices
The doors of the lift slide open with a little ring. Max exits them and enters a very long corridor, with doors all alo
CENSOR THIS 08880CENSOR THIS 0888013 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I remember when I know why the cage bird sings
was challenged for the "encouragement to take action
in premarital sex, homosexuality, and the use of
I remember when the Bible was banned and/or
challenged for being "pornography and obscene"
in Alaska and Pennsylvania in 1993.
I remember when the The Autobiography of
Malcolm-X was challenged in Flordia in 1994--
because it was "racist against white people"
I remember when Jambo Means Hello: The Swahili
Alphabet was charged with "degrading white
children" although it was a book for white children to
understand the African-American culture much better.
I remember when Daddy's Roomate was removed
by most libraries by most of the United States---for
Art of the Onward MarchArt of the Onward March12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And here you are, perched on the eaves
of your fathers' understanding,
ripening in folly as the chorus swells.
Like an heir to Babylon you meditate
on the melting of peoples
sloughed into your flaming voice and hands.
This is your manifesto, artist of broken
lampposts and husks of homes, streets
where metal whines like
mangled mongrel dogs still limping
roads emptied behind the
crackling gravel of your many, many brushes.
Your calligraphy is stroked in slanted reds
and browns, ink leaning from the force of your
latest, brightest work.
In dependant womanIn dependant woman12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In dependant women i find the brink of lost hope
A tilted ice skating rink
With a layer of soft soap.
A broken vase. Poker face. No joker, ace.
The hand shes dealt is knuckles
and a battery of bible belt buckles
She wears the make up so he wont lose face.
Fat slouch, soiled briefs, mouthful of tooth paste.
He's a relic from a past era.
She will never run faster than her mascara.
Scared...waiting for the second R to come
Scarred...no healing, beckon martyrdom.
Far from numb...but palsy ingrained
A flesh of mesh...and everything taken in vein.
Maiden turned maid
Laden with Jade
A once bright son, faded to shade.
Lost first, past second, now life is third nature.
Memory's mummery and mammary's milk
Now nothing but a trifle herd of stray blurs...
Eyes of overdue cataracts
Still life lies in matters of fact.
Her excuses are frail.
Each night she reads her bruises like Braille.
DICTIONARY: Community ProjectDICTIONARY: Community Project11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
DEVIANTART DICTIONARY '04
abandonedpyro ( a-ban-oned-py-ro) deviant. 1. A raft without a paddle. 2. A Pessimist at heart. 3. One that is too loud, over opinionated and emotional. 4. Warning Contents are highly flammable.
Agonhotep (ah-gun-hoe-tepp) idol 1. A deviant surfacing in the late 2003 best known for his witty poetry and emoticons. 2. Wielder of the Almighty Pink Tie. 3. A total babe magnet, although the shyest thing you'll ever encounter. v. 1. To hug or glomp something relentlessly. n. 1. A sound, usually a high pitched screech resembling "Eee!"
akanah (uk-ann-hah) something improper, possibly a noun
1. One who freely mingles wisdom with absurdity. 2. Rarely serious; pertaining to sarcasm. 3. Of the colour blue. 4. Having a poor sense of self preservation. 5. A grown-up lady who cusses and has done it with boys.
Synonyms: honest, obstinate, impertinent, crass, delusional, childish, but above all- entertaining
Manika: Teddy's ConfessionManika: Teddy's Confession11 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
IT WAS SAID that Manika had been crafted out of pain. As a means of expressing whatever it was that had begun to claw at the insides of a man's heart.
And he – our "Father", the one being who created us, was so much like the Christian God who made the world and man upon that world, all because He could not think to exist in nothingness and the void of utter silence.
And so, upon carving out two eyes, he bestowed upon a simple block of wood the vision of something so close to whatever it is that makes humans what they are. By painting these eyes, he opened up the worlds and layers that show the complexities of a soul yet to be in full fruition.
By shaping lips that did not exactly smile nor frown, he gave the form a personality and a voice to speak for it. The purpose of such a shape, was to mimic people as truthfully as he could – for no one person was always altogether happy, nor always altogether sad.
He also gave her two hands, his way, perhaps, of showing his own need to
Awake Under the BlanketsAwake Under the Blankets11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Closer to darkness than anticipated,
the shadows breach the wall and slip
across the carpet.
With childish certainty the danger slides
and toils and bristles with thorns and eyes,
and eyes peer out from under sheets.
Magic never stood the test of time,
but clutching teddy close
prevents a mind spilling into tears.
Evil stalks on spindle legs
grown knobby and buckled through age,
the weight of slushy ooze a challenge.
Ears pick out the smacking of lips,
a meal made of child on the menu,
the slither of entrails never tucked in.
Move and be found, the little boy lost
inside the mind of an adult left to think,
quake with unease, but barely breath in truth.
While eager tentacles fumble with claws
made scratchy through crushing babies bones,
a pulse throbs under the blankets.
Catch the glow beneath sleeping cloth,
the torch bulb switched to combat fear,
and see the throwing off of covers.
The monster reels, flailing parts unknown,
descending the stair that waits in silence
at the back of the