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 rapidograph13 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
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.
AirbagAirbag12 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,
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
HIT ME RUNNINGDon't sell me funeral plotsHIT ME RUNNING11 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
spit.spit9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She picked me up in Iowa,
slouched on a three-rung fence
shooting birds with a finger and a thumb,
watching them peck apart jet vapor
with pencil-lead beaks
despite my best efforts.
Last time I'd ever see State,
and I ain't no good as a boy
without a bullet.
We drove, splitting cornfields
with a green Chevrolet truck-
like a holy hand, this exodus of mine.
And I pet the black-eyed dog that left wet
tongue maps on the passenger window.
I always liked a path held together with spit,
better than mile-marker road.
She took a shower in a motel on the border
while I collected batteries from TV remotes.
When I was eight I used a flashlight
to guide the sun up through our backyard.
They'd gone and turned off the electricity
years ago, and our house was so dark
I guess I figured morning would never find us
without a little help.
I'm wearing sunglasses in the backseat
while the sun settles into the land up ahead,
and I can tell that dog is hungry by the way
he's licking the leather strap of he
Yes SirYes Sir12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Do not wait patiently in line do not live in your cardboard box do not staple your files or file your staples do not punch in your stamps do not earn your free meal do not get two for the price of one or ten for just ninety-nine cents do not cut your coupons do not wear your three piece suit do not shave this morning do not comb your hair do not eat your veggies drink your milk or take your medicine do not sip your coffee of the day do not have your mocha cappuccino latte with extra cream do not wear your tie do not go to work do not fix your bed clean your room or brush your teeth do not wash the dishes do not chew your gum five pieces for only twenty-five cents do not live a nine to five for five days a week forty hour lifestyle do not tick tock tick tock as the time goes by and you will see that the only life worth living is the life you lead instead of the life you follow.
CokeCoke11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Still noon in the paddy fields
in Kerala, we sank a well
to stem the flow of desert,
but came up smelling of dust.
Watched rice plants wither as the slow sun
silenced resolve in angry glare,
and warm dry gusts scattered
hope to the four corners.
In Palakkad, an empty street, sold
to ten million-dollar-a-day death,
men nurse wounds and children.
The women have gone to find water-
when the supply runs altogether dry,
we may find out how to swallow
the dust. Or our pride. Lesson taught,
we shall learn to drink coke.
Still noon in the baking heat
within the walled compound, we
stand around on wounded feet
spreading slurry on the ground.
So here, at least, is water
(to dampen a capital purse)
So here we earn our living -
a litre a day (could be worse).
Outside, the world is barren,
the earth is cracked and bare.
As boreholes tap our reservoirs
at last we've learnt to share.
So desert soil is progress,
and bitter stench is joy.
Infected feet dance to the beat
of the jin
The CordContentsThe Cord10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I. "Tomato Stew"
II. "conversation with the neighbour"
III. "Man in No.3"
V. "On the Road (part one)"
VI. "On the Road (part two)"
VII. "On the Road (part three)"
VIII. "untitled document"
IX. "Motel Room"
X. "Hospital again (insecticide)"
XI. "The Separation"
XII. "Before the Law (timber wolf)"
XIII. "conversation with the mother"
XIV. "another document"
I. Tomato Stew
she's crying away in that little room of hers, what does she want now? leave the
wooden spoon resting on the pot bubbling away limping down the corridor the
screaming grows from a muffle into hi-fi eardrum perforation. she looks helpless
in her confines but I know the stew is going to overflow. tomato stew ambles beyond
lipped edges, rush to the stove turn down the heat, bubbles exhumed with a hiss
leaving chaos on the floor ceiling table drawers cutlery statue chairs and the sink.
but she won't stop the antichrist screaming, i'm late for work and the flo
Daddy's bellyDaddy's large belly protruded past the rest of us,Daddy's belly10 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.
Meeting EveMeeting Eve10 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The alarm rang, its harsh shriek shattering Lucy's uneasy slumbers. Opening her eyes she glanced across at the numbers on the dial. Ten to nine. She read the clock face again. Still ten to nine. With an exhaled profanity she threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. Bare feet hitting cold stone. She glanced wildly around the room for any moderately clean garments and sighting a pair of semi-laddered tights and a black work dress draped rather forlornly over the door handle, she scrabbled to put them on. Glancing over to the clock again Lucy uttered another curse. She was going to be late. She'd have to tell them there was a bomb drill in her building. She wondered briefly if anyone would bother to check up. Probably not.
Once dressed, Lucy made her way into the kitchen, no longer feeling the need for urgency. If she was going to be late she might as well make the most of it.
The apartment was small but adequate; one bedroom, one kitchen and living area, a small bathroom with a sho
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
"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
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
~Artpolitics handbooks~Artpolitics handbooks11 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Interesting links :
- http://www.petersingerlinks.com/ : info about Peter Singer, animal rights activist and Professor of Bioethics at the University Center for Human Values, Princeton University
- http://www.churchofeuthanasia.org : Church of Euthanasia, a group of people against human supremacy
- http://www.calvin.edu/academic/cas/gpa/ww2era.htm#Posters : Nazi propaganda archive : all about National Socialism from orriginal German sources, translated in English
- http://www.propagandacritic.com/ : Basic info on propaganda. Noone is imune to all propaganda.
- http://www.lp.org/ : American Libertarian Party
- http://www.nazi.org/party/theory/ : Libertarian National Socialist Green Party
- http://www.nsm88.com/index2.html : American Nazi Party
- http://www.nsec-88.org/: National Socialist Education Center
- http://www.parecon.org/ : The Participatory Economics Project
- http://www.marxists.org/ : All about Marxism
- http://www.infoshop.org/ : All about Anarchism
Sunflower FluxSunflower Flux11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
He played hard this month: She played well this month:
Mortgages prefixed sales Chlorophyll quotas left in the wake
and rows of steadfast hotels, of cushioned lovers and tickling tiny noses
plastic monuments saluting a gaudy cannon
AllAll13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All that I want isn't here with me,
Yet all that is here is my essence-
All that I see now, is all that is left,
And all that is left is my presence..
All of the buskers and gods of my town,
And all of the time in the world-
Each one is taken, and taken aback,
As the time that is left unfurled.
The time that was God to the physicist,
The time that was life to the crop,
The time that was joy to the child of all ages-
Is soon going
And all that I want isn't here with me,
Yet what's here is the answer to all my life's thoughts,
And all that I see now, is all that left,
Yet so much still remains to be sought-
So just let the rainfall keep bickering,
Ne'er again shall it merge with the dew;
The last sky on earth is a clear one,
And the stars still remind me of you.
So now let the dawn and apocalypse greet us,
Let barren the old and the new..
For all that I want isn't here with me-
For all that I want here is you.
Pach, 82nd night of Summer, MMII.
Ode To KurtOde To Kurt11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You left us alone in a cold dry world
with faith depleating and heeding
and tv numbing our feeling
you knew our meaning.
You knew our suffering.
You saw what we were afraid of.
face to face you saw it.
You lived it.
a reflection of your mind came out through your songs
you could have taught us of what had surely gone wrong
We saw your fear; the fear that maybe you didnt exist.
The fear that maybe you're not who you thought you were
when we look too long at ourselves
all that we'll see
an illusion of a person
that only wants to see "Me"
We never see us...too fucking obvious!
Always with the God Damned hard way!
did we forget we're all here together?
That we exist identically
No time, no length.
Why did you get caught up in you!
you always knew you werent really there.
you were just too damned afraid to say it!
Too afraid to see the truth... you're Everywhere man
dAgnarokdAgnarok10 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Twilight of the Admins
by Jay Richard
After hanging from a spear thrown into the devianTree for nine nights, I have obtained the knowledge of how the dAsphere shall come to pass. Gather around me as I nurse my wound and drink copious amounts of ale and I will tell you of what I have seen....
The Eternal Winter of the Forums
Two great warriors shall by chance meet on the plain of battle known as the Thumbshare Forum. They are champions of the same vein, the hit-and-fade barbarians called Smart Alecs, but they are solitary and fight for no one but themselves. A thumbnail of a Philosopher's illustration will bring the first salvo. One Smart Alec enjoys the piece in a cynical manner; the other Smart Alec seeks its prompt but humorous annihilation with a one-line Zinger of Doom, a +3 attack using 2d12.
A witticism will be fired, followed by a mighty retaliation. Lo, it will escalate and a maelstrom of Smart Alecs will blossom, growing in number b
The Velveteen MassacreThe Velveteen Massacre11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Inebrious and suffocating,
the smoking reaper fills the sky.
The boundless confines of the beast
stagger amongst the growing gardens
of sawdust cadavers
that remain of the faithful.
My tiny nose, once pink,
may no longer nuzzle
at the soft cheeks of pretty dreams,
for all that's left to kiss
are the curious cotton corpses
beneath this blanket of blindness.
But button eyes cry no tears,
and no magic flowers sprout from hope.
There are no faeries
to kiss little rabbits,
and there is no easy end
to the death of lifelong dreams.
No, sweet child,