Deviation of the Week (NOV #4, vote till NOV 30)Hey, animal lovers!More Like This
Every week, we select 5 great images that have been submitted to our group and we want to know from you which one you like best!
In order to vote, just write a comment including the number of your favorite image below. If you want to vote anonymously, you can send a note with the number to Unkopierbar.
The winner will be featured in our gallery folder Deviation of the Week (as always). Thank you for sharing your wonderful works with our group and thanks to all who are going to participate in the voting!
This week's Deviation of the Week is: "Sunshine Road" by Rozul - congratulations!
confessionsometimesMore Like This
sometimes i feel like i'm just writing the same thing over and over
the same thing hundreds of other people are writing
and i know that originality is meaningless and impossible and that every combination of 26 letters has probably been typed before
sometimes i'm scared that i have nothing that makes me -- stand out
that makes me me
sometimes i'm scared that i do
How to beat procrastination (part 1)As I said on a previous submission, I'm planning to make some tutorials on the upcoming December. Before that, however, I feel like I can help on another subject, which comes before even starting your drawing: Procrastination. I mean, procrastination towards your own drawings.More Like This
If you're not familiar with this word:
pro-cras-ti-na-tion |prəˌkrastəˈnāSHən, prō-|
"the action of delaying or postponing something."
Why am I talking about this?
Well, a year ago I used to be a professional procrastinator. I've imposed the 365 Days of Doodles challenge to myself for this particular reason.
While procrastination is to some degree a natural phenomenon and can’t be completely eradicated, you can use the following strategies to get in the habit of getting drawings done.
Mind that these are not golden rules or such, just strategies that work fo
And Everything Was BlueAnd everything was blueMore Like This
but nothing was sad
How was I supposed to know
it would (almost) be you?
It was just my mind
I just liked your jeans
and your eyes
And then you walked
through the doors
taller than before
It was just my heart
And I just liked your eyes
and your smile
Then I learned your ways:
one hand on your hip, one knee bent
the face of a tired man
and the veins of a kid
There's a roar behind
your tightrope lips
That can disarm, strengthen
a silence, a shyness
a jazz 'n' blues aorta
the definites before
"...kinda", "...maybe", "...sorta"
It was just my head and heart
not knowing what to do
I just loved
being near you
It started with a flash
of teeth to
a tease, a salute,
then everything was blue
though there are a million ways to dielover,More Like This
remember when the ocean ate you
and didn't bother to pick its teeth
afterwards. it did not recall
because it never knew it. remember,
not only did you die alone,
you died anonymous.
and lover remember the time
you died of cancer
which is always hungry. it spit you out knobbed
and shaved and rubbed
like a stone from the riverbed. spit
you out skinny because it does not like
its own aftertaste. you died a shrill
stem of yourself because death
like to play with its food first. my lover,
lover, do you remember
when the train came to meet you
and its arms were open? how brainlessly
it broke you, and you shattered
like a vase falling from the window sill.
it was not whistling, but howling your name
in an octave only grief can touch.
beloved lover, i love you
and when you leapt from that high
place remember that you were a bird
for one sheer
second. lover lover i love
you and it is a cruel thing to do to me:
it is t
Homewe craved for solitude in silenceMore Like This
the scent of September moss
sand falling between the fingers
what we found was
post-war wooden house geometry
secrets between floorboards
typography decades out of date
texture only found in old books
the touch on the softest of skin
falling into the night while watching the snow
the labyrinth of steel and stone
where words did not come easy
is now abandoned
paper cranes at midnight--c.tell me the secret of dreaming -More Like This
i need to know the way
to wish on stars that fall, and those that
don't, assisting in the making of a tomorrow laced
stud the sky
with folded cranes on wire
and origami dreams strung up like beads;
when the night creeps up
and i can't breathe,
tell me it's okay to believe
in wishes that can be folded
as easily as paper.
remind me of how daylight
comes even if our star-peppered eyes
don't close to hide it's
light; we will not stop to count our
sheep, but rather wonders
found in waking.
lace the sunset
with your silhouette;
i am a paper boat folded by finicky hands
cast into deep waters
trying to cut a path for pleasant dreams--
and because i cannot rest my eyes
to find solace in silence,
i ask you only to
dream me something beautiful.
Static After the Heart-Song--C.Radio static,More Like This
there are bats in your beats
through screaming speakers
silently. It's hard,
to break yourself free
from head dance, from blood
itself. Sing a dance. Tune the mouth.
I watched words dangle off the vacant lips
of you, post-heart. Finish language now
or hold your pause forever.
a solo of wings across fluted wind
and you crescendo,
muffling the mechanical whir
of whizzing, wheezing white noise.
This plague's a symphony.
Bite love off Adam's stalk.
Our words died so long ago
black doves punctured holes into our trachea
and called it flute. It's noise in the past,
It's resonating with another's tongue at the start
I listen with ears,
with cracked shells making
the sound of whales wounded
as they tell the gospel
so quietly. Welcome to Envy Beach.
Take your drum sticks
and hit the golden oldies road, doll--
the milk you knocked back at dinner
left phlegm congealing the wou
navigator moon--c.you left me rooting,More Like This
moss branching over bare bark,
to chase screech owls
hunting the north star home
under a wild fire moon.
and i, i left you
barely growing, studded upon twigs
stars and crossroads were
all i gave you
and a navigator's lullaby
that you heard through clogged ears
changing chords like dawn's song birds.
you begged the horizon
to stand still and breathe slowly,
your compass spinning dizzy
in wind chipped palms,
but all that stopped
were the owls and you.
i called to that silence, that
stillness and song
the hum of your compass and
your breath on faulty breeze
the owls hungry and quick against
that old, dying moon; that
weight like an evanescence, like
every creature that only sings at night.
in that cold night
i twisted myself searching for you,
bark knotting, branches bending,
until with dawn approaching
something in me broke.
you found me too hard to hold,
gnarled and white with despair--
a birch heavy wit
Caesura--C.Sea foam layers salt ringsMore Like This
like age lines on beached birch wood,
shattered shells scattered like treasures
across soft sand that shifts itself
into hiding between bare skin
I watch turtles hatch and meander
like men toward different beginnings,
the veins of better things
etched like hieroglyphs
on humpbacked shells,
and I can't help but wonder
if maybe I should start crawling, too.
Instead, I pick bits of sea kelp
out of half-decaying seashells
and watch the sun
dip a goodbye to the breeze again.
They say you can hear the ocean
if you put one to your ear,
so I tilt my head and listen
to the whispers that beckon from
the bottom of a half-remembered
Lofted on a breeze
headed out like a ship on calm waves,
phantom voices bicker
over which promises to sell me;
I hiccup heavy heartbeats
and wonder why empty words
are so much easier to swallow
for the broken.