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About Literature / Artist DanniFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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Literature
Neothism
We may no longer be cave-dwellers
But still embellishers, tale-tellers
About Gods on high
What's above the sky
Beyond death, before breath
And how and why.
The old sins and virtues that we once preached
Were just one way to teach us how to live out our lives.
But now we know the world is X wide and Y high
And those bloodthirsty, feudal ways
That got us through the famines and plagues
(made them feel controlled, explained)
Have to be pushed aside.
Those old excuses for conflict are dead and gone
We know our days are numbered and we have to get along.
Still, those empty superstitions whose purposes have been long since served
Are given a longer leash, and a higher platform than they ever deserved.
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Literature
Snowblind
Does the white light of your delight
Not frighten you,
Well it frightens me.
You didn’t get here through desperation
Or poverty,
Or even curiosity,
Just vanity and greed.
And you’ve grown yourself a hunger
That you really do not need.
Not that I’m unimpressed
By your ability to spend,
But I’m wondering where it will all end.
And do you really understand
About the jungles that are felled
And the lost souls who are killed
In the service of, or to make way for,
The industry of your pleasure,
That you've bought into at your leisure.
But when you’ve spent all your dough
And you’ve nothing for it to show
Don’t come to me with your paranoia
With your sleep apnoea and arrhythmia
Don’t come to me with your problems
Because it isn’t like you didn’t know.
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Literature
Embrace
Eyes for the whole world,
Your mother’s every fear
She sighs
And holds you near
Would hold you closer if she could.
But you struggle as these reins embrace your burgeoning zeal
Blank canvas, clean slate, yearning for experience's seal
Stretch for the out-of-sight and out-of-reach,
Pioneering ever outwards like spilt milk.
When the fence between mischief and malevolence is breached
Quickly forgiven is this face of spun-silk.
Relentless years advance and bombard your eager eyes
with experience, hardening the shell
And crossing it with lines.
Until you first smell your own sweat,
First puncture the skin,
First taste your own blood.
Toil dirty days, play filthy nights
And wash off the mud.
Faith’s broken and repaired,
Naïveté impaired
Never quite worn away.
Old enough to smoke, old enough to vote
Old enough to make your own mistakes.
Then you learn you’ll never be a rock star,
Not quite the Messiah,
And the best laid plans turn to dust.
And that you learn your less
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Literature
Bless this...
This empty shell of memories that sheltered our growing pains
Needed scraping clean of history’s remains.
So we’re digging through belongings
Mining for moments passed
Through fashion’s faded passions
And pastimes that didn’t last.
Through old hats, old shoes, old news
Old 45s of jives and Blues,
Old games, old picture frames
Faded photos of old flames.
School reports, so well hid.
“Must try harder” Never did.
Scalextrix, Hornby, Spirographs
Cluedo, Ludo chess and drafts.
Mix tapes, aged videos and in-between
Rolls of cine-film and a crooked screen.
The dusty projector rickaticks
Like a card in the spokes of my old BMX
Stars of silent films we are
With previous pets, and mum’s first car.
In canal holiday heatwaves
And Christmas snow up to our knees
In fields where now just houses stand
With the ghosts of last year’s trees.
Amongst the hat boxes and sepia photographs
We reminisce, share tears and laughs.
And when you wonder why you kept these thin
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Literature
Decaying imperfections
Blood is not red
This is red.
No organic decay, this is how it remains
Like those passions underfed
Like those words left unsaid
The earth is not a sphere
This is a sphere
Formed by the fire in Earth’s belly
Surface coarse, pitted, rough and ready.
But geometrically,
Perfect.
So you think you know perfection?
It’s not a place you’ve been to
Not a problem you’ve ever seen to.
In the centre of the room is all our evaporated sweat
All our aspirated words said in spite or said in jest
Or in protest.
Even golden words can be valueless,
These bitter pills of dislocated meaning.
Isolated, gleaming
Each solidified thought as though it’s worth preserving
Analysed, immortalised
Until it’s worthless, self-serving.
So you think you know perfection
When you see your reflection
In this polished stone.
Look outside the perfect circle,
Even forever has an end.
There’s a place where natural disorder is regained.
Nature re-aligns her face,
This un-sphere rotates in spa
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Literature
Ripples - for Tapani
They say death is the last taboo,
And it’s funny how these things ripple through,
But the loss of innocence is universal
And death always comes too young.
And when the tragedy is unexpected
All that sadness is reflected
Leaving everyone your life ever touched feeling stung.
And though I know close friends and family must feel twice my pain (and then some),
I can’t help but wonder why all my hopes now seem so distant.
But it’s death itself that shocks me,
Leaves me angered and frustrated and makes all statistics human,
If only for an instant.
Aftershocked and reeling, I’m disgusted by the feeling
that I need to know the reasons how and why
Though I know there are no answers. Because it all feels so unjust.
And I’m asking: what really happens after this?
After we face the abyss, does dust merely return to dust?
Does every unique sprit simply die?
Or maybe there is a big, noisy dancefloor in the sky.
And you raced us there,
Long before your time.
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Literature
The Eternal Light
That tune
That velvet kiss that ricochets around the room.
Is it Our Tune?
Or just that moment in that place.
That rise,
That fall
Rhythm rides.
That stacatto skips across the sound.
The heartbeat that stops breath
And I swear could make shattered glass wait
Before it hits the ground
That rhythm, that progression
My essence, my being.
Rises and falls
And a reminder I am human
from some primal belly calls
For our purpose the world was created
Yet we are but dust and ashes
That Hakka, that ballet
That language that crosses divides
Unites us like no other.
The heartbeat in the womb.
The whispers of the mother.
And for just this moment
Elevated on this symphony
I am not ashamed to be human.
Transported, transcended
I smell the sweat of all our histories.
We are all sinners
We are all warriors
Hot blooded carnivores all
We are one.
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Literature
NoSpace
In a grey, corporate world, there’s a hint of a heart
International like-thinkers nanoseconds apart
A billion stars in a billion shows
News spreads like a bush-fire
Creativity glows.
I could learn so much,
I could move so fast
But my best intentions never last.
Tell me again how you’ve nothing to say
Make vital news out of your minutiae
I should turn my disgusted attention away
But I turn on to receive in the conventional way.
I get radiation withdrawal if I venture offline
Nothing is questioned, there just isn’t the time
For the subtle nuances of heated debate,
Pre-agreed emoticons serve my thoughts on a plate.
Communication distilled until all that remains,
The crackle of white noise, repetitive strain.
I’ve dumbed-down for so long I forget all I’ve learned
My vision unshaken, opinions confirmed.
I will always be accepted
I need never stand corrected
Retrospected,
Interconnected
In a million webstore windows reflected.
This is my face
This is my space
We
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Literature
Un-chic in Paris
There's the click-clack
Of the well-turned heels
On the Champs-Elysee.
There's the mwah-mwah!
Of the mademoiselles
In the bijou cafe
There's the Ooh, La la!
Of the Moulin Rouge
And the Maison de lingerie
And then there's me
Un-chic
In Paris.
There's the click-click
Of my camera,
which with my notebook, is my sole company
Freezing my arse off
At Cemetrie Pierre Lachaise
And struggling to order a cup of tea.
Unimpressed by the museums
And dreaming of London,
Where at least
they're all free.
Broke,
Alone
and un-chic
In Paris.
I traverse the whole city
Yet stumble over words
Scale fairytale Montmartre
And share my lunch with the birds.
In this bitingly cold sunshine,
my deepest joys are stirred.
Un-chic in Paris?
Magnefique in Paris.
I stumble, yet I manage to speak in Paris.
There are misunderstandings,
But I recover from then.
Alone,
But never lonely
With just a camera
And a pen.
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Literature
Goodbye Bettie Page
Goodbye Bettie Page.
Your mother never put you on the stage
But you inspired a generation to lie about their age,
Dye their hair the shade of coal
And rattle the doldrum's cage.
Pinned to the GI's bed
For when he's homesick or enraged.
Painted on the tailspin
That will pull him to his grave.
Goodbye Bettie Page.
You hid away in your autumn years
So we'd never see you age.
Your stocking-tops have left us
But your legend will never fade.
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Literature
Bad Poet
Clutching barren words
From the empty air
These dead
Putrifying words
Those, mystifying words
Fall from you
And I despair.
Winning a backslap
From the old chap
Loving that you sound the same
Bringing up the same old crap.
This art doesn’t belong to you
So stop flossing with your own arse-hair
I know you like the view in there.
Same old sun is shining
And yes, I’m f*ing rhyming
Does that make me a better poet than you?
No.
This art doesn’t belong to me.
So stop this divisive faking
The words are there for the taking.
Share them out
Be generous.
Celebrate their breadth and power.
You’re no precious little flower!
I happen to know
That you’re a total bastard
So trip your words out faster and hope that they don’t notice.
You unite us in our bewilderment
And our unanimous derision.
You haven’t cured us of our confidence
But you’ve made the first incision.
There’s a crack,
We’re a little rattled
And travel home in a lively spell
And each say:
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Literature
Impasse
Impasse,
Streets of glass.
Roads of slurry and crash after crash
Everything stops
Hibernation today
England's stowed away
Can't come to the phone.
We shelter at home
Just for a day.
Buses stop
The binmen won't come
They wait for the sun
And the cats and the crows
Peck and pick and have fun.
Oh, what fun!
A day in the snow
No credit crunch in the sleet
No more deadlines to meet
I'm a child again and isn't it sweet.
Remember when treats were just 10p a bag?
Work's such a drag,
Why drag myself in?
When I'll only be dreaming
About about all that's missing
From adult exploits.
If I had the choice
I'd throw snowballs forever
Play tricks, throw my voice.
Impasse
These impossible dreams
Reality freezes
Around any extremes
And I'm scared
Of the journey ahead
I need to get where I'm going
However unprepared.
Impasse
They've run out of salt
But don't blame the council
It isn't their fault
After the floods last year
They've bought us sawdust and boats
Please don't threaten their throats
They promi
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Literature
Resolution
Turning the page
You've a mind, and a life, to change
It's time.
This untainted, So far clean slate of a year
Reflect on where we've stood
Defect to a greater good
Shift this game up a gear.
It's too late
To procrastinate.
Make a stand,
Make a move
Participate.
Tired eyes awaken,
Souls are coldly shaken
Have a kick start, a new energy
An aging of the skin
Changing of the seasons
Offer up the reasons
Why this needs to be.
All those nagging doubts
Born out of frustrated ambition
Burn for resolution.
And what about all those crazy ideas
You were a little too scared to receive?
As the new year yawns beyond you
Feel the clutching urgency
Of everything that we've yet to achieve.
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Literature
Requiem
I eat beyond hunger,
Drink beyond thirst.
My cup overflows
And it grows ‘till it bursts.
Freedom to speak, freedom to touch.
Speak your mind,
No time
Take sides,
Take too much.
Doomed generation, got to have it all
Never go offline,
Never miss a call.
My grail bubbles over with my growing needs,
Paying off my impotence
My greased palm bleeds.
Virgin soils
Flood and spoil,
Hands grow dirty with blood and oil.
Possession, corruption,
Sedation, destruction.
Put it on your wishlist,
Spoil it in a day,
Tear it off in disgust
And throw it away.
Build the instruments of degradation,
Climb high and piss over all creation,
Pay lip-service to a fairer trial,
Gilding the lily of gross denial.
Then during self-congratulation
And a toast to all our health,
There’s a voice in the dark somewhere
Singing to itself.
It’s a requiem
To forgotten hope,
Belief in salvation looking for a rope.
Our lust for survival
Praying for cyanide,
Familial honours awaiting suicide.
It’s a requiem to
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Literature
Not Winter
Beneath the burning and cracking skin
Bones ache and shudder.
Boldest birds chime with vigour
Clutched by the fingers of ebony trees.
I am a slave to your hardships
As my breath hangs still in the silver air.
Heavens of pearl and fire -
Crouching in the cold, I bow to you.
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Activity


deviantID

Anxag0n1st
Danni
Artist | Literature
United Kingdom
Current Residence: The dreaming
Favourite genre of music: Industrial, hard house, metal, 60s pop/rock
Favourite cartoon character: Nemi
Personal Quote: I will insult you, it's my way of showing affection
Interests
January:
a time for reflection, resolutions, and rebirth.
All three, I've managed so far, and the list of what-will-be just keeps getting longer.
Shorter term, there's a new Kapow on the horizon: The Cabaret Special dontcha know on the 18th Feb.
Also there are oodles of performances booked and pencilled in as "Maybe"
I just have to make a few decisions and commitments.
Talking of decisions (and commitment, or lack of it...) a new home and personal life is also just around the corner, just a few loose ends to tie up.
Leipzig, Edinburgh, Latitude? (most likely as a punter).
I can't help but feel elated and excited at the moment, the key is commitment (again... not a great one for me, but I have to give it a go) and focus.

Be Bold - The World is Watching!
  • Listening to: party choons
  • Reading: "Feel the fear and do it anyway" yeah, b
  • Watching: House MD
  • Drinking: only at the weekends, promise!

Comments


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:iconkracked-aktor:
Kracked-Aktor Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2009
Cheers! Thanks for the watch :)
Reply
:iconapopalypticchaos:
apopalypticchaos Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2008
i am back!!
again. lol.
its been a LONG time, mostly because i forgot my password and never thought that i would be able to change it. duh.
i am so excited though because a friend and i am visiting england in july/aug!! and amsterdam!
i know you said in 06 that you have moved back home so let me know if you are gonna be in london at all around then!
HUGS
jess*
Reply
:iconanxag0n1st:
Anxag0n1st Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2008   Writer
Hey Jess, welcome back I guess!

I'm not far from London and go out there more than I did in 2005! seem to spend my life at Slimelight and at gigs.

keep in touch!
Reply
:iconapopalypticchaos:
apopalypticchaos Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2008
YAY!
i am so excited because this time i get to bring one of my best buds with me!! we're hammering out all the details so i can let you know exactly when pretty soon!
Reply
:iconnostias:
nostias Featured By Owner Jan 16, 2007
Word!
Reply
:iconanxag0n1st:
Anxag0n1st Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2007   Writer
word up bro... I'll update me site at some point.
*waves then swears atcha*
Reply
:iconcalliopeslilly:
CalliopesLilly Featured By Owner Jul 31, 2006   Writer
thank you for the faaaaaaave
:heart:

you rock
Reply
:iconrecoil24:
Recoil24 Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2006
Thankyou for the comment :) Have actually just visited London with my fellow deviant art buddy - XerxesXS
Though I have to wait a lil before my pictures get developed..I feel another trip will be happening :) Im just going to check out your work now :P
Reply
:iconmorphindel:
morphindel Featured By Owner Jun 6, 2006  Hobbyist General Artist
Lol thanks for the comment, i will take a look at your stuff :)
Reply
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