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About Deviant Artist Chris GeorgeMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 13 Years
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Newest Deviations

Literature
Paradox Junkies
She is slouched against the outside wall of the local bookstore, The Kraken's Skull. The cracked eyes of a mermaid statuette stare at her from the fly-filled dumpster. She lights up a cigarette and gazes out at the black ocean over the craggy cliffs.  She sighs and waits.
The mermaid rises up from the dumpster, attached to the head of a disheveled man of about fifty. The man has coke-bottle classes and a dirt-stained khaki trench coat. The man approaches her, his mouth formed into a ridiculous grin, exposing his mustard-colored teeth.
"I just got in a new shipment."
"Oho?"
"Yeah. Hard to get, though. Apparently, the goddamn police have been spending their time hunting out some of the scientists who've been making the stuff. Like the bloody Inquisition, if you ask me."
"How expensive, then?"
"Fifty for a hit."
"Jesus Christ, it was only ten last week!"
"Times change, my friend."
"Let me see the serum, at least…"
He opens his trench coat. Hundreds of syringes filled with a milk
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Literature
Inside a Garbage Can: Gluttony
"For the pernicious sin of gluttony
I, as thou seest, am battered by this rain."
-The Inferno, Canto VI
Droning subtle, harmonious calls of death,
Gluttonous hornets crawl over bottles,
The labels washed out, unrecognizable.
They bathe their hairy abdomens in the sticky
Syrup that floods the forgotten garbage below,
And eagerly dip their antennas into goo.
Their wings murmur desperately,
As they scrape at the stained, clay-colored sides
In an attempt to leave their paradise,
But sink into saccharine mire,
The weight of the morass too great.
The call of her for whom I lust breaks me away
From this vision, and I sigh with an insect's heart.
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Literature
The Traveler
"When the overgrown paths cross the tarmac road of the herd, the lone traveler - filthy, often messy and dressed in rags - will be met by a hail of abusive language; mockery, scorn, fear and even hatred... The herd finds no mysterious secrets, no spiritual enlightenment or ancient lore on the tarmac road. The runes and golden pieces of the gods can only be found in the green grass or under the moss, on the overgrown paths."
-Varg Vikernes
'Neath the roof of burgundy leaves
His gritty fingers, feeling the rune stones,
Discover the wisdom   of father Odin.
He is aware of the knowledge of Yggsdrasill.
His bearded face beams up towards
The godly Asgard, far from mortal Midgard.
On the path of moss, the traveler shambles
Towards the light of the horses of Sol.
'Neath the roof of bleak gray sky,
Missionaries dance and laugh at the traveler
Quietly emerging into the dull light.
"Oho, look at he who is dressed
In the old robes of a mad beggar!"
They wildly grin as they pick
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Literature
Dream, 9-17-06
I don't remember the war
but I am holding the ashes
of fallen soldiers, my comrades.
I sift through their remains,
pick up an ear, feel
burnt marrow and bone.
I turn to my mother,
eyes filled with tears,
and ask for a glass jar.
It will keep them safe
When I put them below
the agarwood tree.
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Literature
Meggido, Israel 1918
Dusty ruins baking beneath the wrathful sun,
the walls stare eternally at the sparsely grassed earth.
They are still there, as they have been
for eons, but now they are short, stubs of
once tall, harrowing barriers at the world's crossroad,
broken by the war of time and the war of man.
The dirt tells its ancient secrets: a chariot wheel,
rusted Assyrian arrowhead, splinters of Egyptian spears,
bits of bleached skull, rib, a finger bone
spoiling the dead ground, scars of the festering past.
The British soldier lights his Woodbine cigarette, slings his rifle,
and sits on the ancient walls of Megiddo, staring ever outward.
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Literature
Living Room Deities, Ch. 1
Chester D. Nona put his hand in his pocket, searching around for his keys. He grimaced as came up with a handful of lint and ancient gum wrappers, fading from many washes. Scratching his thinning hair, he realized he had left his keys in his Honda. Damn it, he thought as he went down the stairs of the musty apartment building.
He stumbled on the steps, and glared monstrously at the swinging door through his glasses that made him look like an owl. Chester put the glasses back into focus, and moved towards his car. It was a Honda Civic, used, from 1995. It was blueberry blue, to be specific and repetitive. His keys were still in the ignition, though the door wasn't locked, so he flung open the door and grabbed the keys. He looked in the broken rearview mirror, and adjusted his clip-on tie that he had bought from the Dollar Store, then dusted off his shoulders from imaginary specks. He went back up into the apartment with a childish waddle, put the keys in the door, turned the knob carele
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Literature
Octopus Action Movie Amusement
"A hockey puck, mass 0.115 kg, moving at 35 m/s, strikes an octopus thrown on the ice by a fan. The octopus has a mass of 0.465 kg. The puck and octopus slide off together. Find their velocity." Zitzewitz, Paul W. and, James T. Murphy  Physics: Principles and Problems, Merrill Publishing Company, p. 162.
It was a fine day down on the lane, that June 16th, in the year 1935. Western calendar. That lane intersecting 35th street, south of my house by 5.1 blocks. Just to be clear. I mean, you could think I was talking about 1989 on the Hebrew calendar and you would probably say, "What? You weren't around then, you filthy, lying, skanking, physicist! Putz!" But I digress.
The benches were particularly reflective that day due to the sun's angle of refraction, and the pigeons were chirping in ecstatic delight. I skipped to and fro, calculating the coefficient of friction of the pavement as my red sneakered feet hit the ground.
I proclaimed unto the heavens, "Mu=0.5! Mu=0.5! The shoes
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Literature
Marshmallow Clouds - Room 775
She dances on marshmallow clouds,
to distant music, not too loud,
and parades through crystal waterfalls,
in forests filled with avian calls.
She bounds above the atmosphere,
choking back her hopeless fear.
She plays among the brilliant stars
'fore crashing back to Earth so far.
Here, on that Earth, we sit
by her pumping morphine drip.
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Literature
Tokyo Nights
"Killing Japanese didn't bother me very much at that time... I suppose if I had lost the war, I would have been tried as a war criminal..."- General Curtis LeMay
Sky night is peaceful
but the stars hide their shining
faces from the ruins
below. The ruins,
insanity, hate, all lie
under the calm sky.
People lay down, wrecked.
Buildings smashed, burned to their bones.
Nothing was untouched.
Only the dull clouds,
and the disgusted stars
were not razed.
The ironic sky waits,
yet there is a roar of a
pack of demons
who swoop one more time,
laying their hateful steel eggs,
whistling their birth cry.
Then I see off in
the distance, getting closer,
brighter, lit candles.
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Literature
Samsara
Implosion concussion
overwhelming my
already feeble
brain which
never knows
the pleasure
of rest.
Constantly whirring,
and never
slowing, I'm
always thinking.
Love, hate.
Desire, apathy.
All in
one mass.
I wish
that it
would stop
so I
could feel
peace of
mind, but
it's all
chaos and
raging disorder.
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Literature
Buddha on the Wall
Buddha painting on the hallway wall,
Staring down with eyes of sapphire,
And skin of pale gold.
His hat spirals unto the heavens like a conch shell,
And the Hindu-looking ruby on his forehead shines
Like blood on grass.
With robes of crimson,
Robes of indigo,
And robes the yellow of the sun.
The sapphire eyes look tired,
Wandering through the hallways,
Filled with doubt.
His smile is crooked,
Reinforcing the uncertainty of his jewel eyes,
Always unfulfilled.
Buddha hanging on the high school wall,
The one without nirvana,
Most bejeweled Buddha of them all.
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Literature
When We Got That Phone Call
There were tortilla chips on the table.
I was constantly stealing them because
I had a ravenous appetite,
I probably ate 15 chips in the space of a minute.
My sisters and cousin were over,
and we'd been swimming in the pool all day,
playing Categories and just jumping around,
so we were famished.
We were about to order lunch, too,
we were going to try and get subs from Olympia,
or chicken tenders.
Then my mom called,
Your uncle was in an accident.
We shrugged it off,
He'd probably broken a leg,
or maybe it was just a small collision,
that totaled the bumper or something.
My grandmother came to the door,
And she said that we needed to come with her,
So we took her smoke gray Cadillac,
which smelled of cigarettes
and empty McDonald's bags,
To my aunt and uncle's house,
A different way then we had gone before.
Our chatter was nervous on the ride there.
When we arrived, we went inside,
expecting to see our uncle,
but when we came in,
the room was silent, save for the
sound of sobbing.
My u
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Literature
Cavalcade of PC Error
This pc has something against users
because when you hold down the shift key
by accident for eight seconds
everything collapses
the numbers go on strike (seeking better wages)
the period turns into an arrow (trying to find itself)
and all letters don't grow up unless you turn off capslock
(unless Microsoft word decides as a child hater to make them grow up)
and quotation marks are now all couples
(unless microsoft word as the archenemy of cupid) decides to break them up)
selecting one word is a thing of the past
this pc thinks we need to highlight everything
way to go
damn pc
way to go
damn computer designers
I don't even want to try and press anything else
reality just may
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Literature
Eyes
Bright, yellow eyes stare at you,
penetrating through the gloom of the forest.
As the trees rustle in the wind,
you wonder what those eyes might belong to.
Could they be the eyes of a dragon?
Do the eyes look at you and see sustenance?
Do they desire to see you ripped apart, burnt,
then slither down a scaly throat?
Might they be a dinosaur's eyes,
the remnants of a lost age?
Does it see you as a threat,
Something never seen or dreamed of before?
What if those eyes were demonic?
Do they stare into your eyes, and find your soul?
Are you prey for its dark master,
and nothing more?
But what if those eyes stared at you,
and thought
you were a dragon.
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Literature
Battlefield
As we march on, we hear the thunder
of artillery, as it threatens
our safety. Sarge tells a joke as a distraction.
He tries to encourage
Us to fight harder. "Don't fear death, don't flee when you see the bomb,"
He says "Fight with passion."
But what passion
could be found here? The thunder
of enemy boots, the bombs
exploding in the distance threaten
the idea of passion. It lays ruin to courage.
Right now, there could be no distraction.
For what could be a distraction?
This is hell on earth. There is no compassion,
With the smell of blood and gundpowder permeating through the air, there is no courage
to be found. It died under the thundering
of machine guns; it perished with the threat
of death by bomb.
We try to avoid the bombs,
but the sickening smell of the dead proves to be a distraction.
Death, our greatest threat
is right before us. No amount of passion
could protect us from the thunder
raining down from the heavens, like the wrath of a god with no courage.
Sarge's words meant to
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Empty Tunnel by auricstormcloud Empty Tunnel :iconauricstormcloud:auricstormcloud 0 0

Favourites

BAPHOMET:MASTER OF THE SABBAT by sawsin
Mature content
BAPHOMET:MASTER OF THE SABBAT :iconsawsin:sawsin 4 0
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Activity


deviantID

auricstormcloud
Chris George
Artist
United States
Current Residence: Absolutely nowhere.
Favourite genre of music: Metal (black/doom), folk, neo-classical, classical, jazz, indie, alternative, experimental, noise.
Favourite style of art: Surreal. Art. Put them together and you have art surreal.
Operating System: Mac OS 10.3.9
MP3 player of choice: iTunes
Shell of choice: Bombshell.
Wallpaper of choice: Abstract. Whatever.
Skin of choice: Shed lizard skin.
Favourite cartoon character: Guts.
Personal Quote: "Shoop da woop!"
Interests
So I uploaded some stuff. Not that I think anyone really looks at my dA too much?

Enjoy.
  • Listening to: Cult of Luna: Beyond Fate
  • Reading: Lords of Chaos (a book about black metal)
  • Watching: the screen
  • Playing: might play Fire Emblem soon
  • Eating: might put food in soon
  • Drinking: might get a drink soon

Comments


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:icondesert-flower:
Desert-Flower Featured By Owner Jan 14, 2006
Thank you for the fav! ^.^ :hug:
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:iconanomolous:
anomolous Featured By Owner Mar 29, 2005   Digital Artist
HI! GUESS WHO! XD
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