Shop Forum More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Professional Cody Brown25/Male/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 284 Deviations 4,600 Comments 45,913 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

pulls its fog-shroud
over the coast, battered
by surf, the seagulls' songs haunting
the tides.
Sea fog
lifts and lightens
over cliffs the color
of despair. Waves reach up to touch
South winds
banish the gray –
the barren, muddy earth
shows the first emerald sparks of life
bloom from swollen
buds, the ocean cliffs turned
into a realm of light and joy;
sea rose.
return to nest,
gracing the cerulean
sky with the ancient verse of spring
once more.
lifts and lightens
the barren, muddy earth
into a realm of light and joy
once more.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 6 3
A Talent for Misery Chapter 1
The ornate brass key looked much newer than Gabriel knew it to be. Despite being at least three generations old, having been passed from his grandfather to his father and now, at last, to him, the small key shone with a ruddy light under the weak early winter sunlight streaming into the courtyard. The simple fact he had been given it at all was in some ways a miracle. As the second son to the baron, the honor should have gone to his older brother. Of course, life had a way of writing its own script and that often didn't follow the standard procedures of humanity's devising.
Gabriel slid the key into his coat pocket and turned his attention back to the building he was headed for. The grass underfoot was browned and crunchy with the coming frost and his breath steamed out above and behind him like a banner of war. Days like today made him want to stay in the comfort of the sitting room by a roaring fire pit, but his father had instructed him to meet in the basement, of all places.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 4 5
Morbid Warmth
“Howdy, stranger.”
The young man strolling down the wide dirt path was every bit the gentleman; tweed jacket, deep green waistcoat, straw boater perched fashionably atop a head of lustrous chestnut curls. The old farmer's face – as furrowed by time as his fields were by the plow resting at the grassy verge – creased into its well-accustomed frown. The last thing he needed that day was some uppity dandy saying howdy like he was king of the county.
The young man stopped his stroll and tipped his hat toward the farmer. “Beautiful day, wouldn't you say? The breeze is as perfumed as Spring's soft whispers, and yet here we are on the tail end of October!”
The farmer harrumphed. He had no interest in trading purple prose with some uppity dandy.
Overhead, a skein of geese flew raucously by. At the same time, the breeze picked up and knocked a shower of canary-yellow leaves from the beech tree arching over this corner of field.
The young man smiled knowingly,
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 3 0
Taillis Realms Map by Captain-Random Taillis Realms Map :iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 5 0
To Make You Into Something Beautiful
My nascent smile
turned back into dust.
If only you knew
love's light lived on.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 5 3
Dollhouse Cafe Table by Captain-Random Dollhouse Cafe Table :iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 4 2
School-Age Psychopomp
The poem was not on the pages left
on the desk, in the worn spiral notebook
lined with his images of missing love
and lucid dreams half-remembered as fact.
He was his own poem, a verse borrowed
from a story heard in another life.
Each breath longed to rejoin with its Speaker,
to find a way back home once and for all.
The Poet wished to show the world beauty.
The world, in its fear, did not understand.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 9 13
Mature content
Chronicles of a Dwarf Fortress :iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 1 0
A First Try at Doll Furniture by Captain-Random A First Try at Doll Furniture :iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 3 3
Canon in D
For him, colors flowed as freely
as the sweet, piercing music that so
stirred his soul to these heights.
The air carried the scents of the seasons
– each lovely in its own way –
just as it held aloft the Gull and the Raven,
both deserving of his love, and receiving,
though they never were wise enough to know.
His life was a tempest he never strove
to tame, an eagle content to soar forever.
And while this tempest battered and bruised,
it never broke. There was an improbable strength
in perceived fragility, in the ephemereal smiles
and fey, dark eyes that could be stirred to tears
simply because a song was beautiful
and he was not.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 23 39
What Was Lost
Ghost-silk auroras were her veil,
snowflake stars her hair.
My northern queen, as warm as Spring –
Why, Why do I remember?
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 8 4
Too Early to Rise
Winter's sleep grows restless.
Nightmares clad in chill mists,
haunting melodies of the forests'
ghost-birds, churn the white snow
into ashen slush.
Silent water drips from barren branches,
quickening the thaw below like
rapid eye movements beneath closed lids.
Evergreen boughs droop low with
the weary weight of Heaven's
rejected waters. Darkness pools among
the dreaming roots And all
through the glade lit only
by endless void above, the coyotes
chant their dire songs:
“The Dreamer must soon wake!”
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 7 4
November's Last Betrayal
Flat grey skies above.
A raven-feathered heart steals
breath I'd saved for you.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 9 5
My Hands Are Tied
At night, he falls into the embrace
of silken dreams hemmed in lace,
died in the blush of dawn.
But no matter how he tries, dreams
cannot be threaded through the
needle-eye flash of awakening.
Shaking hands and half-finished
constructs catch the woolen light;
derelicts of cotton and chiffon.
Twill can be just as unyielding
as steel walls...
Ribbons bind as tight as chains.
He dons his rags and pretends.
Maybe someday, he won't
have to play dress-up anymore.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 2 0
To Those Who Came Before
You, too, are human.
Settled ash and bitter snow
mark only practice.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 5 2
The Man Who Married the Forest
He says not much time has passed, not much at all. But the tick of the clock is misleading when one steps into fairy-rings and dances with the dryads as the moon cavorts beneath night skies like sieves catching only the brightest of diamonds, the stars that beguile and mislead. There is an elegance in the way nature folds a single human into the forgetful embrace of shade-green sleep, leaving the mind to chase gold-dappled sprites from stump to mossy stump.
As the sun sails from Cancer to Capricorn and back again, the man who came untethered learns to fly with the heart of a sparrow.
:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 9 15


yellow Kowhai buds
hang like church bells
Bellbirds chime an exquisite duet
a Tuis timber creek call reverberates
birds flit and float on tree fingertips
:iconfoxseason:foxseason 15 15
Flaming Moth
My heart is a campfire;
we're gathered like fireflies
to hear the eulogies of my drywall veins,
a silent nod to the flickering hope
that stubbornly clings to my breath beats,
my eye shine, my razzle and glow dreams.
You are quiet in your gasping,
a beacon I've set my destination for
but can't quite reach out to pull close--
like moon dust or phantom velvet or the softest of night sighs,
you slip through even the loosest clenched fists,
a will-o-the-wisp with an alluring face and an ever changing façade.
In my aching, I crackle and crinkle your name
across the typography of my skin,
a topographical error in lusting and loving
that I can't bring myself to regret
and yet can't sow a label to.
My bones are kindling;
I've snapped them into twiggy pieces
and soaked them with kerosene
just begging for the chance
to light the way home for you.
You are gentle in your grasping,
a quiet place of reckoning I'd like to taste;
hand me the matchsticks
of your just-waking, don't-quite-know-what-y
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages 12 7
blackbird refrain.
Mine is a nation of songbirds.
Even now amongst the cliffs of
noise, the walls of peeling engines
and a thousand tongues speaking
in tandem in an edifice of sound,
I hear them still. Blackbirds
dotting the stripped branches of
warped beeches, the flitting of thrushes
amongst the shrubbery of landscaped
office spaces, I hear them trill.
A constant lyric of avian emotion,
their sentiments mixing with mine as
dusk nestles itself in the unlit
corners of London’s neon streets.
I hear them still, as I wander
quiet backstreets in the footsteps of my
Victorian ancestors, wondering if they
heard the same lineage of musicians
weaving lullabies from the barren
branches of the very same oak. I hear
them trill, and my ancestors heard them
too, perhaps as buoyed by love as I am,
echoing those love-worn serenades in
the nest of their hearts just as I do now,
or perhaps instead so singed by betrayal
that instead irony took up the cuckoo
mantle in their thrumming chorus-line.
Mine is a nation of
:iconcomatose-comet:comatose-comet 17 1
Shards XIX
Lipstick, lace, high heels
Tucked away in the backseat
I am not your toy
:iconlilith-awaken:Lilith-Awaken 4 0
I. The Empress of Moths and Secrets
The wind ripped across the city, dragging in a storm. Litter tumbled down the street as the wind howled, forcing itself through alleyways it shouldn’t have been able to reach. The wind chimes of broken wine bottles clanked together sounding more like a warning than harmonic.
From her spot on the rusted fire escape, Lani listened to her friend sing. She leaned against the dirty brick and took a long drag from her cigarette.
Mina’s voice curled the air, slipping through the harsh wind. In the bathtub under the open window, Mina sang a song, old and brittle in lyrics, in a language unfamiliar to air, but with a melody like the last leaf of the earth falling. Despite the days and weeks of singing this song that lasts hours, Mina never sung the last verse. Never. She probably didn’t realize Lani knew of the very last verse. Not many did. Not many outside of the merfolk.
“It gets worse every time you sing it,” Lani said, with the cig between her lips and nothing
:iconthetiniestgiant:TheTiniestGiant 8 10
Daily Paint 2009# New Pokemon Leek! by Cryptid-Creations Daily Paint 2009# New Pokemon Leek! :iconcryptid-creations:Cryptid-Creations 4,406 348 Foundation by andreasrocha Foundation :iconandreasrocha:andreasrocha 1,779 35 Forest of Liars : Wandering by Tohad Forest of Liars : Wandering :icontohad:Tohad 2,141 45
the empress and the dragon god
"How many years has it been?"
She starts at the sound of his voice. "You scared me!"
"Anyone who dares to drift off into a daydream near my domain deserves to be startled back into awareness," he says.
She scowls down from the rock she is perched on. Ryū is grinning up at her unrepentantly. The sight makes her smile, albeit reluctantly. "Ten years," she says.
"Only?" he says, stretching up to catch hold of the rock. With a quick heave, he pulls himself up so that they are sitting side by side.
"Ten years is a long time for a human," she says wryly.
"So you were only—" he counts his fingers. She watches, fascinated as always by the thin translucent webbing between each finger. "Ten years old," he says. "Wait, no. Eleven, weren't you?"
"Ten and a half." She'd dragged him away from the men clutching their chokutō and tsurugi blades, and she'd tossed him into the water before they could see. "Just strong enough to haul you across the last three hundred meters to t
:iconsophiemarin:sophiemarin 7 5
Unchained Melody by spiffychicken Unchained Melody :iconspiffychicken:spiffychicken 8 0 Barnaby Beakman by kupieckorzenny Barnaby Beakman :iconkupieckorzenny:kupieckorzenny 87 12
Dear Mama,
Today we went on a trip to the bowtan botanical garden. A lot of papas and mamas came with the class. Mrs Lee tought taught us what the flowers mean.
Dahlias are to say thank-you if someone does something good for you. Hazel flowers are for reconcilation reconciliation. It means people will not be mad at each other anymore. Roses are for love and for beautifulness. There are many kinds of roses. I like the red ones. I told Papa to take some for you but I think he forgot to.
Mrs Lee says we have more trips later this year. Next time you should come. I will tell Papa to tell you when we are going. I think he is okay with that because he did not say no.
I will show you the red roses. Maybe you can give one to Papa. I think he will be happy if you give him one.
P.S. I saw Papa secretly take some hazel flowers home. He is keeping them in a bowl by his desk.
:iconsophiemarin:sophiemarin 10 5
11. entfalten
you smooth the words down
soft in your palms / parse
my ache out     &
something in me sighs
coz it’s you / mousequiet,
doll-cheeked with the dogwood,
swift-glossed glints in
your caramel eyes
and you tell me You Talk Like A Waterfall! &
so i guess i'm gushing with it, that soaring
surge you see in me / & i Feel It
when u crack me open
for the pulp of my courage, grasp
for this storm in the maelstrom. u
tease the lightning thru ur pearl fingers
show me secrets & / smile after them,
curl your hand to a heart-shaped
fist and hold it out to me,
honored to Understand
& softsnugsafesanguine i
see that now
so This is how
i think i'm gonna
find myself:
your sun rises in water
throws glow on my city
and wakes it up again
:iconpeaseblossoms:peaseblossoms 19 3
waning world
Aurora Borealis
curls and drifts,
effervescent filigree,
gorgeous hues,
illuminating jubilant kingdoms;
languid meandering and nebulous
oceans perish quietly,
realm ravaged, it subsides-
temperamental universe,
verdant world withered- extinct...
yielding its zenith
:iconprettyflour:prettyflour 19 11
The sun hangs overhead in a dust-blue sky. The wind barely breathes in the stifling heat of midday, but the breeze picks up at nightfall, the light of sun being replaced with fireflies and stars. There will be an end to this summer, but it is not yet in sight.

June wasn't a particularly eventful month for me. There was my trip abroad which was already covered in my previous journal. There was my still-ongoing job search, but there's little positive to talk about there. My editor is still hard at work on The Channeler and I'm hard at work on editing another novel.

I would like to start uploading more writing to this gallery. It's been a long time, but I think the time is ripe to start sharing again! Hopefully, some of you are interested in seeing that from me.

That's about all I have to share this month. With a little luck, I'll be able to share some more good news next month!


Captain-Random's Profile Picture
Cody Brown
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
Cody Brown lives with one foot in Maine and one in Brigard. Not everyone approves of this, and yet he keeps on doing it. When not writing, Cody spends most of his time world-building in one form or another. The Clocksmith is Cody's debut novel.



Add a Comment:
foxseason Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2018   Writer
thanks for your recent support :heart:
(1 Reply)
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
I always appreciate your support, dearest. 

Thank you for faving! :heart:
(1 Reply)
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thank A4 by Alimera

Thank you for your :+fav: love. As always, you're a gem. :heart:
(1 Reply)
DragonFairy88 Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the llama, dear! :D
(1 Reply)
TheWarOfTheRing Featured By Owner Mar 12, 2018  Student Writer
Thank you for the llama!
(1 Reply)
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for your recent :+fav:, darling. As always, I treasure your support. :heart:
(1 Reply)
IllyDragonfly Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2018   General Artist
Many thanks for supporting one of the urbex photos I took at the abandoned mental hospital! :)
(1 Reply)
PeriodicFable Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2018   Writer
Why, thank you for the favourite Cody! Means heaps to me :) How have you been?
(1 Reply)
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the :+fav:, dearheart. I appreciate you :heart:
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: