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sir saint Patrick iii

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sir saint Patrick iii

"sir saint Patrick iii (final) or the tale of Charlie and Saratoga i" a winter's tale approaches: the tale of charlie and saratoga, and should this story have its beginnings in the basement of my house, i only ask for the blessing of sir saint patrick, to guide me and provide me with the love for them that i had for no one else.

water insects

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water insects

"water insects" you were all dark green and alaskan auroras; during those days heaven was underwater, the sky would alight at early morning above the willows, who never seemed awake at all, really, but they taught their tendrils to touch the face of the lake-- we would swim through them, those forest fingers of sleeping trees, glide across the glass face of the lake like water insects.

smoke break

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smoke break

"smoke break" living life in the hour between first and second shift, the lips stick and the neck is stiff. must stop this, must stop this. attempting to breath out back, back break, back ache, up late doing whatever it takes-- heart ache, heart break, taking smoking breaks from smoking breaks.

the coroner

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the coroner

“the coroner” only a coroner could value human life as a price tag, callous nine to five, only content with living-- no desire to be alive.

tablespoon

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tablespoon

“tablespoon” i am measured not by the number of days in which i have never left her side, while wanting only happiness for her. but by how much she is annoyed when i ask her, “are you okay?”

touched

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touched

"touched" i had a poem come and touch my fingertips-- i should have written it then, because, like buying that stuffed teddy bear years before you know you’ll need it, and you do know you’ll need it, i need that poem now. and it’s not here.

pearl jam

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pearl jam

“pearl jam” The man of the hour has taken his final bow, good-bye for now… i. fear i felt as i stepped into the house where i would face it again, promised that it was a good movie. she did warn me, told me to come with water wings, i don’t know how to swim in these kinds of things. i wondered how bad i’d choke and drown. ”good-bye for now” ii. 1. the tall tale of the titan fish, the river, and the road along the way along the skyway from Paris, earth retold hold down deep by the swamp he met Death, in a dare, on it’s front door— told him how he’d die. from a glass Ey

cold

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cold

"cold" my wind chapped corpse, frost flowing full force, remember, remember! the first of december it's snowing outside as i walk to my car and i can't for the life of me forget why i wanted to be cold one year ago

trees

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trees

i walk to a forest; pretend you're the trees and i scream and i scream. but all i get, is the coldest reply: silence.
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sir saint Patrick iii

s

sir saint Patrick iii

"sir saint Patrick iii (final) or the tale of Charlie and Saratoga i" a winter's tale approaches: the tale of charlie and saratoga, and should this story have its beginnings in the basement of my house, i only ask for the blessing of sir saint patrick, to guide me and provide me with the love for them that i had for no one else.

now, here

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now, here

Now, let us fight, as ghosts will do when closing the casket amidst the fading light of a black sunset on the last day— long overdue— of a dead decadence, to our deaths, well deserved

le sejour

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le sejour

We parked on a black, paved pathway and began to search. We scoured beneath the trees; in the grass, softly dancing to a singing breeze. A hidden grove. None of the names we knew, none of them filled my mother’s head, nor mine. Marble blocks planted in the ground. We gathered around a name we knew. A marble block planted in the ground. Surrounded by green grass, tall trees… We laid flowers there.

silently

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silently

Silently beside you, I whisper your name. See if you’re okay. Dress you in warm woolly blankets— the ones you said were not enough. But they are not alone in sending you to sleep. Did you really think? All these sheep and no shepherd? … I know what lies beyond the bitter storm. I will guide you through the cold, through the night, through the darkness. I will show you the way… And with pursed lip sorcery quell the maelstrom inside your head.

dead dog

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dead dog

So is that your humanity? a dead dog’s entrails spray painted on the street?

personal Controversy

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personal Controversy

Nature's coming, Routinely The digital SEASON the PLANET TREATMENT Here's to otherworldly security To Play-Doh and great WOODEN cookies your POCKET lifestyle create The dose Find your love by cameras. But We may FALL under the entire planet be aware- of ONE SMILE all for YOUR world, son be the BEST nobody

a poem is not

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a poem is not

a poem is not the slow pulse of the blood in your neck it is not the misty wistfulness of your love saturated breath it is not the soft warmth of the touch of your skin it is not the bright glow of the soul deep within it is not the gentle roundness of the curves of your breast nor the rise and fall of the tide in your chest it is not everything it is not nothing nor anything but what it is it is not the wind through your hair nor your quirky little smile it is not how far i would go for you— mile after mile… it is not

sir saint Patrick

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sir saint Patrick

old keeper, the wise, the Grace of God, were you not there each time to dry our eyes? to reforge our icarus-wings when we have melted from this cold world in which only you glitter? and now? there would be nothing to save us from the raze-rebirth, the floating earth, the coming cleansing should we lose your gilded soul tonight. after you, the flood

like a tiny planet

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like a tiny planet

like a tiny planet the corpse of a spider suspended by his own silk.

her

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her

i know the contours of the country that has trembled for fear for desire, for the longing of war, and lying wide awake the tides of the core cause rises and falls; breathing earthquakes the gasping, exhaling-- the hot, flesh melting air that slowly forms the atmosphere; (fear burns, within here) the perspiration that is drawn from the depths of the soul to rise and evaporate, lucidly, love

Annoyed with the Moon (llh 26a)

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Annoyed with the Moon (llh 26a)

Little Lost Hour At the sky glowers Moonlight is too bright Ring around the moon She won't return soon
Artist
  • United States
  • Deviant for 14 years
  • He / Him
My Bio
Favourite genre of music: ambient. indie. progressive. strange. acoustic. rock. classic-roots. orchestrated. classical. heavy.
Favourite photographer: my eyes, your eyes
Favourite style of art: tasteful
Operating System: whatever god made to make us move
MP3 player of choice: creative zen
Shell of choice: ninja turtle
Wallpaper of choice: bright yellow with pink and blue flowers and stars.
Skin of choice: hers.
Favourite cartoon character: iunno man, there\'s too many
Personal Quote: pain is just weakness exiting the body

Favourite Visual Artist
god
Favourite Movies
the ones that make me cry.
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
goo goo golls. iron maiden. sigur ros. co&ca. mogwai. opeth. tool. porcupine tree. gs!ybe. asmt.
Favourite Writers
maynard james keenan. carmel livni. less_than_mikey. claudio sanchez. c. baudelaire.
Favourite Games
love
Tools of the Trade
a pen or pencil and paper. and a computer.
Other Interests
music. thinking. reading. art of all forms. hockey. winter.
couple of things: cya to some friends who were recruited to beta test the afterlife. (everytime i come back here there has been another.) i'm trying really, really hard to follow patrick's guidance.
am i real?

north, north-west, west...

north, north-west, west...

what do you feel when a good friend kills himself? what do you do?

Comments 437

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LipsterLeoHobbyist Writer

Thanks for the watch! I'm honored.

yw :)

(i love the redwall books also)

slnmtenHobbyist Writer

Thank you for the fav!

you're very welcome! thank you for sharing your work

gleaarHobbyist Writer

Thanks so much for the watch! :)

you're very welcome!

PoetrymannProfessional Writer

Thanks very much for faving my art. I appreciate it!