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Luke Solomon Donavan
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Me and my Muse

M

Me and my Muse

 I hear the tip-tap of her shoes as she walks to my table, her usual mug of…something firmly in hand. She sits without invitation. I hate that. Most people are polite enough to ask, but does she? Of course not, she’s too privileged for that. She knows I can’t get mad at her or deny her anything. I’m always too afraid she’ll act like a skittish deer. Better to man up and deal with her than to act out and send her running off, probably never to return. Good help is hard to find; in her field, it’s a miracle. I continue to sit there, eyes on the screen, clicking away at the keys to try and finish what I’m wri

Sing Praise

S

Sing Praise

You're the dream within my mind You're the One I always find You lay me down to sleep You're the reason that I creep You're a nightmare I only hear You're the reason I don't fear You're the one I always count on You're my eternal, blessed fountain You're a foot in the undertow You're salvation on death row You're a light upon my dark You never miss your mark You're worthy of my praise You'll live on past my days You forgot my past mistakes You have done all it takes You're that pounding in my skull You're the reason I am whole

Silence is Golden

S

Silence is Golden

 It’s an ordinary day, as far as I know. I’m sitting in computer class, bored. The professor is talking, no one is listening. The talking all around the classroom is a dull roar I can’t focus on distinctly. Even if I strain to hear what the girl next to me is telling her friend, it is indistinguishable. Despite being unable to catch snippets of conversation, I don’t care. With a yawn I tilt back in my chair and stair out the door. From where I sit I can see the walkway outside, people moving in large herds to and from classes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Wait. Who’s that? My mouth clamps shut, my throat tightens,

The First Mexican's Lament

T

The First Mexican's Lament

Milady's gone. She started walking, Went on and on, And went where there's no talking. Disappeared into the lawn, Disappeared into green. Gone. Now I sit upon a bench, Cursing Fate, that lovely wench. I sit and wait for the dawn. I must find my beauty that is gone. So, I wait to mow that lawn.

A Time to Die

A

A Time to Die

 His breath came in gasps. He stared down at her, her lifeless body; and his hands, the hand that held the steak knife, and the hand that held her pale, bloody neck. His mouth slowly dropped open as he came down from the adrenaline rush; his hands shook as his grip loosened, the corpse and the knife dropping to the floor with a thud and clank. He slowly backed away, hands trembling as he shook his head. “No…” He whispered, “No… No. No. No. I didn’t mean to! I-I didn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” He was screaming at the body now. It accused him in cold, bloody silence. He continue

Before the Dawn

B

Before the Dawn

In the beginning, there was darkness. Man feared the dark, and so God created light to cast out the dark. The devil was displeased by light and so made night, so that man might remember his fear. “Jake…” What was that? A whisper? No… Must have been nothing… Where was I? Oh, yes. Man feared the night, and so God made fire to protect man from the darkness of night. Satan saw fire and was displeased and so made wind blow and skies rain, so that man might lose his fire. “Jake.” Louder now. What is it? A voice. No time, I’ll worry about that later. To protect his fire, Man made shelter and civilizati

Dreams of My Father

D

Dreams of My Father

People I've never met, Places I've never been, Seeing through eyes nowhere set: This is a dream of my father. Cast through times unknown, I sail through memories unowned. Alcohol and a naval base, A beautiful woman, only a girl, Walking a church, all in lace. Others see them and only chortle. Times of darkness untold, Searching for places to hold. More drink and a babe on the way. Living only to live, with words neither say. A way out for one, a rite of passage the other, Neither ready to be mother and father. A flash, I'm whisked away. Nowhere do I long to stay. A knife. A blood-curdling scream. She is gone now, hands no l

We Gave These Gifts

W

We Gave These Gifts

We gave these gifts to the Earl: A pocket of pearls, A flag that unfurls, A gaggle of girls (With a curtain of curls), Water that whirls, A horse that hurls. These are the glamorous gifts we gave to the Earl. We gave these gifts to the Duke: A kitty so cute, A liar and his lute, A foghorn and flute, A red-faced recruit, A pie packed with puke. These are the wonderful things we gave to the Duke. We gave these gifts to the King: A royal red ring, A soldier that sings, A dog that goes “Ding,” A wren with no wings, A cart with no calling, A babe that keeps bawling, A man who needs mauling. These are the horrible p

The Coldest Hour

T

The Coldest Hour

 “Coldest hour is the one that comes just before the dawn,” Luke muttered to himself through the cigarette clinched in his teeth. He shifted in his seat, pulling the heavy sheepskin overcoat closer to his slightly shivering body. “I believe it,” he grumbled, squinting out of the view hole of his camouflaged blind to stare at the dark night skyline of Austin. He’d been sitting here since four p.m. the day before, keeping himself entertained with an old, worn-out copy of some fantasy novel till he lost natural light, at which point he took to fine-tuning the sight on his night vision scope by focusing in on pedestrian

Christmas at the Duck

C

Christmas at the Duck

It was a cold, but pleasant, December evening. Snow covered the entirety of the city, ice coated the streets and sidewalks, and people went about their business, finishing the last of their Christmas shopping before family members began noticing they were missing. Aside from those last few rush-time shoppers, most people preferred to spend their time indoors, many of them at the Staggering Duck, a downtown bar right across from the town square fountain, with a clear view of the city's extravagant decorations. Matthew, a young blonde guy, barely pushing twenty-eight and hardly able to fill up his large wool coat, was just walking down Bu
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Me and my Muse

M

Me and my Muse

 I hear the tip-tap of her shoes as she walks to my table, her usual mug of…something firmly in hand. She sits without invitation. I hate that. Most people are polite enough to ask, but does she? Of course not, she’s too privileged for that. She knows I can’t get mad at her or deny her anything. I’m always too afraid she’ll act like a skittish deer. Better to man up and deal with her than to act out and send her running off, probably never to return. Good help is hard to find; in her field, it’s a miracle. I continue to sit there, eyes on the screen, clicking away at the keys to try and finish what I’m wri

Sing Praise

S

Sing Praise

You're the dream within my mind You're the One I always find You lay me down to sleep You're the reason that I creep You're a nightmare I only hear You're the reason I don't fear You're the one I always count on You're my eternal, blessed fountain You're a foot in the undertow You're salvation on death row You're a light upon my dark You never miss your mark You're worthy of my praise You'll live on past my days You forgot my past mistakes You have done all it takes You're that pounding in my skull You're the reason I am whole

Silence is Golden

S

Silence is Golden

 It’s an ordinary day, as far as I know. I’m sitting in computer class, bored. The professor is talking, no one is listening. The talking all around the classroom is a dull roar I can’t focus on distinctly. Even if I strain to hear what the girl next to me is telling her friend, it is indistinguishable. Despite being unable to catch snippets of conversation, I don’t care. With a yawn I tilt back in my chair and stair out the door. From where I sit I can see the walkway outside, people moving in large herds to and from classes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Wait. Who’s that? My mouth clamps shut, my throat tightens,

The First Mexican's Lament

T

The First Mexican's Lament

Milady's gone. She started walking, Went on and on, And went where there's no talking. Disappeared into the lawn, Disappeared into green. Gone. Now I sit upon a bench, Cursing Fate, that lovely wench. I sit and wait for the dawn. I must find my beauty that is gone. So, I wait to mow that lawn.

A Time to Die

A

A Time to Die

 His breath came in gasps. He stared down at her, her lifeless body; and his hands, the hand that held the steak knife, and the hand that held her pale, bloody neck. His mouth slowly dropped open as he came down from the adrenaline rush; his hands shook as his grip loosened, the corpse and the knife dropping to the floor with a thud and clank. He slowly backed away, hands trembling as he shook his head. “No…” He whispered, “No… No. No. No. I didn’t mean to! I-I didn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” He was screaming at the body now. It accused him in cold, bloody silence. He continue

Before the Dawn

B

Before the Dawn

In the beginning, there was darkness. Man feared the dark, and so God created light to cast out the dark. The devil was displeased by light and so made night, so that man might remember his fear. “Jake…” What was that? A whisper? No… Must have been nothing… Where was I? Oh, yes. Man feared the night, and so God made fire to protect man from the darkness of night. Satan saw fire and was displeased and so made wind blow and skies rain, so that man might lose his fire. “Jake.” Louder now. What is it? A voice. No time, I’ll worry about that later. To protect his fire, Man made shelter and civilizati

Dreams of My Father

D

Dreams of My Father

People I've never met, Places I've never been, Seeing through eyes nowhere set: This is a dream of my father. Cast through times unknown, I sail through memories unowned. Alcohol and a naval base, A beautiful woman, only a girl, Walking a church, all in lace. Others see them and only chortle. Times of darkness untold, Searching for places to hold. More drink and a babe on the way. Living only to live, with words neither say. A way out for one, a rite of passage the other, Neither ready to be mother and father. A flash, I'm whisked away. Nowhere do I long to stay. A knife. A blood-curdling scream. She is gone now, hands no l

We Gave These Gifts

W

We Gave These Gifts

We gave these gifts to the Earl: A pocket of pearls, A flag that unfurls, A gaggle of girls (With a curtain of curls), Water that whirls, A horse that hurls. These are the glamorous gifts we gave to the Earl. We gave these gifts to the Duke: A kitty so cute, A liar and his lute, A foghorn and flute, A red-faced recruit, A pie packed with puke. These are the wonderful things we gave to the Duke. We gave these gifts to the King: A royal red ring, A soldier that sings, A dog that goes “Ding,” A wren with no wings, A cart with no calling, A babe that keeps bawling, A man who needs mauling. These are the horrible p

The Coldest Hour

T

The Coldest Hour

 “Coldest hour is the one that comes just before the dawn,” Luke muttered to himself through the cigarette clinched in his teeth. He shifted in his seat, pulling the heavy sheepskin overcoat closer to his slightly shivering body. “I believe it,” he grumbled, squinting out of the view hole of his camouflaged blind to stare at the dark night skyline of Austin. He’d been sitting here since four p.m. the day before, keeping himself entertained with an old, worn-out copy of some fantasy novel till he lost natural light, at which point he took to fine-tuning the sight on his night vision scope by focusing in on pedestrian

Christmas at the Duck

C

Christmas at the Duck

It was a cold, but pleasant, December evening. Snow covered the entirety of the city, ice coated the streets and sidewalks, and people went about their business, finishing the last of their Christmas shopping before family members began noticing they were missing. Aside from those last few rush-time shoppers, most people preferred to spend their time indoors, many of them at the Staggering Duck, a downtown bar right across from the town square fountain, with a clear view of the city's extravagant decorations. Matthew, a young blonde guy, barely pushing twenty-eight and hardly able to fill up his large wool coat, was just walking down Bu

Spotlight

Me and my Muse

M

Me and my Muse

 I hear the tip-tap of her shoes as she walks to my table, her usual mug of…something firmly in hand. She sits without invitation. I hate that. Most people are polite enough to ask, but does she? Of course not, she’s too privileged for that. She knows I can’t get mad at her or deny her anything. I’m always too afraid she’ll act like a skittish deer. Better to man up and deal with her than to act out and send her running off, probably never to return. Good help is hard to find; in her field, it’s a miracle. I continue to sit there, eyes on the screen, clicking away at the keys to try and finish what I’m wri
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My Bio
Current Residence: A shack on the dark side of the moon
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Around the waist
Print preference: black and white, 100%, regular margins, no adjustment
Favourite genre of music: Country
Favourite style of art: Realist
Operating System: Windows
MP3 player of choice: iPod shuffle
Shell of choice: Unleaded
Wallpaper of choice: blue with pink flowers
Skin of choice: that of human children
Favourite cartoon character: Road Runner
Personal Quote: Viva La Inquisition!

Favourite Visual Artist
Myself
Favourite Movies
True Grit
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Marty Robbins
Favourite Writers
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Favourite Games
Half-Life 2
Favourite Gaming Platform
Playstation 1
Tools of the Trade
Pen, Insanity, Caffiene
Other Interests
Roleplaying, games, writing, anime, music, reading

What Really Grinds My Gears

What Really Grinds My Gears

Rant time with the Doctor: When did "she" become the gender-less pronoun? It annoys the crap out of me because "she" is female to my mind, and to the minds of anyone who completed middle school English and Grammar. Whatever happened to a good ole "they"? "They" is a wonderful word; it can be singular or plural, and best of all: it's genderless! But no. Writers of all types spent far too long using "he" as the basic pronoun, when we weren't using "they", and now women have had their outcry and now every single type of person ever written about will always seem female at first glance. Thank you very much for your feminism. I'm going to go pic

Ting-Tang-Wallawalla-Bing-Bang

Ting-Tang-Wallawalla-Bing-Bang

I think I've lost my writing juju. At least temporarily, because I know very well the proving grounds of the mighty gornak- the beast from which whose scales a mighty witch doctor can create the marvelous remedy of writing juju. The hunt shall not be an easy one; the gornak is a cautious and paranoid creature by necessity. It is only drawn into the open by its most delicious of prey: the tellnos. The tellnos is a slippery little creature, capable of escaping any but the most secure of cages. Fortunately, I know exactly the form of contraption to contain a tellnos in: experimentalist writing. Thus, to set the trap for my gornak, for mine it w

Carte Blanche - French Racism

Carte Blanche - French Racism

A boy with an audio program has made me a theme song. A theme song. To say the least I was honored, and a bit curious as to what would be produced by someone I hardly have spoken 10 words to on the internet. He called me a dark character, and I began to wonder how long he'd been stalking me. I am highly amused. To wit - Inferus Solum: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ArNKBICV1pE

Comments 26

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DemonPeaStudent Traditional Artist
Thank you for the watch!
TenaciousTaveHobbyist Artist
Thanks for the watch =]
sentienttreeHobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fav!
JocelynSamaraProfessional Writer
Thanks for watching! :glomp:
I hope I can continue to impress!
I have all faith that you will.
VulbreeonHobbyist
Thank you so, so, so much for the fav! ^^ :heart:
JoeltheJackwolfHobbyist Writer
Wow...your gallery's awesome. x3