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About Varied / Professional Dwight Evan YoungMale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
A Numb
A numb
Overtakes the senses
I am awake
Within my sleeping self
Even in slumber
The brain is active.
I am never free.
I am never free.
         Let me guide you through the garden of my thoughts.  Where we tilled the land.  Where you planted the seed of hope.  Where you reaped the benefits as the flowers wilted.  Let me guide you.
The ground has become dry.
I’ve run out of tears to shed.
         “I trusted you.” I said, observing the withered plot where our love once grew.  Your face looked vaguely of remorse.  But not enough.  “Why couldn’t you have just been honest with me?”  No response.  “You’re the reason people become callous, you know?  You take too much and give too little.”
         She thought for a moment.  A single tear lingered in her eye, then dropped heavy to the ground.  It soaked the
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Literature
Black Water
Waves
Crash against the rocks
Black water
Runs through my fingers
I can’t remember the sun anymore
I can’t remember feelings
I can’t remember
Anything.
The darkest tides pull me out to sea
Far from the island
Far from all I’ve known
The black has never been so vibrant.
I wail for the truth I’ve left
I cry for the lost
I scream
Begging it will wake me
Is this real?
This environment
So cold
So unforgiving
So damning.
Please let this end.
Please let this end.
PLEASE
let this
END.
I find myself washed up
On the rocks
Fighting my way
Among jagged boulders
Salty air grips my lungs
And my fears circle like vultures
I search for the sun.
Had I been away so long?
Determination
Oozes from my hands
I climb higher.
Faltering along the way
Hell bent to reach the summit
I climb higher.
Leaking sense
Blind to pain
I climb higher.
Red on onyx
Flesh on stone
I climb higher.
I reach the peak
Straining
I see everything.
             Th
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Literature
To The Dark
To the dark that guides my hand
As I slip into sleep
And spurs me into unknown lands
My dreams, there for to reap
I’ve never once regretted
The coercion of your acts
As we lie silhouetted
Moonlight smeared across our backs
But note that your enticing
Is not what made me weak
But rather my uncompromising
Hunt for visions I would seek
For in the vast enormities
Of my unconscious mind
Awake the horrors no one sees
I thought I’d left behind
You see, it wasn’t you that laid the bait
That trapped me in your cell
For I have always sat in wait
To fight my way through Hell.
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Literature
Perception
"Perception"
Lingering between
The       Spoken and heard
            Said and meant
            Present and seen
            With and without
Waiting in the wings
Changing its mask
To suit your mood
Unaware of
          Expectation
Unaware of
          Despondence
Unaware
Of the words that
          Fall
Through the cracks
Only to be picked up later
Forced into a
Nonsensical assembly
Of subtle glances
And false smiles
And personal assurances
Of things that have
Never been.
The        pauses in phrasing
             misheard words
             lack of emotion
They stalk you, in the wilds of your
Over-analytics
In the valleys of your
Crippling neuroses
Sequestered on the shores of
Narcissism and Timidity
Bumbling between
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Literature
The Monster [Where Were You?]
I am entombed
I am
                      Trapped
in a sepulcher
Of bones and flesh
Of lies and betrayal
Of expectations and failure
Of all the former lives I’ve led
And any word that I’ve ever dared utter
I am
Undoubtedly
                      Trapped.
My feet strain against what feels like it can only be
Quicksand.
I struggle to keep up while this
Literal
Physical pain
Robs my heart of all
              Desire
              Creativity
              Drive
And        Power
I fight a monster while both hands are tied behind my back
It claws and creeps closer,
Licking its lips,
Savoring the taste of its own desire,
It jabs and pierces my heart
With poison daggers.
And all the while my fears watch,
Sitting in box seats
With gen
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Literature
Ducklings
With bodies buoyant as a boat,
Effortless the ducklings float.
I feel such envy from within;
They’ll never have to sink or swim.
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Literature
Brick by Brick
Brick
By
Brick, we
Build our
Barriers;
Blocking the world,
Barricading ourselves
Behind our eyes,
Beyond even the slightest
Becoming.
But could we ever dream of more?
Before?
Before.
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Literature
A Ghost Walks My Halls
A ghost walks my halls…
He calls, but I can’t hear him
He claws, but I can’t feel him
He falls, and yet I catch him
Dust him off and I inspect him
As he coughs I start to question
His resolve in haunting me.
Could it be that this old specter
Had run out of options better
Resigned to inconsequential
Haunting those who don’t believe?
(The “those” there meaning me)
I sit him down for tea.
“Spirit,” at length I started,
Quite polite to the departed,
“Could it be you’re broken-hearted,
Or just seeking some relief?
Perhaps there’s grief that you once suffered
That requires you to cover
All the floorboards of my hallway
And deprive me of my sleep…”
The specter did not speak.
“Spirit, once again I ask,
Why is it you’ve crossed my path
And left an empty casket
To meander round my keep?
Do you weep to be remembered?
Are you just a burning ember,
All that’s left of mortal coil,
That dares not to yiel
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Literature
A Momentary Descent
With limited ease
He squeezed
Through the crevasse
And though he had,
At length,
Conjectured
And proposed
That he’d been alone
It was only now, in this
Dark,
       Dank,
               Cavern
That he realized his fears had come to fruition
His suspicion confirmed
He was
        Utterly
                         Alone.
Upon further inspection
He noticed the mouths of several tunnels
Each branching in a different direction
And after brief reflection
Of the journey so far
He committed.
Jagged stones protruded into his path
But did little to delay his intrusion.
He pushed further into the darkness
Until he had to struggle just to see his hands before his face.
And then
       he
             fell…
The momentary descent ached
With every fiber of his being,
He ached.
He had bee
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Literature
Drama in Aisle 5
Her gaze split him to the core
Unyielding
But he was resolute.
They’d been there before.
He could feel it
A single word that crept,
It slithered over her tongue,
It crawled between her teeth
And took refuge behind her lips
Waiting for the right time
Waiting to strike
To pierce his hopes like a dagger
To kill him a thousand times over
Why?
He begged silently
He could feel it
With his whole being, he felt it.
Without even leaving her mouth,
He felt it.
From a malleable thought
It solidified
It hardened
Like a stone
Like the lump growing in his throat
“No.”
It needn’t be said.
It was apparent.
His gaze remained true as he accepted the unspoken answer
A single tear formed in his eye
Then dampened his cheek.
With a sigh of resignation, she replied:
“Fine, I’ll get the Cocoa Puffs.”
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Literature
My Beating Heart
My toes caressed the hardwood hall
Each midnight since I heard the call
Of love’s sweet song which conquers all
Except my beating heart
‘Twas springtime last since I had seen
Her silhouette in hues of green
And all fell still for my sweet queen
Except my beating heart
We kissed beneath the apple tree
Her words, enchanting melodies,
Bewitched my ear and set me free,
Free from my beating heart
Our passion forced us to obey
And so we planned to run away
Regardless, what our families say,
We’d join our beating hearts
We promised we would meet that night
Beneath our tree, bathed in moonlight,
But stillness covered all in sight
Except my beating heart
In pain without her in my arms
I’d heard it that she’d come to harm
But I knew Death and all his charms
Can’t still her beating heart
Night by night I search; I’m bound,
I join my sorrow on the ground
Silence: all that’s to be found…
In my once beating heart
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Literature
The Strain
With great disdain I strain my soul
To pass what it can’t reach
Measured not by time or love,
But measured by my grief
Upon a viscous ground I stand,
Outspoken in belief
In art and soul; my heart, I’ve told,
To practice what you preach.
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Literature
About Art...
These pens of quill
This lens we fill
Of pornography
Not of the body,
But of the mind
We waste our time
Telling the world not who we are,
But who we did:
Shakespeare & Mamet
O’Neill & Beckett
We vomit their words,
You want art here?
Forget it!
And when we share who we are,
When we care who we are,
We get ridiculed for feeling,
Revealing our heart
Revealing our hell and
Revealing our art.
And God forbid that we’re good
God forbid that we’re witty
God forbid that we’re talented, driven, or pretty
Cause they’ll make us a brand
As they grin – cash in hand
They say
“Shut up
Kid it’s just luck
That we like you enough
To sell your shit to make a quick buck”
But they don’t give a fuck
About your art or your soul
And they don’t give a fuck
That your heart’s now a hole.
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Literature
World of Text
I’m sick of this world of text.
These fast paced,
No faced,
No place to stop and rest
Messages that we constantly receive and perceive
The meanings to be deep,
When we really just speak to say
“Hi”.
I’m sick of this ring-ring,
Beep-beep,
“Tweet” what you must, but in the end
We’re all dust,
Must you really report
That your sport’s team
Is top of the league?
There once was a time
It was so long ago
We used to move slow
And we all used to know
The names of our neighbors
We said “Hi” to our neighbors
We shook hands with our neighbors
We cried
And we lived
And we died
For our neighbors
And no one would say
“THERE’S A BETTER WAY TO LIVE YOUR LIVES”
We were happy then…
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DwightEvanYoung
Dwight Evan Young
Artist | Professional | Varied
United States
Welcome to my page! My name is Dwight Evan Young, and I'm a filmmaker/musician/writer (among other things). My DeviantArt page will be primarily used to host poetry, though I may add more to it over time.
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