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feedkillchain

Rev. Cody C. Gaisser

12 Watchers5.4K Page Views59 Deviations

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Bakery by feedkillchain, literature

Greenly I Bathe by feedkillchain, literature

Greenly I Bathe

Greenly I bathe in life, Unafraid of its goading grin. Sepulchers within are not hid, Rather dissolved into the external. On dry lips, the moisture of the well Tastes of forgiveness - A poor substitute for redemption! To drink is reassuring nonetheless. Greenly I bathe in life, Making window of my flesh. All that is kept is not spoken Nor held secret against assailants And clumsy well-wishers. Cool the breeze is to my throat As the Earth gives me freedom. Who then will help me waste it?

Teacup by feedkillchain, literature

Teacup

Sunlight falls in delicate strands, White lace surrounding your silhouette, Even as the moon scales the night's gray wall. Though intrigued by your wit And enthralled by your artifice, My misgivings make you real. You are a teacup concealing the presence of a hand grenade; I am a rhinoceros praying not to crush you. I find questions in the texture of your skin And answers in silences we share.

To Force the Lock I've Jammed by feedkillchain, literature

Eight Haikus by feedkillchain, literature

Eight Haikus

1. Plans from whence derived? Coffee stains the delicate Blueprint we guarded. 2. Jigsaw you digging Ditches to hide your ideals Among grave riddles. 3. Black, you are beauty; White, you are worth keeping To make lovers gray. 4. Gargoyles circle your Faith-based initiative To guard its vacuum. 5. Parrot perched on your Stone shoulder to validate The bullshit you say. 6. Breath to me is song. Song to me is love-making. Sex to me is breath. 7. You light the caverns Dug in the soil of Being By my foolishness. 8. God, I have no rage - Only lingering questions You refuse to solve.

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This is How the War Will Never by feedkillchain, literature

This is How the War Will Never

This Is How The War Will Never Be Won I'm walking down the street. Some guy I've never seen Glares at me from underneath A cloud of thick gray smoke And shouts obscenities. As I walk home, Neon signs explode in the night sky. Everyone is at a party somewhere, And for every man there is a bottle, A virgin, and a TV set. Except me. I have only what is truly mine: Sorrow, a stack of records, And the afterlife.

Not By God But By Pharisees by feedkillchain, literature

Not By God But By Pharisees

An ash taste in a wet mouth With the sandpaper grit Of palm sweat. Unanswered letters slip Through the slot in a Grapeshot box. Unlocked closets hold holy ghosts, And posts along a roadside mark The distance passed in a sturdy trance. A friend fires first And the grit dissolves, Falling from the consciousness Into a lake of holy blood Which recedes calmly from the coast of humanity, As breaths taken in a steady sleep. Dreams that were piled up Are capsized, Letters are opened and assets are seized. The loyal lock of friendship is picked By an intruder Not anticipated. The bars are left in tact, but the prison Doors are o

A White Flag Here Does Fly by feedkillchain, literature

A White Flag Here Does Fly

Left in the stairwell ALone, those who brought me Bound me and kicked me To the ground Which is dark with Moisture of questionable origin. The smell of the Air is thick, The musk of years unkept. The concrete walls Stand like battlements Which I cannot grip to scale. My purpose here is dubious: To sink - to rot - I am unsure. My watch has stopped, My pockets emptied, My fury blinded. Here I lie, Left for the hounds of decay To strip my bones of nutrient. Fed and nourished Merely by the knowledge That I do, indeed, exist; And that A white flag here does fly.

Down to Brass Tacks by feedkillchain, literature

Down to Brass Tacks

\"Business as usual,\" the cigar smoke says As it slithers aloft from its dusty bed. My armchair conviction has melted to naught But an aching debris in a scar-covered mind. A dust cloth sweeps across valiant tracts Pillaged and raped by ten years of drought Which had lept from my TV and into my head Like an acrobat in disenfranchised fury. Each commercial aired is a stone set in place In the cobblestone road through the back of my life Which, though pretty to sight is a pain upon travel. I care not, the road\'s behind me now, And all that\'s left are layers within The uneaten cake of fashionable sorrow.

Photograph of a Democracide by feedkillchain, literature

Photograph of a Democracide

A white hand on a black arm Reaches forth as if to grasp With brilliant fingers outstretched. Nothing is attained: No reward for patience, No sum of currency, No fruit of tree or vine. Just a dull satisfaction Worn away by years Of shaving one's face with it. All of this could be held As irrelevant (Or held to one's throat). Truth hurts more than lies And cliches sound better Before they're written down. This is the way things must be. Since there is no advance made By bickering tirelessly to a corpse, I will rest my case for now, And sulk in solitude. There I will cry like a mountain. In my feeble abode, I will study f

Dust Field by feedkillchain, literature

Epitaph by feedkillchain, literature

The Breakfast Scene by feedkillchain, literature

The Breakfast Scene

A pale dawn. I stroll lazily down the wooded path Toward the lake and have a seat Upon the pier. I light a cigarette And grind the smoldering ash Into my own right eye. It\'s a white person thing. From my pocket I pull A magazine: Time or Playboy or something like that. Whichever one, I only look at the pictures. One picture caught my eye. It was of a wooden man in derby hat. He was feeding manure to a little girl. It must not have been Playboy. I close the magazine. Time to go back inside. My cigarette has burned out, And I need another contact lens. On my way back up the hill A shrill sound catches my ear. It sounds l

Dog Dog Daiquiri by feedkillchain, literature

ELO's Greatest Hits by feedkillchain, literature

ELO's Greatest Hits

Jen and I on a park bench: She offered me a clove, I declined. "I don't," I said. "Fine, more for me," Jen said. Jen said she had to jet, That her old man was waiting up for her. We kissed under the street lamp, And she ran off into the fog. I waddled back to my car And started the engine. I groped around the floorboard For a tape to put on: ELO's Greatest Hits. I put the car in reverse. Crash. It collided with a green 1971 Gremlin That I didn't see coming. It didn't matter, though; Right then the world ended. The end of the word is a much-talked-about thing. Everyone's got their speculations: Asteroids, hydrogen bombs, s

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girlonstage

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Riddle Hard, Fiddle Slow by lasagnabomb, literature

The Last Tea Party by Claudiaau84, literature

my own private briar patch by YouInventedMe, literature

my own private briar patch

your brother was once a wolf whimsically shredding skin to shape your smile while some small scurrying creature spoke of hearts and borrowed imagination (before burrowing to safety) you you were a deer in the face of hunters your widened eyes once breathed salt & smoke ’til insides released like birds from someone’s ceiling while long-eared lapin confused & laughing applauding an almost empty room (should have) exclaimed "don’t do the bleeding for the both of us!" you you were a ghost making jokes about demise your years once collected & described became a lifetime still change was never promis

Deviation Spotlight

Photorealistic Rendering of th by feedkillchain, visual art

Photorealistic Rendering of th

feedkillchain

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About feedkillchain

United States
Deviant for 18 years
www.myspace.com/feedkillchain
He / Him

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My Bio

Current Residence: Muscle Shoals, AL
Favourite genre of music: dream pop, free jazz, krautrock, psychedelia, shoegaze, pop, hard bop, noise/noise rock, minimalism
Favourite photographer: Man Ray, Maurice Tabard, Shannon Wells
Favourite style of art: Personal, honest, and befitting of its creator.
Operating System: Windows XP
MP3 player of choice: Whatever I can get my hands on.
Shell of choice: Tortoise
Wallpaper of choice: Paisley
Skin of choice: Let's leave race out of this.
Favourite cartoon character: Ignatz, Hobbes, Stimpy, Schroeder, Meatwad, the Tick
Personal Quote: Unlatch the karmic projectiles, let there be psychic bloodshed amongst the disbelievers!

Favourite Visual Artist

Dali, Remedios Varo, Robert Williams, Picasso, Byron Wilkes, David Carson, David Carlson

Favourite Movies

Brazil, Eraserhead, Holy Mountain, the Seventh Seal, Interiors

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

XTC, Captain Beefheart, Brian Eno, Talk Talk, Steve Reich, Ornette Coleman, Charles Ives

Favourite Writers

Kafka, Camus, Faulkner, Lester Bangs, Vonnegut, Adam McConnaughey, Poe, cummings

Favourite Games

Trivial Pursuit, Scabble; computerized: Quest For Glory series, Clive Barker's Undying

Favourite Gaming Platform

the Operation table

Tools of the Trade

Rickenbacker 360/12B, Vox AC30, toy instruments, Prismacolor pencils, ballpoint pens

Other Interests

art, life, and love - all filtered through my own neurotic technicolor fish-eye lens

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH by feedkillchain, journal

Dusseldorf by feedkillchain, journal

Devious Journal Entry by feedkillchain, journal

Devious Journal Entry

Apr 3, 2008

Ugh. I've been sitting around trying to readjust my weird sleep schedule. I keep feeling lethargic and inappropriate times of the day. This means I spend most of my time lying on the couch reading or listening to records or playing Nintendo. I printed off this massive 118 page thing by Alan Belkin on Composition, Counterpoint, Harmony, and Orchestration and have been reading that. I have been listening to a record I borrowed from Rev. Rex Ubu called Escalator Over the Hill. It's a collaboration between this jazz composer named Carla Bley and this obscure beat poet Paul Haines. It was recorded between 1968 and 1971 and has the most amaz

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inactive-listMar 12, 2015

Somehow, you are not quite inactive yet. 47 weeks you've been gone. We shall return in 5 weeks, where we will collect you if you show no sign of life. Thank you for your existence.

tangled-up-in-blueAug 14, 2008

I only want to write a little to show off my new signature.

Self-IntoxicationJul 6, 2008

Thanks. I think you're right. I'm just a big fat sensitive thing who doesn't want to admit to being sensitive, so covers it up with lots of fuckwords.

Claudiaau84Jun 29, 2008

I'm definitely up to the challenge. (and i'm going to need some reciprocating)

enkyMay 1, 2008

thanks for the love

platzkiaApr 25, 2008

thank you for dı fave.

YouInventedMeApr 2, 2008

thanks for the watch and the

on
my own private briar patch

xo!