as flame chrysanthemum pots
grace the railing
What I HideI am calm and full
I wouldn't hurt you
or cause you any harm
when the basses of
pound in my head
and a veil of redness
covers my green eyes
I dream of more violence
than you could ever comprehend
OverprotectivenessYour arms around my body are so tender
Your warmth surrounding me feels gently safe
I rest my fragile head on you
Attempt to move a hand
You only hold me tighter
While your love
Love is not blindLove is not blind
Love is not blind, it sees very well,
and also hears,
as well as it has the touch.
Love is not blind,
in fact it sees not only beauty
but mainly the need of others
to be loved.
Love is not deaf,
in fact it feels,
he even hears the cry of one who has no voice.
Love is not insensitive,
in fact, even if it touches with his hand,
the suffering of others,
it does not show signs of indignation,
as well as with tact, it acts and also with discretion.
What can be called blind, is faith,
who has faith, is urged to act blindly.
"But be careful!"
Because Jesus came down to earth
"and he opened his eyes to the blind man!"
This is because God wants us to see!
The message that Jesus wants to give you is:
"open your eyes!
Do not trust blindly and do not be fooled
"of the new thieves of the temple!"
They are mingled among us.
Do not trust anyone blindly,
from who will introduce himself to you, kindly
and then of you, it will surely benefit,
of your weaknesses, of your faith,
Wind, Sand and Stars - fragment (the reference)My traveling companion,
You, like a termite, built your existence by blocking up with cement every chink and cranny through which the light might pierce. You rolled yourself into a ball in a cocoon of your habits, in the stifling conventions of daily life and though
it drives you insane with each passing day, you, with great effort, have risen a rampart of these conventions against
the winds, the tides, the stars and the feelings. You have trouble enough to forget your own fate as man.
Now the clay of which you were shaped has dried and hardened, and naught in you will ever awaken the sleeping musician,
the astronomer, the altruist, the poet, the human being that possibly inhabited you in the beginning.
pearl-white middle fingerdeath throws a glare
back, sneers at the gates
of bliss. "what a crock
of shit, all of this."
pen to skinchoke up a new star.
flailing is so
cinematic; let sharp
cursive cover you
in worshiped spittle.
words must be buried
in your brittle ruins,
you catastrophe. be leveled
that language might
spill from your
in no little amount,
be purged. insurgency
does not become the
yourself for millennia
if a single tome
is your just
if you breathe,
re-word your failure
with blooms and blossoms;
let loose your awesome
dispatching. all the world
loves a passion
and no one
Serenity, beating to my own soul's rhythm
The quintessence of the creature that is me
Untouched and uninterrupted by intrusion
The smoldering embers of sanity rekindled
By the blessed advent of refreshing solitude
The clamor of life's tempest sloughing away
Sequestered from the cacophonous crowds
The madding madness of lemmings racing
Eschewed and forgotten In restful isolation
Blessed by the company of inner warmth
These days are for the soothing of the heart
Now alone at last I can find myself again
©All original work copyright Edward D Cates 2018
I'm more of a writer than an artist, so this account is for writing and art appreciation. I'll keep posting deviations for the meantime--mostly fic. I've been writing them since 2003.
Current Residence: Pennsylvania @ USA
deviantWEAR sizing preference: S
Favourite genre of music: Alternative/Dance/Rock
Favourite style of art: Digital and Anime. Occasionally, a good landscape.
Operating System: Windows 8.1 and 7.
Shell of choice: Uh...conch?
Wallpaper of choice: Hisoka...
Skin of choice: Never learned how to skin.
Favourite cartoon character: Edo Phoenix, Kenpachi Zaraki, Daigo/Steven Stone, Hisoka, Mink, Orochimaru, Sasaki Haise, Yamori