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About Literature / Artist Senior Member mohawk menaceUnknown Group :icontransliterations: transliterations
from one world to another
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Deviant for 9 Years
Core Member 'til Hell freezes over
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Random from Inspire.

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Random from DDs I Featured

Actinium Dreams
Y'all have any idea how downright frustrating it is to be the granddaughter of one of the most powerful and celebrated superheroes ever — Ulysses Randall Martin, the iconic Mr. Uranium — and yet have no special talent of your own?
I mean, it's not like I don't have my own elemental superpower: like almost all of Grandpa's progeny, I do. But how much good is the ability to produce hard-hitting Alpha and destructive Beta rays if you can barely control it and never quite turn it off? At least I'm not as bad off as my son Frankie; I love him to death, but when left alone the poor boy is totally unstable and downright dangerous: the worst possible mix of autism, Alpha rays and ADHD.
And I do at least have my own nemesis, of sorts: the cadre of good ol' boys who call themselves DOTA, whose main ability seems to be workin' together to nullify and trap super-powered elementals. But t'be honest, they don't seem to have anything against me personally; I think they just have a ge
:iconhavetales-willtell:HaveTales-WillTell 166 136
Rock Me
autumn blunders in, clumsy
stiff fingers frosted still
by early winds, rocking trees
back and forth
red leaves splatter the ground
paint drops, hanging from drooping
branches, rotten fruit still litters the sidewalks
i head south for the fall with the ducks.
the train creaks like aching joints
there's a crow on
my windowsill, ruffling his feathers
the trees flash by
red -yellow-red
my ticket's got a hole in the middle
from being folded over and over
the crow says "summer ain't that great, Peach Girl."
i watch the sky and ignore his clicking black beak
"the autumn's gonna follow
right behind ya
'n turn the whole world red-yellow-red
at yer heels."
i know in a week
the only green left will be my sweater
holes in the elbows, stringy cuffs
but i waddle like a duck
towards the leftover southern summer.
"i'm not ready for jack frost yet."
i tell him.
he laughs.
"get ready. the autumn storms are a-comin'
an' there ain't nothin' on heaven or earth to stop 'em."
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 141 47
Poetry Self-Edit Checklist

Poetry Self-Edit Quick Start Guide and Checklist

The idea behind this is to give newer poets a way to better edit their poetry themselves, without having to rely as much on an external editor.  It can be frustrating, especially for new poets to request feedback from a friend, or worse, to post a poem, and have all of the responses be about grammatical errors and other details.  We write poetry to convey ideas and emotions, and when something is off technically about the poem it distracts the reader.  When a reader is distracted enough to notice an error or other problem it means they might spend the time they might otherwise have spent glowing about your poem to post a comment correcting you instead.  
After this introduction is over the checklist will be as brief as possible while retaining its utility.  The idea is to serve as an organizational tool and a reminder rather than to educate on effective
:iconmahi-fish:Mahi-Fish 217 56
The Farmers Son
We sat sipping grappa as the storm clouds rolled in from the ridges
like the smoke from some great unseen inferno,
the wood walls and shingles of the house complained to us
in low groans,
of the wind coming up hard, through the valley,
and there was flickering light from a candle,
and she told me how light from a prism dissects into different colours that correspond
in some way to our bodies and that all of life was a rhythm
and I believed that part,
and I believed there were stars beyond the sight of man on any grey day
and that they might hold some greater secret than prisms or rhythms
or any question a farmers son could ever mutter,
and the wind slowed to a stillness
and the rain moved in and our voices gave way
to what my Father would call The Lords Music,
the pitter-patter of water
on the dry and flaking earth.
:iconbrassteeth:brassteeth 104 79
Senryu Series 11
election day
choosing the devil
I know
first date
her parents question
our future
road trip
the kids unpack
a squabble
massage therapy
another old knot
of heartbreak
deep recession
I add more spice
to the ramen
available on Itunes
job well done
from the boss...
blue moon
18th birthday
a postcard
from the army
even here
the poor section
midnight diner
everyone feeds
the jukebox
haunted house
we let the youngest
go first
:iconlaurence55:Laurence55 133 0
On conversations
have upset the order
of things, birds
fall fast and featherflappingly from
shaken skies, and leaves
curl backwards into trees
which snap
from frost in summer, my heart
is a bell that rings until
glass shatters and frost falls
fearful on the ground and I
just do not know how
to tell you.
:iconrober2:rober2 160 44
An Apple for the Teacher
Her name was Miss Mills.  She was twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, and my son was a student in her first ever kindergarten class.  He fell in love with her on the first day of school.  He never told me this, of course, but a mother always knows.  He came home that first day and he sparkled as he told me everything that had happened, how Miss Mills had read them a story from a brightly colored picture book and how he had hung on her every word.
"And I want to get her an apple," he announced.
"An apple?" I asked.  I was peeling grapes for his lunch the next day.
"Yes," he said, "it was in the book we read today.  The kids, they gave their teacher an apple, and I think it would be a nice thing to do."
"Alright," I said, "we will get some apples.  Any kind of apple in particular?"
He thought about it.  "A big red one."
The next morning he marched off to school with his big proud apple held delicat
:iconerlebnisse:Erlebnisse 554 312
The rain comes in
from the mountainside
and the musculature
quietens. The birds, the beasts,
the slanting cliff,
the light, the restless
hollowed emptiness,
the bits of lava and bits
of heartbeat and bits of
racing animal mind.
It quietens.
The rain comes in like a slow blink.
:iconsaartha:saartha 161 61
The Trouble With Homonyms
I suffered quite badly from Medical Student Syndrome in my first year of studying, to the point where I no longer trust myself to diagnose even the common cold when it comes to my own body. Not that it was ever the simple ones I thought I had - it never works that way. The rare ones, the ones that are hard to diagnose, the ones that have such few outward symptoms that they slip past professionals time and time again, those were the ones I obsessed over.
That was twenty years ago and I still don't trust myself to self-diagnose athough I'm sure I'd never make those mistakes again. I've devoted my career to those rare disorders that had me so hooked before and I've treated enough patients that I'm completely one-hundred percent confident in my ability to find the most seemingly insignificant symptoms of the rarest disorders and not be fooled ever again.
There is, however, one of those conditions from my student days that I've not yet had the good fortune of encountering in a patient. It's
:icontheskaboss:TheSkaBoss 154 73
Fold Over
across the vaults estimated by every milky tone
the curious whirl in old friends gather a surface
wholly between each divide of behavioral light
cones bend to placate our amass combustion
that is
until her legs uncrossed absolving my repetitive
nature to forget what conditions a truth has also
to submerge and share in upholding closely
the uniqueness of love we each must extinguish
our self
to then
the vaults
estimated by every
milky tone
the curious
whirl in
old friends
a surface
between each
of behavioral
cones bend to
our amass combustion
that is
until her
legs uncrossed
my repetitive nature to forget what
conditions a truth
has also to
and share
the upholding
against the uniqueness
of love
we each must
extinguish our self
:iconlasagnabomb:lasagnabomb 75 17
The Holograms
Before Casper we were a quantum band,
an act that only happened when unobserved.
Our drummer maintained we'd split
the world, then took a full-time position
in PR. Auditioning his replacement
round our Crouch End front room,
with his white vest, buffed All-Stars
and holographic principle patter,
Casper shone. 'These,' he said,
nodding at his drumheads,
'are my event horizons;
it's where the beat really happens.'
To prove it, he worked up an almighty storm,
while we puffed on our cigarettes.
Short of a singer, Casper made a call.
Yume Shirakawa, he explained,
would beam in her performance. Jay,
sliding milk down his thin throat,
looked pleased. Dispatched to Budgens,
strangely, no complaints. We jammed.
Matter grew vague, the days came and went.
First gig, a full house, but no sign
of Yume, whom we'd still never seen.
Plugging into our amps, tweaking
Volume, Gain, she appeared, silk-clad,
like a switch had been thrown. Turning
our three dimensional selves to the crowd,
who thought we we
:iconventurus:venturus 53 29
Daily Deviations I featured during my time as a volunteer and staff member.

A Veil Of Clouds

Time keeps flying whenever I'm trying to keep track of all the things that I've got going on in my life, and whenever I look away from one thing for more than a few minutes, it's like dozens of other things happen and suddenly days have gone by. This is a long-winded way of saying that stuff's been happening in my life, some good things and some less good things, but I think it's all par for the course for 2018, considering how all over the place this year has been.

I don't have a whole lot to say at the moment, so this will be short, but I've been browsing art a bit more in the wake of Eclipse going to beta, so I wanted to feature a few of the things I've seen and liked in the past month-ish. (Plus, it's an excuse to try the editor again. Feels great to use now that I'm used to it.)


Morning Sea

Surface Breaks


mohawk menace
Artist | Literature
Hi there! I'm a storyteller of sorts. Here on DA, I was a gallery moderator from 2010 to 2011, a community volunteer from 2011 to 2012, and a staff member from 2012 to 2015. Feel free to say hi, I don't bite!

Deviousness Award

Deviousness Award
A deviant for nine years, ikazon is a monumentally influential member of DeviantArt. A champion of DeviantArt’s literature community, he’s contributed his own writing and journal skins to the community since he first joined DeviantArt. In 2011, ikazon became a Community Volunteer, shining a light on undiscovered pieces in both the DeviantArt related and literature galleries. His dedication to the community quickly made him a beloved figure on DeviantArt. Soon after, in 2012, he was hired as a full-time staff member, where he ran multiple community projects, such as the 2014 and 2015 Valentine’s Day Exchange!

However, ikazon’s contributions to the community extended past his time as a community volunteer and a staff member. From contributing journal skins to the CalendarProject to leaving encouraging comments for his fellow community members, ikazon’s supporting presence has been felt all across DeviantArt.

We’re proud to name ikazon as the Deviousness Award recipient for March 2016!
-awarded March 2016


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neurotype Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
ikazon Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2018   Writer
Eesh. I get the sentiment behind it, but that has to be a pain in the ass to deal with for the employees. :V
neurotype Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
I mean, sure, but you'd think people could stop and think about the part where they're basically trying to get millions of people to tromp around in their dearly beloved's remains P:
ikazon Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2018   Writer
I mean, that too, but good luck getting people going to Disneyland to think. :P
(1 Reply)
brennennn Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2018
Hi! :glomp:
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