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About Literature / Artist Senior Member mohawk menaceUnknown Group :icontransliterations: transliterations
from one world to another
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Core Member 'til Hell freezes over
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Literature
Evangelos and that film from 1986
Evangelos and that film from 1986
I am not a fish.
My mother is a fish.
You should know, my great-uncle Peter
From Hungary has a daughter
With whom I fell in love when once
I was there
That time I braided her ashen grey hair
In braids
Two
My mother's best friend only spoke Italian
He did taekwondo, jiujitsu
And played Santa every year
He was Portuguese
I want to enchant you with my secret code
Once again it has to be said:
There is no story
The hedgehog is sleeping in the garden, his father and
The squirrel:
Today they are wearing
Winter scarfs
Instead of ties
They will hold session until deep in the night
About money of course
Maybe you should listen better
To the people
Their eyes
Because everybody has lied
to themselves some time in their lives
(original Dutch version: )
Evangelos en die film uit 1986
Ik ben geen vis.
Mijn moeder is een vis.
Je moet weten, mijn oudoom Peter
Uit Hongarije heeft een dochter
Op wie ik verliefd ben sinds die ene keer
Dat ik daar was
Toen heb ik haar asg
:icontrynke:trynke
:icontrynke:trynke 100 47
Literature
avalanche.
The Ogre rises up among its brother and sister peaks, the Monk and the Virgin, a craggy limestone buttress looming above most of the north-eastern part of the Bernese Alps.
The Eiger: 13,042 feet of sheer rock, cracks and treacherous ice-fields.
Many attempts to scale this uncompromising weather-battered mountain have been made over the years, but successful attempts didn't begin until 1938, with the brave perseverance of a team of four German climbers. As a twenty-year-old eager climber myself, I knew all the facts. The windswept North Face (Nordwand) was the height of all climbing careers when I'd been growing up. 1952 - the great year of the Eiger. In that year, twenty men made attempts on just the Mordwand - 'murderous wall' - alone, with eighteen of them making it to the triumphant peak. It was the year in which it seemed the hoodoo of the mighty Ogre was broken.
To a young Viennese piano-tuner, whose precise and delicate profession gave way to an intense, vigorous h
:icon91816119:91816119
:icon91816119:91816119 53 33
Literature
The Business
     Wolf stopped gnawing on his third plate of Lapin Bleu d'Auvergne and pointed at Deer with his fork. "The problem," he said, "is that you've got a bum deal going on with your agent. You're paying him far too much if all he was able to get you was public affection. I mean, there's what-- thirteen million white-tailed deer in the United States alone, right?"
     Deer looked down at his glass, which was half-full of some white wine. He was a little unsure whether or not he liked it, as he didn't really know what made wine good or bad or even what type of wine it happened to be. He'd looked at the menu, become flummoxed by the French, and had simply asked the waiter (in English) for something vegetarian with a suitable wine. This was his second glass or maybe his third; he'd already forgotten.  He swished it around a little.
     "Thirty million, actually," said Deer. "Not thirteen."
  
:iconfackeltanz:fackeltanz
:iconfackeltanz:fackeltanz 204 115
Literature
stefan
she stood on your dock
in black pearls,
and nothing more -
wet feet
and the asian dream.
you loved her
but
when the snow fell
on the dock,
the following winter
you couldn't
remember why.
:iconHippieHebe:HippieHebe
:iconhippiehebe:HippieHebe 240 76
Literature
a shut in place
Meg's world is a world of uneven earth and blue skies, surface rock cracked and blown about by howling wind. She runs through wasteland, stumbles with purpose towards a wooden desk in the distance. She runs and runs, dirt and stones scuffing Mary Janes, but the writing desk is a finish line she can't reach.
"Why a writing desk?" her friend Alex says when she tells him about the dream. He emphasizes the question with a hand, waving the sandwich he's holding towards her before taking a bite.
She's left out details: how she is smaller, younger, a smooth-faced child with little hands dressed in her Sunday best instead of the twenty-one-year-old English major she knows herself to be. How the desk speaks of a familiarity she can't place and screams of a significance she can't understand. How she's been having the same dream for weeks and how it haunts her every waking moment with an urgency of impending consequence and menacing complexity that reminds her of Kafka.
Meg shrugs, the motion cau
:iconVocable:Vocable
:iconvocable:Vocable 108 24
Literature
Expedition Letters to Grace
Dear Grace,
You told me, back when we were visiting Peru and I was feeling down, that I would eventually find my calling in life. I write to you now to tell you, quite happily, that I have.
I can't explain much about it at the moment, only that my sudden absence from the university is for a reason. As I write, I am currently en route to New York City, to visit their museums and get a taste of the culture. I told you before how I wanted to visit New York while I had the chance, and now I travel with purpose.
I will say now, that while what I am about to do may seem strange to you, even mad, I can promise you that I am of sound mind and am determined to see my ambition through. Never before have I felt so strongly about the rightness of my decision. I will explain more in time. All I can tell you now is that I am launching my own expedition, and that it will be unorthodox, to say the least. I write you because you are my oldest and dearest friend, and I feel I can trust you.
Give my best
:iconCrackedMack:CrackedMack
:iconcrackedmack:CrackedMack 130 24
Literature
Joel is Having a Bad Day
(And He Really Needs A Smoke)
CHARACTERS:

JOEL, male, mid-twenties
BILLY, female, late teens to early twenties
Lights up on JOEL and BILLY, who are sitting outside on the back porch.  The three or four chairs are mismatched and seem to have been salvaged from the reject pile of a Salvation Army store.  A wooden coffee table hails from an indiscernible decade and holds a glass ashtray with dozens of cigarette butts sticking out of it. JOEL is smoking, trying to ignore BILLY.BILLY
You know, you really shouldn't; I heard somewhere that those things can make your teeth turn to mush and your fingers grow all bendy and twisted. One of my "friends"—she used to smoke a lot, too, and now her voice is so raspy and gritty we call her "Louie."  As in Armstrong.  The "Beautiful World" guy?  Hello, earth to Joel.  Come in, Joel.  Your lungs are…
JOEL
Shove off!
BILLY
Excuse me?
JOEL
I said, shove off. 
:iconSame-side:Same-side
:iconsame-side:Same-side 128 182
Literature
The Death of Venus
If there lived in the world a man
as rugged and as strong as I,
who could forbear with me yet go against,
who walked the black woods and the silver hills
mostly unafraid--
who savored salt and the lay of fur
with fingertips of dirt and weather,
whose lips rolled words like smoke, like fog-
I would creep into his arms in the prologue of the night,
gone sweet with the scent of new-cut hay,
alive with the nightjar's call.
:iconriparii:riparii
:iconriparii:riparii 182 175
Literature
Old haunts
Numb fingers fumble at coppers
and a dodgy purple lighter which is unfit for purpose.
Giant splodges of stars
as if God - in a frolic of youthful exuberance –
went wild with a paintbrush.
Granite delicately held by shape and contour alone.
Slotted together: a melee of ankles, hips, spontaneous larynx.
Careless hopes, dreams wide, menthol cigarettes.
Thoughts all quiet.
:iconsquare-nine:square-nine
:iconsquare-nine:square-nine 97 19
Literature
7.34mm
A simple measurement
can make a man
lose himself; a blurring, no more
than a grainy smudge
a scant 7.34mm long
this rice-grain, seven weeks old
with one hundred and twenty nine
heartbeats per minute
—all this, from a mere sesame-seed of a heart
:iconpseudometry:pseudometry
:iconpseudometry:pseudometry 152 116
Literature
husk.
Tully and I each slump into a wooden rocker and kick off our muddy boots.  I flick my glowing plait over my shoulder, sigh at the task at hand.  Aunt Mona had, moments before, wrangled us inside only to send us to the front porch to shuck dinner's corn.
"'s'lot of corn," I say, gazing beyond the bucket to the open fields, and then further, to the trees at the start of the thicket.  I think of the watermelon, half carved in the kitchen, wipe the sweat from my brow, "'s'lot of sun."
Tully picks up a piece of corn, runs one finger along the corn silk sticking out of the top, then rubs it under her chin.  She lowers it, yanks the green husk away to reveal the soft yellow glow below.  
"Looks like gold," she says, twisting the freshly peeled ear before my eyes.
"Or dandelion seeds," I say.  She tosses the corn into the empty bucket, picks up another piece from the porch, hands it to me.
"Think we'll ever get to leave?" she asks.
We
:iconetre-aime:etre-aime
:iconetre-aime:etre-aime 94 29
Literature
The Courier
     Eirik surveyed the impressive façade of the Temple of Myralo with concern, brow furrowed, fingers worrying the loose leather strap that kept his dagger in its sheath.  It was certainly a pretty building.  Everywhere he looked there was beauty to behold – from the intricately detailed vine-and-leaf patterns carved into the cloud-white exterior, to the elaborate mosaic of Prismeryl, Twin Deity of Beauty dominating the archway above the temple’s entrance.
     Hanging next to the ornately wrought gate into the temple’s courtyard was a “Help Wanted” sign.  It, too, was beautiful, written in a light script by a steady hand, and assuring any applicants that the pay would be more than sufficient.  Eirik didn’t doubt it.  If there was one thing the Prismeryllian priests and priestesses were known for (and there were many things they were known for) it was being as free with their pocketbo
:iconphoenixofthenet:phoenixofthenet
:iconphoenixofthenet:phoenixofthenet 67 28
i hope to see you by YouInventedMe i hope to see you :iconyouinventedme:YouInventedMe 751 140
Daily Deviations I featured during my time as a volunteer and staff member.

Heavy, California

Sat Sep 22, 2018, 1:39 AM
Listening to:
Jungle - Casio

Skin by ginkgografix


Life, huh?
I keep trying to evaluate this year and how I feel like it's going, but I think the one fundamental truth that I'm holding onto is that whenever life outside of myself is crazy, the internal stuff seems to ease up, which I'm pretty grateful for at this stage. For how hectic and wild this year has been re: politics, current events, etc., my personal life has been...pretty great as of late, actually. I hope in saying that I'm not jinxing anything, but all in all I've been pretty happy in recent months.

Having said that, I am still working two jobs and it is keeping me very occupied, but while I've felt burnt out on straight up writing for ages because of it, I'm trying to put my creativity to other things in recent months. The D&D campaign I'm in is still going strong, I was in a Pathfinder campaign for a while as well, and I'm in the process of working on something for a new D&D campaign, which will be my first time serving as dungeon master for a campaign, so I'm a bit excited, a bit nervous, and more than a little bit overloaded with things to do, hah.

I've made a conscious decision in recent months to scale down the time I spend on social media, and I think in having done that, I stress out a lot less about many things. I still keep up with news, of course, but it's been nice to refocus my time and how I spend it outside of work. I'm slowly trying to build habits. Some of them are sticking better than others, but I figure as long as I can get some to stick now, I can keep trying at the harder ones once the easier ones become second nature.

My goal for this year has been to be more mindful of what I say to people and why, and what my goal is in saying things before I say them. The end result was supposed to be to make sure I was being kind whenever possible, but in the process I think I made my life easier simply by way of not getting myself into as many situations that were avoidable.

I'm learning that lots of negative life situations are avoidable. It's been nice.

I got a new mattress and bed frame this week. When we dismantled my old frame, we discovered that the sideboard of the frame on the side I sleep on had begun to split down the middle from both ends simultaneously. On the one hand, I kept wondering whether or not I should have been spending hundreds of dollars on a new bed and frame when I had something that for all intents and purposes still worked, and on the other hand, discovering that crack explained a lot about why I haven't slept well in recent months.

Some negative life situations aren't avoidable, but at least this one happened at a point where my head was afloat. :P

I can't promise I'll be around more in the near future, given that balancing my time is a constant struggle. But, this is to say that I'd like to be around, at least some of the time. Building habits, and all that. I hope you're all well, and that the rest of this year brings you all good news and happiness. 

Music corner:


deviantID

ikazon
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

Comments


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:iconmemnalar:
Memnalar Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2010
Heh, I'm just happy you're still writing, even if it's sleepless at 2AM. Especially so, actually. We don't filter and edit ourselves as much when exhausted.

I've got one of these floating around somewhere that I had intended to use for design work, but inertia took over and zzzzzz.....
Reply
:iconikazon:
ikazon Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2010   Writer
It's definitely unusual of me to be writing at that hour. Though, to be honest, I find the delusional sleepy writing is usually better than the writing I force out of myself, just on principle of what it is I'm trying to put out. If that makes any sense.

Heheh, well, if you find it be sure to let us know.
Reply
:iconpixieplay:
pixieplay Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2010
Thank you so much for the Daily Deviant feature! :heart:
Reply
:iconikazon:
ikazon Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2010   Writer
No worries at all. :)
Reply
:iconelicoronel16:
elicoronel16 Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2009  Hobbyist Digital Artist
:iconiseewhatyoudidthere:
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