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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
Statistics 601 Deviations 18,081 Comments 697,651 Pageviews

Random from Inspire.

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Mature content
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Random from DDs I Featured

Ms. Fox
rummaging through the night;
I find her buried in a handsome coat.
the darkness softens her
trash-strewn make up
to lay bags under her eyes.
I have always thought to chase
a beauty like that; blow my
hunting-horn like kisses
as I saddle up.
I would wear her around my arm and
discuss the big-game
and the beasts at bay
with boys that brandish
scorecards into the hundreds.
she hid from the canines
lapping her neck with a head
buried in all fours.
I skinned her like a poacher
bearing my ivory smile
for her to unfurl
flushed and screaming
like a new born baby.
caught in my hooves the wrong way.
:iconichors:Ichors 139 31
The Door of Our Cottage in the Western Night
They began on the beach, and a fire was raging upon the waters.  A fire on one side of the world and one around the other.  The earth had been unbruised, like an apple on a string, and then two stones had struck within a month, and everything had burned, slagged by deep space arrows. The wind was terrible.  Everywhere was a howl with no direction.
There were a few lichen-like communities in damp places, where the sky had steamed by but seared little, lifted ravines and streams from the land, unwrinkled it, dragon braille revealed only in fire.  There were a few who had been underground, and a few in the inland seas and lakes, a few in the deeper rivers, a few on the moon, watching it go.
The moon was hit four weeks later, and there were no lunatic survivors.
Once again, we were alone.  The world had been smoked and there was a smell of it everywhere, and we walked on the remains of the crater's basin lake.  It was involute
:iconcreightonwrites:creightonwrites 84 11
We swam through the sky
and when we landed
we felt higher
than when we almost reached the
You kissed my neck and your lips
still burned
and the fire in my hair went out
and you sighed.
I hate this part of the song where I can't hear you anymore.
When you woke me up
I remembered why I used to love you;
why the ash on your tongue
used to taste so sweet.
:iconkingmule:kingmule 146 33
I hear the cosmos collapsing against my soul.
Black space exploding, my imperfect face imploding
into a million skinless Stars, screaming into the
palpable Silence that has been touched less often
than even I have, into the abyss and the blackness
that beckoned me forward I stared, shapes realigned
the perimeters of my reality into a new glaze.
I felt the gravity slip away from under my feet.
Do you remember the time you poured liquor into my
virgin glass and made cocktails from the universes
spinning under my skin? I said "cherish me, please,
this gift that was mine" you said "why" and laughed,
you didn't see the tears I cried, multi-faceted like
the memories imprinted on my little piece of Forever.
I saw a familiar metaphor storming your eyes.
Do you remember when you traced constellations over
my spine? Andromeda role-playing her virgin unrest
and Astraea crying for Purity's sake, that's when
you extinguished your joint on my skin, I pretended
not to feel the sting-but I did, the sc
:iconheather-chrysalis:Heather-Chrysalis 236 115
Into a Congo
Shocks rippled south
realmed a loss and screened a track
stacks strung low and around again
She wanted the feeling of mica between her teeth
like lashes on a chiseled tree
totaled through and ruffled down
up and around again
Court and run south and
wrecked a home, she sat still
her knees knit together
unraveled over and into raw skin, over and into
she bloomed her hair into a Congo
It peeled like rose petals beneath her feet
a sheet strung high and low and around again
She said tell me why, but her fingers curled
around your head, around your neck, slowly
and then her shoulders
                                 like twine
:iconnefiret:Nefiret 75 13
Riding Bikes
Going off medication is like riding a bike.
The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.
"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.
I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration. I am an exaggeration.
I like to compare mental illnesses to mundane physical activities. Also you should know that I am sick but trying to get better.
Sometimes I relapse and then write poems about it.
It's not even the kind of sick where people bring you soup in bed and soothe your fevered brow. It's the kind of sick where I'm late to work because
:iconestallidos:estallidos 714 397
Splinter helix
a derelict building shifts its swollen form
wire cage elevators moving carefully as it swallows
nestled in a womb of fragile concrete fibres
the child of paint and pastel colours stirs
searching blindly for that energetic outside world
it stretches its delicate arms like an earthquake
Tell me where you come from, what you remember
of the black ground. Talk in riddles only your kind
understands, talk in flowers, talk in thorny branches.
You crack the foundations in starlike patterns, and
you stretch the heart of you for the concrete above,
longing to carry the sky as a bed for the Sun.
the twisting flesh of the whistling tree
blankets the screaming mud with salt
in a lush park tended by arthritic backs
an old man sits with a young girl
as devils arc their spines within smiles
they discuss the taste of snow
They know the end grows high, grows nigh,
outgrows the star dome like parasite patchwork.
The invaders never came, they were the ground stones,
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 100 65
My Other Name
My Other Name
Sometimes it is to set out forks
           beside each plate,
                                       or folding shirts first,
                         dryer hot in the A.M.
Less often, thirsty from cutting trees
    back away from the roof edge,
:iconb1gfan:b1gfan 166 95
This is how women walk away.
In broken heels
and secondhand jackets,
cigarette smoke in their hair
and no kiss goodbye.
Do not mock.
It is what it should be.
A girl in a car,
hanging a u-turn
on a glistening, empty street.
Her body is a road to be traveled.
A shipwreck to be plundered.
She does not know how she got here,
and she does not care.
And it does not matter.
This is how women smile.
Knowing, secretive,
though her cheeks are sore.
Though the wind
is blowing right through her clothes.
Though there is no good music
on the radio, and no food
in the refrigerator.
This is just an impression.
An idea of nirvana.
A slice of real, live ecstasy.
But do not give it a name.
Just show it, wear it like
designer jeans.
Tight against the skin.
She is ivory, she is easy,
and it is not love.
It is something better,
fermenting at the
backs of her knees.
Flooring her.
Bleeding from her fingerprints.
It is a devastation,
seven ways from Sunday,
but that is how she likes it.
It cannot hurt
:iconblood-lace:Blood-Lace 348 166
(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky:
the grand church of dizzying space - )
and the trees are yellowed in cowardice, raking the sky
to the ground and around and around.
listen to your organs: the almost grand piano of the
churches i'd never attend.
and never mistake the courage of the sky for the cowardice
of the ground. never frown, never frown.
listen to your palms: the salty swing of the old snow
burning up on silk and splendor.
and visit the dying snow birds in their graves of the
ground, and they drown and drown.
(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky:
a grand church of dizzying space will reply. why. why.
would my white birds die.)
:iconnighttimebeautiful:nighttimebeautiful 190 89
a memory
I remembered the afternoon I called you,
curled on my bed with someone's good book
in my palm, nestled softly in the waning light
and under my gently roaming fingers
the baby moved – not to my hand-touch,
but inside, an insistent flutter,
not like the swiftly beating heart
on the doctor's monitor, not like the slow
appearance of a plus-sign on a drugstore test.
I called you, my gently rolling daughter's
mother's mother. I called you like the woman
standing at my back while I held the kite string
on a pushy spring day, the diagonal shape so
far above us I could only feel the jerk of the
cord around my fingers, holding us to earth.
:iconsunshinegypsy:sunshinegypsy 210 96
I Guess We'll Live To See It
You should start looking
for a place we can make our last stand.
The dawn is breaking:
Every morning, a little less light,
and the end
is not as close as you think.
Love is not enough,
and wanting
is not enough.
The desert is coming.
The sea is coming.
God forbid
they find us holding our thirst
in both hands.
There is no
You should start looking for a place
we can make our last
Take my frenzy for resignation, put your boots
on. I have a lantern. I have a little
knife. We have so much still
to survive. Open
your hands
and let the thirst out.
Build. We will stand
until the dawn breaks- and you do not believe
in ecstasy, so we will know,
at the end.
:iconcompleteaccident:completeaccident 198 65
how lilies weep
are a kind of faith, 
bleeding through
as if through some
amorphous skin,
red silk,
a bruised clock 
covered in 
veins and cloaked
with skin,
timed to burst.
i am nothing
if i am not a dream
of yours, waking
from the geometric light
of my window
into a shimmering cup,
poured full of your words
my hips dripping
their tiny mechanisms,
whirring impatiently
my mouth
made raw,
swirling in incense,
growing new teeth,
finding ulcers
to bleed through.
i drip and cough
and sleep and bleed
and hope
that i am strong enough
for someone like you.
i am taped
and bandaged
and covered up
but you can still see
the endless flaws.
i watch the trees break,
embryos shivering,
wolves chewing,
the elastic stretch between moments as
one thing lives and another dies,
as each day i create my chances,
i hold my deck of cards and slice two in half,
i eat one, i rip another,
and i still win the game.
you are the card i never play,
the one i hold on to,
the lucky coin
:iconsilklilies:silklilies 193 84
Mature content
Detergent and Deterrence :iconillicit-illusion:Illicit-Illusion 128 24
Daily Deviations I featured during my time as a volunteer and staff member.

First, mandatory listening:

Northern lights panorama

So, as most of you probably knew before I did, DeviantArt Eclipse, the new version of DA's site layout is out for beta testers now, and frankly, I'm thrilled. The site's needed a visual update for a long time, and an early form of this was on the docket even back when I still worked here. Having said that, I think they fixed a lot of the things the original mocks needed work on, and did a lot that went well beyond any expectation that I'd previously had for a site revamp.

Not least of which being this new journal editor, hello? These editing tools are fantastic. This is basically everything we'd originally wanted Stash Writer to be as users, but cleaner and more efficient. Granted, I'm still trying them out for the first time as I'm typing this so bear with me, but keyboard shortcuts all work exactly the way I'd expect them to, and highlighting text prompts the exact menu I'd expect to see in Google Docs (and I don't have to click an Add Media button to use it!), so thus far, I'm stoked.

I'm getting a little off topic, though.

First impression: I hate dark backgrounds. I've always hated dark backgrounds, and my biggest fear when the rebrand originally happened was that the whole site would go dark. Bring on the light background. It's easy on the eyes, the navigation is simple and easy to figure out without being terribly far from what the average user would be used to, and most importantly (to me), I don't have to strain my eyes trying to read anything here.

Side note, it took several tries to get that image where I wanted it. So, maybe not as instantly intuitive as I would've liked. I wish I could drag the image around once I have it in the document also, but I digress. These are small issues in the grand scheme of things and are easy enough for me to adjust to.

The new deviation page is stellar for images. I love not having the page adjust (sometimes twice) whenever I want to see an artwork at its original size. It's clean, it's fairly consistent as far as I can tell, puts very solid priority on the artwork, and makes for an overall great viewing experience. On the literature side of things, I think the deviation page could use a little work, most notably that the title takes up a good chunk of page space, but actually reading the text itself is super easy and, although I haven't tried it out yet, I suspect formatting literature's going to be easier than it's ever been here on DA.

They're working on literature thumbnails and having preview text, so no need to comment on that as of yet. :P Also, DDs are in the subnav bar on the home page now, and although they were always in the left column of the home page before, having the menu option appear right under the main nav should hopefully help with visibility.

Ikebukuro West Side

It's so easy adding art into Journals now. Two clicks. Love that. I'm really digging how easy it is to share things in Journals now, it's very fluid and simple and low-hassle. I do wish I could select which image showed up in the header with a click, rather than it automatically being the image that first shows up in the journal, but I suppose that's a minor gripe in the grand scheme of things.

So, that leaves one major concern, which is something that goes beyond a visual update of any site and is a problem every site faces, but especially one with the background DA has: where do we go for community engagement? As someone who has admittedly fallen out of the community just by proxy of not having the time to be around, I don't know that I'd know how to navigate the site in a way that would help me find like-minded people, outside of searching for a topic and hoping for the best among the art results. I'm really only mentioning this because I feel like it's something other people will bring up, but I'm gonna be real here: I feel that way about the state of the current public-facing version of DA, too. It's an issue that's gotta be tackled on its own and can't be fixed with a visual overhaul.

But at least once we get to that part of the conversation, we'll be able to have it on a sleek and user-friendly version of the site.

I'm excited for this. Can't wait to see it roll out to everyone.


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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