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Deviant for 9 Years
Core Member 'til Hell freezes over
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Random from Inspire.

Random from DDs I Featured

There was this old woman who used to live under the bridge across the street from my building. She smoked like a chimney, and spent all of the money she got on cigarettes, so we'd all take turns bringing her coffee and bagels, or a sandwich, or spaghetti or something. She never talked to anyone. I think she was mute. I think she had Tourette's, too, because she had this funny little twitchy thing going on all the time, and she would make weird noises that weren't actually words.
And she was an artist. She made these fun sculptures out of clothes hangers and things she found in the dumpster. She would build them overnight, then after a couple of days they'd disappear. I don't know whether the city came and picked them up, or she took them somewhere or what.
And then she died. I wasn't the one who found her. It was Shane From Upstairs who was taking her a plate of leftover barbecue and saw that fuck, she's not moving. And he put down the plate and rolled her over, and sure enough, she wa
:iconquiestinliteris:QuiEstInLiteris 317 215
One Last Star
   no moon to be found
in the predawn twilight,
   but one last star —
somewhere in the distance
a robin's lilting call
:iconsaiun:saiun 112 8
The World is Made of Stories by julietcaesar The World is Made of Stories :iconjulietcaesar:julietcaesar 327 129
Rooibos Tea
Breathe deep the chai haze—
Picasso's djinn,
a muse of eggshells and grandma's lace tablecloths,
cradles the tea kettle to her chest
and abandons Latin words and names—
flotsam and jetsam dribbling
irrelevant among the little red tea leaves;
the driftwood of genus and species bumping
against the shores of the South African scrublands.
She hovers orange and indigo,
a quavering flame of dreams
and drained tea dregs—
divination with a soft-spiced voice
at the bottom of the mug,
never quite gone—
a flock of Van Gogh crows
frozen in their hayfields.
:iconazizriandaoxrak:AzizrianDaoXrak 108 67
Les Petits Princes
"James is dying," Nefertiti said, her voice a whisper and barely audible from the balcony. The gray stone was cool beneath her hands, smooth from generations before her, and comforting to support herself on as she stared down to the gardens and gates of their palace below.
Queen Nefertiti was dark haired and tan, with wide eyes and a thin smile. It was her husband their children took after. Both young men with blond hair and blue eyes, both growing tall and strong and moving towards becoming the rulers of their odd-named nation.
Her husband's, Arthur's, breath caught. A short little gasp and snarl as his fists clenched by his side. His curses were so soft that it was difficult to catch them between the night-things and lazy breeze.
"Oswald cannot lead."
"He will have to."
Footsteps, and Arthur was pacing. "Could we find an excuse to appoint a Regent?"
"He is already seventeen," Nefertiti said. "When you die, he will be king."
Arthur cursed again, louder, as Nefertiti left her perch at
:iconbeabae:BeaBae 76 81
The world is not a skeleton. It does not ache bone-deep with our atrocities, nor is it fragile and ready for the breaking. It knows nothing so human, except perhaps to forgive our pride. Let me explain:
Young, I am a bright star with small, pudgy hands for guiltless flower-crushing. Before even that, I am a wispy squall for food, unused to knowing anything but myself, and warmth, and hunger.
The concept of a hero is a natural progression from understanding speech. I am Me. I am the one all the stories talk about, born special, to whom both innocence and wisdom are possible. I am so great a part of my own self that I do not know it can be detached.
I am eleven, narrow-boned and alone in the red earth, when I first feel it.
A seagull slews out of the bright sky and pegs its beak to the stones, draws it up wriggling. I watch its gullet bob. My hand floats up to mirror the lines of its head against the air. There is a cry, and its eye is a pond of yellow fire staring at me, the air a storm
:iconsolarune:Solarune 199 147
31:12N, 121:30E
my Dear i just noticed
my balcony is shaped
like wings
and the wind is billowing
the moon up, up to-night
in her dusty purple garb
and i think
no Dear i do not want
to leave here: where men
build bridges over oceans
and live inside of mountains
like river dragons
where the sun shines
not at all at noon but gleams
like an orange at sundown
where the moon walks home
surefooted to where my neck
cannot crane
:iconvigilo:Vigilo 133 116
In summer we all burn
The summer is coming,
I hear the beach roaring from here,
can see shirts hung over shoulders,
sunglasses, arms round waists,
can feel the earth's purrs,
breaking hibernation,
pollens tossed up at us in fanfare.
Ants are walking over me
because we're sharing a tree together.
Back to back, we're trying to
make our winter's pallour a warmer shade.
Is it some sort of personal sign
when you let your shoe-tongues fill with tan bark,
when it's driven you mad your whole life?
Or when you eat ice-cream in public (the sticky
fingers a mere afterthought)?
These trees though, they're not changing.
I can't help thinking they're
often doing better than we are.
Summer is coming; they sit still and burn.
Some go out with a bang!
Others fall to dust.
But us, we fuss and flail.
Still we burn.
But hey!
Summer is for beaches and getting laid.
Summer is for stretching,
for sticking your proboscis into
the rivers and guzzling.
No, I can't help thinking about
the skeletons at the waterholes in the Mallee.
:iconlimbs-of-osiris:Limbs-of-Osiris 83 6
city drowned clean
birds fly bluer before a hurricane,
wings sharper, the bricks neater.
one train is always longer than the
other. i cried about it. the saturated
city, droplets of colour caught on
tape & rewinding, cups me in its
palms, i am a bug on its window,
imagining all of it underwater &
people clapping in a silent film,
the last dying bubbles curtsying
on their lips, for their marble town
the white skied & terrible atlantis.
:iconanyimacielgray:anyimacielgray 134 41
Tea for Two
I observed her fragile corpse upon the cemetery seat, looking to and fro like a lost pigeon. She blinked her watery green eyes at me just once as I approached, then let them oggle wide.
"Madam," said I, "have you any need of assistance?"
A soft moan echoed back across the dying rhododendrons.
"Are you tired? Lost?" A quick glance at her spittle-slathered chops. "Hungry?"
She nodded vigorously and a bit of froth flew loose to stick upon a nearby leaf. I watched as it slowly slid its way to the very tip and plopped with a light "thwack" upon the freshly upturned soil.
"Er, there ought to be a dead squirrel or two out back by the fence. I imagine Mortimer left something, he's always forgetting what he's doing and scampering off, you know how those crazy groundskeepers can be . . ."
She made a sound a bit like the braying of a hound.
"Perhaps you don't. Anyhow, come along."
When dealing with the dead, it's best to be polite. I suppose I would be anyhow, though, I can't help it. It's simply
:iconorphicfiddler:orphicfiddler 255 146
To shore
I think back to pulling your hair
from your face,
sticky strands in nut brown,
your lips like the frothy head
in a pint glass,
untouchable, disappearing.
You cried in bed, neck twisted
like a giraffe looking
for the opposite side of a baobab tree,
and I told you that you were beautiful
even though no one
thought so, anymore.
It didn't matter then whether
I was holding your
greasy heart in my hands,
or my own,
they were the same fragments,
wracked with guilt and
blood vessels,
weak sutures in their stems.
We lay in your bed for five minutes
before you choked
on your own salt water seasoning,
blew your nose into the white
eyelet comforter
like it was tissue and you
really couldn't be bothered to care.
And I remember thinking that
my whole world was a sea,
and I, a boat,
floating listlessly,
toward land.
:iconejectionletter:ejectionletter 150 47
for her.
it's midnight and I'm writing love letters
on my skin to the woman who raised me. it's midnight
and every limb has a story. all
my collarbone remembers is the frantic
hurry of your footsteps when it broke under the weight
of gravity and mistaken desire to fly and my
broken pink umbrella, long-gone, remembers too. my elbows
remember the firm pull of your hands in the grocery
store. my cheeks remember your makeup and
my clumsy fingers dipping in like paint pots and my neck
remembers all your strands of pearls. I remember
when you were young again and wearing
red and holding cups of tea in hands
that didn't shake yet and I remember hands that knew how
to peel apples, curling skins like red ribbons over
the edge of the blade, confident
in motion, and I remember your voice and I remember
your songs and I remember.
it's midnight and the water is cold and I
am somewhere beyond feeling. but
my love letters are only ink and they are washing
away and I watch them swirl at my feet and I
want you
:iconthis-epiphany:this-epiphany 495 166
Daily Deviations I featured during my time as a volunteer and staff member.

Image Processing Update

Tue Mar 5, 2019, 3:35 PM by ikazon:iconikazon:

Hello everyone! We previously posted an update regarding changes that were made in late 2018 regarding how images are processed here on DeviantArt. We're happy to provide another update to the community regarding some of the measures we've taken to fix issues that have been encountered.

Once again, we'd like to thank those of you who sent in bug reports and left comments regarding these changes, as the feedback you provided helped us nail down some of the issues that others were experiencing! Here are some of the major points of concern that have been addressed in the time since the last journal:
  • Through URL manipulation, it was possible to potentially access image files at a larger size than the largest size a deviant had chosen to display on the deviation page. This has been fixed, and now the largest image file that can be accessed publicly is the size allowed on the deviation page.
  • JPG files were being compressed to a lower quality than intended, and should now display better. This should mitigate display concerns deviants had regarding PNG images, as well.
  • Particularly large image files were being resized to a smaller size than selected on the Submit page. 
We'll continue to monitor the community and bug reports for any additional issues, so if you encounter anything, please feel free to let us know. Thank you for your patience, and your continued support!



Artist | Literature
Hi there! I'm a storyteller of sorts. Here on DA, I am currently serving as a Community Moderator! I was a gallery moderator from 2010 to 2011, a community volunteer from 2011 to 2012, and was on the Product Marketing team here from 2012 to 2015. Feel free to say hi, I don't bite! If you need help with something on DA, let me know and I'll be happy to help as much as I can.

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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KehXKeova Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Artist
Thank you for the Llama Badge!! :hug:
(1 Reply)
ThatWasLeftHanded Featured By Owner Apr 12, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
I just misread your tagline as "mindful covfefe" ^^;
AKA-38CAUTION Featured By Owner Apr 6, 2019  Student Digital Artist
Heidi Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2019
"I didn't love my second sentence."  :yikes2:

uOughterKnow Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2019  New Deviant
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