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Random from Inspire.

Finding Your Calm... by MARX77 Finding Your Calm... :iconmarx77:MARX77 101 41
Literature
Starlight
Manik pulled up to the curb, powered down the engine and looked across the dusty roadway at the diner.
As if on command, the neon sign over the doorway sputtered to life, strobing weakly at first before coming on strong, 'Starlight' in deep blue over 'Restaurant' in brilliant orange, with a sky-blue arrow underlining both before turning up toward the night sky.
Reflexively he looked up and down the roadway before crossing, a precaution hardwired from youth, wasted for more years than he cared to count.
The door put up a little resistance, the detritus of neglect drifting against it over time, but once he pulled it clear he was able to step inside, and the door closed easily behind him.
Inside it never changed.
The long low diner counter down the left side, stools topped in polished vinyl, the laminate surface trimmed in chrome, screwed neatly along the edge at regular intervals. Behind the counter, several dozen bottles filled a small, tiered back-bar, a black bottle of Hendricks Gin f
:iconSRSmith:SRSmith
:iconsrsmith:SRSmith 4 26
memory by Cestica memory :iconcestica:Cestica 1,192 56
Literature
LV4
Yosun blinked in the afternoon sun, the viewport on her hazmat suit filtering the harsh UV rays but doing little to reduce the glare.
Her shuttle had settled a few hundred meters from the blast site, the ground compressed into a large bowl almost thirty meters across. Ignition had been seconds before impact, the containment shell having been detonated above the ground to maximize its effect.
Nothing would have survived this.
The damage near ground zero was complete, there were no structures, no bodies, no signs of life. As Yosun walked away from what had been the center of the settlement, signs of what had been a self-sustaining research colony slowly began to appear. Shrapnel from the prefab structures the crew had been sent here with, vehicle debris, fragments of the familiar blue and yellow supply containers from what would have been the landing zone, the remains larger and more defined the further she went.
It was nearly twenty minutes walk before there was any biological detritus.
:iconSRSmith:SRSmith
:iconsrsmith:SRSmith 7 16
Cyberghetto by burningmonk Cyberghetto :iconburningmonk:burningmonk 417 47 Kiss of the Sun by TobiasRoetsch Kiss of the Sun :icontobiasroetsch:TobiasRoetsch 315 16 Bosa 2 by INVIV0 Bosa 2 :iconinviv0:INVIV0 200 9 Over the mountains and the horizon by m-eralp Over the mountains and the horizon :iconm-eralp:m-eralp 543 28
Literature
Brittle
sparrow: wings half-extended
head back, beak open
encased in clay, a snapshot
sudden as a nuclear shadow
sparrow trembles inside
:iconakrasiel:akrasiel
:iconakrasiel:akrasiel 25 20
Dahlia by IngeVandormael Dahlia :iconingevandormael:IngeVandormael 102 5 Rain World by burningmonk Rain World :iconburningmonk:burningmonk 289 39 Allos Lake by FlorentCourty Allos Lake :iconflorentcourty:FlorentCourty 227 8 Distant Metropolis by burningmonk Distant Metropolis :iconburningmonk:burningmonk 240 16
Literature
My Lucky Number's One
Chase peeled off her evening attire slowly, the fabric offering some resistance in the numerous places it was still actively staunching blood flow. The garments dropped haphazardly to the bathroom floor. The time for precision and planning was behind her, she'd clean up the mess once she'd slept.
Climbing the steps around the tub, she lowered herself gingerly to sit on the cool tile. Swinging her legs into the steaming liquid first, she gripped opposite sides of the tub and lowered herself slowly, not stopping until her head slipped beneath the surface, a crimson cloud blossoming around her like a rose.
She barely flinched as the fluid filled her lungs, oxygenating her as it cleaned the evening's toxins from her insides. The bioagent surrounded her, slipping through her skin to permeate her deep tissue like smoke through cheesecloth, picking away at the scar tissue that was already starting to form, dissolving the deep hematomas, coercing the open wounds to knit from their depths out t
:iconSRSmith:SRSmith
:iconsrsmith:SRSmith 9 35

Random from DDs I Featured

Literature
Flying
We swam through the sky
and when we landed
we felt higher
than when we almost reached the
Sun.
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
:iconkingmule:kingmule 145 33
Literature
I HEAR THE COSMOS COLLAPSING...
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
:iconheather-chrysalis:Heather-Chrysalis 235 115
Literature
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
sandalwood
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
                        loosened
                                 like twine
:iconNefiret:Nefiret
:iconnefiret:Nefiret 75 13
Literature
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
:iconestallidos:estallidos 714 397
Literature
Splinter helix
EMBRYO
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
SAPLING
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.
GENERATION
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
ANCIENT
They know the end grows high, grows nigh,
outgrows the star dome like parasite patchwork.
The invaders never came, they were the ground stones,
what
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 100 65
Literature
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.
                                half-dark.
Less often, thirsty from cutting trees
    back away from the roof edge,
                       
:iconb1gfan:b1gfan
:iconb1gfan:b1gfan 164 95
Literature
Levitation
Observe.
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
:iconblood-lace:Blood-Lace 348 166
Literature
l'hiver.
(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
:iconnighttimebeautiful:nighttimebeautiful 190 89
Literature
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
:iconsunshinegypsy:sunshinegypsy 209 96
Literature
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.
Instead,
instead;
No,
There is no
rescue.
You should start looking for a place
we can make our last
stand.
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
:iconcompleteaccident:completeaccident 199 65
Literature
how lilies weep
obstacles
are a kind of faith, 
bleeding through
intention
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
blindfolded
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
:iconsilklilies:silklilies 193 84
Mature content
Detergent and Deterrence :iconillicit-illusion:Illicit-Illusion 127 24
Literature
for a friend
The sky is captured in his eyes, clear and blue.
The weather etched smile is honest.
The slender face says sixty; it lies.
It is that and half again.
Knobby hands sun baked and brown
peek out from ragged gloves.
They seem part of the old split locust post
where they are resting;
one of the row of soldiers
that keep watch on their field and its occupants.
The smile broadens as I approach.
I help stretch the wire.
His archaic dialect fills the road
with cows and snow and the yankees
that his grandparents saw marching.
The hours pass pulled by the mule
he plowed with as a boy.
He mentions his wife
they'd been married almost 60 years.
She "took sick" and died (at her own hand)
some 15 years ago.
(it is sad what people must do to escape pain)
But he only remembers the little things
she did so often to help him
they are bittersweet candy.
I know he misses her.
I smile as we finish.
He offers to pay me,
but I refuse it.
:icon135711cal:135711cal
:icon135711cal:135711cal 166 33
Literature
Convenience
  Ducky Short usually avoided using 'convenience' stores. The floors were always grimy, the lighting was too dim for his tired veiny eyes, and the cashiers never spoke more than five words of English. But the thing that irked him most was how every one of them put the Ho-Hos on the very bottom shelf, and every time he would have to find a way to maneuver his long body and old rusty joints into a crouch just so he could reach them.
  He had been struck with a Ho-Ho craving as he was walking by, and since the only store nearby was a tiny convience store, he had no choice but to go in and claim his cakes. There was no controlling this sort of thing. 'Happy Ho Ho emergencies', his mother used to call them, God rest her soul.
  But Ducky hadn't expected a different kind of emergency.
  The bell on the door barely had time to jingle before it was drowned out by a frantic holler.
  "Freeze, everybody! I've got a gun, so no messing around!"
:iconcemetarypolka:cemetarypolka
:iconcemetarypolka:cemetarypolka 108 62
Daily Deviations I featured during my time as a volunteer and staff member.

It's been raining a lot here in LA this week. I realize that for the rest of the world, me saying this means very little (including and up to the part where our idea of heavy rain isn't particularly heavy in the first place), but for LA at least, it's a pretty hefty amount of rain. As someone who lives a caveman life and stays indoors whenever there's even the slightest sign of rain, it hasn't really impacted my day to day behavior, but as someone who also lives a plant life and loves having a lot of sunlight each day...I'm over it. :laughing: I get this is normal weather in most places, and that I certainly don't have ground to complain on, seeing as we need the rain here in California, but I'm ready for the return of sunny days, let me tell you.

Outside of that, I don't have much to report on the personal front, other than that I really do love going to work each day, and I missed that feeling a lot. Working from home sounds really nice on paper, but for its positives, the negatives really start to weigh on you when you do it for a long time, and I'm real glad to be physically around other people for work again. Plus, @akiestar , @misfitstamara , and @mattbmattb are good company, too, so my workspace is pretty lively! :happybounce:

How's everyone doing?

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deviantID

ikazon
mindful coyote
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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:iconelicoronel16:
elicoronel16 Featured By Owner 18 hours ago  Hobbyist Digital Artist
:huggle:
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:iconveeegeee:
veeegeee Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Professional Writer
:iconfoxhahaplz::iconfoxhahaplz::iconthanksftf02::iconfoxhahaplz::iconfoxhahaplz::iconthanksftf02::iconfoxhahaplz::iconfoxhahaplz:
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:iconhearsegurl:
HearseGurl Featured By Owner 6 days ago
I love your ID pic! Love that 'hawk! :love:
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:iconsambeawesome:
sambeawesome Featured By Owner 6 days ago
Thank you so much for the watch! I Love You Emote I really appreciate it and I'm glad you like my artwork Huggle! 
If you'd like, feel free to check out my YouTubeTwitchTwitter, or Facebook.pink heart {big} 
Consider checking out my Ko-Fi or Patreon page as well. Love
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:iconcharmandrigo:
CharmanDrigo Featured By Owner Jan 14, 2019  Student General Artist
Woooo you have a DA staff emblem again!
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