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

Kiss of the Sun by TobiasRoetsch Kiss of the Sun :icontobiasroetsch:TobiasRoetsch 321 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 544 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 28 21
Dahlia by IngeVandormael Dahlia :iconingevandormael:IngeVandormael 100 5 Rain World by burningmonk Rain World :iconburningmonk:burningmonk 292 39 Allos Lake by FlorentCourty Allos Lake :iconflorentcourty:FlorentCourty 240 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
Alpe di Siusi by TobiasRoetsch Alpe di Siusi :icontobiasroetsch:TobiasRoetsch 342 15 Yellow Line by burningmonk Yellow Line :iconburningmonk:burningmonk 283 20 Faces by burningmonk Faces :iconburningmonk:burningmonk 123 35 Breathe by JuhaniViitanen Breathe :iconjuhaniviitanen:JuhaniViitanen 462 19 Wander by t1na Wander :icont1na:t1na 1,320 24
Literature
Mountain
Everest eats people:
The glacier cracks a hundred metres deep
swallow the climbers that slip like flies
to the pitch white throat. It chews them down
then spits them out centuries later, still fresh,
their flesh just slightly mulched and brown.
Yet Himalaya's tourists convey themselves up pre-fixed ropes
wheezing thick air through gas masks
safely wrapped in North Face insulated clothes,
trudging upwards in procession - multitudinous droves.
K2 once shed a house of rock where guidance ropes
were hitched. Two dozen novice mountaineers
stranded in the death zone's hell.
One by one they chanced the cliff,
some lived, some froze, some fell.
All this waste to say
'I conquered the tallest mountains there to climb.'
By pulling hand over hand on rope, following a line.
:iconAbCat:AbCat
:iconabcat:AbCat 7 1

Random from DDs I Featured

Literature
Hubris
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
:iconsolarune:Solarune 198 147
Literature
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
:iconvigilo:Vigilo 132 116
Literature
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.
I
:iconLimbs-of-Osiris:Limbs-of-Osiris
:iconlimbs-of-osiris:Limbs-of-Osiris 83 6
Literature
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
:iconanyimacielgray:anyimacielgray 134 41
Literature
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
:iconorphicfiddler:orphicfiddler 254 146
Literature
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
:iconejectionletter:ejectionletter 150 47
Literature
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
:iconthis-epiphany:this-epiphany 492 166
Literature
nowhere else
it rains hard enough
that i can finally sit quietly,
as if lighting candles.
maybe there is
nowhere else to be.
a cup of water trembles
on the table as if afraid,
kept too long
from the useful yearning of roots,
from the anonymous way rain falls.
i light one candle
then another,
quietly,
as if lighting candles.
the rain keeps pressing damp invisible flowers
against the window,
reminding me how long the near-dark lasts,
how the woods at the edge of the yard
never see,
but thirst enough to catch fire.
each candle moves like the rain,
each quieting life
from lives of their own.
in the half-light coming in,
i can pretend it's morning.
i can sit back,
pool on the chair like water,
somehow assured--
the rain will take all night,
beginning.
outside, the trees seem to look around
through the rain,
swaying
as if trying to see around each other.
their lives are as quiet and long
as the beginning of a rain.
this is the way life is,
filling with other lives:
just feeling water
enter the gro
:iconantonfrost:antonfrost
:iconantonfrost:antonfrost 128 33
Literature
Morning - for Carl Sandburg
The morning erupts
          on little cat feet
A flick of the tail
          a breath exhaled
               too fast at the end of a leap
and then
A paw,
     placed on lid's soft fan of lash
breath whirring, throaty, warm
          nose
             to
          nose
eyes still closed
Then          open
Thwack –
A stunning velvet attack
     innocent lids           unwarned
     warm sheets      no safe haven
The morning erupts
 
:iconLlyrentheShrew:LlyrentheShrew
:iconllyrentheshrew:LlyrentheShrew 112 22
Literature
Untitled
When we went to Norway we killed slugs.
We ate dinner at midnight as the sun revolved overhead, spinning in slow concentric circles, never dipping beyond the horizon.  There was no night.  
We looked up at the clouds, and she asked us if we wanted to do her a favor-to justify spending the night in her garage apartment at no cost.  We weren't freeloaders, so we said O.K.  She told us about the slugs.
There were hundreds of them crawling around the garden area-small families leaving slime trails on rock walls.  We collected them one at a time, placing each of them in a huge plastic bag.  We saw them pile on top of each other, felt their collective weight tugging on the plastic.  Watched them squirm around, looking for any signal of familiarity, their antennae moving this way and that, trying to make sense of their situation.
We went in front of the garage and found some little guys crawling in cracks of asphalt. &
:iconNotoday:Notoday
:iconnotoday:Notoday 141 33
Literature
To Dream of Falling
I dream of falling.
It's not a dream common to angels.  After all, we have a pair of wings--or two or three--and we can use them.  We float upon the air, dance among the stars, shape the clouds with our breath, and so on.  All that lovely wordplay to describe an indescribable.  A joy, a graceless power.  Flight.
Humans dream of it often, I am told.  It makes sense.  They have no wings save for what they create with their hands.  Airplanes, hang gliders, helicopters.  Kites.  They are obsessed with the sky, more so than the angels themselves, many of whom will fly three thousand miles rather than walk across the street.
And yet I dream of falling.
And in my dreams, I always start out as what I am--a bookish secretary pushed into a role never intended for him--and I always end as a human.
And the first thing I feel is falling.
Sometimes I jump off the edge of one of the Heavens. 
:iconMoreaGaara:MoreaGaara
:iconmoreagaara:MoreaGaara 338 212
Literature
The Phillipians to St. Paul
When light flooded your eyelids
& permanently blinded you
that was Jesus'
love, covering your skin
like the palm of a hand.
It was then you found you were as zealous
in persecuting trash
& the gods we make of our stomachs
as ever you were
in persecuting Christians
with the brand. How they
recoiled from you when you
began effusing to them
in fires & gibberish tongues! For the light
that filled you was eruptive
& though
you speak of your own life
as if it could be a drink offering,
you are a fire work
& we are attending the fuse.
:iconashellessmind:ashellessmind
:iconashellessmind:ashellessmind 72 47
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!



deviantID

ikazon

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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:iconyuukon:
Yuukon Featured By Owner 2 days ago   Writer
Thank you for watching me, I appreciate your support! :iconbummy1::iconbummy2::iconbummy3:
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(1 Reply)
:iconpajunen:
Pajunen Featured By Owner 3 days ago
Thank you for the Watch!
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:iconkatiesapphire:
KatieSapphire Featured By Owner Jun 9, 2019  Student Digital Artist
Bibi V2 Thx by KatieSapphire  
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:icongilronan:
gilronan Featured By Owner Jun 6, 2019  Professional Traditional Artist
Thank you.
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(1 Reply)
:iconelizabethholmes:
ElizabethHolmes Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2019   Traditional Artist
Thank you for the watch!!! It means a lot to me!!!;)
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