InoccuousPseudonym's avatar
is not my real name
32 Watchers7.8K Page Views179 Deviations

The Colouring Book

T

The Colouring Book

The years slip by like so many cars on a motorway, Rudely overtaking unsignaled. I seem to remember being graceful once; Strength, self-possession or a trick of the light? Memories are fluorescent, or else sepia tinted Like a children's colouring book, garish, Then faded by time. More beautiful than realistic- When has time ever made anything better? A sketchy character, an old phrase. True enough, my crayons went wild on that one, Drew the eyes my favourite shade of purple But the smile slanted, blurred. I coloured his mouth pink like a grapefruit; Soft, sour and sweet. You think that you know someone, But all you really know is where the

Leave them at my bedroom door

L

Leave them at my bedroom door

I am cold plenty And I want no sorrows more, So do not bring me poor entreaties; Leave them at my bedroom door. If you knock and wish to enter Only smile within these walls, For, freezing is the winter; Leave your burdens in the hall.

Restless Rest

R

Restless Rest

When going to sleep, I'm always ill at ease; I do not sleep well, or sleep's not well with me. I barely shut my eyes 'til gulls are crying, 'Til my lids crash closed, exhausted embers dying. The day pushes gentle tips through curtains, far too thin- As the world brushes off its dream-dust, my restless rest can just begin.

My dear un-dear

Bricks and bones

B

Bricks and bones

She built her hell of bricks and bones And left no holes to breathe; She sparked a cigarette inside And then began to wheeze. She built it like a castle Of breath and second guesses; She peeled away her very skin To make those fancy dresses. She constructed a second chamber For her regrets to sleep in; She didn't like to lye with them, They needed space to weep in. She found herself a tiny pet, But hadn't space to keep him; She gave him to the castle's vet, And let the needle reap him. The second time she went outside, Her eyes were white from darkness; She blinked into the evening sun And fled, burned beneath it's starkness.

Hypothetically

H

Hypothetically

Let's say, hypothetically, That you've quit everything That you've ever begun, Lost and found a variety of pointless passions, (Romantic,professional,academic), Bastardised every skill and joy that Nourished your starving, corpulent ego; Until you couldn't look at Anything you had loved Without tasting the bile and bereavement Of lost, disfigured, murdered pleasures. What would you like about yourself? Could you love the smoke in yours lungs, The alcohol on your breath, The weight of the corpse that you carry, That carries you? Could you find spirituality In the chaos, the badly laid plans, The abandoned ambitions? If you could find A minute

Fasting

F

Fasting

The gods themselves at from her plate, Their appetites, not hers, to sate But she thanked them, twice, And said amen. The gods won't feed her, She feeds them.

The broken cup

T

The broken cup

The broken cup does not signify much, Other than I dropped it and I ought to clean it up. It is not an allegory for my last relationship; Just a gift from a friend From which I liked to sip- And there's coffee on the floor, In the carpet, down my dress. Does it have to be a metaphor For me to be distressed? Why can't we just drop A damned cup of damned coffee, Without it being a brooding realisation Or a life-epiphany?

A year of Friday and Saturday Nights

A

A year of Friday and Saturday Nights

Evenings escape from me, Running as if petrified Of what I'll do with them; Only a quiet drink, Only a few more than I thought, Only a memory fogged to nothingness, A glimpse at the corner of my eye Of the year passing by. A series of Friday and Saturday nights Fleeing in fright.

Go home,it's getting late

G

Go home,it's getting late

Go home,it's getting late; Why do you always wait? They didn't come, They never do, So before the sun Is up, shouldn't you Be going? You've had too much to drink, it's showing. And knowing you, I bet you'll still wait- Though the party's gone, And they never come, And it's getting late.
See all

The Colouring Book

T

The Colouring Book

The years slip by like so many cars on a motorway, Rudely overtaking unsignaled. I seem to remember being graceful once; Strength, self-possession or a trick of the light? Memories are fluorescent, or else sepia tinted Like a children's colouring book, garish, Then faded by time. More beautiful than realistic- When has time ever made anything better? A sketchy character, an old phrase. True enough, my crayons went wild on that one, Drew the eyes my favourite shade of purple But the smile slanted, blurred. I coloured his mouth pink like a grapefruit; Soft, sour and sweet. You think that you know someone, But all you really know is where the

Leave them at my bedroom door

L

Leave them at my bedroom door

I am cold plenty And I want no sorrows more, So do not bring me poor entreaties; Leave them at my bedroom door. If you knock and wish to enter Only smile within these walls, For, freezing is the winter; Leave your burdens in the hall.

Restless Rest

R

Restless Rest

When going to sleep, I'm always ill at ease; I do not sleep well, or sleep's not well with me. I barely shut my eyes 'til gulls are crying, 'Til my lids crash closed, exhausted embers dying. The day pushes gentle tips through curtains, far too thin- As the world brushes off its dream-dust, my restless rest can just begin.

My dear un-dear

Bricks and bones

B

Bricks and bones

She built her hell of bricks and bones And left no holes to breathe; She sparked a cigarette inside And then began to wheeze. She built it like a castle Of breath and second guesses; She peeled away her very skin To make those fancy dresses. She constructed a second chamber For her regrets to sleep in; She didn't like to lye with them, They needed space to weep in. She found herself a tiny pet, But hadn't space to keep him; She gave him to the castle's vet, And let the needle reap him. The second time she went outside, Her eyes were white from darkness; She blinked into the evening sun And fled, burned beneath it's starkness.

Hypothetically

H

Hypothetically

Let's say, hypothetically, That you've quit everything That you've ever begun, Lost and found a variety of pointless passions, (Romantic,professional,academic), Bastardised every skill and joy that Nourished your starving, corpulent ego; Until you couldn't look at Anything you had loved Without tasting the bile and bereavement Of lost, disfigured, murdered pleasures. What would you like about yourself? Could you love the smoke in yours lungs, The alcohol on your breath, The weight of the corpse that you carry, That carries you? Could you find spirituality In the chaos, the badly laid plans, The abandoned ambitions? If you could find A minute

Fasting

F

Fasting

The gods themselves at from her plate, Their appetites, not hers, to sate But she thanked them, twice, And said amen. The gods won't feed her, She feeds them.

The broken cup

T

The broken cup

The broken cup does not signify much, Other than I dropped it and I ought to clean it up. It is not an allegory for my last relationship; Just a gift from a friend From which I liked to sip- And there's coffee on the floor, In the carpet, down my dress. Does it have to be a metaphor For me to be distressed? Why can't we just drop A damned cup of damned coffee, Without it being a brooding realisation Or a life-epiphany?

A year of Friday and Saturday Nights

A

A year of Friday and Saturday Nights

Evenings escape from me, Running as if petrified Of what I'll do with them; Only a quiet drink, Only a few more than I thought, Only a memory fogged to nothingness, A glimpse at the corner of my eye Of the year passing by. A series of Friday and Saturday nights Fleeing in fright.

Go home,it's getting late

G

Go home,it's getting late

Go home,it's getting late; Why do you always wait? They didn't come, They never do, So before the sun Is up, shouldn't you Be going? You've had too much to drink, it's showing. And knowing you, I bet you'll still wait- Though the party's gone, And they never come, And it's getting late.
Artist
  • Oct 22
  • United Kingdom
  • Deviant for 10 years
  • She / Her
Badges
Super Llama: Llamas are awesome! (46)
My Bio
Current Residence: Bristol
Favourite style of art: surreal
Favourite cartoon character: Dot

Favourite Movies
Howl
Favourite TV Shows
Buffy
Favourite Books
The Golden Notebook, The Blind Assassin, Crow
Favourite Writers
Doris Lessing/Ted Hughes
Favourite Games
Soul Caliber, Gauntlet
Favourite Gaming Platform
Sega Dreamcast
Tools of the Trade
Pen and Brain
Other Interests
I like coffee, reading, and other cliches ad nauseum

Update, news, etc.

Update, news, etc.

When I realised that my journal said it was summer and I was reading a book i've finished and having a drink they don't even do in the uk I thought I better had update it. So I've begun college but I won't dwell on that because it's not a big portion of what's interesting in my life, in fact I hardly think about it and do it quite mechanically. Really I'm more focused on my social life and creative projects so academia can go metaphorically screw itself. I have a new boyfriend called Andy who is pretty much exactly like this; http://fav.me/d3kmitr He even looks like the doodle, which is quite

I've jumped the pond

I've jumped the pond

Visiting my mother in Kentucky for a month, hence the inactivity(not that I've written anything any way). I'm doing more photography than poetry because of school etc, blah blah blah excuses. If I'm honest I'm just not inspired, and it's not where I am or being too busy or anything. Anywho, just don't be too shocked if I'm invisible for a month or so. Also, I'm reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and it's fairly spectacular and brilliant and recomendable. That's all, folks.

June 2011

June 2011

There's so much going on the last week in my personal life that I'll strive to keep this professional, though I will inevitably digress. School: fin. GCSE's have been taken and conquered, I think quite admirably, though my older friends assure me they don't matter anyway. Personally I think that's because none of them were getting all A*'s. Though come to think of it maybe I won't; only August will tell. Regardless of my results I've been accepted to the college I wanted next year, to study English Lit(yay!), Photography(yay!), History(meh), and Politics(urgh). The place is quite far away so my dad is getting me a Vespa for the journey. I wo

Comments 274

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Thanks for the favourites.
BenGeigerArt General Artist
Thank you so much for the fav!!!
LindArtzHobbyist Digital Artist
..and the watch too! ^^
LindArtzHobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the fav on "Encore" :) ^^
jessehbechtoldProfessional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the favorite!
Carlie-MarteceProfessional General Artist
Thank you for the :+fav:s
:) x