Christmas Conundrum by kangel on DeviantArt

More by kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Deep-Thinker-140740722kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Uses-for-cats-200831604kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Joys-of-Pregnancy-245508514kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Language-of-Cats-313781274kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Not-my-type-333635280kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Pick-your-poison-343811050kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Joys-of-a-Pokemon-Trainer-155027764kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Deadly-Nightfury-Wallpaper-162581376kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Attention-311246844kangel

Promoted Deviations

Literature

TT 02 INTRODUCING

From Language, Lies, Magic By Pjetër Mamrick [1] [DEVIATION] “Wound-licking is perilous. Learning to hold grudges is easy. Revenge is a long journey. Forgiveness is burning. Human life is futile. And existence is sublime despite the pain.” Excuse me for misquoting that ancient so-called sophologist Shaman-no who is so important to members of the Hierarchy of the World-Wide Church. Although they fear his words, and hate him too, of course. Or perhaps it is Mitshio bel-Shoní I mean, the famous unreliable narrator, speaking on behalf of h-M’krz Dlnl-v’zk; or then again, what about Jozsfrēdu Lacūs, with his trilogy of four volumes? My memory isn’t that good anymore, although I’m just as astute, I hope! [DEVIATION] Anyway, I am talking, of course, about that devilish and angelic lad called Dvaldí, Davuth, Daa·hweeth, Daud, Dai, David. (Ooh, what a phrase – a lad called Thoahatha! How extremely powerful names are! [2]). [DEVIATION] And indeed, perhaps one should not say “a lad”

Literature

The Dark Danger of Art

The Dark Danger of Art by p.b. wells every artist is a fugitive. the actor steps into another life and finds the man he might have been. the singer opens her mouth and discovers a voice braver than the one she lives with. the painter builds a world where the light falls perfectly and nothing beautiful must apologize for existing. the writer invents people who understand him, women who stay, friends who do not betray, and gods who occasionally answer the goddamn telephone. then someone calls time. the curtain drops. the music stops. the paint dries. the final page is turned. come home, they say. come back to the bills, the empty bed, the polite conversations, the little daily failures stacked like dirty dishes beside the sink. but why? why leave a world where you are loved for one where you are merely tolerated? why abandon the people who know your soul just because they never took a breath? reality calls it make-believe. reality has always been an

Literature

INTERVIEW 02 DEPENDS WHAT YOU MEAN BY GANG

Luke likes the idea of appearing dangerous. He does not particularly enjoy danger itself. At sixteen, he is borrowing the vocabulary and confidence of the music he loves while quietly hoping nobody asks for evidence. The camera doesn’t mock him. It simply asks one fairly obvious question and waits. Luke’s answer tells us almost everything. “Have you ever actually been in a gang?” Luke thinks about this. “Depends what you mean by gang.” “An organised group involved in crime.” “No.” A pause. Luke adjusts his cap. “Is that bit going in?” Nobody answers. Luke looks directly into the camera. “Because there’s context.” The Documentary Is Not About Luke is available now on Kindle and in paperback. https://amzn.eu/d/028xXPvt

Suggested Deviants

Taterbug94

Literature

Rain over Death

With every drop of rain There comes great pain. So even though the music's dead The world isn't above my head. My body is cold but your hands are warm, Yet when I'm awake I feel like a storm. When I see the rain I feel nothing but pain, That it makes me insane It makes me want to go dance In the rain. So if you want rain Well, sorry, it doesn't Rain down here with death.

Literature

Heaven Sent

Heaven sent an angel in form of a friend. They made this angel into a gift that saved my life. Heaven sent me a friend that helped me through a lot and now it's my turn to repay the favor. They sent down an angel that helps free me from my pain but I still feel bad even through the rain. All I saw was darkness but now I see a big blue sky thanks to the angel that heaven sent down to me. Thanks to the angel that heaven sent, my life is better than it has ever been. I wish to thank heaven for this angel because now I feel that I can live again. Thank you heaven for the angel that you sent.

Literature

Counter-clockwise

The world spins round and round and round again. As it spins we're spinning around with it. We tend to think that this world starts spinning faster and faster and we all wish that it would slow back down. When the world turns cold all you want to do is hide. If this world could just spin slower then we would all be a little bit happier. The world spins at a rate of no control and of no virtue. In this life this world is beginning to become more and more futile. This is the life, this is the time that this world needs to start spinning slower. This barge of life seems to have no certain meaning. This spinning is just about to make us go cra...

WingedTerrapin

Literature

Blue in the heart

I built false idols of you with words and prayed to them at night Pounded the Plexiglas between us until my knuckles bled so I wrote you red letters bottled by the dozen and cast them out to seaDays passed to weeks and still no reply Then one washed up on your shores and you threw me a glanceI reflected in your eyes I chokedwhat heart is there that cannot be lost? only the one not taken so I implored the ocean swallow the rest and all that Id written I buried with no X no treasure mapthese days I put my head under water before screaming I love you until Im blue in the heart but that epistle grave is overflowing and every time you loo...

Literature

Stand Up

Twelve candles line the corridor, shadows gorge upon them in frothing gulps.Your silence slams like a door in the face.Lips draw back in fear from the sharp white anger of teeth.Muted contortions are leashed in place behind heavy curtains.From the depths of the well a glimpse of blue clouds was caught with tattered breath.The hands of the clock fall with the burden of time.Stand up. Stand. Up.Congealing plumes of heat rose from weary bodies in the snow.Pigeons lift from shattered ground, washing memories away in a current of feathers.Autumn leaves rustle with reckless abandon in the wind.Exuberant fingers entangle after the briefest of hes...

Literature

Waken

Lying in the amber glass watching as the decades pass sleeping in the sediment all this time what has it meant? fragments of my inner mind began to dim, began to die time passes and i try to see where everything went wrong for me. sleeping in these shards of pain the darkness comes again, again with ravens, doves, and eagle wings he clutches at my soul and sings: "life is darkness, life is clear life is facing what you fear" but i, my feathers timid brown do not know these words i've found (i float, i float) beginnings end the pain flies free, the soul it mends And I waken to a world anew where your wings are yours to choose

jokerrabit

Literature

Things

That’s all they areA fancy house a shiny carBut my things mean so much to me They’re who I am A part of meI can’t let goI can’t surviveWithout my things to feel aliveSo take my heart and take my soul But take my thingsDon’t think soThe very thought is so ingrownIt twist my stomach Tears my soul And sends me deep to my black holeLike torture one should never knowSo take me as I am or goBut never take my things Please no.

Literature

Worthless

This empty ‘nothing’ feeling that digs into my soul; In pain, my head is reeling- again, it takes its toll.I feel just like an orphan- A speck upon the page. With no-one to rely on, alone upon my stage.Close my eyes; try to forget that I do this to myself, and every single time I’m hit it takes part of my health.I’ve given up on happiness; I’ve given up on life- Why did it have to be like this?A dull, un-sharpened knife; each day, it takes my life.

Literature

Fear

Deep, deep down inside Deep down you want to hide It’s got a hold It won’t let go This feeling you don’t want to know It’s griping tarring you inside And theirs no use You can not hide It’s all the things you cannot stand Broken dreams Unfinished plans But if you think it’s here to stay Tomorrow’s yet another day.

More by kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Deep-Thinker-140740722kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Uses-for-cats-200831604kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Joys-of-Pregnancy-245508514kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Language-of-Cats-313781274kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Not-my-type-333635280kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Pick-your-poison-343811050kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Joys-of-a-Pokemon-Trainer-155027764kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Deadly-Nightfury-Wallpaper-162581376kangel

kangel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kangel/art/Attention-311246844kangel

Promoted Deviations

Literature

TT 02 INTRODUCING

From Language, Lies, Magic By Pjetër Mamrick [1] [DEVIATION] “Wound-licking is perilous. Learning to hold grudges is easy. Revenge is a long journey. Forgiveness is burning. Human life is futile. And existence is sublime despite the pain.” Excuse me for misquoting that ancient so-called sophologist Shaman-no who is so important to members of the Hierarchy of the World-Wide Church. Although they fear his words, and hate him too, of course. Or perhaps it is Mitshio bel-Shoní I mean, the famous unreliable narrator, speaking on behalf of h-M’krz Dlnl-v’zk; or then again, what about Jozsfrēdu Lacūs, with his trilogy of four volumes? My memory isn’t that good anymore, although I’m just as astute, I hope! [DEVIATION] Anyway, I am talking, of course, about that devilish and angelic lad called Dvaldí, Davuth, Daa·hweeth, Daud, Dai, David. (Ooh, what a phrase – a lad called Thoahatha! How extremely powerful names are! [2]). [DEVIATION] And indeed, perhaps one should not say “a lad”

Literature

The Dark Danger of Art

The Dark Danger of Art by p.b. wells every artist is a fugitive. the actor steps into another life and finds the man he might have been. the singer opens her mouth and discovers a voice braver than the one she lives with. the painter builds a world where the light falls perfectly and nothing beautiful must apologize for existing. the writer invents people who understand him, women who stay, friends who do not betray, and gods who occasionally answer the goddamn telephone. then someone calls time. the curtain drops. the music stops. the paint dries. the final page is turned. come home, they say. come back to the bills, the empty bed, the polite conversations, the little daily failures stacked like dirty dishes beside the sink. but why? why leave a world where you are loved for one where you are merely tolerated? why abandon the people who know your soul just because they never took a breath? reality calls it make-believe. reality has always been an

Literature

INTERVIEW 02 DEPENDS WHAT YOU MEAN BY GANG

Luke likes the idea of appearing dangerous. He does not particularly enjoy danger itself. At sixteen, he is borrowing the vocabulary and confidence of the music he loves while quietly hoping nobody asks for evidence. The camera doesn’t mock him. It simply asks one fairly obvious question and waits. Luke’s answer tells us almost everything. “Have you ever actually been in a gang?” Luke thinks about this. “Depends what you mean by gang.” “An organised group involved in crime.” “No.” A pause. Luke adjusts his cap. “Is that bit going in?” Nobody answers. Luke looks directly into the camera. “Because there’s context.” The Documentary Is Not About Luke is available now on Kindle and in paperback. https://amzn.eu/d/028xXPvt

Suggested Deviants

Taterbug94

Literature

Rain over Death

With every drop of rain There comes great pain. So even though the music's dead The world isn't above my head. My body is cold but your hands are warm, Yet when I'm awake I feel like a storm. When I see the rain I feel nothing but pain, That it makes me insane It makes me want to go dance In the rain. So if you want rain Well, sorry, it doesn't Rain down here with death.

Literature

Heaven Sent

Heaven sent an angel in form of a friend. They made this angel into a gift that saved my life. Heaven sent me a friend that helped me through a lot and now it's my turn to repay the favor. They sent down an angel that helps free me from my pain but I still feel bad even through the rain. All I saw was darkness but now I see a big blue sky thanks to the angel that heaven sent down to me. Thanks to the angel that heaven sent, my life is better than it has ever been. I wish to thank heaven for this angel because now I feel that I can live again. Thank you heaven for the angel that you sent.

Literature

Counter-clockwise

The world spins round and round and round again. As it spins we're spinning around with it. We tend to think that this world starts spinning faster and faster and we all wish that it would slow back down. When the world turns cold all you want to do is hide. If this world could just spin slower then we would all be a little bit happier. The world spins at a rate of no control and of no virtue. In this life this world is beginning to become more and more futile. This is the life, this is the time that this world needs to start spinning slower. This barge of life seems to have no certain meaning. This spinning is just about to make us go cra...

WingedTerrapin

Literature

Blue in the heart

I built false idols of you with words and prayed to them at night Pounded the Plexiglas between us until my knuckles bled so I wrote you red letters bottled by the dozen and cast them out to seaDays passed to weeks and still no reply Then one washed up on your shores and you threw me a glanceI reflected in your eyes I chokedwhat heart is there that cannot be lost? only the one not taken so I implored the ocean swallow the rest and all that Id written I buried with no X no treasure mapthese days I put my head under water before screaming I love you until Im blue in the heart but that epistle grave is overflowing and every time you loo...

Literature

Stand Up

Twelve candles line the corridor, shadows gorge upon them in frothing gulps.Your silence slams like a door in the face.Lips draw back in fear from the sharp white anger of teeth.Muted contortions are leashed in place behind heavy curtains.From the depths of the well a glimpse of blue clouds was caught with tattered breath.The hands of the clock fall with the burden of time.Stand up. Stand. Up.Congealing plumes of heat rose from weary bodies in the snow.Pigeons lift from shattered ground, washing memories away in a current of feathers.Autumn leaves rustle with reckless abandon in the wind.Exuberant fingers entangle after the briefest of hes...

Literature

Waken

Lying in the amber glass watching as the decades pass sleeping in the sediment all this time what has it meant? fragments of my inner mind began to dim, began to die time passes and i try to see where everything went wrong for me. sleeping in these shards of pain the darkness comes again, again with ravens, doves, and eagle wings he clutches at my soul and sings: "life is darkness, life is clear life is facing what you fear" but i, my feathers timid brown do not know these words i've found (i float, i float) beginnings end the pain flies free, the soul it mends And I waken to a world anew where your wings are yours to choose

jokerrabit

Literature

Things

That’s all they areA fancy house a shiny carBut my things mean so much to me They’re who I am A part of meI can’t let goI can’t surviveWithout my things to feel aliveSo take my heart and take my soul But take my thingsDon’t think soThe very thought is so ingrownIt twist my stomach Tears my soul And sends me deep to my black holeLike torture one should never knowSo take me as I am or goBut never take my things Please no.

Literature

Worthless

This empty ‘nothing’ feeling that digs into my soul; In pain, my head is reeling- again, it takes its toll.I feel just like an orphan- A speck upon the page. With no-one to rely on, alone upon my stage.Close my eyes; try to forget that I do this to myself, and every single time I’m hit it takes part of my health.I’ve given up on happiness; I’ve given up on life- Why did it have to be like this?A dull, un-sharpened knife; each day, it takes my life.

Literature

Fear

Deep, deep down inside Deep down you want to hide It’s got a hold It won’t let go This feeling you don’t want to know It’s griping tarring you inside And theirs no use You can not hide It’s all the things you cannot stand Broken dreams Unfinished plans But if you think it’s here to stay Tomorrow’s yet another day.

Site Header

Deviation Actions

TT 02 INTRODUCING

The Dark Danger of Art

INTERVIEW 02 DEPENDS WHAT YOU MEAN BY GANG

Rain over Death

Heaven Sent

Counter-clockwise

Blue in the heart

Stand Up

Waken

Things

Worthless

Fear

TT 02 INTRODUCING

The Dark Danger of Art

INTERVIEW 02 DEPENDS WHAT YOU MEAN BY GANG

Rain over Death

Heaven Sent

Counter-clockwise

Blue in the heart

Stand Up

Waken

Things

Worthless

Fear

Christmas Conundrum

Description

TT 02 INTRODUCING

The Dark Danger of Art

INTERVIEW 02 DEPENDS WHAT YOU MEAN BY GANG

Rain over Death

Heaven Sent

Counter-clockwise

Blue in the heart

Stand Up

Waken

Things

Worthless

Fear