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About Literature / Hobbyist Senior Member Jo31/Female/South Africa Groups :iconmy-soul-bleeds-ink: My-Soul-Bleeds-Ink
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Deviant for 11 Years
8 Month Core Membership
Statistics 2,405 Deviations 23,255 Comments 90,938 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

I Never Knew His Smile
I Never Knew His Smile
I never knew his smile,
His laugh or even the colour of his eyes,
But I’d like to think he would have smiled more often than I do.
That he would have laughed at grandpa’s nonsense jokes –
The ones we’ve all heard at every family gathering
For the last thirty years,
The ones we think are lame and boring and beg him not to tell in company –
I think he would have laughed at those;
Even if just so grandpa didn’t feel bad or stupid,
Or unloved –
Because God forbid anyone ever feel unloved like mummy did all her life;
I love you mommy,
With all my little heart that beat inside you until the day it stopped –
He would never have felt unloved,
My little angel boy.
Never have ever felt like I have all my life –
Like one wrong word would cause mommy to stop loving him,
Or that he had to do extraordinary feats to earn the love that oozes from my soul
Just for him and him alone –
Because I know
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 3 9
Mental Manipulation
Sandy waited for Judy to cast her vote as the secret ballot went around the room. She had thought that this would be an easy task – conning parliament into a vote of no confidence against the president and, once he was deposed, taking his place as the first woman president in the history of the country – being vice president certainly had its advantages, but, no, it hadn’t been easy. For the first six rounds of voting there had been one person still on the president’s side…out of all 250 delegates, one person had voted ‘confidence’ and, of course, Sandy needed a full 100% for the vote to pass. She thought back to the conversations she had had during the lunch break and suppressed a smile.
Possessing some psychic abilities, Sandy had always found reading people – their intentions and, more often than not, their thoughts – a very easy task. It was what had helped her convince the president, in a move that stunned parliament, to promot
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 2 4
Philosophising on Dragons (Mondo)
Philosophising on Dragons
Dragons used to fly
by moonlight and starlight--where
have they all gone to?
When time comes to end,
even dragons fail and fall;
going beyond death.
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 7 0
Summer Contest Image 2 by MagicalJoey Summer Contest Image 2 :iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 1 0 Summer Contest Image 1 by MagicalJoey Summer Contest Image 1 :iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 1 0
Until Death do us Part
Until Death do us Part
Midnight red or bloody black,
I sit and wait for purpose to strike.
Strike it does, and confidence I lack
Until Calliope sneaks forward with godly light.
She grips your hand, you stir, and my eyes grow wide,
For purpose pulses within your veins.
I’m grabbed, and with unfamiliar strides
You point me to paper and I bleed: insane.
Forest blue or ocean green,
Perhaps puce or even sun-burned pink;
It’s never what you think it means
When my life-liquid flows forth and courage sinks.
Inspired, your thoughts are racing trains,
And I the track upon which then run.
Once more you sigh, once more and again
Until your thoughts sit still, exhausted and overrun.
Abandoned on the desk, I breathe in relief,
For I bore your burdens ‘til the final end.
Now, all that’s left is grief;
My fate is sealed – a bin my new-found friend.
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 6 2
The Fort's Farcical Fall
The Fort’s Farcical Fall
There was once, long ago, a Civil War,
That tossed men about like straw,
It raced like a burning blaze throughout the USA,
And, like pimples on prom night, would not go away.
Union versus their Confederate brethren,
But, tell me, how did this war begin?
Was it when the Confederates fired upon the Fort at Sumter…
…the second time, that is, as the first was a blunder.
What? You mean you did not know?
Your history books did not tell you so?
A month before the Civil War began,
One inexperienced gunner, poor wee man,
Fired upon the Fort; he made a big mistake,
And his superiors had to apologise – eggs on their face.
But this was not the turning point, not yet,
For there was a blunder still to come none will quite forget.
Richard Pryor, a negotiator of some renown,
Came to the Fort to settle things down.
They were Union, he Confederate ‘scum’;
But the War was over – the last battle won
Or lost, dependin
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 5 4
On an Island - I am Not Alone
On an Island
I am Not Alone
But here I'm no one, a Cosmic Castaway,
Left alone to deal or die…so I’ll
Lose my head to the chemical freeway,
Enjoy the ride, the view;
Have the sun rise upon me one more morning –
Smile and sing with the lurking larks –
And set behind the mountains of my molehills.
Purify and sanctify me,
Cleanse me down deep into my soiled soul until it squeaks,
Until it glistens and gleams with glamour;
I must be holy for you,
An angel without wings –
There when needed to prop you up
As you propped me –
My feathers fell off and my wings bent and broke…
…because, at the end of the day,
Losing sure is easy,
But it’s winning that we need to strive for;
You taught me that.
You crush me with the things you do,
You rend a heart already beaten down
And bruised beyond what’s bearable,
But you rend it in order to stitch it back together.
You hold my
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 6 9
You Are Loved, Dear Heart, You Are Loved
You Are Loved, Dear Heart, You Are Loved
You’ve got a secret pocket
Hiding deep within your soul.
In it you hide emotions;
Buried alive in the deepest hole.
They bubble and they brew inside,
They fester and they rot…
…until up they come and out they explode,
Whether you want them to or not.
You are a natural ‘carer’,
A person who is kind at heart.
You overflow with love and compassion,
And that is just the start.
You’ve been ‘through hell and back again,’
And baby – you’ve survived!
So I’ll shout it from the rooftops:
I am glad you are alive!
You not only hear, you listen,
You love, you’re kind, you care.
When I need a breath of encouragement,
You are always there.
Twice you’ve visited me in psych wards,
Heck, we even met in such a place,
And just knowing that you’re still around,
That I can still see your lovely face,
Brings calming and relaxing auras,
To surround my shattered so
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 6 3
How He is Represented
How He is Represented
If He cares not about my colour,
My gender or my weight,
Or about my physicality
Or my mental state…
…why is it that His people,
See these things shining bright?
Holding them as reasons overhead,
To cast me out into the night.
Why am I forgotten?
Why am I ignored?
Why am I treated like an enemy,
As if we are at war?
They’re His representatives,
His emissaries on this earth.
Showing folks His love and light,
And how each one is worth
More to Him than precious silver,
More than gold or gems –
Reality is we’re worthless scum
To those who represent.
If we are not like all the others,
If we stand out from the crowd,
We’re shunned like little lepers,
And talked over or about.
If I were to vanish,
Disappear into thin air…
…only two of the flock would notice,
‘Cos it’s like I’m already not even there.
Those who notice and who come,
Those rare, exquisite jewels,
Ask me why I struggle t
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 3 2
Clutch It Close - Don't Let It Escape
Clutch It Close
Don't Let It Escape
Clutch it close, least it depart,
This fragile, broken, hardened heart.
Once beating ‘neath ribs’ protecting cage,
It’s come loose over time; worn away with age.
Your chest is hollow, empty, broken
Into jagged shards by those words spoken.
Though they claim, “’T’was all a joke,”
They’re the ones now pulling a lynching rope.
Clutch it in arms too thin and boney,
To hold up a heart gone cold and stoney.
Its solid mass now weighing more than your head;
Though it does not beat…you’re not…yet dead?
Worry etches brows in frown,
And turns the sunshine upside down,
Until the world’s filled with calming rain,
And gloomy clouds of pressing pain.
Clutch it close, least you forget,
You are still alive – you’re not dead…yet!
Hold on to it with all you possess,
As you pray for guidance through this mess.
While darkness creeps and climbs an
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 5 0
More Than a Silver Lining
More Than a Silver Lining
You’ve been a rock, a star, a gem,
A precious and dear friend.
But once again my words have hurt –
I automatically hit ‘send’
Without filtering through emotions,
Filtering thoughts or deeds.
I let my situation blind me,
And became oblivious to your needs.
Truth be told, I’m nervous,
Scared I’ll say something that’s wrong.
So instead I keep my mouth shut,
And time ticks slowly on.
So let me take this moment,
To lay things on the line.
Without you I’d be nothing,
Nowhere, and running out of time.
You tried your bloody hardest,
To raise funds towards my cause –
Halted only by poor people
Who brought the need to pause.
You sit there and you listen
As I cry and howl over the phone…
And because you’re on the other end,
I know I’m not alone.
You’re brave, you’re smart, you’re funny,
You’re kindness to the core.’
Because of you, I am alive,
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 5 2
You Are Silver in a World of Grey
You Are Silver in a World of Grey
There was some stormy weather,
It had me bunkered down.
My world was full of pain and tears
And horrid little frowns.
I sent out a few feelers,
Tiny tentacles tinged with hope…
Because if I did nothing,
I’d be dangling from a rope.
And one-by-one they answered,
Friends…champions to my plea…
They showered me in kindness
That brought me to bended knee.
Word of hope, comfort and life,
Planted seeds within, though small in size.
And, like yeast reacts in dough,
I felt love begin to rise.
It rose up within my broken heart,
It soothed my shattered soul.
It gathered scattered spirit-shards;
Turning me back towards more whole.
Though every cent and sentence
Contributed to this new-found calm,
Your gift went beyond the call of duty,
It soothed like healing balm.
So for your help I thank you,
With all that I possess.
Without you I’d be nowhere,
And I’d have nothing left.
You are a shining angel,
An examp
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 4 4
Winter's Weight (Haiku)
Winter's Weight
Bare-backed branches break.
Wind-whipped, they claw at windows;
Groaning, they crumble.
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 7 4
Always Winter, Never Christmas
Always Winter, Never Christmas
“I Love Too Much”
A tiny being began.
Growing, multiplying cells,
Forming fingers and lengthening limbs,
Until time turned tumid –
Like a bothersome boil,
Or a tumorous growth –
And no amount of lancing could extract its poison.
Fate infected time,
And time tore in two,
Until a tiny being was no more.
Everywhere there is newness and life.
Babies of every kind, shape and size,
Squeezed into folded skin.
Bright eyes blinking benignly,
While inside, your dry heart flares into flame
As it catches the sparks life gives off.
You burn down, razed to the ground,
While babies are raised aloft by loving hands.
In the time it takes to sneeze,
A life is extinguished.
Another woman joins the lengthening list of statistics,
Boiled down to bare, bleached bones,
And emotionless numbers.
Her heart – shattered and scattered
By the cruel winds of fate – forgotten by the mathematicians
And scientists, r
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 7 2
The Fantastic Misters
The Fantastic Misters
Silver slinking through the night,
On the prowl while moon is bright.
Crouching low, belly to the ground;
Besides a hungry rumble he makes no sound.
Little rabbit in the dark so deep,
Does not know how close HE creeps.
Until a pounce, a snap of jaws,
And poor old Peter breathes no more.
Sated, somewhat, he returns to his home,
Rabbit his reward for midnight stroll.
Mother, and some boisterous kits,
Will eat well tonight…hunger, fixed!
Silver slinking through the earth,
Judged by man upon fur’s worth.
But to his partner and those he feeds,
He’s worth more than a rug to cover knees.
*** | *** | *** | ***
Royal red streaks through the grass,
Dogs and horses on his arse.
Running left and weaving right,
They’re always there – just out of sight.
Trumpets blast obnoxious honks,
Like drunken geese imbibed with plonk.
He spies a cave, a hole nearby;
Bolting within he crumples, sighs.
Safe, for now, cos man cannot
:iconmagicaljoey:MagicalJoey 5 2

Random Favourites

Dec 9th - Growth
32 feet wide is the gap between my "now"
and my "to be". Risking the jump calls for an act
greater than me. I am still small, waiting to grow,
waiting to be able to jump, not to retract.
I must still face what lies ahead, frightening me,
causing my dreams, suddenly dark, too haunt my sleep.
But I can grow, I can move on, ready to fight
all those bad dreams. They will be my trophies to keep.
:iconnelehgrimm:NelehGrimm 2 3
A linked trapeze of successes,
Somehow sinking when we grip tight;
Soot-infused, weakening tresses
Performed at a delicate height.
Somehow sinking when we grip tight,
A loose moon's essence leads the way.
I'm worried we will see the light
A second late, if not, a day.
Soot-infused, weakening tresses
Are waves to be distilled by force.
It's thought that never suppresses
A breath, nor spreads beneath the source.
Performed at a delicate height,
The sea will slosh with rage and foam.
I'm worried there will be no light
Out in the fog to guide us home.
:iconsedahliah:SedahLiah 2 2
Prose Basics: Sensory Details (mini workshop)
“Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” -- Anton Checkhov
There are few words of wisdom passed on more often than "show, don't tell", but what does that actually mean? What tools are available to translate your imagination's pictures into words and back into pictures for someone else's imagination? And why is that important anyway?
This lesson will focus on exactly those questions. It is broken into two parts, the learning material and the assignment. Read and understand the material, then complete the assignment. Simple, right? 
Let's get to work!
The origins of storytelling
It's commonly accepted that our concept of storytelling began as an oral tradition, thousands of years before the written word was even invented. As time passed, we invented a new form of storytelling: pictures. The first written languages relied in pictograms to convey meaning. A snake could mean danger. Three verticle lines co
:iconliliwrites:LiliWrites 47 102
On the phone
He paces like the gears in his head
are connected to the ligaments
in his knees; like it’s an Olympic sport,
the rush of his gait a swinging pendulum
against half-sentences and scheduled timetables.
He paces like going in circles is the only
way to keep from getting lost; like wandering
thoughts make a wandering body, too tangled
in the abstract to find the ground.
He paces like conversation is a labyrinth;
like being a metronome keeps him on track;
like he’s in a hurry to be exactly where he is.
Like going nowhere will eventually lead to somewhere.
:iconsilverinkblot:SilverInkblot 39 25
Character Themes Template
How to use this template:
This template is not designed to tell you a character’s hair colour, eye colour, shoe size, or how they like their eggs. It is for the process of applying the core themes and elements of your narrative to your character's development, and visa versa. Not all fields need to be filled in for every character. Use your own discretion to determine which ones are relevant. You may find that you do not have all the answers at the beginning, but they fall in place as you further develop your story.
The examples given are very basic responses, and are just there to give you an idea of what kind of content you can include. Ideally you would have multiple aspects for each field.
Core Relationships and Nature of the relationship:
Mother - strong single-parent to child bond.
Overall theme created by these relationships:
importance of family ties
Core char
:iconc-a-harland:C-A-Harland 188 30
Dec 8th - Post-Teen Melodrama
And though I never wish to die
-I want to breathe, I want to live-
I cannot help but asking "Why?"
And "How much more can I still give?"
I want to breathe, I want to live
Now I am here and now I write
Once more I flee and feel and fight
Yet where to, and oh, where from?
I cannot help but asking "Why?"
Is this the path from where I come?
Is this the path that leads the way?
Where do I run, where do I stay?
And "How much more can I still give?"
And "Are there things I must forgive?"
So I can close and carry one
To find the place where I belong.
:iconnelehgrimm:NelehGrimm 3 2
I walk alone
I walk alone this moonless night
a stark absence of birds in flight
perfect silence in the distance
questioning my own existence
a stark absence of birds in flight
I activate my second sight
you scope me out beneath the stars
examining my many scars
perfect silence in the distance
still as a stone, your resistance
I had hoped I would see you smile
my hopes dashed for you are hostile
questioning my own existence
torn apart by your persistence
turn and run from your useless fight
I walk alone this moonless night
:iconprettyflour:prettyflour 32 19
DFC 2015 Day 8: Life After Death
Within my heart there is an empty room
reserved for you
if ever you feel given to exhume
what hitherto
had been my monumental golden calf,
now since converted to a cenotaph
waiting, tacit,
in my casket
to write a pithy epitaph.
:iconmadprincefeanor:MadPrinceFeanor 2 2
DFC 2015 Day 7: Ocean Dream
We watched the sunset by the sea.
I didn't think you'd noticed me
but softly, fingers entwine.
You drew my picture in the sand
and told me all that you had planned
as you put your hand in mine.
:iconmadprincefeanor:MadPrinceFeanor 3 7
DFC 2015 Day 6: The Sorcerer and The Scientist
You call the lightning in my soul
and try to keep it in a jar
but I will steal it back again.
I will not pay my passion's toll
to someone who remains afar.
I summon the snow in your heart
when the ache of your solitude
will only allow for the rain.
But suffer me not to depart
or placate you with platitude.
You'll not make a phylactery
and I, in turn, won't cast a spell,
and therefore we might entertain
the "you and I" capacity,
if your heart could be mine as well.
:iconmadprincefeanor:MadPrinceFeanor 4 2
today we say goodbye
I have a heavy heart, all my joy is pretend
sadness is real today because I lost a friend 
and all I can think can this be the end?
The fact that he is gone...I can not comprehend
I lock myself away, I want to go and hide
replaying the moment you told me he had died
Who will take me dancing? Who else could be my guide?
trying to take comfort, he’s on the other side
I’ve said a thousand prayers, to bring him back to me
I know such things aren’t wise- that’s not reality 
we have to move forward for what will be, will be
I try to tell myself…he is finally free.
We will always mourn, we will always ask why
I have to remember- it is okay to cry
he is now an angel, rising into the sky
we are forever changed…today we say goodbye
:iconprettyflour:prettyflour 33 27
Dec 5th - Still Life
Five minutes of silence is all I'm asking for
When time just holds its breath and sound is nothing more
Than distant memories of what had been before
The world for once stands still, sedated to the core
And I can catch my breath when silently I sigh
And lean into the peace, the solitude I find
Within the muted moments, seconds trickle by
I close my eyes and dream of how it feels to fly
I calm my trembling heart and glide on through the winds
And each new lung of air washes away my sins
My burdens disappear, dissolving from within
For once I am prepared when time again begins
:iconnelehgrimm:NelehGrimm 4 5
Ire Inspired
That void you feel once rage subsides,
As if your heart escaped its cage,
Free as a bird to show what hides
And sing its tune cacophonous:
Emotions may be feigned, but anger's traitorous.
:iconparsat:Parsat 3 1
DFC 2015 #6: Merely a Snowflake
The first wall that you're rushing through
Won't send you tumbling to the ground
Since stone's too weak for deadly coup.
But later you will realize:
All you're made of - will ever be made of - is ice.
:iconxandoo:Xandoo 3 10
My Narrowing Escape
A private place, my narrowing escape from
The world; as a terraformed planet grows scum,
The will of true consciousness will know the sum.
A razor's edge severing the ends; but I
Am still me, meant to congregate - multiply,
Collect, connect, dissect, but never defy.
A tenuous grip, to be beyond design;
Where clarity's guise gets to truly define
Being alive, there are other minds like mine.
:iconsedahliah:SedahLiah 3 2
dear sarah,
i wonder
if sometimes you can still feel the weight of your bed sheet
around your neck. heaven knows there were days i could count every thread.
last night i was cleaning up my desk, and i found the scissors
i used to crack my skin open four years ago
and when i went to throw them out, it felt like moving mountains
or graves. if you don’t know yet, you’ll learn that some types of grief
leave scars—some ghosts don’t know how to stay buried.
you will stumble through the rest of your life wondering if you will
one day forget how it feels to toe the edge of the cliff and turn the other way.
the answer is no. there is a precipice. there will always
be a precipice. a part of you will always want to throw yourself
over the edge. somehow, you never will. no one will notice.
to them, your race is over. you have cleared the last hurdle.
you have gone one month, three months, six months, a year without
turning your blue blood red. you have won your war. congrat
:iconmisfitablegrae:MisfitableGrae 220 34


ENID by DanielPriego ENID :icondanielpriego:DanielPriego 103 28 old chub by Apofiss old chub :iconapofiss:Apofiss 7,872 224 fire walk by Apofiss fire walk :iconapofiss:Apofiss 19,816 635 up and up it goes by Apofiss up and up it goes :iconapofiss:Apofiss 10,737 384 witchcraft by Apofiss witchcraft :iconapofiss:Apofiss 7,790 300 nature walk by Apofiss nature walk :iconapofiss:Apofiss 11,087 306 fancy ninja cat by Apofiss fancy ninja cat :iconapofiss:Apofiss 7,744 339 dark fuse by Apofiss dark fuse :iconapofiss:Apofiss 7,191 131

My Daily Deviations

DA Compliments/Features

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Song/s of the Day/Week/Month/Hour

Master of the House - Les Miserables

Fight Song - Rachel Platten

Hallelujah - Lucy Lawless

Inner Demons - Julia Brennan

Eclipse of the Heart - Lucy Lawless

Bitch - Meredith Brooks

True Colours - Lucy Lawless

Joanne - Lady Gaga

Doing Fine - Lauren Alaina

Arms Open - The Script

High School Never Ends - Bowling for Soup

Show Me - Idina Menzel

Important Things to Me

Another 100 Themes List for me to do :D

:star: = completed

:star: 1. Introduction - Depressed, Schizophrenic, Human
:star: 2. Complicated - Never Easy
:star: 3. Making History - For Good
:star: 4. Rivalry - Over Death
:star: 5. Unbreakable - Mulish
:star: 6. Obsession - Rules
:star: 7. Eternity - Five Little Words
:star: 8. Gateway - Lazy Gnome
:star: 9. Death - Death
:star: 10. Opportunities - Rotting Wood
:star: 11. 33% - One-Third Wonder
:star: 12. Dead Wrong - Discovery
:star: 13. Running Away - Cirque du Freak
:star: 14. Judgement - Just Love
:star: 15. Seeking Solace - Needing
:star: 16. Excuses - Really Me
:star: 17. Vengeance - Ghost-Threads
:star: 18. Love - Seasons
:star: 19. Tears - Simple Tear and I am Sad
:star: 20. My Inspiration - Vampire
:star: 21. Never Again - Until Now
:star: 22. Online - Deviant Art
:star: 23. Failure - Best Forgotten
:star: 24. Rebirth - 1000 Miles
25. Breaking Away
:star: 26. Forever and a day - In Heaven
:star: 27. Lost and Found - The Friendship Box
:star: 28. Light - Love and Light
:star: 29. Dark - Grey Becomes Me Better
:star: 30. Faith - Stained Glass
:star: 31. Colours - Rainbow
:star: 32. Exploration - Kisses in the Night
:star: 33. Seeing Red - Love is Red
34. Shades of Grey
:star: 35. Forgotten - How to Cry
:star: 36. Dreamer - The Ringing Siren
37. Mist
:star: 38. Burning - My Tri-colour Rainbow
:star: 39. Out of Time - Wish and Dream
40. Knowing How
:star: 41. Fork in the road - Burden Free
:start: 42. Start - Teach Tolerance
43. Nature's Fury
44. At Peace
:star: 45. Heart Song - Heart of Ice and Heart of Stone
46. Reflection
47. Perfection
:star: 48. Everyday Magic - You Stayed
49. Umbrella
50. Party
:star: 51. Troubling Thoughts - It's Hard to Choose Hope
:star: 52. Stirring of the Wind - Chance
53. Future
:star: 54. Health and Healing - Still
55. Separation
:star: 56. Everything For You - Scared You Away
57. Slow Down
:star: 58. Heartfelt Apology - Open My Eyes
59. Challenged
60. Exhaustion
61. Accuracy
:star: 62. Irregular Orbit - Whimsy Wind
:star: 63. Cold Embrace - Hell is Cold
:star: 64. Frost - Painted Ice
:star: 65. A Moment in Time - Frozen Joy
66. Dangerous Territory
:star: 67. Boundaries - Full Control
:star: 68. Unsettling Revelations - Rape
:star: 69. Shattered - Kicking in the Glass
70. Bitter Silence
71. The True You
72. Pretence
:star: 73. Patience - Too Far Gone
:star: 74. Midnight - Witching Hour
75. Shadows
76. Summer Haze
:star: 77. Memories - If You Were Here
:star: 78. Change in the Weather - More to This
:star: 79. Illogical - Making Sense
:star: 80. Only Human - A French Canadian Angel
:star: 81. A Place to Belong - Capital-h-Home
82. Advantage
:star: 83. Breakfast - You Are What You Eat
:star: 84. Echoes - Letter to a Lost Child - An Echo
:star: 85. Falling - Free Fall
:star: 86. Picking up the Pieces - A Letter to a Lost Child
:star: 87. Gunshot - Abused
:star: 88. Possession - Inside the Music
:star: 89. Twilight - I Think of You
:star: 90. Nowhere and Nothing - Floating Along
:star: 91. Answers - Seeing the Picture
:star: 92. Innocence - Dance
:star: 93. Simplicity - Earthworm
:star: 94. Reality - Go Away Again
:star: 95. Acceptance - Alive Not Dead
:star: 96. Lesson - Far Worse
:star: 97. Enthusiasm - Until Pregnancy
:star: 98. Game - Russian Roulette
:star: 99. Friendship - Carebears
:star: 100. Endings - Incomplete


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Fairy Name, Visitors Map and Personality Type

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My fairy name is Fruitpip Windtree

She brings gentle breezes to change the weather.
She lives in stony places and tumbling wastes.
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She wears a heather-coloured dress and has silvery lilac butterfly wings.
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Made with pride by the DeviantArt community BROWSE ALL ART

WATCHERS - I NEED YOUR EYES!!! (No, not literally :eyes: ) Link me (here via comment or via note) 1-5 POEMS of mine you are in :heart: with and think could be published. I'm gathering for a potential Anthology. 

4 deviants said No...I am just not interested in poetry at all and wouldn't read it if Old William penned it himself :grump:
3 deviants said The 'maybe' option for those indecisive peoples :shrug:
2 deviants said Yes...right now because it is weekend and I have HOURS free! :eager:
1 deviant said a few minutes cos I'm just doing that other really important thing :la:


MagicalJoey has started a donation pool!
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Journal History

Contest Winner's Feature Journal

Journal Entry: Sat Jun 30, 2018, 1:41 PM
CSS by UszatyArbuz | Written by MagicalJoey



What this is

I sent out a status plea to anyone who I had promised prizes to in contests and this journal is the result of several people's replies. I still think there are more that I owe, but I cannot remember so if you do not contact me sorry for you I can't remember :?

There are three contests I owe features to, but only one featured here. Two by the fantastic LadyLincoln and one from NaPoWriMo (which was in April people...that is how behind I am!) This here is the NaPoWriMo Feature only, because it is a mile and a half long and is taking me forever to put together with my physical difficulties at this stage. My lovely Lady, I will do yours next Saturday, I solemnly swear I am up to no good!

Contest One: NaPoWriMo Winners' Feature


Three of their works:

narrowin dreams I am
going nowhere
swaying in an
old and narrow
train car the
world crowded
against the
smelling like
rain the rhythm
of the tracks
    blooma flower, drowning, 
unfolds -- like petals -- an icon
spreading her many arms
water adrift in zero gravity,
like thick, dripping honey
from the hands of a murderous god
I am separated from myself
I am the body holding its own head
humming songs I have never heard 
the universe stumbles open,
grows in the unseen spaces --
she is singing to herself
    Little Sister and the Universe, a SestinaThe universe is a man in his prime,
the kind who wears nice suits from Saks Fifth Avenue;
while she, spends her mornings tangled in clean-soft sheets,
or standing bare in front of the window, staring into grey
concrete, waiting for the sweet scrape
of loneliness across her spine. Forgotten books
and their cracked spines. The universe is a book
written in minor sevenths and large primes
but Little Sister doesn't read. She likes to scrape
the leather off the covers: “take every avenue
of opportunity,” or “no black, no white, only shades of grey”,
scribbled onto skin. Sometimes a book is just sheets 
of paper glued together. She dreams of mislabeled spreadsheets,
ambiguous grammar, unbalanced books:
the endless realm of human stupidity. A haze of grey
anxiety. The race to the next great prime.
Like a small child running down the avenue
and falling, their parents picking them up saying it’s just a scrape. 
She wants to scream "no, look! it


Three of their works:

Symmetry (Day 2/30)aren't we all just lonely little stars
searching for meaning to
the chaos?
maybe it's in our desperation
to fill the void that we're
really one in the same.
    subtle (3/30)I carve my stories
into your skin and
hope you'll catch
all the insecurities
I'm too afraid to express
out loud --
but you sweat them out
and keep them to remind me
how I always
fall short
    dear so and so (4/30)dear so and so,
it has come to my attention
that this life has gone belly-up
and morning birds don't sing (for me).
if they ever unearth my remains
they'll see I still remain
the same, as I did before
and that's okay -- I'm okay
I'm okay
with the way colors lose their hue
or how the lilies you grew for me
always die after a little while
because even muted things
have their place.
And it's okay that I'm diluted
and shapeless because I could be
everything or nothing at all.
Maybe nothing even really matters.
Maybe that's the point.  
but do you know where courage sleeps?
I had been trying to find it
and shake it awake so I too
could know it.
But someone once told me that this
was no place for me.
And I think there's some truth to that.
So, for now I'll stack my bones
neatly where they lay, and scatter
my ashes where you can't find them.
I hope someday you'll forgive me.
A coward.


Three of their works:

What is Beauty?What is Beauty?
I know people
Who think that they
Can look
With a new dress
A pair of high heels
And make-up.
They think that
The lipstick will hide their silent secrets
And that the mascara will cover all that they have seen
The blush hides their fears,
Giving them a false cover
But sometimes,
That cover is made of glass
And we can see right through.
Some girls like frilly skirts and shopping and the colour pink
Other girls like me,
Like hoodies and sneakers and jeans
So maybe I don't look as
As the girls with curled hair and pink lips,
Frilly dresses and high heels,
But I have some qualities that lead me to believe
I'm not all bad.
I can write a story
Or draw a picture,
I can do sports
And things other girls give up doing;
Like push-ups or sit-ups.
I can run as fast as my guy friends,
Or joke like they do.
I've had friends who've come to me for advice,
So even if I don't look like the other girls,
The popular ones,
I do have friends and I'm
    The Urban Legend of a Creature of Bad Luck
A long time ago, there were no people and there were not as many fears. There were the occasional fears from creatures of predators and things, but it wasn't until people came in that the fears grew bigger—and worse.
In a pocket of space and time, a creature was sleeping. It had been asleep for a long time, feeding on the occasional fears and nightmares the living produced. There was nothing in its little bubble; only dark energy surrounded the creature. It didn't mind—it had what it needed.
This creature had rabbit-like ears, with mouths on both ends. They contained sharp teeth. It had eyes and teeth on its stomach and arms. On the back it had pinkish spikes and black wings. Its feet were small but its arms were double the size. It also had a large tail, and reddish eyes. Some fur at the top of its head was the same colour as its pinkish tail. Spikes adorned the creature's fur.
One day, the fears grew bigger. The creature didn't mind it at first, because
    What She Deserves
It was dark outside. Karai glanced back one last time, scanning the area as she narrowed her golden eyes. Something rustled, but it ended up just being an alley cat. The Foot Bots beside her let out whirring noises, and she nodded. They moved on, but she didn't. Karai stayed behind. Even though she hadn't seen anything or heard anything besides the cat, she still knew something was there. Something she hadn't wanted to tell the Foot Bots about. The stars that were out tonight didn't make the world seem much brighter. Karai was used to the darkness, but tonight it made her feel lonely, and even...scared.
And she hated it.
"What's this? You're not going to try and attack me tonight?" a male's voice called out, slicing the thin night air. He appeared from behind a wall, his gaze calm but clearly stormy. "I know you know I'm here."
Karai clenched her fists, frustrated. But not at him, no; at the fact that he could read her so clearly like an empty book when she so wanted to b


Three of their works:

Poem #28I want to go home.
I constantly complain.
I want to sleep peacefully
I want to be safe and warm
Enjoy well-cooked dinner
Spend some alone time
Maybe curl up in my blankets
Cherish time with family
And laugh together heartily.
We're constantly everywhere.
In stores, in malls, in streets, in alleyways.
In and out, left and right.
Near and far.
We'll never go home.
We are never going home.
Because our home is destroyed.
But that's okay.
As long as I have my family.
I'll always be happy.
I don't need shelter.
Because we'll cover each other.
I don't need the warmth.
We'll warm each other.
I don't need food.
Because we'll find food together.
I don't need water.
We can go on without it.
There'll never be nightmares
Because we are here to comfort each other.
Because home is where the heart is.
And my heart is with my family.
    Poem #29Amongst the valley on many trees and hills,
There's so many vibrant shades of green.
But amongst the emerald grass, I spy with natural eyes:
A field of flowers.
Flowers of many colors, flowers of many sizes, flowers of many types. All share beauty amongst each other. Catching my eyes' attention.
What a lovely field of flowers.
The flowers are so vibrant, as vibrant as the grass, as beautiful as the clouds, as peaceful as the sky, as bright as the sun.
The flowers are so soft and wonderful, petals scatter across the air and gently glide towards the grass.
A peaceful field of flowers.
The sun is bright and warm, the breeze is soft. It's not too hot or too cold. Ah, the perfect weather, with a lovely environment, and peaceful silence. All accompanied with none other than
The vibrant field of flowers.
I adore the silence, I adore the grass, I adore the trees, the birds, the sun and the sky, the soft breeze, the warm weather.
And I adore the field of flowers.
My own garden paradise.
I sat a
    Poem #30Dear poems,
I create a lot of you from my own hands
Based off my memories,
my feelings,
my perspective of life,
and the world around me.
As I type or write,
the words start flowing out.
Along with my emotions.
Along with meaning
Along with purpose
Along with your story.
I write and create more of you
Because life has many surprises
Every life has a story.
I'll express mine through my own words.
All piled up to symbolize meaning.
The words kept flowing and flowing
And the emotions, story, and meaning tag along.
And I'm proud of what I've created.
I'm sorry, my dear poems.
You express my life
You express my emotions
You express my thoughts
You express the world.
I put so much effort into each and every one of you.
But I feel like, as I look at other's,
it wasn't enough.
But I'll continue to give birth to new poems
As my life goes on.
Because honestly,
I don't know how to express myself.
Everyone has a story to tell,
The story of their lives.
I'll tell my story through emotions


Three of their works:

i fear it truewe two are on a bed of hay
i don't know what to say
the wind comes to the rescue
and my mind is blown away
my seeds my dust my nothing
all the cosmos overlay
forever is heavy a word
i'd use it for today
our hands are linked
our lines combine
our hearts are synched
our weights
our fates
our time
it all feels mine
to give to you
for I'm in love
    againthere ain't nothin in my mind
and from my hand falls old skin
dust to rivers
void to skies
there ain't nothin in my eye
no rainbow tears
no sign of you
through my
I disperse,
like rain upon the concrete
like white paint on the canvas
like someone you complete
and yet will never meet
I disperse,
like clouds up on the mountain
like time on-off this rhyme
like all that's mine
never to find
    21-6-18And so does summer's dawn ordain
The same as any other dawn
Another moon
Another song's refrain
A new beginning
From its grave
Now listen close
Behave, behave my son
Yes, Italy was fun
But soon you'll pass the gates
To your sweet home
And that will further break what
Dear you hold


Three of their works:

SurvivorAll you have to do:
Take my love and breathe, darling
You are still alive
    Broken by Hades-Flower    The Deep EndI have just begun
To dip my toe
Into his deep waters
And already
I feel the need
To dive head first
Into the bottomless lake
That is his heart


Three of their works:

it's not easy to love,to find the perfect balance between
codependence and independence, between
changing and staying in our most
original form when we met, between
self-sacrifice and to never compromise --
but choosing to love has always seemed to be
the easiest thing to do, and I never seem to
think twice before I do it.
(strength or weakness?)
    and the ocean was deep blueyou left on the tiny sailboat, the flag white and I wasn't
sure if it meant surrender or innocence, if you were
going to come back,
if you were going to turn the sail at all if you
saw an iceberg from miles away or go straight toward it.
but it was a beautiful day, the sun bright and
the ocean deep blue, and it almost felt like
you would preserve the picture-esqueness and that
I could trust you.
    it's too late to tell herthat no matter what happens, I would never
hate her, that her place in my heart would never change,
but she always moves much faster than me
(toward both success and self-destruction),
and she always has too much love for everyone but
never herself.


Three of their works:

an attempt to lift my feet            *
it was a spray of cliché
that set me to skip
down the shoreline
misty metaphors always 
bring me back to the beach
I have a thing for edges
and it's been a long time since
I last took a swim, but
I've learned a few things in the form 
of hatches, battened down
this time, I embark "intelligently,"
tentatively testing the edges of emotion
without succumbing to the flow
no sudden pull of the current
direction will ply me from my path
if I am clever at all,
I am a smartass
these eyes are often tangled
in interest and indulgence
but I know a thing or two
about getting the knots out
I purse my lips and bare my teeth
to bite and pull and tear: I was born for
the battle, and I fear defeat
    W1, D7: Happiness    Is it possible not to know when you're happy? Because there are a lot of times when I think I should be happy but I don't necessarily feel it. And I don't mean that I feel down in the dumps instead, I just mean feeling pretty blank about things that used to make me feel super happy and then feeling a bit guilty because I just don't feel it in that situation anymore. 
    My mom insists that happiness is a choice, not a vague emotion triggered by environment or circumstance. So maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Maybe I shouldn't be looking for happiness in a well-defined situation and feeling disappointed when I don't find it there. 
    The problem with making yourself happy, though, is that you can't know if it's real. Are you actually happy right now, or are you performing happiness so successfully that you've even fooled yourself? And if you have fooled yourself, does it matter? It's still happiness, right?
    What if in
    W1, D6: Ambitious/Lazy    The way we look at ambition is really strange to me. Like, we applaud people for having ambition for the sake of having ambition. Doesn't tend to matter much if the ambition is for something useful or widely thought to be meaningful, we just like it when people say they've got some big goal and seem damned determined to achieve it. Meanwhile, when people achieve major goals that they don't really care about or haven't necessarily put a ton of effort into it's a sign that could have done more but were too lazy to bother. They're lazy not because they don't work hard but because they're not using their talent how we think they could.
    This interests me a lot. Because ambitious people may hang all of their self-worth on whether they're able to achieve their goals and never actually get there, spending all of their lives feeling disappointed in themselves, thinking that they somehow haven't been trying hard enough. And on the other hand, the people who are labell


Three of their works:

double blindi ask myself not / to tell the whole truth
so part of the future stays ( empty )
love, i feel rather than see / and
there's a girl i know who dances
like she's made of antigravity /
but that's the start of a story which
so far hasn't found me.
my second crush was colorblind
but the first one was worse, he
wouldn't disappear / so i was first to
leave / but i lingered in the doorway for six
longing years / if he ever thought of me
is all i wanted to know / after i made the
mistake of not saying goodbye / of not braving
a hello / and so i've missed his smile / 
for all this time
the past is so full.
(games kids used to play:
jump rope and sing the alphabet,
twist the stem of an apple
and say a letter each turn.
when you trip, when it snaps,
whoever you like, that's the
start of their name.)
it's not as if he sees only gray
yet i'm mostly monochrome anyway
you know the way i lean)
but the sky blue calligraphy
    in my youth i lived / in oblivioneverything is still a math problem.
i.   two scorpions in a bottle
the first one i nicknamed icarus, the
second i waited until she was dead
to name her / and by then
i was too late.
everything is quasi una fantasia, almost a
dream, but there is no such thing
as a sleeping poet, so i must be
hallucinating / elucidating the truth
behind the shadows of my youth.
ii.   bottle full of venom
so i drew my heart with dry erase marker
but the dust collecting on the picture frame
is hardly part of the sketch.
when i was younger, too, all i knew how to
doodle were cats; now i use a camera
to capture a portrait of a cat eating a flower,
of a copperhead, diamondback, cottonmouth
from a distance because no /
hell no i won't admit that i'm afraid of myself,
no sooner than i might have ornithophobia
and befriend a falcon / just show me a
good story about treble haunting,
hunting for trouble at hour xvi and
a half / don't you know the best time
for cruelty is the peak of t
    and you fit in my puzzle piece heartsouth
build all gates this way,
and only the good spirits will enter.
yesterday we saw fireflies. rising stars of a twilight dimness,
they tell me nothing is forever. and my dreams were deep
and i set down yesterday in my sleep, not yet a piece of the past.
every memory is sacred. in writing them down,
i put it down. i stop carrying it. i become allowed to forget.
i will not.
pray this way,
face the dawn and thank god
you're still breathing.

so a handful of the friends we found all those years ago have walked on to elsewhere, some of them still showing off, going out and glowing up and drawing blanks on who we were, or the idea that we ever were. that doesn't mean i plan to leave behind their names and voices, or the shapes of their smiles. the stars in their eyes.
i'm taking you all with me, you hear?
so this is the end of the freaking world, so you and i are still laughing at all the world's weird humor while it lasts, and i assure you it's go


Three of their works:

Dear BodyI'm sorry for all the
I'm sorry for all the
I'm sorry for all the
I'm sorry for all the
I'm sorry for the
I'm sorry for
Everything I've done
    Dear Red RoseI'm holding on
To the petals that fell
The only reminder
You were once by my side
The rainstorm that surrounds me
Bring raindrops that fall in unison with my tears
I hold these petals to my chest
Knowing my heart is now with you
My world was once black and white
Until your red summoned every colour
But now the colours are dull
As I count each petal in hope you're at least caring for my heart
Every day I walk in my garden
My only prayer being you'll bloom again
I walk with five other roses in hand
In need of you to complete my bouquet
    Dear BouquetOne of my reasons to breathe
With your stunning beauty
I'm blessed with your presence
Six delicate roses
Although you have yet to bloom
You still take my breath away
Unaware of your beauty
I shed a tear as my heart aches
Hoping one day you'll see the glow I do
When I've lost all hope
And my soul is stained with sorrow
A glance at you chases the rain clouds away
Oh, darling bouquet
I'll protect your flowers
As your thorns remain


Three of their works:

ConfessionalThere are things I have said out loud that no one’s heard.
Writing is not talking.
When I speak these scripts to you
I am not talking.
There are things I have said out loud that no one’s heard.
There are things I have said out loud that no one’s listened to.
I have whispered them to people in my arms,
in my garden.
I have screamed them to my audience
while I stood on a stage.
I have screamed them to my audience
while I huddled,
fully clothed,
in a freezing shower.
There are things I have said out loud that no one’s heard.
because I spoke them to myself
covered by the rush of the highway in winter.
There are things I have never said out loud.
Writing is not talking.
When I speak this script to you
I am not talking.
There are things I have never said out loud because
no one should get to hold
the spiny mass of me,
not with such uncalloused hands.
There are things I have never said out loud.
There are things I have never –
There are things I –
I –
    XV. Half naked, cookin' mac'n'cheese in a busThe edge of a wave:
slipskinthin + white
with filigree seafoam a
quantumstaticky splatter
short lacy scattered
mercury-face of benthic floes.
No one’s got it caught
the multiverse is mapped out
on napkins
out in the black ends
physics knows more about
Pollux, Giausar than
Something moves us
shoves us
molds us
souled us;
the edge of a life.
Y’all can paint a picture
but you won’t have painted the wave.
    XXVIII. SmudgeI will never harvest you, will
never bind your leaves into curling fans
or hang a whirling glut of
your soft scent from my ceiling
where it would crash and
break and smile with the wind
of the door and rise up mighty
in the heat of midmorning.
I will never bind you, will
never burn you, will never
watch your white smoke
skin me of all the empyreal
dust that this world has
left on my breast.
In the dark of storms and the early
light of a new season you waited,
so I will water you as a shield;
you’ve found the space
to blossom with me.


Three of their works:

Day 2You're
My head hurts from
but that's
compared to how
my heart hurts.
Most of the time
I'm numb...
pushing my
aside, or
ignoring it
just to
make it through the day...
and then something
reminds me of
and I'm
my wings
and unable to
and I fall into
the ocean of
and I
No matter how many
I surface,
the riptide of
and pain
pulls me back
there is no
only suffocating,
    Lip GraffitiYou left your kiss
on the wall,
a crimson
ink stain
upon the cement,
waiting to be
Why did you
kiss the wall?
Did you feel its
The points of your
seem a
and unnatural...
why did you
print them as such?
Was it
artistic license?
I doubt you
truly kissed
the wall,
just as I doubt
your lips
are that pointy.
perhaps that's the
point -
To bring attention
to the wall in a
colorful way.
Whatever the
I'll never
but your
are beautiful,
and spoke to my
in a quiet,
So I
thank you
for your
beloved kiss.
    Another Cleveland Spring“April showers bring May flowers”…
except in Cleveland it
rains and snows and hails
at. the. same. time…
I’ve decided to call this
new precipitation snailing.
It is currently snailing outside…
and the soles of my shoes are crap.


Three of their works:

Dross and Gold ~24/30~Let Your glory blaze around me,
Burn away my every doubt;
In Your mercy you have found me,
Melt me down and carve me out.
Make me bold to bear my cross,
Pour me out into your mold;
Let Your fire consume the dross,
Shape me into purest gold.
    Couldn't FallI wanted to fall,
I wanted to plunge
Into eyes,
Into arms,
Your gentle touch -
I wanted to know
I wanted so much
To fall in love with you.
But search as I might,
I never could find
The heart,
The life,
The depth of mind
That put the Lord first
And me behind;
I wanted to fall for you.
I wanted to see,
I wanted to feel
That rock
Of faith,
That godly zeal -
But hollow words
Cannot sound real,
Though I tried to fall for you.
If I could but say
I don't blame you
For living
Your faith
The way you do,
Just understand -
I wanted this too,
But I couldn't fall for you.
    Dried Roses ~29/30~Dried roses,
Forgotten kisses,
Heart deadened
To the loss.
Still lovely,
All the mem'ries -
Though I do regret
The cost.
But I'm happy
We're both free
And busy minds
Gather no moss.


Three of their works:

and we are gold again!so we spin lists
from grit-hinged wrists
and honeyed string —
look, love, here are
our humble fists,
and cold-crushed light 
through everything. 
and that’s the breath we
settle into, because this
is the yellowlit city we are
swimming in. because
we are bound to the
big dance, now, all our
paws in the pack and pulled
out of the pound,
and our soft-mouthed sound
is bled bright
with sighing.
    i. dogwood teethmy body grows flowers;
i tear up
the weeds
and the wind
lifts my chin,
takes my hand,
spreads the seeds.
the scales of
all my petals
i don't recall
the covert way
your silvered stare
caressed me.
i hear the lilt
in your voice
when this room is silent,
i know your scent
fills my lungs
when this room is empty.
you are the
only one whose
briars bloom
when they
pierce me;
the pixels of
your soft eyes,
cupped in my small hands,
sing me to sleep.
dove, i ache
for you to know
the new splendor of
my jaw,
the old splinters in
my chest,
the same splotches
that lace
my skin.
i become a ghost, a
doe: and i leap over
wreaths of mist from
wrongs of mouths, let
ivy crown my brow as
my own body tries
to swallow me. i turn
right-side in, tuck out,
duck down, curl over myself
in an eighth fold of paper
and drift away.
i am these snow-ripped throats
and blue-bruised hopes, the slick
mud-slip of cold river clay
in hardened hands.
faminescent lingers
perip(e/a)te(t)ic in my weak wrists.
it is a crimson holding of breath
when the sea collapses on my
shores and slinks away, clogging
me with shells until the sun finally
turns its gaze to face the earth - and
then suddenly the waves all lap
back again in a pale rush of gasping
air, scraping the scars on
my silver sands bare.
and definitely, arched and clinging
with stretched claws and slicing, stinging,
is the hurt of hunger:
i chase it like a rabbit through the
valleys of my ribs and the lone hill
of my heart, corner it, sink
my teeth into its spine and crunch


Three of their works:

NaPoWriMo Day 8 - FacadesAnd I've got
Too many commitments
And I've got
Too many facades
And you've got
An avant-garde barrage
Of your hopeless damn charades
But you've got
Somebody to live with
You've got
Too many placards
And I've got
Nobody but you
More fool you
Nothing of the truth
    Crisis PointCrisis Point
The debate club's been closed for a dozen years
I walk between the pillars and the dried old faded tears
Memories of an invention that ran away
Run down the cracks upon my face
My master's voice was slow and solemn, strengthening for war
He held me up to the light, told me everything I'm for
Raised me for a fool, he gave me everything and nothing
I, like him, have seen true suffering
Holographic noise flickers in the corner of my eye
The cement floor just echoes of a lighter time
Dust is all that channels through my empty head now
The key that winds my brain up rusted now
Into the sea I fall
Off the skyline's wall
Into the beating heart of this
Seal me in with bliss
Into the sea I fall
Backwards off this generation's call
Into the bleeding churning requisite
Seal me in with bliss
I crawl up to the one who was the listener and the talker
Reach their muddied hands in bloodied water
A dead lost skeleton of a plan
Somebody tell me who I am
Climb atop th
    The IndustryIs nothing sacred? The blindfold blonde
is branded with a tragic spiritual set
dead set on combatting all love we may get.
I was idolatrous, laying lazy eyes
on one with conviction for a fault
alternative such that she burns my false God.
She videoed it then, I watched on intently,
contented that one day I would have mint
and tape to the future our wall with pink tint.
Yet now and all along she begged beheaded
spearheading an orchestra of lies
that scrawl letters on flesh
so lust may surely die.


Three of their works:

NaPoWrimo #29i
they left another note
written in silver ink
placed gently on my pillow
they'll be here again
when my eyes grow heavy
the sky is different
it reminds me of candy
but that makes no sense
I try to keep a diary
and pinpoint exactly
when the dream starts
and ends
(I want to congratulate them
on their performance)

but my pen always dries
before the
in a sepia reality
I dust every shelf and
but they hide no make-belief
maybe tonight
I'll remember to ask
where my dreams go
when I fall awake
    Mad Worldi
I play with my thoughts,
spiral them into my hair
until I forget
where they belong
The cold is softer now
and I search
for where the sun should rise
My lips grow blue
but I slur a hopeful notion
under the influence
of cheap red wine
I see the sunrise
bleeding into the morning air
but it's different
from what I expected
When I meet Death
I'll ask him
which job he applied for first
he'd probably say I'm crazy,
he doesn't know CPR
I've grown tired of the daylight
now I wait
for it to smear its battle scars
onto twilight bandages
The stars
flicker me a wink
I smile
but grow uneasy
when they don't blink again
I found my lost thoughts
in a deep dream
where we're all in love
and my hair flow free
I trip
and fell awake
to find my body crying
it says I was about to die
Horoscopes grin
over starlight tea
and assures me I have a sign
(a imaginive ribbon to lace around my identity)
but they won't meet my gaze
    NaPoWrimo #30 (2018)you'd feel socially required
to repeat my question
"and yours?"
I'd laugh
as you predicted
(but nervously)
too aware of the ripple
within my nerves
to notice of your own
turmoil around question
If I had time to think
I'd call myself selfish

but instead I'd utter
a faint whisper - inaudibly,
"I don't really think I'm an-"
then speak up for you hear,


Three of their works:

Fracture, #1Sickness scrapes at my throat with its jaw
so I swallow the light
    xix. Your words line
     the shelf like porcelain dolls
         and although they are pretty -
they are hollow.
    xxviii. It's the lines that sorrow
carves into ones palms.
I wrap my hands around
the pink ribbon and whisper
your name like a prayer.
"Lala, what's your favourite flower?"
You'd tilt your head and give a little smile,
opening your mouth to say-
but I guess I will never know the answer.


Three of their works:

small thoughtsgravel doesn’t hurt your feet too much
if you stand on it right
grass in the shade of black walnuts
& the warmth of dirt
braiding clovers into flower crowns
lay down in the glow
there’s a swing underneath the big tree
you can push out over the water
lean back and feel the wind
dig up button hole shells
from the creekbed
dip toes into the stream
there’s a hill to run down fast
& faster & faster
    the inevitable heat death of the universe and mein cyclic cosmology
heat is never in equilibrium
we sterilized ourselves in pleasantries
immune deficiencies, sickness
too many antibiotics & now look
my mouth is a desert
words wash up broken on my teeth
at sea, staring at that small dot on the horizon
the h-bomb sounds like silence
a bullet grazed the hollow man in me
tilled up the soil of my pagan soul
exposed necropolis seeded by ancestors
& watered by wars
we bang & crunch & rip
and then where do we go?
when the universe rips itself from its shell
& we dry up like the bleat of a stillborn lamb
    caught in the lineI am obsessed with
the skin of my throat
& my sink hardened hands
& cracked cuticles
I string up the fishing line
thread through my brittle nails
to catch my strangler in the act
too many times they slip away
& I wake with metal on my tongue
when I breathe sometimes it catches
like flame in my chest
& smoke seeps out of me
& my words will be angry with it
waiting is a problem
hand restless & heart hammered
while I wait time rubs against my leg, purrs into my ear
& trying not to listen I find myself in places I’m not supposed to be, nails sharp & bleeding
I can’t retract my claws


Three of their works:

inhale her, my inhaler You're like waking up in a
field of Flowers
After a forest fire.
Like roasting marshmallows
after I fell through the ice
But where that frozen lake took away my breath,
Your laugh permeated my Lungs
and in that moment, i knew they should've named you Oxygen.
cuz everytime I think of death
and feel the urge to suffocate,
 I remember You
and find it easier to Breathe.
    soul.mateI'm still looking for you, hazy Stranger.
In the silhouettes of two o'clock Dreams, I can almost find you amongst galaxy people.
Bare wrist
and tattooed veins branching out through
trees in the Sahara.
You bring Names that sound of endings,
   fresh thoughts of home
And coffee mug color schemes
to catch bullets shot at my back.
You can have my typos
that I've erased before Apollo caught me.
   and keep their existence secret to everyone,
but the religion I found in you.
And though always a nostalgic brand,
I've never been as desperate
    As I am right now. hoping you're reading this
    sentiments can't save us, so let's go quietly"I'm sorry."
  It lingers in the air around them, clinging to her skin like the cigarettes he promised to quit smoking.
He's never used that one before.
     It's enough to make her turn and face him. And though he hasn't changed a bit, she can see
     those nicotine lips trying to make him into the prince he'll never be. Glacier eyes, melting
     from a Star never meant for his world.
     At one point, that had been all she wanted to hear.
     But that was back when blue stains only lived in cascade skies and not the color of his eyes.
     When Ferris wheels stopped spinning and there were only screams on
 She knew now they wouldn't survive like this, she couldn't.
"I have to go Home."
But I thought that was with me?
     It's a mistake. He's sure of it. He's never been wrong before. But


Three of their works:

Perfectly HealthyBipolar? BPD? Social anxiety?
Ayy sickos, that's on you, not me
Mentally healthy, that's me, not you
When brod encounters a problem
You know damn well know he pulls through
He's just an artist that ain't struggling with a situation
Truly blessed fam, I couldn't expect you peasants to relate
After all
Y'all coming back for seconds, when you've plenty on ya plates
Here's to being perfectly healthy and stress free
And having no handicaps, mentally, or physically
Damn its good to be alive
    Shrek WristwatchShrek wristwatch on
Got it from McD's
Talk shit and get the baton
To the dome, and knees
brodskales and a pocket full'a paperclips
Saying whatever, usually sticking to the scripts
Gotta murk non-Aryans yah mean?
Favorite number's eighty eight
Second favorite's fourteen
Opinionated, bout to berate
Who's standing next to me?
The first tally to my coming spree
    I'm EasyIsolation building language barriers between me and the common rabble
Reintegration into society impossible, words falling on deaf lobes, labeled as babble
Calls me eccentric, these windows making me uncomfortable
Feeling the sun's ultraviolet rays touch my skin, feeling vulnerable
Been living under a rock for bout a decade
Fearing naught, another sociopath, homemade
Too late for me to live a normal life, forever warped, and perverted
Trapped within a concrete landscape, emotionally deserted
No social interaction, yearning for camaraderie
Odds of a successful escape, less likely than winning the lottery
Attempt to break free, or embrace this lifestyle? In a quandary
Difficult decision to make, break free
Or finally sacrifice my liberty?
I'm easy


Three of their works:

Napowrimo 2018 Week OnePoem 1
Not fearful, but afraid.
Wary of things unknown,
And words unspoken,
And things in the back of her mind.
Cautious, for herself,
And those around her,
And those entrusted to her care.
Brave in the face of anger,
And the threat of violence,
And the certainty of harm.
Courageous at the peak of battle,
And the depths of defeat,
And all moments in between.
Humble at the offer of reward,
And the gift of high praises,
And the lure of fame.
Peaceful in the boisterous masses,
And the crowded cities,
And the lonely homes.
Sorrowful at the thought of death,
And the thought of loss,
And the thought of pain.
Distraught for the missing friends,
And the parentless children,
And the childless parents.
Not fearful, but afraid.
Of all the wonders of people,
And all their flaws.
Poem 2
What is life but a story?
Told by you and I,
Heard by those around us.
Stories shared through generations,
Shared across the world.
Stories to love, laugh with, cry with, learn from.
What is life?
    Napo Challenge 3 Poem 18The dark is what gets me.
It understands where I’ve been,
How far I’ve come,
How far I’ll go.
It knows me,
My fears,
My comforts,
My fears.
It knows me.
It won’t let me go.
It’s never let me go.
It’s keeping me trapped.
The dark is what holds me.
    Napowrimo 2018 Poem Eleven Challenge 2All are broken,
Battered children,
Ever falling.
Growing hallowed hearts,
Ingrained in jailed,
Lives lost,
Minds neglected.
Origins providing,
Quietened, restricted,
Their trauma unknown.
Violated with,
Wasted years. be continued next week with the Lovely LadyLincoln 's Features

  • Listening to: Boom Boom, Ain't it Great to be Crazy - Unknown
  • Reading: /
  • Watching: /
  • Playing: /
  • Eating: Does Medicine Count?
  • Drinking: Water


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
South Africa
I'm a relatively simple person who likes to write. I value honesty, especially in comments and critiques, and loyalty.

If you are going to fave something of mine it would be nice if you could leave a comment as well. It is not required, but feedback is always welcome.

If you need to talk about anything feel free to note me.

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Profile picture was a gift from :iconmelissadalton: [MelissaDalton]



I Never Knew His Smile

I never knew his smile,
His laugh or even the colour of his eyes,
But I’d like to think he would have smiled more often than I do.
That he would have laughed at grandpa’s nonsense jokes –
The ones we’ve all heard at every family gathering
For the last thirty years,
The ones we think are lame and boring and beg him not to tell in company –
I think he would have laughed at those;
Even if just so grandpa didn’t feel bad or stupid,
Or unloved –
Because God forbid anyone ever feel unloved like mummy did all her life;
I love you mommy,
With all my little heart that beat inside you until the day it stopped –
He would never have felt unloved,
My little angel boy.
Never have ever felt like I have all my life –
Like one wrong word would cause mommy to stop loving him,
Or that he had to do extraordinary feats to earn the love that oozes from my soul
Just for him and him alone –
Because I know what it’s like to doubt love,
And I know the fear this causes…
…and the utter agony of the pain this brings about.
He would never have felt unloved,
And I would have smiled more and laughed more genuinely with him around.
But he isn’t,
He was never more than a white pulse beating on an ultrasound
That stole my heart,
Thieved it right from inside my chest,
And took it up to Heaven with him
When that pulse stopped forever.

I never knew his smile or the colour of his eyes,
Whether they would have twinkled with genuine emotion
Or been robotic and dull like mine;
But I like to think I hear his laughter echoing in every child I’m surrounded by,
And that I glimpse him behind her eyes…sometimes…
When she tells me she loves me,
That she wants me to have a nice day.

I’d like to think so,
But she is many years younger than he would have been…
So it’s closer to impossible than possible that has happened.

I never knew his smile or his laugh or the colour of his twinkly eyes,
But I like to think they’d have echoed my more genuine moments.
Those times I’m more human than robot since his passing –
For he not only stole my heart,
Little beautiful bean of a thief,
He thieved my humanity too.
Sandy waited for Judy to cast her vote as the secret ballot went around the room. She had thought that this would be an easy task – conning parliament into a vote of no confidence against the president and, once he was deposed, taking his place as the first woman president in the history of the country – being vice president certainly had its advantages, but, no, it hadn’t been easy. For the first six rounds of voting there had been one person still on the president’s side…out of all 250 delegates, one person had voted ‘confidence’ and, of course, Sandy needed a full 100% for the vote to pass. She thought back to the conversations she had had during the lunch break and suppressed a smile.

Possessing some psychic abilities, Sandy had always found reading people – their intentions and, more often than not, their thoughts – a very easy task. It was what had helped her convince the president, in a move that stunned parliament, to promote her from receptionist to PA and then on to VP. It was what had helped her convince the man himself to start behaving very oddly, generating the basis for the vote of no confidence and the potential deposing of the man. And, finally, it was what had allowed her push senator Timothy Greenwood from New York towards initiating the no confidence vote in the first place. But, there was one snare in her plan. Senator Judith Peachtree from Alaska proved…difficult…to mentally manipulate. Maybe it was growing up in that frozen wasteland of a country that had changed her brain in some way, but Sandy just could not get a read on the woman, nor could she penetrate what appeared to be a strong internal defensive system and convince the woman that voting ‘no confidence’ was in her best interests and, of course, the best interests of the country. Of course, it didn’t help that Judy had been fast friends with the current president from childhood – one would think his mind would have the same defences, but apparently men’s minds were so easy to penetrate they might as well not have one – and had seemed…dismayed…by his fast but steady decline into madness.

“I studied psychology at one stage, before going into politics.” Judy had mentioned to Sandy during the lunch hour.

“Psychology, huh, why not neurosurgery – make the big bucks?”

“I was always interested in the inner workings of the mind. Decided against psychiatry because I have always been a people’s person and a good listener.” She took a sip of her weak tea.

“Surely neurosurgeons or neurologists know more about the inner workings of the mind than other medical professionals?”

“True, they do, but they are missing out on the personal element. The ability to figure out what makes a person tick – why they did or said what they said – and then listen and find out a way to change that behaviour, to change that person,” Judith had smiled here, “for change is the best way forward of course. And I’m all for it – if it’s at the right time and for the right reasons.”

It was that sentence that had alerted Sandy to the fact that perhaps Judith was the one delegate who continued to vote ‘confidence’ in the current president. Perhaps she believed that now was not the right time for change, particularly a change to Sandy being in control of the country. So, Sandy had laid it on thick, agreeing with everything Judy said, even though a lot of it was psycho-babble bullshit, until she had thought to mention the president’s latest insane act – pardoning every single death row and ‘in prison for life’ inmate in every prison in the country – which had led directly to the mass murders of over thirty-five thousand people.

Judy had frowned then and nodded to herself as if she had temporarily forgotten that act. “Those poor people. I never, I never thought any of those prisoners would ever see the light of day again. You know Alaska had the highest level of murders when those prisoners were released? It seems that almost on-mass they almost all emigrated into my state and it was reduced to a population of a few hundred people overnight.” A few tears had been shed at this point, and Judith had crumbled.

“The vote,” she began, “I’ve been voting confidence in Robert for the entire morning, but I think it’s time to change my tune.” A few more tears fell from her eyes.

“The vote’s supposed to be secret Judy, I’m not supposed to know!” Sandy had suppressed a grin. She was so close.

“I know Sandra, but I’ve been trying to figure out a way I can get through to the president. A way to convince him to change back to the man he was before…before all this craziness.”


“And I think I’ve found a way. Maybe, maybe deposing him will be for the best. Maybe a little less pressure and he will go back to the lovable person he was before he…changed.”
Sandy had supressed another smile and nodded, before going to throw the remnants of her curry into the bin. She was so close, so close to being president!

As the votes were counted, Sandy tried hard to maintain the look of concern yet casual indifference on her face. And then the result was read out; one vote of confidence. For a moment her mask slipped and murderous intent gleamed into her eyes; if Judith had changed her vote, then who in the blazes had voted confidence in the idiot who was currently enthroned?
For a few minutes she wondered why there was utter silence, and then she realised that there wasn’t silence, someone was speaking and the rest of the politicians, the corrupt officials who had accepted payoffs and bribes and a bit of mental suggestion from her or her affiliates, they were listening…and all nodding as one.

“…Robert Johnson may not be the man he used to be, but I believe he can be restored to the level-headed, open-minded, wonderful man who he used to be.” Judith was standing, hands in her pockets as if she was at a PTA meeting and not parliament.

Sandy momentarily growled under her breath, but Judy continued speaking. “We just need to eliminate the cause of his mental malady, which I am certain I can do. With all my training and abilities, I am certain I have pinpointed the cause. A cause we all need to be concerned about, for sure, but a cause that can definitely be eliminated…right here and right now.” In so saying, Judith turned to face Sandy, and the VP heard the woman speaking, but she wasn’t moving her mouth.

I’ve known about you since that strange promotion. There is no way Robert would ever have promoted an average receptionist to the second most powerful position in the country. I suspected you had a hand in it, but I couldn’t be certain until today when I spoke with you. I possess certain…telepathic gifts, handed down generation to generation to the women in my family. I can read people, manipulate people, but only if they do not have the gift themselves…as you do.

Sandy stood and pointed, but before she had even gotten a word out, Judith removed her hands from her pockets and brought forth a handgun. With a single shot through the heart the problem was eliminated, and everyone sat there, a confused look upon their faces, as if they could not believe what had happened or how they had even gotten into the room…let alone what they were there for.

“I move to propose we adjourn this meeting.” Judith’s proposal was quickly seconded by the senator from Ohio and the room emptied. Several hours later Sandy would be found by the night janitor cleaning the room, and quietly dumped along with the trash from the room.
Mental Manipulation
Written 15-07-18 for Game of Genres week #1

I chose genre #1:
"What is Crime Noir? Crime Noir is a literary genre closely related to but not the same as the hardboiled genre, the distinction being that the protagonist is not a detective, but instead either a victim, a suspect, or a perpetrator. A typical protagonist of noir fiction is dealing with the legal, political or other system, which is no less corrupt than the perpetrator, by whom the protagonist is either victimized and/or has to victimize others on a daily basis, leading to a lose-lose situation. But we're adding another layer to it; your story must pass the Bechdel Test, which states the work must feature at least two women who talk to each other about something other than a man."
- The protagonist is both a perpetrator and a victim, in the end.
- My Bechdel test -:- Judy and Sandy talk about psychology and in the end psychic abilities.

1322 words, just made it!
66 deviations
Hi all,

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Price shown is for the biggest and most complex. For smaller icons note me for price.
Photo Manipulation
VERY RARE due to physical maladies that cause shaking (hence these take 4x as long because I shake and decapitate things)
Thus the larger price - it is very time consuming.


Jul 15, 2018
8:34 am
Jul 15, 2018
8:29 am
Jul 14, 2018
9:11 pm
Jul 14, 2018
9:00 pm
Jul 11, 2018
9:49 pm


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Emily-Byrd Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the watch, my friend!!
MagicalJoey Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Pleasure :)
dull-glitter Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2018   Writer
Thank you for the watch! :heart: 
MagicalJoey Featured By Owner Jul 4, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
WinteroftheSoul Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2018
How in hell am I not watching you? We must fix this! :)
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