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tetrarchangel
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Bay of Ashes

B

Bay of Ashes

How long O Lord, how long? How much more can we take, O God? David’s seen his son lost to rebellious death, And we ache with our hopes run aground. We ache and see a bay of ashes Tear-sea, waves and no calming rhythm, No loving silence, no furious spray which tastes of life. We bend and crumple beneath the many weights. How long O Lord, how long? Will we dwell inside ourselves, See unlucky omens, Not able to speak Or meet each others’ gazes? How much more can we take? How much more of this, And whatever more comes tomorrow, Each new gap in mercy, Or so it seems? We sob upon the bay of ashes, Grey sand and greyer skie

Scarce

S

Scarce

Giddy with luck, I am dancing and discover that I can dance. How rare the delight, To find a touch where I do not tense, A person to share all, My hand on your waist, I cannot believe your eyes. Maybe ascribe it not to luck but to blessing, A river falling, A sea of love added to By newly found tributaries, Little gifts, An outpouring [Two souls, one night by the river’s run, The old mill, Telling all]. Or perhaps destiny, To reconnect two threads ever so close but never yet overlapping, Taken each far from home, But meant to be entwined. I could say only love, Not deserved, nor wilfully won by I, Unexpectedly born, I can scarce b

((()))

((()))

( Give me a sign of if I have chosen A right way For these years, Or if I am not worthy. Give me some sense if this is the beginning or the end, When it feels like endless middle. Adjudge me to be ready, Or leave me behind, All I say is let me know – and while I ask this Off-guard, In an unequal pattern, overstretched and underused, I say too much, too soon: (( It makes sense I identified as a traitor for so long, And then by self Self-focus, selfishness To firmly betray For the sake of avoiding feared outcomes, It makes sense. Does it matter if It is true? But we seem to live in a world Where there is nothing in the present, o

Out of the Briar

O

Out of the Briar

One thorn reminds of being wrapped in brambles The old pain, the old wounds, That felt inescapable – that held me fast, And kept me from moving with any swiftness, Wound me down to gasping, uncomprehending exhaustion. And memory erupts with the belief that Once again, I am trapped, Even as I ease the thorn from my palm, Rise lionlike once again. Fear insists that one step back means all is lost, And what I have lost is a vision Of where I am now, of how different A single thorn is from many, A single setback is from total blockage, A single mistake is from the ill-chosen path. My body burns with flames and I think I am lost to t

Remember Then What It Is That You Were Saved From

R

Remember Then What It Is That You Were Saved From

They might say, in the end, that we saved each other Sure, only God saves, As with all things, we’re talking some way down the line, The secondary, the tertiary, the helicopter and the boat, At the moment all the stories Are notes in small journals, held by us, Some balladeers we make, telling each other Stories of only weeks ago. ‘What have you been doing for the last year or so?’ I was asked, and I said ‘growing up’ because Poetry is for adolescents and they’re eternal These days [they’ll die in the future, they died in the past, but In the now, they grow incrementally-eternally] “Time pr

Agenda/Solution

A

Agenda/Solution

Oh say nothing, And hold every word, In increasing internal hollow So no sound will ring In a room That encompasses all. Find connections in Some codex of restoration That tie up insufficiently With her, and her, and Experience incapability and inability Fear for fear But say nothing, and hold them closer. Realise femininity, that Sitting down is for rooms with chairs and couches And notepads, and that other sort of listening Listen to her as her movements touch the air, The raw, the burning, sings out Listen, say nothing, hold close.

Skywoven

S

Skywoven

To tell honestly, Of the reality of my heart, To speak and sing and use words, those fortunate words, How I come to know my love, How I come to understand: This stolen idea, to breathe only Secrets and secret names Forms that only we shall know, and answer only to When in the other’s voice. That we mark each other apart: you are my special one, You are the only one You are the one called… Oh! Darling That I cross this place To find you, [a wolf at your door; echoes years later] To find each snaring brier Passed, and passable, and past. And journeying On roads afar, After our journey begun, Saw your domain and its seams The s

At Sea

A

At Sea

I cannot see anything as it is. A mire Of expectation, that is nothing to do with the real Experience, of feeling All is lost When nothing was ventured. To feel the utmost tumult, despite The skin of the water unpierced by stones Oh to hurt like this again To love, as the only answer, To unbidden pain, To unworthy, undue suffering that comes from nothing. When you draw nothing from the well It will reveal the blackest poisoned water That every failure going before Has written a negativity beyond reason, beyond knowing, That rises now, from misty seafoam, A corrupt and false resonance that draws One’s heart onto the rocks –

Haptophobia

H

Haptophobia

Haphephobia – I forge relationships Of immense intensity With people I will never know, And can never meet, Who exist only in aether, and Are given flesh by a libidinous mind. No contact No contact, no touch, For I know that I’m compelling If all I have is the Page And my words To lead the way. Aphephobia – A monastic cell Whose door opens into A brothel where I’m the madam, An abbess of one and a Procuress of infinite possibility. There is a rule of no touching but it counts differently: Don’t touch my heart and don’t move me, Don’t caress a strand of sympathy. Haphophobia – I crafted

St. Michael and All Angels

S

St. Michael and All Angels

So it was about four years ago and I would call it a lifetime If that wasn't offensive And I know I don't mourn like a pagan But I miss you You're not a pressed flower You're not frozen You're a garden, and it's summer I had to come before I went Had to be honest I'm going where we were both going to be And you're with me A bit The dirt on my hands never washed Earth and the earthman And the heart and the hippocampus It's tranquil till it's not Nothing set in stone There's just a wooden cross Soldier We'd fought all sorts of things in that same corps On the same journey The same mission, royal commission So so long as I'm struggling I know
See all

Bay of Ashes

B

Bay of Ashes

How long O Lord, how long? How much more can we take, O God? David’s seen his son lost to rebellious death, And we ache with our hopes run aground. We ache and see a bay of ashes Tear-sea, waves and no calming rhythm, No loving silence, no furious spray which tastes of life. We bend and crumple beneath the many weights. How long O Lord, how long? Will we dwell inside ourselves, See unlucky omens, Not able to speak Or meet each others’ gazes? How much more can we take? How much more of this, And whatever more comes tomorrow, Each new gap in mercy, Or so it seems? We sob upon the bay of ashes, Grey sand and greyer skie

Scarce

S

Scarce

Giddy with luck, I am dancing and discover that I can dance. How rare the delight, To find a touch where I do not tense, A person to share all, My hand on your waist, I cannot believe your eyes. Maybe ascribe it not to luck but to blessing, A river falling, A sea of love added to By newly found tributaries, Little gifts, An outpouring [Two souls, one night by the river’s run, The old mill, Telling all]. Or perhaps destiny, To reconnect two threads ever so close but never yet overlapping, Taken each far from home, But meant to be entwined. I could say only love, Not deserved, nor wilfully won by I, Unexpectedly born, I can scarce b

((()))

((()))

( Give me a sign of if I have chosen A right way For these years, Or if I am not worthy. Give me some sense if this is the beginning or the end, When it feels like endless middle. Adjudge me to be ready, Or leave me behind, All I say is let me know – and while I ask this Off-guard, In an unequal pattern, overstretched and underused, I say too much, too soon: (( It makes sense I identified as a traitor for so long, And then by self Self-focus, selfishness To firmly betray For the sake of avoiding feared outcomes, It makes sense. Does it matter if It is true? But we seem to live in a world Where there is nothing in the present, o

Out of the Briar

O

Out of the Briar

One thorn reminds of being wrapped in brambles The old pain, the old wounds, That felt inescapable – that held me fast, And kept me from moving with any swiftness, Wound me down to gasping, uncomprehending exhaustion. And memory erupts with the belief that Once again, I am trapped, Even as I ease the thorn from my palm, Rise lionlike once again. Fear insists that one step back means all is lost, And what I have lost is a vision Of where I am now, of how different A single thorn is from many, A single setback is from total blockage, A single mistake is from the ill-chosen path. My body burns with flames and I think I am lost to t

Remember Then What It Is That You Were Saved From

R

Remember Then What It Is That You Were Saved From

They might say, in the end, that we saved each other Sure, only God saves, As with all things, we’re talking some way down the line, The secondary, the tertiary, the helicopter and the boat, At the moment all the stories Are notes in small journals, held by us, Some balladeers we make, telling each other Stories of only weeks ago. ‘What have you been doing for the last year or so?’ I was asked, and I said ‘growing up’ because Poetry is for adolescents and they’re eternal These days [they’ll die in the future, they died in the past, but In the now, they grow incrementally-eternally] “Time pr

Agenda/Solution

A

Agenda/Solution

Oh say nothing, And hold every word, In increasing internal hollow So no sound will ring In a room That encompasses all. Find connections in Some codex of restoration That tie up insufficiently With her, and her, and Experience incapability and inability Fear for fear But say nothing, and hold them closer. Realise femininity, that Sitting down is for rooms with chairs and couches And notepads, and that other sort of listening Listen to her as her movements touch the air, The raw, the burning, sings out Listen, say nothing, hold close.

Skywoven

S

Skywoven

To tell honestly, Of the reality of my heart, To speak and sing and use words, those fortunate words, How I come to know my love, How I come to understand: This stolen idea, to breathe only Secrets and secret names Forms that only we shall know, and answer only to When in the other’s voice. That we mark each other apart: you are my special one, You are the only one You are the one called… Oh! Darling That I cross this place To find you, [a wolf at your door; echoes years later] To find each snaring brier Passed, and passable, and past. And journeying On roads afar, After our journey begun, Saw your domain and its seams The s

At Sea

A

At Sea

I cannot see anything as it is. A mire Of expectation, that is nothing to do with the real Experience, of feeling All is lost When nothing was ventured. To feel the utmost tumult, despite The skin of the water unpierced by stones Oh to hurt like this again To love, as the only answer, To unbidden pain, To unworthy, undue suffering that comes from nothing. When you draw nothing from the well It will reveal the blackest poisoned water That every failure going before Has written a negativity beyond reason, beyond knowing, That rises now, from misty seafoam, A corrupt and false resonance that draws One’s heart onto the rocks –

Haptophobia

H

Haptophobia

Haphephobia – I forge relationships Of immense intensity With people I will never know, And can never meet, Who exist only in aether, and Are given flesh by a libidinous mind. No contact No contact, no touch, For I know that I’m compelling If all I have is the Page And my words To lead the way. Aphephobia – A monastic cell Whose door opens into A brothel where I’m the madam, An abbess of one and a Procuress of infinite possibility. There is a rule of no touching but it counts differently: Don’t touch my heart and don’t move me, Don’t caress a strand of sympathy. Haphophobia – I crafted

St. Michael and All Angels

S

St. Michael and All Angels

So it was about four years ago and I would call it a lifetime If that wasn't offensive And I know I don't mourn like a pagan But I miss you You're not a pressed flower You're not frozen You're a garden, and it's summer I had to come before I went Had to be honest I'm going where we were both going to be And you're with me A bit The dirt on my hands never washed Earth and the earthman And the heart and the hippocampus It's tranquil till it's not Nothing set in stone There's just a wooden cross Soldier We'd fought all sorts of things in that same corps On the same journey The same mission, royal commission So so long as I'm struggling I know

Haptophobia

H

Haptophobia

Haphephobia – I forge relationships Of immense intensity With people I will never know, And can never meet, Who exist only in aether, and Are given flesh by a libidinous mind. No contact No contact, no touch, For I know that I’m compelling If all I have is the Page And my words To lead the way. Aphephobia – A monastic cell Whose door opens into A brothel where I’m the madam, An abbess of one and a Procuress of infinite possibility. There is a rule of no touching but it counts differently: Don’t touch my heart and don’t move me, Don’t caress a strand of sympathy. Haphophobia – I crafted

St. Michael and All Angels

S

St. Michael and All Angels

So it was about four years ago and I would call it a lifetime If that wasn't offensive And I know I don't mourn like a pagan But I miss you You're not a pressed flower You're not frozen You're a garden, and it's summer I had to come before I went Had to be honest I'm going where we were both going to be And you're with me A bit The dirt on my hands never washed Earth and the earthman And the heart and the hippocampus It's tranquil till it's not Nothing set in stone There's just a wooden cross Soldier We'd fought all sorts of things in that same corps On the same journey The same mission, royal commission So so long as I'm struggling I know

Lionsdon

L

Lionsdon

My body in space and time Is a battleground of warring Allied forces And internecine; I spend my time as a negotiator for my own release, When we all agree on purpose and not on How to get away. Meanwhile predators that do not stalk And fearful souls stride like hunters We wilfully forget the spectrum and subtlety Whilst morally choosing to believe, always. We knew I must go to the sea, We know I would be on the edge, Some bastion standing where waves meet the land Where black paper swans bisect the green, And strands connect us in new ways.

Kicking and Screaming

K

Kicking and Screaming

I can’t express it but I’m begging you to rescue me Even as I love this I wish you were here taking me Away Throwing me over your shoulder Kicking and screaming Exfiltrated by you from the deepest danger. A big man with a big walk Striding into the heart of the beast, the belly of darkness, To steal me. I resist and I struggle but Only because I’d trapped myself More thoroughly Than degrading captors In vermicelli ideas A labyrinthine library of lies To tie me to this bed. He speaks and none dare reply He lifts and I can’t stop him My protests are feeble, unheard To his stature, And he can Walk down the street, a

Honeysuckle

H

Honeysuckle

Dead, honeysuckle summer Dead teenagers Dropping, mayflies. Impossible hallucinatory British Summer Time In hot, sticky darkness, Hidden cove-caves, Absences appearing along A sandy map. All human, always human. Salt-taste and salt-lips Skin that crackles under Polaroid sunlight This could never be now. So then, rotting sweetness Dying on the vine, Told only in recollections Warped vinyl on the 45RPM of ’76 (Or was it the 76RPM of ’45?) Sun-drenched days, Sweat-drenched clothes, Blood-drenched remembrance. Bleached paper, crinkled, unfolded, Scrubbed hands, Lye, lies, all that season Gone quiet, The climber dry and britt

The Wayward Spiral

T

The Wayward Spiral

It spins away. In quiet, it leaves its safe Banding. Gets out of the invisible Fireside warmth. Icy night closes itself around The world. Forests turn to glass. The nights become more beautiful when the Sky is ever dark, when the sun does not occlude and Stars form carved lines, paths of light To surround a planet that is leaving its mother star. Spiralling away, A wayward wanderer finally living up to its name. Its heart cannot cease to burn, As ages turn, as the starless wastes are traversed As one single light grows every brighter, Calling. It had not known its mother well Nor saw no siblings born, But is sheathed in cloud, in S

The Same Key

T

The Same Key

There is darkness ‘hind the secret door That somehow falls in shade From false corridor light. The key that opens Each office, Mundane rooms of mundane Necessary life. White and grey, Graphpaper décor. That is the key that opens the hidden door, That same key, plain Worn brass Teeth unsharpened Fitting unsurprising tumblers. Lock all the doors. Walk to the secret door. Cross the first threshold: shadow. Place the key, turn it, inhale. Feel the door open, letting darkness into the hallway. Cross the second threshold: the door. That same key that opens every door Opens even the door to darkness To a depraved place, a room w

Cartography

C

Cartography

Dynamism and dynamics, The containment of all the little futures. We make sense of the world The lines that frame comprehension, The roots of knowledge. Our voices in synchrony, We cannot help but head in directions Cued by the lives that came before Each familial map Adding bits and pieces Relosing other territories. Alignment with bloodlines All these imitations who became men So dependent on our fathers For a way to go, So invariably shaped By their image.

Unnumbered

U

Unnumbered

Eight, nine, eight, nine To put a number on romance is easy and misses the point But Cupid’s blunted bow is no news of mine. It is the other way Where unnumbered is the only answer How many people, how many ideas, how many nights? The fact it is possible to forget so many nadirs Crimes lost from the recording to recur in memory randomly Despite their awfulness. Yet what hope there is That the unnumbered are unreckoned also No ledger holds them, though debt they are, No conviction but the conviction of the conscience led, I might forget in part But it is forgotten wholly, forgiven wholly.

Lionsmouth

L

Lionsmouth

The port by the wine-sea, Beyond the islands of men, We pass To a red liveried land, Escaping. Into a more dangerous place, With fewer fortresses and fewer securities, Passing fragile paper cranes through Seaside Lionsmouth. But the pit that is fled, The gauntlet that is run Precedes arrival in the mouth of the lion, It was from heartlands, homelands, That hold tight, immobilise, Paralyse – To reach the sea, one must run and run and run. The far port, a distant hope: To put that flight behind us, fiction, The lion’s mouth truer, we are within; Too weak, too bound to go.

Happy St. Patty's!

Happy St. Patty's!

Happy St. Patty's Day everyone!  I wish you all a cool pint of Guiness, and if you're from Ireland, I highly recommend hugging a leprecaun. In the meantime, the Indiegogo campaign for The Prince of Trinita: Clink City comic http://www.trinitacomics.com is still underway.  I officially have enough donations to bring it to print, so if you'd like to preorder a copy, hit the jump here: http://igg.me/p/64048?a=359797 Another great way to help out is to send the link above to your friends! Thanks in advance. On a side-note, I got my first troll today!  Yes, I consider this an accomplishment.  You might find him on the Trinita comics page.  htt

Daily Literature Deviations for Nov. 15th, 2011

Daily Literature Deviations for Nov. 15th, 2011

Guidelines | How to Suggest a DLD | Group Administrators | Affiliation | Chatroom | Current Staff Openings Daily Lit Deviations for November 15th, 2011 We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations! You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article. Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists! :pointr: For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one of your pieces featured by DLD please note damina (https://www.deviantart.com/damina). We will include you and your piece in a special recognition news article. :pointl: Poetry Featured by: Carmalain7 (https://www.deviantart.com/carmalain7) :thumb268060242: Imperial Loathing by :devmarvinthepa

Radioromance Pt. 2

R

Radioromance Pt. 2

And this is my only act of love to you. Oh, so you've grown up, like I never did Resurrection makes me younger than I was But not party to youth and the modern day. Once I would have died if you forgot me, once I needed you so dearly To use, like some power-tripping dictator who lived on only by the collective consensual delusion despite the famines Like the majesty of electricity, who commands: Oh uranium, be split for me Oh uranium, give up on being you, be torn apart, So I won't die and the lights won't go out And you said yes, Because what else could uranium do And similarly, with your life, given shape and intrigue Given

Radioromance Pt. 1

R

Radioromance Pt. 1

Ghost transmissions: echo from the screen in an empty theater now forsaken to chronology, with broken pilasters, crooked seats, dead dust, paint and gold peeling, and the rust as layers from a dream. Her face: vignetted and soft in the glow of studio lighting slowly decays, erased with time, a living film: always shifting, ever changing, the infinite and steady stare   of grey and hollow eyes. Her coat shudders: outside,    in the cold breeze of final night,   and the sky shifts with broken verses, revealing echoes of moonlight. the fatal wound, the cigarette, the silent noir of the final sc

Translation Chain 1.7

T

Translation Chain 1.7

Beim Übergang zwischen Tag und Nacht, Die Grenze zwischen Hell und Dunkel, Wo die Abenddämmerung über die stille Landschaft erblüht Dort erwacht ein nicht wahrnehmbarer Schauder (Das Schlachtfeld ist chaotischer als erwartet) Er ist lind, der einsamste aller Bitternis Beherbergt in der Fähigkeit der völligen Befreiung. Jenseits der Grenze. Die  Einsamkeit der Finsternis herrscht; Am Horizont wird ein Zeichen sichtbar; „Millionen Diamanten, Botschafter des Morgens; Millionen Diamantbotschafter zeigen sich.” Lichter funkeln an der Grenze zwischen Tag und Nacht Nackheit und Vollkommenheit (G
2Comments

Translation Chain 1.8

T

Translation Chain 1.8

When the day and night change, The border between the light and dark, Where the dusk blooms over the silent landscape There wakes an unnoticeable shiver (The battlefield is more chaotic as expected) It is soft, the most deserted from all suffering Harboured in the ability to be fully free. Beyond the border. The loneliness of darkness rules; A sign is visible on the horizon. "Millions of diamonds, the prophets of morning; Millions of prophets from diamonds appear." Lights twinkle on the frontier between day and night The nudity and splendor (There is a reason There is a purpose) There are beams which cannot beam Kept in the

Translation Chain 1.9

T

Translation Chain 1.9

Quando dies et nox mutant limes inter luce obscuroque ubi vesperum super tacito prospecto, ibi tacitum horrorem experge facit (Acies magnis inordinatus ut exspectato est). Suavis est, plurimus derelictus omne dolorem exciperit in faculte copise libero esse. Ultra terminus Solitudo obscuri imperat; unus signum in horizonte prompte est. "Milliones adamantum, vates oriensis; milliones vatum ex adamantum videntur." Luces in lime inter diem noctemque micant nuditas et magnificentia (causa habet intentio habet) Radii qui radiare non possunt in clarobscuro conserverunt, ubi et cur, natura rem vacuumque sunt. Tunc mane obscurum ve

Translation Chain 1.10

T

Translation Chain 1.10

Wann immer Tag und Nacht, Wann immer die Grenze inmitten von Licht wechselt, Wohin auch immer ich bei Einbruch der Dunkelheit in die Stille schaue, Da erwacht eine stille Ehrfurcht. (Wie erwartet ist die Schlacht eine große Unordnung.) Es ist angenehm; der am häufigsten Verlassene nimmt allen Schmerz Auf sich mit der Fähigkeit, reich an Offenheit zu sein Über das Ende hinaus. Die Abgeschiedenheit der Finsternis herrscht; Ein einzigartiges Zeichen ist leicht zu erkennen: "Millionen von Diamanten, Propheten des Morgenlandes, Millionen von diamantenen Propheten erscheinen!" Ein Glanz schimmert an der Schwelle zwis
7Comments
Artist // Hobbyist // Literature
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Halloween: Get Spooky With It
My Bio
Timothy J Swann is a writer of novels and of poems, currently working on the publishing of his first novel, The Purity Construct, as well as a host of ongoing short stories and poetic series. He admits his name is a little pretentious, but is of the opinion that it looks better on a book cover than Tim Swann, even if he's called Tim by everyone he knows.

Current Age: 22
Current Residence: Worcester
Favourite genre of music: www.last.fm/user/yalphaath

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www.last.fm/user/yalphaath

Buy my novella!

Buy my novella!

Unto is a novella of love, loss and redemption. It was originally written by hand in a notebook, with a mix of line-broken poetic sections and prose sections, alternating by notebook page. It was, or at least became, set in the world of Reason, the novel I wrote ten years ago, and I released it on that anniversary. You should buy it! It's cheap in money, and it's heartbreaking in sentiment, and do you need any more recommendation than that? Click the  link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00ERQXCB2/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00ERQXCB2&linkCode=as2&tag=psycomedia-21

Daily Deviation

Daily Deviation

Thanks to Nichrysalis (https://www.deviantart.com/nichrysalis) I now have my first Daily Deviation, after many years of being here on deviantART. That's very exciting. http://today.deviantart.com/dds/?day=2013-3-19 is where it's featured. http://tetrarchangel.deviantart.com/art/The-Explosion-Coil-195728470 is the poem.

Tetrarchangel

Tetrarchangel

Hi all - at last I have changed my name to one that I use all across the internet. Everything else remains the same.

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lillybyHobbyist Photographer
Hi! 
tetrarchangelHobbyist Writer
Hello!
VoidParadigmHobbyist General Artist
|ike here.
sorry i hit the unwatch button by accident!
please jsut accept this new and improved watch request :D
Hi there, thank you so much for all of your support. How have you been? Happy spring and best wishes to you. :heart: :tea:
tetrarchangelHobbyist Writer
I've been a bit ill and thus not as creative recently, but I've finally started my next model, and going to a poetry society so I'm actually editing stuff for the first time. Yes, spring sprang, didn't it! We have storms of hail practically every day here at the moment. How goes your 'education'?
A poetry society! That sounds incredible!
My "education" goes fairly well. Lots and lots of reading and not as much writing this semester. So much reading.