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Promoted Deviations

Literature

dreamt of better tomorrows (long before today)

dreamt of better tomorrowswrought of compassionate waysthat was before the sorrowit was long before these dayswe were in this togetheror at least that's how it seemedthought that we deserved betterwe were worthy of the dreambut instead we have provenbeyond shadow of a doubtgreed is an institutionfrom which we have no way outturned hate into a weaponpouring fuel onto the flameswe could have learned a lessonbut instead we just played gamesdreamt of better tomorrowswrought of compassionate waysthat was before the sorrowit was long before todaywe were in this togetheror at least that's how it felttrying to make things betterthought we just wanted to helpavarice and apathythe wells into which we delveddevils with no sympathyonly there to help ourselveshate is a commodityand we trade it on the cheaplove is just an odditythat came to us in our sleepdreamt of better tomorrowswrought of compassionate waysthat was before the sorrowit was long before these dayswe were in this togetheror at least

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Literature

Misfortune's Sons: Chapter 1

[This is a romance story with some mentions of substance abuse and homophobia.] I should have known that my day is about to take a turn for the worse when I spot my ex from Sixth Form in the produce section of the supermarket where I work. It’s as if an unwelcome ghost from my past is paying me a visit; thirteen years after we broke up and I still recognise her instantly. She’s tall and elegantly lean, with curly red hair that falls past her shoulders. She’s still as fashionably dressed as she’d always been in our teenage years. I wonder where her life had taken her that she would be buying strawberries at an upscale supermarket at ten in the morning, but I don’t dare approach her. Instead, I disappear into the stock room of the store until I am quite sure that she has left. I would be mortified if she saw me and asked me how my own life is going. When we broke up after going to separate universities, I was beginning a programme in nuclear engineering at my country’s premier

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MarquisAmonArt

Literature

Nothing

Nothing I said nothing Just watched through the window a horror a break in the soul I said nothing Just walked away from the window of suffering a shattered crack in my soul I said nothing As I watched her with him a broken promise A dirty secret A suffering to last me for eternity Nothing left for me to say

Literature

He Called My Name

HE CALLED MY NAME I woke up and did not see the sunlight There were no stars But I woke I looked at the horizon and I saw The Suffering My father was there waiting as he called my name I woke up and did not see your life There were no signs of forgiveness inside of me But I woke I saw the tablet of mans evil I read the lies of human law My father was there waiting As He Called My name I woke up and saw the vast void of emptiness There were no signs of Prayer Inside But I woke Black and cold in my birthing of death I looked into the eyes of mankinds blaspheming My father was there waiting As he called my name MarquisAmon@2025

MarquisAmonArt on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/marquisamonart/art/Freedom-Is-Not-Free-919761791MarquisAmonArt

GameUniverso

Literature

Persons and Opinions

“Persons and Opinions” True or false. “Everybody is a critic and people always have opinions.” Is this statement correct? Well, let’s see… Everybody is a critic. People always have opinions. Both of these sentences make up 2 claims. The 1st claim is, “Everybody is a critic.” The 2nd claim is, “People always have opinions.” Are these claims correct? Well, we should look at a book from a famous critic to find out. I know a book with the name The Round Table, for the year 1817. The Round Table was a book with professional, literary criticism. Let us turn the page and find an essay with the name, “On Common-Place Critics” The essay is called “On Common-Place Critics”. The essay was written by a famous critic named William Hazlitt. He was writing an essay about most people and most critics. “Commonplace” is really a word that means “most if not everybody”. He was talking about most people. He was talking about most critics. So, who are most critics? Who are most

Literature

My Homeless Friends

“My Homeless Friends” Nobody needs to be “paid” to tell the truth. I do not need to be “paid” to tell the truth. You do not need to be “paid” to tell the truth. We do not need to be “paid” to tell the truth. Nobody needs to be “paid” to tell the truth. Does my poem hurt the feelings of greedy people? Okay, fine. I will tell the truth without money. I hope they regret this poem. Nobody should be greedy anyway. Greedy people always need money to tell the truth. They cannot go without money for the truth. They always need money for the truth. Me? Well, I am not greedy. Do not even say that my free poem is a luxury. I love the truth and I want to be poor for it. I’m sorry if people need so much money for the truth. If they really need the truth, they should embrace the homeless and drop it. That’s not my fault. I hug homeless people all the time. I give cheeseburgers to beggars. I donate crayons to a church. I have conversations in restaurants with miserable lovers and unfortunate

Literature

Death and the Future of Literature

“Death and the Future of Literature” Authors will pass away when they’re old enough to go on. They will die. But, their literature will be permanent records for all eternity. Let’s talk about something important. Let’s create science fiction for ourselves about dead authors. Authors from the past are often gone into the afterlife. They are not living here with modern people from today. Modern people remember the past with so much confusion. Readers will probably think their dead authors are still living. Of course, this is not possible. The dead authors are gone. Let’s create science fiction about this idea. Let’s say this: Let’s say, we bring a dead author back to life. We bring a dead author back to life. We can even call him Frankenstein. The dead author comes back to life after death from so long ago. We bring him back to life. And, we tell him the truth about modern society. We give him general information on the truth of the day. We give him modern evidence. We give him

juniusrapture

Literature

Penance*

O Deep Ocean Deacon of Peace can you reopen the Nicer Kind Ape en- coded in us all be- fore the Fall after which we be- came such Ice Stage Men most hardened and cold to the touch of our own Fellow Clay plus to other Creature Co- horts coming our way in Recidivism Jungles of Fake Urbane Display?!?!?!?

Literature

Somewhere (way the f**k) Upcountry

There's no sign of a safe native hut up a- head but maybe some sup- port might still come from a ca- thedral though I cer- tainly would not count on it giv- en the ab- sence of reliable drums as well as legitimate medi- cine.

Literature

3 gnu 'n' uh r we right? (whip tic)

the Universe will serve you if you loosen up control of your bowels........ 😆😆😆😆 hard ground flashed before our eyes had a chance to see we'd throne for a loop........ 👺👺👺👺 I'm not here to give clear meaning since a crystal could fit a stone wall.......... 😺😺😺😺 learning to write in college kills the ravin' rhet- orician within........

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Suggested Collections

Literature

Insaisissable

L’eau froisse le ciel les feuillages en silence brûlent dans l’onde Souffle insaisissable un bras d’ombre se dénoue l’arbre s’embrase Water folds the sky leaves in quiet combustion burn within the stream Unwritten current a dark limb slowly unwinds the tree bursts in flames

Literature

Gelassenheit

Gelassenheit Florence Elvira Spera, daughter of William and Tessie Spera, was born October 1, 1903 in Pottawattamie, Iowa, a little town just outside of Council Bluffs. She had one brother, Weidner, who was born in 1896. In 1904, the family moved to Ericson, Nebraska, where they owned a small self-sustaining farm in the Sand Hills. She collected the eggs and milked the cows. She helped Tessie take care of the vegetable garden. Tessie taught her how to cook, keep house and do various kinds of needlework. She had a pony which she adored and rode to school. She graduated from high school in 1916 and took a secretarial position in a small business in Council Bluffs. While riding the bus to work, she met Claude Hicks, the love of her life. Claude and Florence were married January 9, 1923 in Council Bluffs, Iowa. The took up residence and had three children. Patricia Joyce was born September 20, 1925. Jacqueline Jane was born February 19, 1928, and Claude William was born

Literature

Major Weidner Harvey Spera

Major Weidner Harvey Spera I am a direct descendant of Major Weidner Harvey Spera. This is his story. He was born in Lancaster, Pennsylvania January 26th, 1834. His parents were German immigrants, looking for freedom in the United States. They were well educated and owned a small produce store in Lancaster. Weidner enjoyed reading, and he began working for a local newspaper, pursuing a career in journalism. When the Civil War began in 1861, he was 27 years old. He joined the Union and immediately organized a troop of cavalry in Lancaster County. He was commissioned captain of this troop – the 162nd 17th Pennsylvania Cavalry. The Shenandoah Valley was called the Bread Basket because of its fertile soil and abundant crops. Virginia was in the hands of the Confederacy, and many of the soldiers had families in the valley. General Phillip Sheridan’s Army of the Shenandoah fought to gain control of the valley, cutting off food and supplies to the Confederate army. In September

Poetry

Literature

I take back my power

Fragile ego's cloaked in shadows, strike at those who stood steadfast, I embraced every flaw, every storm. You moved like whispers in the night, your intentions veiled, seeking to undermine the very foundations of those who dare to shine. Yet, in the face of your darkness, I found resilience. You unveiled my strength, taught me the art of boundaries, revealing my worth like a hidden gem, polished and radiant beneath layers of doubt and fear. No longer shall your darkness touch my light; I reclaim my energy, my time, as I watch the wheel of fate turn, spinning with the inevitability of change. Each rotation brings with it the promise of renewal, a reminder that the tides of life are ever-shifting. Karma, the silent arbiter, will weave its tapestry, intricately stitching together the threads of your actions and intentions, ensuring that balance is restored in the grand design of existence. As I stand firm in my newfound clarity, I feel the presence of my ancestors, their spirits

Literature

An Uphill Battle

Finding joy in life can feel like an uphill battle, a daunting climb that often leaves us breathless and weary. Each day can feel like a series of obstacles, where the simple act of surviving demands an overwhelming amount of effort. It’s as if we are caught in a relentless cycle, where the pursuit of happiness is overshadowed by the burdens of daily life. The unfairness of it all can be disheartening; why should the quest for joy be so fraught with challenges? The constant struggle can be exhausting, draining our energy and spirit. We find ourselves yearning for a peaceful existence, a sanctuary free from the weight of concerns that seem to hang over us like a dark cloud. The noise of anxiety can be deafening, drowning out the whispers of contentment and joy that we so desperately seek. All I desire is a straightforward, happy life one where the little things bring genuine pleasure and where laughter comes easily. I long for moments of tranquility, where I can simply be, without

Literature

I Need to Tell You Something

I don’t know what you’ve been through. I don’t know what you’ve felt, but I know that you’re doing your best. Sometimes your best isn’t good enough, but I promise you that you are good enough. Think of all the people who love you, all the people who believe in you. Maybe that’s a vast network of people or maybe it’s just one person. It doesn’t matter. You are loved. You are believed. And you are never truly alone. Sure, sometimes there’s no one there, but someone is always with you. Because love never stops, it only changes. Like you. You’ve changed so much. Look at what you’re doing. You’re doing what no one else has ever done. Think of every trauma you’ve ever had, every problem, every issue. At some point, most of that has been handed to you, Passed along through countless generations. You’re the way you are because of your parents. And your parents were the way they were because of their own parents. So on and so forth. But look at what that means: it means that you

Literature

CliveBlake on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/cliveblake/art/The-Birdman-of-Alesu-nd-poem-C-Blake-F-Sandba-ch-1143695031CliveBlake

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Literature

because, not in spite of

every big bang's a solitary anomaly no tongues twined in joined joy of expelled experience voiced into void but that does not diminish discovery something from nothing for nothing's still something ecstasy of pulse & thrum loosed from purgatorial flesh step outside for interior exploration passion is its own reward

Poetry Collections22 Take 2

MidnightShadow83

Published: Oct 15, 2022

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collections midnightshadow poet poetry twentyyearsapoet

Description

I didn't think it could be done when my wife, Angie, initially proposed it, but I finished the new collection, Twenty Years A Poet, not only in 2022 to complete the 20 year cycle since the first collection was completed in 2002 for the symmetry, not only in under six months, but in under five months!!! A feat I am beyond proud of and ecstatic over!! A new 100 poems since May 22nd of this year, are you kidding me?! (No wonder my back's been hurting so much lately, too much time at the keyboard. lol)

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