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About Literature / Hobbyist NathanMale/United States Group :iconword-smiths: Word-Smiths
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Deviant for 15 Years
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bump in the night
it may, in the dark
of night find you
trilled sliding notes, down;
a strange puls-
ation, unexpected
crawling down your vertebrae
like the worm of summer
and when it comes, it whispers
a disquieting roar:
this is the day.
                    .night cycle stretching
                     into messy aftertaste events
                     and jellyfishing out
                     so many ripples
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 9 4
maybe it's like this:
staring at a snow globe in summer
smudged fingerprints on the outer
glass; you can't see anything
but the people who touched it before you
and it's just an old sliver of life
under the fog, a fresh fall always drifting in
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 14 10
I haven't been here: high
over the green yield,
stars interloping in the mesh
fluke and water, rising steam
up into atmo, into the prefrontal lobe
made of my decisions, my celestial
the dust between data bits
the darkness, death of light
and where it wanders
this is how we all end, in one big meta-
physical conundrum
an abscess of intellectual decay
or maybe, some of us are still trying
still beating back the pull
of gravity
and god
always, never
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 5 4
civil discourse
start with the supposition
of an indefensible position, always
assume the other guy is stupid, foolish,
less than you,
uncouth, unclean,
demeaned by his unhinged mentality
and altogether not worth being seen
or heard
and any negative reaction well deserved
to his outdated and disturbed
point of view; now, You-
you are beyond reproach, your every boast
and bandy is so grandly given,
so monumentally you've risen
to the heights of critical thought and factual acumen
that even when in fact you might be ignorant,
still, you bring an educated eye
and well-informed retort to every sort of argument
so why ever question the quick twitch, initial gut reaction
even when presented with a competent dissent
just stick to your guns, and fire away
another insult if you must; it's just
a way of driving home your point
you've already won
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 8 3
drowning heat leaks through the barrier
coffee and newspaper
drifting over morning’s
shoulder, leaning like child
against banister
new thought
forming at entryway;
exit signs light up
keep digging in tongue,
i keep digging in my tongue
to cheek
avoiding chances to speak
new thoughts forming in the foyer,
in hall spaces, closet
inescapable notion:
every ocean eats a piece
of land that lies beneath;
all ghosts just pixel artifacts
never there never skin
bone grafts and false veneers
synaptic snapshot, nearly clear
of any shred of sound
but i can taste cocoa in the beans,
can print myself into wet news
below the fold, where half attention pays
these are the days
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 5 7
wildfire in the hall closet
I am ten rem tea leaves,
silt and sum, beaten sun
round and heavy on the shoulders
breathing in the extract, melatonin and c
bolted to bonebrew
there are galaxy fools
dancing in solar winds, searching for a cool
or a higher high
and I am one of those, too
living like it isn’t meant to be
more than basic chemical
and non-sentient plant matter, maybe
but definitely not this, not us
our decadent decay, our glorious self-
exaltive state
and the lie that time is narrow, defined
or can be tamed by any
ideagogue, army
or lucent object in a distant
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 11 9
the layer between then
and now,
heart bathed in moonfire,
slick signal beacon beaming out
an afterlight image
of someone worth knowing
alive in the photon wave, oscillating
between earnest points along the edge
of a great vacuum,
where dawn and distance distort themselves
around supermassive objects;
life is a blinking infinity,
eternal and instantaneous both
and everything comes in to focus
as time is scattered to the winds
world eater come,
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 9 8
theoretical conspirator
in the lifespan of a spherical
sun, scored against
vast, black
one is the lamb;
blind blue child, wild
and fatuous,
earth-mouthed and flat
behind the eyes
chasing secrets in an underground
tunnel of deceit, conceit
and dumb confetti streamer
celebrations of having reached enlightenment,
true enlightenment
before everyone else
and somehow this is pinnacle,
the chosen survivor
reaching out to the stars, still
unsettled on the facts
of their shape
believing in whatever
is necessary to deliver him to providence
before his brother, his neighbor
or that fucking Karen
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 4 4
tell the curtains, fall
woke to find the sun
hanging weakly from my wallpaper
like a loose tether;
this is a spitfire,
 a fierce ripping
  of time from space
   or space from time
    the rules do not apply to them
    dreams that emanate from nowhere,
so I am not to blame
your face bubbles
under the weight of every photon
blaring through salt and tears
and polycarbonate lenses
and time, fuck
it rests so heavy in the moment
and light as it gathers mass
and I wonder if you lie in bed
saying that you miss me
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 13 10
alarm klaxon
faces on a mattress
stirred to noise
from dream, from lover's
to wake in violence
chaos in the water
in blood, the bounds
of how far come
how gone
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 4 2
my life is after
ridged into thin wishes
dots splattered from trauma
onto canvas, concrete
whatever surface near
an edge,
I'll ignore it
like the blank pages of the book
I said that I would write
the honeyed skin that covers
your shoulders, neck
where my fingers haven't traced
the plain walls, patched
and unpainted
no pictures, art
or photographs
like a thread between the points
on a timeline,
a lifeline; mine
is flat and
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 29 7
stripped down
I could slip into a strangerlust,
hopeful in the act
of opening a crack of skin
to show the simple facts within
but deep down, I’m broken
by the fairytale- the naive idea
that we are not just cells and science;
my non-compliance is met
with eyes shallow / full
of two-toned regret
and three fifths of gin
gone, Juniper
in her one-way inference
down the daisy-lined path
to river's edge, rocks foaming
teeth clenched,
sitting on the fence about this hence-
forth metaphysical existence
and my insistence on finding
some thing called purpose
in the earth-less endeavors
to which I have resigned
is a bumbled, battered concept
lying dormant on the shelf
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 12 2
under felled roof
calm the paling iris blue limbic
closed system captioned by a stranger
version of yourself, one detached
one rather
detached from the notion of connecting
lines between dots, lips to skin
in this narrative I am stormsurged
for the touch to come to color,
the wasteland everywhere I look
disintegrated in choppy waves
of static tsunami
rushing over edges of whatever lifeboats
we sent out in the night
and now we're living anxious
in impatient, makeshift mudtack
 houses, lack of purpose
showing in the bottles collected
on the floor; we found no messages
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 16 5
things heard and over
whiskey is thinning
 out my blood, so it can trickle
all through the veins
 between heart and brain;
 I'm gathering my mischief
neatly in a box, retreating
 into old patterns of receding self
and disappearing
disappearing into black stairs
 in the dead of night, chasing blindly
through twists and turns 
to find the part you kept from me
 when worse words crept into my throat
than I wanted to say
 to you
and when I disappear, completely
 beyond the edge of the small, visible bubble
of light that surrounds you
 I know you won't be lonely, won't worry
that I'll be somewhere ripping band-aids off of wounds
 wound between the echoes of your synapses firing,
huddled in the warmth of sound
 I imagine in your voice
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 14 9
meeting places
murmured in a sleepdance,
heard a secret
stuck in stone
ragged man, ragged
find the fill between two pines,
sitting still release
and realize her heart,
heavier in known space
but the bones can chip away
recalcified re:memories, intractable ; yon
impractical perchance parlance
per your request unmet, held vacant
vague and equidistant
glimmer trust, sparked spirits
in a blur of going
grief, humor,
hope for happiness
hope for you(th
e curled up wonders
once confided in a dreamstate
and their wake unleashed
into the leathering years
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 8 7
observable limits
time as a staircase:
ascending, descending steps
reach between dim plots,
between rooms
and lights on the veranda
where every blade of grass becomes a garden;
every garden decays
swallowed back into the mouth and mortar
of a learned star
drifting in, floating out
backward, forward
between forefinger and thumb,
held up, pinched narrow
born into perception
parsecs, in speckled space
unfolding a universe
:iconnawkaman:nawkaman 32 9

Random Favourites

Treasured Lit: Volume 1
Treasured Lit is my brand new feature where I showcase

some of my favorite literature I've discovered (and subsequently

treasured) from the previous week. :la:

Here we go!
Llama Emoji-23 (Shyness) [V1] 

That's all for this week!  Until next time. :heart:
:iconbrennennn:brennennn 5 16
-she will lie, through
 her teeth, even when the
 words crinkle, against
 the blank spaces; bones
 made to shatter, chatter
 through the silence, and
 grind into milky-way-ashes
[wishing upon the dust; that
 you don't
 have a map to this
:iconentitaria:Entitaria 9 1
peach blossom rain drops
flood my veins against your stars—
heavenly charade
:iconbrennennn:brennennn 35 20
You came back in the fall
and I told you you could go —
already almost gone
like the deer I came upon one day,
slow breathing beside me
before it leaped. You stayed
and stayed and now the air
is crisp with lack of you.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 11 4
Turtlestone by Aenea-Jones Turtlestone :iconaenea-jones:Aenea-Jones 544 17
this sorry is the hail mary to catch
reading: This sorry - vardeldur
it is not
it is
it is tornado  
in a hurricane --
the course is
unpredictable at best
metastatic, prognosis?
Look at me --
am I someone
that wants to live
without you?
:icon0hgravity:0hgravity 23 17
How to have an hour long relationship.
Sit down, buckle up, and take out the airplane's catalog. Leaf through it. There might be an interesting article about the science of traveling as a couple. Giggle to yourself. 
When he sits down next to you don't look up, just edge your vision at the tip of your eye. Notice he is wearing pink shorts, wonder if years of experience warn about this sort of thing. Try not to want to go to the bathroom. 
When he takes out a small, thin book to read, take out your own. Thick, heavy, and branded with "Stephen King". Smile to yourself when you feel his gaze look at you, with wonderment and shock. Then, wait for him to stop looking at you to steal a glance at his afternoon shadow. 
Be quick. 
Whatever you do, don't let your brother eat the sugared peaches.
Know that when you fail at that, it is your fault he is trying to lick your arm. Be calm, decisive. I don't think he noticed.
:iconkissysaltcoatedangel:kissysaltcoatedangel 7 6
Mature content
Cane in our future(TRIGGER WARNING?) :iconoviedomedina:oviedomedina 9 12
Dusting Up, Red
my ears unhear the words
as if those words, alone
cut me from the strip
and stamped me,
in too mild a steel
for this hostile air, edges
already dusting up
so undeniably
red with breakdown
but we each corrode
in different lies
at different rates,
our materials migrate
into different wars
with the eroding
shore and shadow
of where we happen
and stand
so unbearably alive
animal gamepieces
pace the irony cage
of our self-defeat, pretending
that we own them,
that we're capable
of owning anything
other than what we are-
dull stumps, keratinized
and driven as hooves
into skies of escape,
barely alive, but
so undeniably human
:iconblackbowfin:BlackBowfin 26 23
What Schopenhauer Forgot
the fragile yet enduring soul:
what makes us human, the flaw
of nature, an inability to reconcile mortality
in an infinite scheme. The proof of ego
constant and each, every source
of our communal pain;
yet how I wish to be an observer
of such a phenomenon: when we become
the dinosaurs and they excavate,
but always too far away
to know.
How I wish
for extinction, the exhibit
in a collection,
the shortcomings of our
:iconmuscularteeth:muscularteeth 8 13
so please don't (ever die)
reading cummings in the dark
                how pale important marks
leapt over
 the tumults
of many
    dear girl
how i was crazy
   when memories
      of your ways be-
gan to invade
    my thrush of candid
   beguiling wings
      in all things
     in all things
    i crevice self
        into the
dynamics of hair
    until i swallow languorous
        like forgotten fluids
longing wealth in evergreen fields
   your presence is invaluable
to quantify
     unless told to
    never die
:iconchromeantennae:chromeantennae 28 12
Alight by Aenea-Jones Alight :iconaenea-jones:Aenea-Jones 1,104 59
The Ghost Age
When I set the table
I set the table for one.
There is no table.
I spread a white bed sheet
across it and place the dishes.
There is no bed sheet.
There are no dishes.
Though when I sit in the chair
I am sitting in the room
in a chair.
These are the years
known as The Chair Age.
By the time the chair
rots from beneath me
I have carved a set
of beautiful dishes.
When I set the table
the dishes crash to the floor
at my feet
where I stand.
These are the years
known as The Dishes Age
During The Sheet Age
a white bed sheet
seems to take the shape
on the table
but only for a moment
then floats slowly down
to where the broken dishes
always were.
This is the same sheet
you will later pick up
in another age,
cut two tiny holes into,
and become something you
already are.
by Zachary Schomburg 
:iconemmasloane:EmmaSloane 3 11
Set a crown of flames
on the dying logs,
the glowing barkwhales
in a glass cube
of heat. Light
it spreads
like ambiance
into the warm
colours of the walls,
the glass goblet
illuminated with
shadow, the blue
filling of space.
The wood crackles
with sleep.
is a flickering night
warm with the
presence of
sun-danced windghosts.
:iconayeaye12:AyeAye12 24 25



Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
We were dried, salted
slit sideways and spilled
no insides out.

And then I knew
we were such empty shells.


I am genuinely grateful for any fave that I get, so if I don't thank you individually it is because I hate the feeling that I'm just replying cookie cutter thanks. But know that I do appreciate the support very much.
I'm feeling like doing some in depth poetry critique. WHO WANTS???

Link me one piece of poetry or short prose, let me know what kind of feedback you are looking for, let me know if you prefer via comment or more privately via note. I am going to be honest with you if there are things I think can be improved, but I think I do a pretty good job of keeping any more critical elements from being soul-crushing or insulting. Also, know that I'm not an expert and I don't think I am the arbiter of what is good in poetry/literature. Just a longtime reader/writer of poetry offering my opinions, should anyone want them. 


Add a Comment:
nosedivve Featured By Owner 4 days ago   Writer
Thank you so much for the fave on Camouflage.Tethered :heart:
comatose-comet Featured By Owner May 7, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fave :dalove:
(1 Reply)
freyaintranslation Featured By Owner Feb 6, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
You stopped by! You read! You faved! Woohooooo! Woohooooo! Woohooooo! 
(1 Reply)
freyaintranslation Featured By Owner Jan 14, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
Nathan, thank you so much for the favorite on Cancer At Mattix Run. I'm trying to get myself back in gear for commenting on the work of others, yours in particular, though have not been inspired to write anything new myself! I miss our interactions.Heart  
Tiger--eyes Featured By Owner Jan 12, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the :+fav: on Unwinding :rose:
(1 Reply)
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