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About Literature / Artist will find time to procrastinate.Male/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 16 Years
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Sometimes words of honey
And at others, those of pitch.
A cold trickle of water,
Or perhaps a rotten abrasion.
Words themselves remain impartial.
Only the candy-coating conveys
The undercurrent.
So that meaning can still be found
In the baying of my rasping throat.
Even when the flow comes jagged
As it does in this faltering poem.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 3
We've had it wrong for years,
and we should never have
Forced so many children
Into the cold realms
Of philosophy.
Such tiny hands
Only really ever produce
Sophistry and Solipsisms.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
Umm, excuse me?
I am way too waspy for this.
Boiled potatoes, stewed beef.
That is more me.
I find your headdress tacky and
Outmoded. It reminds me
Too much of smallpox blankets.
And anyway, shouldn't I be seeing
Wings and clouds and Jesus?
This is the third impertinent perversion
Of God's number, you know.
(The first being Lucky Number Sleven,
The second being the name Steven.)
You should just let me sleep.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
It demurely shakes off the paleo-dust,
A little callipygian, verbal beast.
A coquette of syllable recognition,
And some long interred desire.
A fire I'd grown inured against.
Some arcane tongue sprung up
Between the cracks in our modern language.
It matches a need I have, quite point-device,
Rolling ball, blank ink, point: extra fine.
Come here, little darling.
I won't lose you again.
But the world sees only your awkward corners.
Come home with me,
And let me run your hyphen across my lips.
Never be alone again, until I die.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
Confusion begets amusement
Turmoil is tumult, bemusement
So this discarded word,
This jumble of garbage and earth-blood,
Suits this situation better.
The waves pass from the brain,
They become garbled.
The resultant friction from scraping
Static signals evokes distress in me.
I've grown a spoiled, hard-boiled garboil.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
Midgets with Guns
There is a small cannon in my mouth
That hurls sharp words at you,
But lately it's not been properly calibrated.
The words only crash into my teeth
And crumble into docile poems.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 2 2
I Swear I will.
I will burn you out of me.
I will find every interstitial pocket of you
and fill it with gasoline and napalm.
If I can get the flames hot enough,
The flesh will cauterize.
I will lose skin, but not my blood.
And if this new scar tissue
Hardens the soft meat of my ventricles,
You can breathe softer.
I will watch as the
Rough, pink claws
Make their mesh across me,
And add texture and complexity
To a once simple joy.
I will let others wonder
At the geometric patterns
Now rising out of my chest.
But my dreams
Betray me in this.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
The Softest Snake
Slinking, silk-wrapped thighs
Softly snaking around my lingering sighs.
Precisely what knowledge
Does this apple offer?
Wrap me in your wings.
Downy or leathered, it doesn't matter.
I'll lend you my heat.
Spinning webs fill your eyes.
My sockets are filled with hazel flies,
So you have my attention,
Oh subtle daughter.
Perform the coup-de-grace.
I'm ready.
I'm willing.
I'll wait.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
Today, I am composed.
Today, I am composed
Of corded muscles, love, and scars.
I feel like an oaken core.
Life starts with an effervescence,
But these oscillations slip wider
Each year and shake loose the taught wires.
The quivering energy
Becomes more of a jiggle, really.
However, here is the most danger.
Minds and emotions remain keen and
Added to the bitterness-honed blades.
The loose jangle will send cuts flying
If momentum seeks to topple the system.
In time, though, the bearings will grow
Over-worn, and the swaying ocean
Will find its tides tied into eddies.
Today is where I am,
But I remain transfixed
As deep-pink tissue roughs my skin.
I can only wonder where it was I acquired
These newer blemishes.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
(AKA The Popular Themes of Life and Love Annotated in Copper Ink)
Dawn spreading gentle fingers,
Tickling trees slathered with the colors
Of Autumnal flesh.
The tone of the hair
On a Rust-Curl girl.
The same hue of steel
Being hammered into formed function.
The color of those fireworks
With the second-stage showering sparks.
What has come to me now as
Carnival-glass spheres, reflecting
Distorted images of memories and
Descending slowly into deepening darkness
Like bubbles blown at dusk.
However, I'm trying not to embellish,
So it's simply the titian glory
In a sunset that signals
The loss of another day.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
Munin by pseudokojo Munin :iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0 Munin Gilt-Edge by pseudokojo Munin Gilt-Edge :iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
There is something less charming
In this scene.
Still Oliver Twist,
Artful Dodger,
But less Disney,
More Dickens in London.
Dingy, no...
No mutt dogs
Singing Billy Joel songs
To cute, grey, animated kittens.
No kittens at all,
And you know how sore
That vexes me.
In the Land of Opportunity,
Trickle Down Theory doesn't.
Only one thing trickles down here.
So the most attractive element
Being offered by the incoming incumbents
Is hope.
That's what they are selling.
But will the choice be between
Buying hope, and buying food?
Like it has been between
Having a home or food?
How can we have gone
Drastically deeper into debt since the 1980's
Only to pause in the 1990's,
Only to pick up pace
Immediately afterward?
And how did Sub-Prime
Save us?
How is it that a gallon
Of milk can go from $2.75 in 2000
To $4.85 in 2008
And not be considered a rise
In inflation?
Huddled masses
Were supposed to stop shivering.
Please do.
You're making us look bad.
The system works, damn it.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 1 0
(For our patron Bunbury)
We lay ourselves full out.
String our souls long like mozzarella
Until they pool on the page.
We rub out fingers into it
Until it loosens.
Add perfumes,
Add tints.
Then we paint with it.
It takes a while,
And with each new sheet,
Every added detail,
We move slower;
Our tanks run lower.
One day the engine will seize.
The gears dry and tight.
Our bodies slumped against the desk,
Amid piles of paper.
After enough time, when we decompose,
And each iota becomes airborne,
It will mix with the faded scents.
If someone stumbles upon it,
We can only hope they understand
The completeness of that moment.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
I bit it, and I saw the marks
My teeth left. I saw the glitter.
I felt the heat left from my touch.
I wiped away the makeup.
I used astringent against the
Cloying mask to find what was hidden.
I saw the sun come up over the trees.
I breathed open air.
The road was wide, and empty.
The ring was fake.
The freckles were only glitter.
The sun was setting.
The road was closed.
I'll push deeper next time.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0
In which I write once more.
Oh, rusted gears,
Rumble far within.
I'll pretend you are purring.
Let the cool liquid
Bathe your teeth in it
Until it becomes hot and thin.
Creak and fight until you move.
Struggle until it turns over
And the motion begins to carry you
Along the circular paths.
I will stand guard outside.
I will breath the familiar oils
The lubricants that bring the words out
And wafting up to sinuses and fingertips.
I will stand the shock of electric pain
As synapses fire off in the wrong directions
Before they learn to recalibrate themselves.
Sleeping Fenrir, rise!
Measure the deep-tongue,
Utter the forbidden names;
Odin rides again.
:iconpseudokojo:pseudokojo 0 0

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will find time to procrastinate.
Artist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Inside a bad pun.
Favourite genre of music: Current Food: Soup
Favourite photographer: Current Smell: Fresh-cut grass
Favourite style of art: Current Song: "Anything at All" by Firewater
Operating System: Ubuntu Gutsy Gibbon, though I wish to hell Compiz-Fusion worked without screwing with firefox.
MP3 player of choice: Natasha, my black ipod which, I've decided, is a 1980's Soviet spy of awesomeness.
Shell of choice: Tortie-cat (Now sans vest!)
Wallpaper of choice: see:…
Skin of choice: Ear-hat and my slippers, including new snow leopard slippers with extra cushy soles.
Favourite cartoon character: Minus of Kiwis By Beat (online)
Personal Quote: We are not "We"c-b, but we be WECB 99.9FM, or ch 65 on your ECTV
I have been gone a while.  I have written some things in the interim, but am a bit too lazy to put them on here.  If you are curious, some of it is pretty good for me, I think.  You can find it at:

I will be updating here as I write more in the future.  I might even get unlazy and copy over those poems to here.
  • Listening to: "Roses" - The Stolen Records
  • Reading: Scott Pilgrim, Book 2 and a PKD collection
  • Watching: True Blood, Breaking Bad
  • Playing: Puzzle Quest & Rock Band 2 (again, for both)
  • Drinking: Peach Rooibos Iced Tea

Journal History


Add a Comment:
lesahra Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2008
I never know how to compliment poetry. I can't say "nice poetry," because that is only trite in comparison. So I suppose I'm left with "I read a few, and I like what I read."
pseudokojo Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2008   Writer
haha, well thank you. That is really the best anyone can expect.
movinkindaslow Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2008  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Much thanks for the's really appreciated. Thanks too for the FAV:D
Porcelynn Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2008  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you thank you stranger, I hope your boredom leaves you!
schrodingersnextcat Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2007
Appreciate all the nice feedback.
fufuthegreat Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2007
Hey, thanks so much for :+fav:ing my photo!
dragoncharmer02 Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2007
Hey, it's been awhile I hope that everything is going well for you. I haven't really been up to much creatively lately. Been to busy with grad school.
pseudokojo Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2007   Writer
Hey there. Yeah, I've not been to creative lately either. Recently moved and am lacking a job and cash, and car inspection ran me about 800 dollars into a hole, and trying to get around to been secure enough financially to apply for grad school, finally. Hope you're doing well.
pseudokojo Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2007   Writer
Also, my typing abilities seem to have suffered. (**been too creative, **around to being)
DarkPsymon Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2007   Digital Artist
Thanks for the :+fav: on my London Pixel Scene, Much appreciated :glomp:
Add a Comment: