spoems's avatar
Shane
750 Watchers102.1K Page Views702 Deviations

the daughter universe

t

the daughter universe

Lonely men, I’ve noticed, will pay off their little houses and live in them by themselves until they burn down from a dead gas pilot and 80’s paperback philosophy. In other words, out on one hundred highway north at dusk, which is a daylight’s ride from the sack, the dunes simply spill out on the road; the crazy thing being, nobody’s worried. Keep driving until the damn thing just ends at the last rogue pier on the island’s tip. There’s a dark night beach on the right and if you wade into the waves, about 130 feet, east by northeast, you’ll find a miraculous shoal where the salt from a trillion g
30Comments

Alchemy

A

Alchemy

Inside these walls, I wait past dark. The shadows steep and over-brew long before I move a bone; I’ll never return to mother’s moon. Star and night, my bench flakes off cicada shells and sunflower wilt. By Venus light, it’s a driftwood throne, an old carob bullet firing straight for the sun. The air like ink collects and cools: it is the black throat where braying forms, and where shady gardens melt and pool; absorbing the ghosts of cigarette-waft. These onyx planets swell and bloom, and metabolise like sheer witchspells - I turn these crystals to my core And try unlearn this spiderweb gloom. Former days contort through
15Comments

workshop

w

workshop

The hearth in your denim pocket, quietus and earthen floor windows settle nostalgic dust and hold outcroppings through their pores: maps, manuals, flightless single wings awaiting consequence, a bloodless chore in the future you have willed the world for those of us who still remain workless as the dead.
19Comments

working

w

working

I wake in mourning working on the end. each blade of body greys like cedar brittles in their marrow the eyes become dimensionless never weep from their sleep years digress between sun salutations the gut grows tempestuous with a cruel child’s shame yet god, buddha, or the last aching deity offers up a salve at our Mass of the Unnamed: deadnettle for regret in the early grave of March.
11Comments

The Meaning of Bearing Life

T

The Meaning of Bearing Life

Experience may not last. It is impractical to continue to evolve and become the collective experience of bearing life, for such internal hardening and the effects of material fatigue, going further can be called failure. Life is the life of bearing before it fails; the so-called life experience. Life should peak, oscillate, or remain extremely short and compromise known or calculable external forces or inertia.  When free, ignore deformations in the frame and act on a bearing, on a direction, for only light applies to pure acts.
8Comments

60 Inch Samsung TV

I

60 Inch Samsung TV

The vagabond at its hilt in its infant neural twist before meandering 80 years in feral knots and vanishing in a lurch prior to weeping into knees for uninvited gods in the cold behind the grocery despite a lack of all the trappings articulating personhood I’m sure he had it: a smoke of a dream a million heaving cigarettes blazing in the unborn stem. I took his air and animation but in this new configuration the atoms speak only to his faithful ghost. In my stolen host my wiry beard I never leave my final place reclining in the aftermath and never knowing.
19Comments

Elsewhere

E

Elsewhere

I do not cede your life to you. All things begin in my aching bed. Baristas, starmen, nothing has survived the light. The living lose their space to me. The last fond ritual before the ghosts will be allowed their speech is the moment that I really live, when I breed all neurotic wants at once: to king, to beggar, to whore out every figure yet to be betrayed by gross approximation and dumbly muddled by these dumb fingers. The all important touch is just a disillusioned brute hanging like an ugly halo around an arbitrary mass that hosts your hidden magic. And I kill the world to have it. What bizarre and dissolute intelligence births its
6Comments

Retirement

R

Retirement

The pecan tree looms like a ghast above the trail waiting to collapse and crush someone’s skull. It’s fruitless and frozen in the throes of a last hurrah, unmoved and unmoving, a fitting bride for fire.   I wonder when they’ll cut it down? I am a wretched effigy pining for the arborist to cull me from the path. I’m still leftover from the bloom frankly splayed upon the bosom of this great interminable happening. All that is animate is my nonnecessity. I can no longer rise above the level of my eyes. The tendons are frayed and salt-encrusted sail boat lines brittling in the Gulf. The bones grow blond and discontent
12Comments

Business Trip

B

Business Trip

I’ll never make the drive west to San Fran like a psychedelic troubadour a zealous eremite on a mad mad dash a pilgrimage through the Sonoran holy desert those hipsters lounging outside City Light Books cream in their wares about. No, it’ll be this lonely business pragmatically jetting over grave errors of character and wind wrinkled hillsides everyone circling the same 25K miles half-dead asleep on these very wings! All the while, trying to forget what the world remembers to forget; this is what you wanted.
16Comments

language

l

language

I see her foraging for joy in the tiniest of things and pretend I know the world as well. Somewhere on her lips and cheeks - a myriad of flights and plumes, the sweet dichotomies between her muscle cantering the pace of summer and lounging with the artless peace of willows guarding waters’ edge, I find what she is looking for - a pair of shadows in her eyes.
24Comments
See all

the daughter universe

t

the daughter universe

Lonely men, I’ve noticed, will pay off their little houses and live in them by themselves until they burn down from a dead gas pilot and 80’s paperback philosophy. In other words, out on one hundred highway north at dusk, which is a daylight’s ride from the sack, the dunes simply spill out on the road; the crazy thing being, nobody’s worried. Keep driving until the damn thing just ends at the last rogue pier on the island’s tip. There’s a dark night beach on the right and if you wade into the waves, about 130 feet, east by northeast, you’ll find a miraculous shoal where the salt from a trillion g
30Comments

Alchemy

A

Alchemy

Inside these walls, I wait past dark. The shadows steep and over-brew long before I move a bone; I’ll never return to mother’s moon. Star and night, my bench flakes off cicada shells and sunflower wilt. By Venus light, it’s a driftwood throne, an old carob bullet firing straight for the sun. The air like ink collects and cools: it is the black throat where braying forms, and where shady gardens melt and pool; absorbing the ghosts of cigarette-waft. These onyx planets swell and bloom, and metabolise like sheer witchspells - I turn these crystals to my core And try unlearn this spiderweb gloom. Former days contort through
15Comments

workshop

w

workshop

The hearth in your denim pocket, quietus and earthen floor windows settle nostalgic dust and hold outcroppings through their pores: maps, manuals, flightless single wings awaiting consequence, a bloodless chore in the future you have willed the world for those of us who still remain workless as the dead.
19Comments

working

w

working

I wake in mourning working on the end. each blade of body greys like cedar brittles in their marrow the eyes become dimensionless never weep from their sleep years digress between sun salutations the gut grows tempestuous with a cruel child’s shame yet god, buddha, or the last aching deity offers up a salve at our Mass of the Unnamed: deadnettle for regret in the early grave of March.
11Comments

The Meaning of Bearing Life

T

The Meaning of Bearing Life

Experience may not last. It is impractical to continue to evolve and become the collective experience of bearing life, for such internal hardening and the effects of material fatigue, going further can be called failure. Life is the life of bearing before it fails; the so-called life experience. Life should peak, oscillate, or remain extremely short and compromise known or calculable external forces or inertia.  When free, ignore deformations in the frame and act on a bearing, on a direction, for only light applies to pure acts.
8Comments

60 Inch Samsung TV

I

60 Inch Samsung TV

The vagabond at its hilt in its infant neural twist before meandering 80 years in feral knots and vanishing in a lurch prior to weeping into knees for uninvited gods in the cold behind the grocery despite a lack of all the trappings articulating personhood I’m sure he had it: a smoke of a dream a million heaving cigarettes blazing in the unborn stem. I took his air and animation but in this new configuration the atoms speak only to his faithful ghost. In my stolen host my wiry beard I never leave my final place reclining in the aftermath and never knowing.
19Comments

Elsewhere

E

Elsewhere

I do not cede your life to you. All things begin in my aching bed. Baristas, starmen, nothing has survived the light. The living lose their space to me. The last fond ritual before the ghosts will be allowed their speech is the moment that I really live, when I breed all neurotic wants at once: to king, to beggar, to whore out every figure yet to be betrayed by gross approximation and dumbly muddled by these dumb fingers. The all important touch is just a disillusioned brute hanging like an ugly halo around an arbitrary mass that hosts your hidden magic. And I kill the world to have it. What bizarre and dissolute intelligence births its
6Comments

Retirement

R

Retirement

The pecan tree looms like a ghast above the trail waiting to collapse and crush someone’s skull. It’s fruitless and frozen in the throes of a last hurrah, unmoved and unmoving, a fitting bride for fire.   I wonder when they’ll cut it down? I am a wretched effigy pining for the arborist to cull me from the path. I’m still leftover from the bloom frankly splayed upon the bosom of this great interminable happening. All that is animate is my nonnecessity. I can no longer rise above the level of my eyes. The tendons are frayed and salt-encrusted sail boat lines brittling in the Gulf. The bones grow blond and discontent
12Comments

Business Trip

B

Business Trip

I’ll never make the drive west to San Fran like a psychedelic troubadour a zealous eremite on a mad mad dash a pilgrimage through the Sonoran holy desert those hipsters lounging outside City Light Books cream in their wares about. No, it’ll be this lonely business pragmatically jetting over grave errors of character and wind wrinkled hillsides everyone circling the same 25K miles half-dead asleep on these very wings! All the while, trying to forget what the world remembers to forget; this is what you wanted.
16Comments

language

l

language

I see her foraging for joy in the tiniest of things and pretend I know the world as well. Somewhere on her lips and cheeks - a myriad of flights and plumes, the sweet dichotomies between her muscle cantering the pace of summer and lounging with the artless peace of willows guarding waters’ edge, I find what she is looking for - a pair of shadows in her eyes.
24Comments

Petrichor

P

Petrichor

I walk without an errand for the mind. I must be homeless. Neighboring enclaves separate our spaces, belie their builders’ mirthless exhaustion. Not even necessity can be blamed   for these mud-struck, brittle gourds, these quick nests of vasculous organs pulsing with their peculiar tyrannies, briefly scuttling from their hovels like sun refugees darting into gleaming storefronts waffled in concrete misery   all to forestall the end of their souls. Where can we go when we only want to breathe? Sitting in a park bench, trillion-visioned, crowned with galaxies, I can rest my weary invention. I sense the weight of an unseen player,
39Comments

if i hadn't had the drunk luck to meet you

i

if i hadn't had the drunk luck to meet you

i’d have married every bedside witch from here to east dallas i’d have glistened like a worm to their mescaline psalms i’d have mired in sinuous wineskin, repentant spectra i’d Om along in cooing groups, babble with freethinkers all my endeavors would be gas station derelicts all of my wrongs would be quasi-continuous even the over-sought moon would protest and i wouldn’t recognize one half of the universe
84Comments

Ice Storm

I

Ice Storm

Before I knew of being I sought the easy gladness of working in the yard I put on leather gloves and fed my fingers to the cold I spent hours arranging wounds of a willow bowed and dismembered from radials of weighty ice I dreamt in the belly of winters of the slow advance of our separation all in naked sight of the epitaph of the universe. After I knew of being I still do these things.
38Comments

ego

e

ego

the willow is a gorgeous idiot. she does not fathom why her feathers vault to the grass like gouges in a green fount. do not praise my derelictions and unpracticed mourning, the angle of my slump. i have given in to gravity and furious flights of thirst but even so, my envy has a blossom and a leaf and i may seem to wave you in though, i am barely present, bitter sap in a blind pillar and i do not deserve to feel the distant murmur of your affection.
16Comments

Divorce

D

Divorce

Before that day, Sunday mornings had never occurred to me. I must have slept through their every summons: I never knew the time sensitive ritual of finding matching socks, forcing “nice” shoes over misshapen toes, the silent pact we would share with the warm cushions of the divan waiting for Mother to ready us,  memories that settle in the guts like a madstone, which I could then pull out of my old cadaver to save myself in the next life. There were a few moments. Like that time, in the garage, basking in Father’s sunrise sorcery as he fired his magic timing light into the fluttering lungs of an engine, or when he let
57Comments

I took off

I

I took off

My day off. I stand in sunlight without asking. I can watch it being day. The mud is soft and cool at home. I'd bury well without a casket, I’ll be a naked pill for earth. I build a garden box from wood, smash my thumb. Red bell peppers; too late for lettuce. I had a premonition I would live like this. No one will remember me. I’ll forget by Tuesday.
51Comments

it's already happened

i

it's already happened

how long will i prop up this poisoned messiah, squeeze false atmosphere from these heavy lungs? i want to get up now, drive one thousand miles to the cauldron's teaming lip and perform last rites by the roadside. i see myself as a diver a bullet hurtling faster than your voice from this dimension of accidents. if i am an interruption in the blessedness, a scarry mandala broken off concentric bones   in a blunder of motion, if i am (to be) a curse that hangs from your sternum spike then i will grant you sweet asylum. goodbye.
28Comments

Forward About Nothing

F

Forward About Nothing

                                           Forward About Nothing I’ve always been somewhat aware of the unthinkable totality of the infinite.  Throughout my struggle with or ignorance of this perception, i always looked upon art as a way of subjecting the massless eternity into objective material form. Soon after reading the bop-steaming unconsciousness that is Mexico City Blues by J. Kerouac, I was hyper-exhilarated, dumbfounded, and struck bluntly with an instrument of pure, free, heretical poesy.  While I have no real interest in any style, per se, i realized an opportunity within myself to be inspired by the cult-heroic example of t
10Comments

exponent

e

exponent

                                           exponent opus of all discovery! madcap experimental chemicals and cometry of spacerocklife that carry the sulpherstrike of First Explosion have all unfolded                                   in                                   to                                    .                                    .                                    .                    i’ve multiplied !!!|You|!!! over and over been where blushsmiles wrought from a foundry of fools and their fleshplan to rule the likes of the Queen of Blue Vegetation blacken dead cuttlefish                          
36Comments

beneath

b

beneath

it goes without saying: everything the air that settles on your chest awaiting sound the language of your local fruit the swirl of rind their glyphs and runes like sun-bent cheeks those bulbous blots in utero and creatured time that sleeps between us. i needn't tell you anything or speak my way inside of you you've doctored in all my aspirations your furious dreams' wild successions no longer carry my peculiar cursive because i am written on
53Comments

Poetry

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Daylight

D

Daylight

The trees have waited, standing patient through the night, for this ecstasy.
18Comments

Even Though

E

Even Though

There will be no caged fingers, no tendons finely tuned to A from tension. There will be no clenched teeth, gritting rosin, to make the final singing note growl. There will be unwinding bed-sheets, hands slowly releasing the tuning pegs. There will be slowly sliding scales as the four limbs loosen past playing. There will be a simple, quiet exit, not to ovation, but to a hushed audience who anticipate an encore, even though it is uncertain.

Anti-inflammatories

A

Anti-inflammatories

Green tea clarity, my fingers clicked me into each scene, like the hands of a new watch, rose-gold, the latest crisp trend Tycho songs play smoothly in my head like the first snow flakes of the year, swooping down off a cool breeze Cleared me up like Vicks; menthol and spearmint, Northpole cleanliness. It was as if God came down and made his bed in my heart. I was riding the white horse I was riding the crest of the wave * * * Three days later He told me: you can stop taking those tablets, take some reality instead. Cop a dose of life and eat out of a cardboard box you know, to get your mood up. Drink some coffee and don’t be

fire in glass

f

fire in glass

the shell and the cell of self incongruous a desiccated monument to terror made monotonous each portent plodding ponderous (in time all) history's anonymous

human time capsule

h

human time capsule

evidence suggests I spend my energies on friends who end up enemies and more or less the rest of me worn thin from splitting them from me torn limb from lingering memories born blessed unless the less you see seems better than the best of me and I forget how to forget myself so sometimes I'm someone else or else the effort's unaffected (I'm in pieces/you're collected) calmly confessing conflicted questions every breath an unlearned lesson (dispersed in all directions) each truth unearned despite intentions

sick

s

sick

there’s a trick to the way that my body bears pain, to the way that it carries its ancient ache— a trick that glints hard in the light as it twists, my Achilles spine, the witch-twitch of my wrists. my body, contrivance of muscle and skin, reliquary of illness, convulsive itch— bowing in on itself in its tenderest tortures, in its tendons and ligaments, pulled taut like a switch. there’s a trick to the way that affliction embodies, the way it’s passed down, the way it’s imposed— my baleful birthright, my weird birthmark, malevolent down to the flicks of my ankles and toes, to the slow tender ago

I see you

I

I see you

Tell me how you feel about me   Even though we might've just met.   Where you're from and where you will be, And I'll tell you that I see you. If you ask me how I'm doing,   And you hope I'll say I'm fine too,   Let's pretend you're dying to know   And I'll tell you that I see you. Rolling along, are we merely     Rolling along, just to only   See where it blows, anything goes,   Sail the ocean, seasick motion. Walking the tide, shoes in our hands,   You've got a taste, a frosty brew   While I kick at crabs at my feet   Till the moment when I see you. Passing the time, are we merely     Passing the time, just to only   Keep us apart, no h

Wind Chimes

W

Wind Chimes

I am reminded that even solid metal breathes
Artist // Literature
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spoems



Shane
Artist | Literature
United States

words cannot describe what i really am








Favourite Visual Artist
giger, pollock, dali, van gogh
Favourite Movies
one flew over the cuckoo's nest, seven samurai, unforgiven
Favourite TV Shows
breaking bad, youtube
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
mozart, nirvana, beethoven, eliott smith, deftones, lead zeppelin, pink floyd
Favourite Books
1984, tao te ching, the power of now, crime and punishment, lonesome traveler, ariel, mexico city blues, slaughterhouse 5, siddhartha
Favourite Writers
Kerouac, Shakespeare, Vonnegut, Orwell, Tzu, Dostoevsky, Plath
Favourite Games
spades, pente, chess
Favourite Gaming Platform
sega dreamcast
Tools of the Trade
existential dissappointment
Other Interests
philosophy, poetry, computers, sports, nothingness

Comments 3.2K

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xlntwtch Writer
Happy birthday! Feeling long ago and far away, but remember you still. (:
YouInventedMeHobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday, wherever you are.
specialized666Professional Interface Designer
Hi, have an awesome day :happybounce:
aWay-with-knivesStudent General Artist
I love you Shane, thanks for being there to inspire me. vents are cappileries; black holes and white holes are the feeders
Hi -- I haven't heard from you for many moons, and I hope that you are healthy and happy.  I've been worried. Much love to you. :heart:
RensKnightHobbyist Writer
Hi...I used the "Send a Note" feature on dA-Literature to inquire about something group-related, but I am not sure that was the right place to ask my question.  Please let me know if I need to re-send it to you, or to someone else.  Thanks!
Hi! Sorry, very late response, but Shane hasnt been online in two years so it is unlikely you'd get a reply from him.

Was your issue resolved through notes?