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Literature
'Prime time of your life'
Skeletons, all,
and she the only one with flesh,
as she can see now, with hindsight.
Old memories, dry as bone,
shine with repressed clarity of breath,
and she sees the differences without fright.
There is only one way to proceed,
and the blood roars in her ears,
and, carefully, she starts to cut it away.
Skin peels like magnet from mate:
in the air her muscles sear,
sand she realizes she cannot finish her way.
She slowly starts to fall,
letting out a plaintive moan,
and seven hours later her parents find the deed,
ruined form in a sacrificed state.
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Literature
'haik--'
this is a haiku
five-seven-five syllables
it's very hard to
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Literature
'Tesla'
Tesla,
the inventor,
wanted to talk to ghosts.
By the end of his life,
he'd spent years in creation
to make devices that he thought would help
in his bottomless quest--he died in the midst of his work.
Of course,
he didn't succeed,
or this is what we tell ourselves,
those of us who know him, when we think of his legends;
we don't consider his genius, or his slow madness, in our calculations.
We try not to acknowledge,
in the middle of the star-brazen night,
when the sky engineers mysteries for us to consider
that maybe, just maybe, Tesla succeeded, and all those recordings were real--
supposed electro-voice phenomenon, the transcribed voices of ghosts, except that all it is
is screaming.
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Literature
'Fixing'
Hello, he said,
as he restitched my spine.
I thought I'd be seeing you again,
so focused on your work.
Pain flared through my arms as he tested certain nerves.
You'd be a nice kid, he mused,
if only you could learn to relax sometime.
Your back is very tense.
(My back was very tense.)
He removed a punctured kidney,
examined it,
brushed off a bit of dirt with his fingertips
and slotted in a shiny-new replacement
before sewing the hole shut.
Tsk tsk, he said,
you really should watch out for these penetrating shells,
as he picked fragments of one out of my leg with a scalpel.
Such a bother to remove.
Are you certain you won't be wanting the full upgrade package, he asked,
logarithmic strength enhancement for pennies on the dollar.
He removed one of my eyes from its socket,
peering into it and then popping it back into place.
No, I said,
because you already charge me too much for basic repairs,
and, besides, that stuff kills your sense of taste.
He shrugged, scrubbing soot out of my lungs w
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Literature
'Fiddler'
“You know,” Uncle said with a little laugh, “it’s not like anyone here will ever be able to tell.”
At least, I thought it was a laugh. It had taken me a few weeks to learn how to interpret his clicks—the translator system let me know what he was saying, sure, but it didn’t help with body language, and figuring out the mood of a giant onyx-skinned centipede wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. He had a point: stage fright didn’t mean much when no one else could tell that I was actually having it. Hell, I could blame it on a cultural custom or something.
That still didn’t do much to excuse the fact that the thought of being up in public—even if it was to receive a commendation—made me want to dig a hole and hide it in.

“Fox three, fox three!”
“Spot clear, I’m splitting—”
“Hold it, Firefly, Eyeball’s picked up a damn gorilla coming that way—!”
“Shit, already committe
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Literature
'Odysseus'
My name was Odysseus.
          It isn't, anymore. It hasn't been, really, for a long time, even though some still call me that, and even though I still sometimes go by that handle. It's not an identity that I can honestly claim as my own--it's not one I've been able to claim for years. Ever since
          (I)
          Troy died.
          I used to be famous. More famous than the ocracy, more famous than any racter on the Sphere. I was known as the master of Troy, the traveler, the conquerer. He who odysseused. It's become a
          (catharsis)
          word now, again, because of me. Did you know that?
          I did it:
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Literature
'Ich kenne dieses Cafe'
I know this pleasant little café, off in one of those back-alley streets that can never quite be found intentionally.
It's small and quiet; the walls are unadorned brown brick and the floor is scrubbed wood, and there are only three people who work there—all family, I think, two sisters and a brother, each with pale skin like china and frail-looking enough to be shattered by a light breeze.
The food is good—not great, but good, good enough that's it's better than most of what one can find in this big wide-open world. Breakfasts there are especially welcome: they use a kind of egg with a yolk the size of my palm that I've never been able to recognize, and it adds a foreign tang to the dishes that makes it taste like some bastardized gods'-mead.
There aren't any real parking spaces outside. It always takes a little walking, down those narrow streets, where the buildings are wide and tall and close-together, to finally get to the door with the shutters inside pulled closed over the window
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Literature
Recollection, pt. 2
Once,
in the middle of a clear day,
when the sunlight shining through the bathroom window
invitingly illuminated the
bottle full of pills
in front of me,
suicidal thoughts quietly proceeded towards completion
until something cut off the light,
and turning, I saw a familiar sail
soar past the windowframe.
I pounded on the window,
frantically,
before realizing it wouldn't open,
and dashed out and down the stairs,
recklessly,
and stumbled out the door and,
catching hold of the rope that rolled down in front of me,
soared up into the sky.
She was there,
manning the sails,
and while I had no attraction to her, there was a familiarity
that I hadn't known for years.
they'd come to learn more,
past the coarse filter of youth
and the unsophisticated teaching of a child.
I ranted to them,
scathingly,
as the ship's dark beams traced the heavens over skyscrapers,
about how man did not deserve its world
and how my race perpetrated atrocities
upon itself.
They listened solemnly
in the same way they
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Literature
Recollection, pt. 1
Once,
when I was young,
and a broken arm
(or maybe it was just being an outcast)
prevented me from playing with the neighborhood boys,
I stayed at home, quietly,
not really complaining of the
(emotional?)
pain,
and daydreamed of being swept away
by a ship with sails that grazed the sky.
When it came--
for it did, on a dreary Saturday afternoon,
when clouds covered up the sun--
I was not surprised.
After all, I was still a boy,
and magic still existed for me.
They explained that this was their first time
visiting my land,
and they had chosen me as a guide
because my dreams, beautiful and deep,
had eased their long homesickness.
I painted out the details of my town,
as we floated over it, unseen by the
many people,
and babbled in a way both informative and friendly,
talking about the quality of the burgers
at Dan's Grill,
and how my paper route
earned me more than anyone else in my grade
(and unknowingly revealed how I spent it all
on books,
instead of being social with others).
They lis
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Literature
untitled haiku
my thoughts now whisper
dreams of strange reality
I can but heed them
---
I ripped out my eyes
in hope it would go away
my God I still see
---
my speech fragmented
a broken soliloqy
how embarassing
---
the spring dies, choking
once the child of winter
murdered by summer
summer knows its time
a slow, careful suicide
into the autumn
the leaves fall softly
and the autumn rots away
skeleton of winter
death is the winter
but all death leads to the spring
a child from bones
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Literature
'Some'
Some is a Grue
though he doesn't much look like it
("It is dark; you are liable to get eaten")
He has teeth that are very sharp
within a human's jaw
or one that is mostly human
with many small alterations
When he hunts, a more primal part is seen
underneath pale skin
and a minimal frame
that seems barely strong enough to hold himself up
Somewhere
in the dark places
Something
dies, last feelings of teeth
and a grip that doesn't let go
and a hungry jaw that needs live meat
Somehow
Some goes upstairs again
or downstairs, as it can be
Sometimes
and under the lights
burning if their touch remains too long
Some glasses
covering his eyes
he becomes a friend again
and sociable
and settles on a bean-bag chair
the size of a car
procured from
Somewhere
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Literature
'Schroedinger'
The light echoes in roiling waves,
whispering, shuddering, in twisting paths
that have no definitive beginnings or ends
in a place where all find total internal reflections
and echo unto the thousandth generation,
until there is observation, and waveforms collapse
in void that does not seem to exist, binding
around an unbroken lattice and so becoming real.
But the content, and the observer, are at issue--
what is watched, and what watches, and
watches the watchers and
the watchers' watchers, for only the final
in the chain determines what is observed,
but when all disturbances settle
and the chain resolves,
the chain is not resolved and will never resolve,
for there will never be a final observer.
If there is, will it be God?
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Literature
'Ships'
The boats are gone away by now--
I saw the gleaming longships go--
And though I could have had a place
Among those endless rows,
I stayed within the lands of man,
Kingdoms rising from the gloom,
Watching as my kinsmen left
To that land of always noon.
I do not think they understand
Why I chose to stay--
When I could have gone with them
To that eternal day--
For I have come to realize
An underlying truth:
Eternal life and happiness
Is worthless without ruth.
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Literature
'Prayer'
I wish at times that I had wings
To soar upon the sky
To fly above the dusky ground
Do all that I could try
To fly away from life and love
To fly away from care
To fly away from all restraint
Do all that I might dare
Wing through storms and thunderclouds
To soar through reckless sky
To fly above the world below
Threaten death and die
A prayer for destruction
Through joy of sorrow's loss
Would I take it if it came?
Would it be worth the cost?
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Literature
'Ode to FPS'
It is one of my guilty pleasures,
the thrill that comes with a sniping shot
that efficiently decerebrates its target
and leaves him limp upon the ground.
At times, of course, I miss,
and rather than waste precious
seconds reloading, I change weapons
and throw down suppression fire,
inaccurate but damaging, and
enough to let me get away.
With protracted hunting,
my fingers grow slick, and,
trying to search out variety,
I go after a wider range of targets.
Each kill earns me slightly more prestige,
and a higher spot on the leaderboard,
from where I seek out more kills
and hope to avoid being killed,
for every respawn ruins my planning
and forces me to position myself again.
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Literature
'Mourning'
"Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me,"
She whispered, voice harsh, and
Closed her eyes, set herself free.
I wept, weak, upon her bones;
Cradled dead flesh and called her home;
But she did not, and so I left
And raged at Hell and Heaven's cleft--
Screamed at God and Lucifer,
For their emnity made me lose her.
Soon enough I lost my strength
And collapsed upon my knees
Cursing still in whispers soft
That she'd been taken and not me.
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deviantID

sukael
~~~
Artist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: New Brunswick, NJ
Favourite genre of music: Classic rock
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Shell of choice: Ubuntu Linux
Interests
It's been way too long since I checked on my DA account. Apparently I... had a piece picked for something in November or whatever? o.o

Comments


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:iconshikamachu:
ShikamaCHU Featured By Owner Mar 10, 2008  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the watch! X3
>_>
<_<

(I see my sister is watching you but I don't know whether or not that's random, I was wondering if knew you too?)
Reply
:iconthe-evil-wombat:
the-evil-wombat Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2006
Dude, awesome Art, definite Watch, Im using on of your works as a school assignment, awesome job, Keep it up
:thumbsup:
Reply
:iconnephtis:
Nephtis Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2006
I didn't know you had a DA account.
Thanks for the :+fav: I hope Melia looks like you imagined her.
Reply
:iconvorkosigan:
vorkosigan Featured By Owner Aug 2, 2005
Hnnn... watched by the King in Yellow.

*shiver*



:D

-(moviepus)
Reply
:iconthethirdtwin:
thethirdtwin Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2005
FORTMUN.
Reply
:iconnekoewen:
nekoewen Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2005   Writer
Thanks for the watch! (Now I just need to have something to post up on my DA... ^^; )
Reply
:iconyang:
yang Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2005
Hey, wait a minute... I recognize that quote. You're... uh... nnh...... no, don't give me a clue, I'm sure I can remember it....
Reply
:iconirkenickychips:
IrkenIckyChips Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2005
:wave: Thanks for the DevWatch!
Reply
:iconsukael:
sukael Featured By Owner Jun 9, 2005   Writer
Well, of course! :D
Reply
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