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About Deviant Artist John Koopman28/Male/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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Newest Deviations

Literature
The Pink Beast
Chasing toads skipping stones,
Sunset slumber & out at noon,
Skinned Knees climbing trees,
War house cops and robbers.
Wide eyes merely seeing,
Death? Babies? Others?
The hidden underthings,
Questions without answers.
Best friends lame haters,
Study all day party @ 7,
Carpe Diem & forget all else,
Licence phone designer jeans.
Self-deceiving open eyes,
All is known let's live it up,
Come along they're all asleep,
Sweat moans rushing blood.
Casual Fridays eggs on-sale,
Saturday toons & fruit loops,
Set height incessant width,
Sleepless nights mock an era past.
Bloodshot eyes saw too much,
Wrungen hands, prostrate at the altar,
Pain? Hope? Sin? Love?
Questions without answers.
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Literature
Sinking Child
And the child has fallen through the cracks,
Sinking deeper and deeper until he is nil,
Awaiting a higher being to pull him out,
The child struggles to send out an SOS.
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Literature
A Drone Traded Between Queens
Flabbergasted and moaning,
Stoned he licks a lesion,
As if tears could truly heal,
Streams become walls.
Hear the panther pining,
Desiring few but adhesion,
As if to place on heart a seal,
His soul feels like St. Paul's.
See a boy stooped to droning,
Owning all but cohesion,
He suffers another meal,
Desiring to run alas he crawls.
Behold the people intoning,
His fear swells up artesian,
Resisting he is pushed to kneel,
Waiting to be caught he falls.
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Literature
Risking It All
Somewhere there is something,
Or perhaps it's a big fat lie,
A fairytale told by old Millies,
The herpes of storytellers.
Somewhere there is something,
Despised by failed seekers,
Loathed by bitter losers,
Distorted by popular media.
Somewhere there is something;
A hope we must preserve,
A risk we must take, or risk
Missing the point of this picture.
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Literature
A Dragon's Attack
Stars are seen clearly,
The blindfold removed,
Realigned as they are,
I see the harsh truth.
Portrayed as to fail,
A nothing to all but one,
One 'loved' me most,
One lied to me most.
Clearly now I see,
That one is a dragon,
Weak on its own,
Sapping power from others.
Having left its grasp I see
Myself not the monster,
But a vulnerable meal,
For a manipulative beast.
I crawled away realizing
I need not this beast,
Weak though I was,
I began to be healed.
On my own I was scared,
I cried to the creator
Who sent me a little bird,
Weakened as well.
Together we crawled,
We hobbled and fell,
Wounds opened up, The
Other promptly closed them.
I am still limping, the bird
Is still fluttering slowly,
Alone we are feeble,
Together we kill dragons.
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Literature
O Grass
In a park, near a Uni, sat four Doctors of four studies, discussing stuffs amongst themselves which only learned people may speak of. A Philosophizer, an Artist, a Theologian, and a Biologist, too.
"O Grass," saith the lover of wisdom, "what metaphysic have you? Not but to be, I know it not so. You must be as a blanket to dirt, which surrounds all ourselves; you are but to hide away the filth and the grime, the scars and the bumps, like we cover ourselves in our lies. You Grass, are but lies for the dirt."
"Hmm," mused the creator of beauty, "rather I feel as if the grass is not a lie nor a blanket, but a tool to compliment the surroundings. The wavy rich green which covers our yards, is a beautiful accent to our buildings, our flowers, our shrubberies, our trees, and our walking paths and roads. It doesn't hide, but it beautifies, more than the dusty dark dirt could ever attempt."
"Interesting," spake the learner of all things divine, "but I believe more closely to our philosopher fri
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Literature
A Little Bird
The lake, a sunset, the rocks,
The babbling brook, the stinky skunk,
The bridge, the train, the back seat,
A comfy couch, a soft rug.
Jumping off of bridges,
Swimming under them slowly,
Geese flee like we're gods,
Rocks are our thrones.
It goes on forever,
Or at least in my heart,
It never will end,
This summer will live on.
In the fall, in the spring,
In the winter with a mug,
Under blankets cuddling,
Sipping spiked starbucks.
Your name whistles in the breeze,
I see your face in the soap suds,
I hear your voice in my cries,
I feel your hair in my mouth.
The dreams always fade,
The mirages always crumble,
The breeze lingers short,
But you never fail.
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Literature
Repair
A dark hallway flickers with life,
Teeming of dank despair,
Yet a spark sits alight amongst
Ashes, waiting for tinder.
Hallway once glowing bright,
Beaten down with words,
Drenched with tears,
Now sits cobwebbed.
A wounded bird lands,
Hobbling near a spark,
Drying its wings or wounds,
It ruffles its thinned tail.
The spark grows brighter,
The bird becomes warmed,
New sparks appear,
Fresh feathers sprouting.
As eyes become amber,
A hallway enlivens,
Pressing away the dank,
Replacing with warmth.
Hallway's always protecting,
While the bird builds a nest,
Rebuilding the broken walls,
The two have found home.
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Literature
Parable of the Dandy Lions
Brightly colored for a time
Striving where others cannot,
Savoring life like others
But refusing to flaunt.
Forgotten with the weeds
But always ripped out,
Plain janes live aside the
Flower picked like the snout.
Specialists cultivate excellence
They proclaim it out-loud,
So dandy little lions are yanked
Shoved in a cloud.
Little children skip along the walk
Seeing the simple lion,
Plucking it gently running home
Gift for mom like a star of Orion.
War breaks out devastation
Gone violets, tulips, begonies,
Now it's rougher going
All you see are dandies.
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Literature
Kesha Meet John
Your words so uniquely crafted
Your flimsy build crumbling,
Non-alphabetical characters grafted
Yet I never hear you mumbling.
I tried to brush my teeth like you
And I must say it's disgusting,
Especially now that I'm askew
And my toes need a dusting.
Huh I think I'm taking your drug
Huh there's something in my eyes,
Huh I will knit you a sweater rug
Huh or I could give you some fries.
I like your mole.
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Literature
Since When is Love Creative?
So you think you can force my
Creativity? Well you are mistaken,
My anti-climactic rubric-manic
Stuck-up-a-Doberman's-mhmm foe.
I've spent my life toe-to-toe,
With you always shoving yo'
Grimy fingers down my throat,
I've gaged on you 'nough, foo.
You are the bile to my cold,
Vomit to my influenza-A,
Puss to my infected heart,
Sin to my fallen existence.
I have some things for you:
A hacking cough to rid you,
A loo to flush you down,
A salty friend to draw you out,
A savior to nail you to a tree.
So:
Smell the newly born leaves,
Catch the sun upon a tongue,
Put i'scream on your sprinkles,
Smile at the neighborhood sinner.
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Literature
NO FIGHT
The world is oblivious,
blind to this wretched
despicable heart-
wrenching filth.
As I stand upon this
mountain of sunburned
breathless brown crud
eroding away my feet.
I feel myself sinking
and forced to breathe
in this methane enriched
substance they call air.
Breathing has become rough
and I'm sure they can relate
even though they can no
longer truly exist.
They have become robots
to this machine, or shall we
call it the bastard god of
the senses? Theoupornios?
No, not sex do I cry out!
But this existence we carry
on, feeling nothing but
emotions. FAKE!
They disregard the love
of others as inferior to
their own, though their
own is so flawed:
Who are they? You don't
even know yourself so
stop whining about others
you're a fool. Idios.
You are me, they are
insane! This is for me!
Stop it. Just let it go and
start to run. NO! FIGHT!
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Literature
A Silent Eve's Walk
With a tip and a tap,
Mine feet take to dance,
Stars to my face glister,
Lightening at heel bursts.
A brook bibbles and babbles,
At times even bubbles; plink.
A coyote wines to its mother
Moon, as crickets sing a banter.
Crashing through covers
Cottontails come closely,
Kicking forth quickly,
Quietly crescendoing the calm.
A rush of wind, thunder, lightning,
Rain pounds away covers,
Pockmarking the dust,
A babe cries in the night.
I see not whence it came;
In the dark I see eyes,
Full of tear and fear,
Shadows seem a mirror.
Insecurities wholly costly,
Fires rage within the sky,
Revealing demons as ghosts;
Wind lifts me up as on wings.
Birds chitter and chatter,
Bunny shivers boldly,
An armored man walks,
So mine feet now slosh & clatter.
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Literature
Mother
When in youth an inseperable
bond holds, never running always
loving; a mountain top is there.
When we leave we know not
how, this bond is there and
not fulfilled; a chasms found.
When we make our love-to-be our
queen, we give her rubbies and our
dreams; a chasm filled up to a hill.
When we slip her ring on we shed
a tear, a new bond has formed;
a new mountain has come to be.
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Literature
Panic Attack
Against this tumultuous deluge I
crumble, eroding my body, soul,
being; particles tremble indefinitely.
Roaring silence it produces, piercing
ears, sweating shivers, frozen in
tremors; its jaw enveloping me in light.
Exposing the knicks in these particles,
igniting an inferno, flailing arms, scalding
tears drip; there is naught but darkness.
Coming from the walls, dripping like
fire, the odor, the taste, the touch,
everywhere; everyone is evil.
I run...
The sun returned, warm inviting,
deluge evaporating, leaving thin film,
like a nightmare, only tangible.
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Literature
Is The Sun Really Shining?
Living under a shroud,
We pretend to live, in
Light we know we don't,
Through these lies we pay.
As the mist clears, we see
How immensely alone we
Are, we cower in the light,
So the shroud returns.
Full of laughter we talk,
Into the night we dance,
We kiss in the grass; the
Sun is always shining?
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Activity


I done did it! :D
  • Listening to: Attention - Heart Attack
  • Reading: Chronicles of Narnia
  • Watching: The Stand
  • Playing: TMW
  • Eating: Sausage and Sauerkraut
  • Drinking: Water

deviantID

superkoop
John Koopman
Artist
United States
Current Residence: NE South Dakota, USA
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Adult male Large...I think...
Print preference: I would be happy with anything you got me! :P
Favourite genre of music: Alternative rock
Favourite style of art: Fantasy
Operating System: Ubuntu Linux - KDE
MP3 player of choice: That black Coby small one with one gig.
Shell of choice: ...turtle shells...?
Wallpaper of choice: Just whatever...
Skin of choice: ...me no racist.
Favourite cartoon character: Pon and Zi
Personal Quote: "Never puke, it's gross"
Interests

Comments


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:iconraychleadele:
raychleadele Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2009  Professional Traditional Artist
JOHN!!! you're a deviant! i had no idea! hi!
Reply
:iconsuperkoop:
superkoop Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2009
Hey! Yeah, I'm devious person. ;P

I'm all over the nets really, you just need to know how to find me...the real challenge is finding out where I'm not online...
Reply
:iconraychleadele:
raychleadele Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2009  Professional Traditional Artist
haha, i'll give that a shot.
Reply
:iconjoshthecartoonguy:
joshthecartoonguy Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2009  Student Traditional Artist
Koopman!
Here are some other CUNE people on DA:
raychleadele
stargate525
MewRKW1
Freedan90
Reply
:iconsuperkoop:
superkoop Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2009
Awesome! Thanks for the handles, Josh! =D
Reply
:iconartlyric:
artlyric Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2008  Student General Artist
hey! i didn't know you had a deviantart! :D cool stuff man
oh, and thanks for the watch :3
Reply
:iconsuperkoop:
superkoop Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2008
Yeah I'm pretty active online, if you did a bit of research on my Internet Identity, you would find I'm everywhere.

And thank you for the watch as well. :)
Reply
:iconartlyric:
artlyric Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2008  Student General Artist
^ ^ haha nice...usually i'm like that but not so much lately... :P

you're welcome! :D
Reply
:iconrebelliousdubbie:
rebelliousdubbie Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2008  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thanks for the :+fav: on
[link]
Reply
:iconsuperkoop:
superkoop Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2008
No problem! ^_^
Reply
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