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Literature
Prose : Dirges in the Dark
Dirges in the Dark
This was the moment she dreaded. The others were waiting to see what she would say and do. The mid afternoon breeze found it's way through the tall trees, slapping her face and making her eyes close. Even in the darkness she could see them staring at her, waiting. She opened her eyes again, and suddenly everything seemed brighter. Like technicolour in the seventies, every word, every stop she took, mono-graphed in a studio. She walked forward, one foot in front of the other, gaze cast down, mind racing. She swallowed her, as if swallowing would make them all go away. Her white blouse flapped furiously in the wind, a small white accompaniment to the black flags that surrounded her.
She had reached it by now, all six feet of it. She ran her fingers over the delicate woodwork, tracing every dip, every curve. The pride of an undertaker. Looking in she saw the familiar face, whitened by everything they had filled him with. His eyes were closed, his lips drawn together, st
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Literature
Hunter
Hunter
Kavan listened to his footsteps echo against the quiet walls. The houses on either side of the dimly lit street gave little light to his path. Dusk had fallen two hours ago, and the shadows were growing longer, as he made his way home. He kicked an empty can, watching it skid across the naked tar, tracing it's path in his mind. He nudged it with his foot, and watched it swivel into a rusty garden gate. Number five. A dog barked, from within. That's when he heard it. Just a little murmur, a gurgle. Kavan checked his watch. Eight thirty eight. No curfew for at least another twenty minutes.
Mindful of the time, he quickened his pace. But really, there was no need for alarm. They hardly ever came to this part of town. It was a peaceful neighbourhood. All respected families. Doctors, Engineers, even a few Lawyers. The murmur grew louder, and by now he was sure it was the sound of an engine. Surely, no one would dare be on the main road at this time. Especially in a vehicle. Ka
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Literature
Tsunami
Tsunami
wave after wave of energy, an empty dance floor
just you and I, near the speaker, by the door
bead after bead of cold sweat, encrusting my palm
just you and I, letting our hair down, punk rock
thought after thought, my mind racing, looking you over
you smile, toss your head, and we're both down on our knees
beat after beat, hearing the bass overtake me
oblivious to everything, save the music, and you
song after song, long solos, lovely, lovely guitar
I watch you, as the chords run down your spine
shiver after shiver of envy, running through the room
as you hold me, look into my eyes, toss your head back
wave after wave of glory, I love the way you smell,
the way you taste, the way you dance like nobody's watching.
stare after stare from the hallway, people who disapprove
but we don't care, we're one, moulded by the bond will we never share,
tear after tear, wetting my shirt, I feel you quiver, hold you
as we dance our last, the one we love, the one we will learn to hate,
you le
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Literature
Half Smile
Half Smile
There are times when I wish
I had stood in the rain with you
And watched the gutters fill, overflow
With our collective sin.
Yours, and mine
As we walked, hand in hand
Blood in blood, warm
Trickles of water, falling
Wetting the skin beneath your eyes
Soft, warm, tender to my touch.
There are times I wish that
You had told me.
That you loathed me, detested me,
Hated me from within, as I
Stood there in the rain,
Outside your door
A hopeful half-smile on my face.
But no, you ostracized me, with your eyes.
And made me crumble, fall
Beneath the load of our collective sins
Yours, and mine.
And the rain still falls, and
I let the water trickle down
Wet my clothes, soak my skin.
I'll walk these streets till midnight
Wanting to taste it, yet
Knowing that my half-smile is gone forever
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Literature
Autumn
Autumn
I awake to the soft sound of rustling leaves
Memories, that have now died
Like the summer gone by, and so
I sit by the lake,
Trace your delicate outline
In the shadow of my mind,
I see you,
Your silhouette
Backlit by the setting sun
And I want to run my hands
Down your side, trace the outline
Hold you, feel you, embrace you.
I hear you,
Soft feet, rustling the leaves
In Autumn.
I taste you
Silver serenades to my tongue,
Tasting the glory, of what once was.
I feel you,
Your warmth
Next to mine
Now, in my arms
Now, far away.
Memories, too many,
So much to put away.
Some will be forgotten,
Some remembered,
Some put away in that old shoebox,
Never to be opened again.
And as I pack away your cards, the little pieces of paper you gave me,
The little reminders of you, the things I ought to forget
I know deep inside, that no one, will ever,
Rustle the leaves, like you did.
And right then I hope, that Autumn
The most blessed of seasons,
Will never, come again.
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Literature
Corridors
Corridors
These long corridors, they echo the silent sound of my feet
Whispering through these familiar halls for the last time,
My footsteps dragging, not wanting to leave
Making my way down the shadowy halls
And then I'm standing there, feet resting on warm wood
Letting my toes feel the glory, maybe for the last time
Maybe for the first.
I turn my eyes skywards
And take in the dark blue ceiling, the walls that go back
Seemingly to eternity, like the amphitheatre in Greece,
I'm told.
The lights room, now shut,
The balcony, now dim in the half light that comes in from the
One open door.
The curtain, open wide, exposing the nakedness
Of the empty stage.
And then I see them,
All six hundred and sixty one of them, now empty
Hard backed, brown, some even broken.
And I walk backwards, my toes outlining the cracks in the wood
Remembering every word, every whisper
Every silent thought, every murmured prayer.
And as I retrace my steps, I know I cannot leave
Yet I know I must,
For there are thi
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Literature
Changes
Changes
I'm lying here, staring at the ceiling
Wishing I had pasted, the little stars you gave me
Glow in the dark, little bits of hope
That stare at me through the darkness
Wishing I could feel you breath
Wishing I could hear you whisper, my name, maybe more
When it's still at night, wishing I could hold you
Against the wind, and walk with you
In the moonlight, maybe
Sipping hot Cappuccino, maybe
Gazing at the stars
I'm sitting here, cold floor invading my life
Wishing I could sum up the courage
To talk to you, maybe to say how much
I love your smile, how much
I love the way you walk, wrapping your arms around
Yourself,
When it's cold
I love the way your hair blows softly in the wind
I wish I had the courage to say
I wanted to run my hands through it.
I'm walking by you now, but of course
You look right through me, for I do not exist
No, not anymore
There is too much to tell, too much to forget
I look at you again, and you're just the same
Some things never change,
Some things do.
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Literature
Nothing Changes
Nothing Changes
The shadows fall across the land, softly
Blurring my vision, as I look at you,
The breeze from the lake sweeps in.
Windward I stand, poised on the edge of time
Tiptoeing towards the impossible
And I turn, see my thoughts run, in
Circles in the grass, little whirlpools of
Desire, of defeat.
And then I see you, your hair being soft blown
By the wind, your glory flickering
Softly in the dusk, and I
Yearn for you,
Every fleeting moment, I feel
This longing, a feeling that will not leave.
Yet, I've been here before.
Gazed at you before, for countless hours
Contemplated life, and love and seen
That nothing changes,
No, you will always, always be
The elusive prize, the unattainable
And I tell myself,
For the hundredth time. No, the thousandth.
Nothing changes.
Ever.
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Literature
Revolution
Revolution
You're standing there, eyes dancing
And I see you gaze at the lake, a far away
Look in your eyes.
And I wonder what you're dreaming, do you
Feel the need to be free
Do you long to waltz among the stars at night,
Or make soft circles in the pre dawn air
With your breath, while you sit on a rooftop
Maybe thinking about love and life
Maybe sharing a coffee with me,
As we discuss the Revolution,
Blake, even Rushdie
Maybe, you just being you, and me just
Being me.
That distant look, it inspires me.
It draws me near, and makes me wonder
Are you bored by the world,
Jaded by everything around you,
I see it
I feel it, every time you walk by
I sense the rebel in you,
I hear her scream, louder
Louder than before.
But,
Maybe it's just me.
Yet, my rebellion
Is dead.
Conformist? Why yes.
My ideals have died
Thwarted by your sanity,
And those weary, empty eyes.
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Literature
Echo of Glory
Echo
I'm sitting there, cold floor seething through my clothes
Running in my veins, a forgotten blood
Seeking a way to let go.
You're standing there, hair winnowing in the soft, almost tranquil
Breeze that blows across the lake
And then you smile
The smile that melts me, the vision that transfixes
Your locks of ebony being soft lifted by the lake breeze
Blowing some strands in your face, as you
Brush them aside and tuck them,
Behind your ear.
And at this moment, you are mine.
A hallucination of everything
I will never have.
I'm sitting here, still cold
Still distant, as I embrace myself for warmth
And try to feel again.
You're walking away now, and I watch you go
Tracing your graceful step with my eyes
Until you are a speck in the distance,
Until all I see is your hair, still
Winnowing, rising and falling with every gust.
I'm sitting here, watching your silhouette
Now distant in the gathering dusk
And I listen for the sound of your
Graceful feet, rustling the fallen leaves
Yet I hear n
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Literature
The Lake was Where I saw Her
The Lake
the lake was where I saw her
first, down by the shore
dancing with the waves
unable to imagine, what I felt
inside, or what I wanted to feel
down by the shore, the wind blowing
grass floating, settling on the waves
proud as the early evening air
ripe with the fragrance of the sun, setting on
crimson water, the currents running under
watching her, watching her hair blow
dishevelled by the evening breeze
a mass of glory unseated, leaving me
awestruck, enthralled, forgotten.
she never saw me
so I gazed, looked at her
day after day, month after month
till the days got shorter, and the
nights got longer, burning the candle
at both ends
feeling the desire, the defeat
the want that wouldn't leave
writing her name, for the millionth time
in ink on my desk at school, and wishing
that it could be different
the lake is where I see her
time and time again, still the same
angelic, sublime, indifferent as before
she still looks through me, and the water
still runs, still runs.
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Literature
Alive Again
Alive Again
2am walking home, watching the streetlamps flicker
dying against the ebony, fighting to survive
and I whisper, making little wisps of thought
float on the early morning air
footsteps, crying softly for warmth
nirvana playing in my head
a monologue of grunge, seeking hope
from a wisdom long forgotten
seeing you holding him
seeing you surrounded, engulfed
by everything I hate.
everything I love forgotten, cast out
in to the night, like the pavement
cracked with remorse
crickets crying softly, sky illuminated
by the moon, full once more
shedding it's brilliance all over me
bathed in moonlight, sitting on the curb
turning to think, to contemplate
my existence, my life
my solitude
and in the thickets
I hear them whispering, talking
talking about us
but you're gone, and I know it's over
and for the millionth time
I feel hopelessly, helplessly
Alive.
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Literature
Falling For You - Perhaps
Falling For You
I look at you, while the spotlight slowly lights up your features, and
sit back against the cold seats
dwell on what I feel, in the hall
in the dark, and hear your words
echo across the crowded air
and fall unto my ears
sweet, soft slivers of glory
every syllable so pronounced, so perfect
and sigh as the curtains fall,
and feel the desire inside, within
now, you're back inside
less makeup, more serene
set apart from the rest
you walk by, and I stand
amazed, awestruck
you walk by again,
and I lie there, motionless
perhaps dumbfounded
perhaps forgotten
perhaps oblivious to the fact
that I'm falling for you
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Literature
Down by The Lake
The Lake
the lake was where I saw her
first, down by the shore
dancing with the waves
unable to imagine, what I felt
inside, or what I wanted to feel
down by the shore, the wind blowing
grass floating, settling on the waves
proud as the early evening air
ripe with the fragrance of the sun, setting on
crimson water, the currents running under
watching her, watching her hair blow
dishevelled by the evening breeze
a mass of glory unseated, leaving me
awestruck, enthralled, forgotten.
she never saw me
so I gazed, looked at her
day after day, month after month
till the days got shorter, and the
nights got longer, burning the candle
at both ends
feeling the desire, the defeat
the want that wouldn't leave
writing her name, for the millionth time
in ink on my desk at school, and wishing
that it could be different
the lake is where I see her
time and time again, still the same
angelic, sublime, indifferent as before
she still looks through me, and the water
still runs, still runs.
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Literature
Colombo by Night
Colombo by Night
JVP Appuhami expired STOP Funeral STOP, read the telegram. He clasped the little piece of paper in his hands and couldn't help but smirk. The government logo, the royal insignia of Sri Lankan Government was printed untidily upon the crushed parchment. Carefully folding it he placed it in his paper bag. A battered beret and the infamous red book accompanied it in his bag. So April 5th would be the day, he thought as he walked through the paddy fields, hoisting his tattered sarong about his hips and whistling a popular film song. He was happy. Finally the day had come. The day where people like him would be free.
Yes, the illegitimate sons of capitalism would finally have their say. Their leader would be released, the government would come to it's knees and he, Tissa would go down in history as the one, the one who lead the attack on the Wellawaya police station. He was proud to be one of them, a comrade they called him. Yet he knew not one of his leaders, and to him the
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Literature
Dark Skies
dark skies, melancholy and white lies
little wisps, clouds, clearings
that succumb to the fading light
hide away in their cocoons, fearing the night
fearing me, as I walk
brooding, silent, almost dead against the grass
rubber slippers, worn out jeans
a band-logo t-shirt
searing my skin, and yet I walk
undecided, alone
out of reach, underneath the stars
crickets crying softly
feet planted on solid ground
earphones shelling out the sounds
of some forgotten band
dark skies, melancholy and fireflies
little bits of glory beneath the stars
as I trudge home, each step
heavier than the last
bolder than the one before
each breath I take a commemoration
to the fact that I'm alive
a tribute to my mortality
an icon of my past
dark skies, melancholy, a monologue
soliloquies of sadness
brandished here, in the cold
walks in the park that never came to be
stars that we should have gazed at together
ways that we should have walked together
my footsteps resound against
the dark stone walls of this place
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Activity


deviantID

vbdude
vbdude
Artist
Sri Lanka
Current Residence: Sri Lanka
Favourite cartoon character: Calvin
Interests
Spyed and his greedy gang of thieves can run this website, but it will not be deviantart. Without Jark, devart is nothing.

Goodbye.

Comments


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:icondejure:
dejure Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2005   Interface Designer
wow you have nice gallery here man
ela kiri


:slow:
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:iconharmartia:
harmartia Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2004
hey,no i dont study greek but i understand why u would think that. Actually I'm taking RMPS at my last year of school which is Religious Moral and Philosophical Studies and this is where I learnt the 4 Greek words for sin. One of which is Harmartia; it means to fall short of the mark, to not live up to expectations.
Reply
:iconspongebrain:
spongebrain Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2004
dude. long time no speak.
Reply
:iconabhimanyughoshal:
abhimanyughoshal Featured By Owner May 21, 2004  Professional Photographer
Hey bro!
Reply
:icont-k:
t-k Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2004
So wat do you think of the design?
Reply
:iconsrilankans:
srilankans Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2004
Please support the SriLanka DeviantMeet2004. Thats the least you'll can do. 7th Feb 2004 10am At Qwikeys (Note for map)

RSVP ~cyrusmuller
Reply
:iconinformer:
informer Featured By Owner Jan 14, 2004   Interface Designer
What do you mean by hopefully? You got to be in the Meet Man. Want to see you great designers and got to know each other.
Reply
:iconinformer:
informer Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2004   Interface Designer
hey could you please check my page for the new design done for the devmeet at colombo
Reply
:iconcyrusmuller:
cyrusmuller Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2004  Professional General Artist
Wow, that would be cool together for a LAN Party. I suppose my three friends can handle it. Gimmie the details man, and lets talk more when we meet on the 7th. You hang loose now.
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