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About Deviant Artist Senior Member Sam WMale/Australia Recent Activity
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Literature
George Street
George Street
Veins rushed too much blood
to an eyelid squeezing a lash's point
against a snot-coloured iris jerking frantically
as he clutched two headlines -
mom & pop cog store bought by magnate
and
flimflams a price a penny
fingers leapt onto his neck
wrangling it,
dropped the paper, and rubbed his forehead,
while loosening
his navy with white dots cotton tie;
Leonard winked hi but he was too busy
mourning the loss
of the word-puzzle on page 12 -  
bus grinding up George Street,
the road could've been gravel
against flesh
as he witnessed the latest atrocities
in fashion and ogled
a plump lady's curvaceous bust -
sweltering heat
had her panting enthusiastically,
while the seat felt corroded
through his sweat-drenched shirt.
Dust peeled off
a building's ruined walls -
inside the stairs were carpeted but
his back buckled at
each pull on the bronze handrail.
At least five people passed him
trudging up;
heart punching tarred lungs
he grew tired of being clothed in t
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 3 13
Literature
Painting
 
Painting
She somewhat grins with master strokes -
Curved lines carved roads
winding over each other
in search for ways to express
the moment
when she twinkled.
Her portrait is a lesson in geography,
mapped texture symphony, different
shades imposing on each other -
harmony in gradients and contrast.
Run your fingers up
her coarse hair and ripe-less nose,
a hand's
etchings into canvas, the steady story
where copper hills meet an oily river
of tan and burgundy:
Paths groove through a valley -
wrinkles on soft tundra,
lace in the hot Latvian loom,
sticky leather skin ripples,
weaving through childish screams,
tugging wars,
forgotten dreams
and wet bed sores.
Behind a hidden tree they
met, out in open twilight
an autumn day they spent,
basking, one in the other's eye,
in-tent.
Unfed
I numbingly clutched her face
in infant rage, and shrieked
boisterously.
On roads she led
me by my hand. Her grainy fingers,
I remember -
Hold my hand. Good boy.
in her thick tongue -
as we brus
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Literature
Morris the ox
 
Morris the ox
In thought-filled stillness
under a dull U-shaped snout
it pondered the new surroundings
over grass kneaded
'till it was fine as grease.
Morris, I told it.
You are free.
Leg twitch,
Snout-fume stuttered spurts,
a hoof beat against the ground -
muddled clanks
reminiscent of nature's
linger.
Perhaps an absence of cart ropes
pulled its balance apart -
a lightness in worn-wood shoulders
never known -
or it could be that
the lulling strokes of
its masters whip
shooed flies away
better than a tail's vagrant flaps
ever could -
for reasons unknown
the ox stood
outside the gate, free
for three days and nights,
chewing the cud -
Iron-cold mornings
and festering humidity -
feats lost on a lethargic beast.
Another season sown - and
decrepit fingers clutched,
its bovine face is a framed carving
I look upon in empty nostalgia
remembering how "quiet ox" Morris,
with dirt-wire fur, whose only plea
came in shallow grunts,
died before I could love him.
 
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 1 51
Literature
Birth Collage
 
Birth Collage
Embryo
True love, the bud,
cushioned by membrane,
in mindless nurture
consumes nutrients
for embryonic development.
A lipstick mark on the cheek
from a mother's kiss,
it is an imprint of the past.
Fetus
Embryo evolved.
It is a flower that opens its leaves
as a story unwraps,
revealing what is to be waited for -
what once was future.
Trees
Two trees stand a field away, laughing at each other.
Differences in  their barks' patterned facade
have them slapping each other with autumn's leaves.
And they grow old together
in whimsical ignorance.
Fossil
Lodged in its rocky shell,
time, an assortment of fluid movement -
clouds and densities,
animals and stars -
washed over it
in infinite rhythm.
Birth
Existence does not happen.
Though it is recognized
when the senses are peeling away -
an unveiling.
Dear God,
At dawn I awoke.
                     Eve
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Literature
Captain
 
Captain
The captain's oak-chest heaves
reflect a buoy floating
on rolling waters'
life-like jabs.
A half-wink and pipe clenching lips
strain like ropes taut across his face,
drawing chin to cheek.
With a snow globe
fastened by a puckered squint
he bears a swashbuckler's glare
while spit swells over his tongue
swirl around gold-stained teeth -
what madness would have
waves tearing down on him
through shredded sails?
The ocean belly swallows
could forever tug at the ship
waiting for its inevitable
smother in frozen abyss,
and he would meditate,
rum-barrel arms stuck to wheel,
salt-soaked face,
ivory eyes, unwavering,
fixed on the stars.
 
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 0 36
Literature
Dams
 
Dams
I.
Flood waters smothered
a lizard, floating
statuesquely with my brother.
Bare feet choking, I waded
half blind through
icy slough. My eyes
boiling red,
fuming forehead
weighted by
the hollow current's lure.
His body impaled
on my bony shoulders
I carried him over countless fields
in darkness that knew no ends,
but touched me with every glance.
II.
In sunny pasture
shovel in hand
I found myself digging away
in my mind, frothy memories
and calloused tongue
trying to whet arid lips.
I removed topsoil in
preparation for the new dam,
waiting for the tractor
to clumsily
roll over horse hoof imprints,
its lumbering clamor
as it compacted the embankment soil.
I mulled over our dams'
responsibilities in providing
irrigation, and acting as fish catchments.
Veins coursing with life
for crops' growth, or caged trout
wading through steel-blue waters,
and my chin boring into leathery knuckles
we would sleep together.
III.
On a dry night
where rustling wheat stalks crackled,
I planted
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Literature
demaestro
 
Demaestro
Two holes formed
where the old
floor boards
had given way centuries ago,
yet the air's foulness possessed a fresh pungency.
As the fumes reached the nostrils,
his mind reeled in nausea's ecstasy.
He stumbled onto a light bulb
joylessly swinging.
Its leprous eye gargled
in hollow loom;
while he bled sweat,
the shriveled walls
flaked.
A redwood anonymously laughed
through what once was a window.
With two stitched-on buttons I gaped back.
At one point the deadness of noise was realized.
Its rotting corpse made his ears cry in thirst.
I searched the doorway for his shadow,
patiently straining to hear
trembling feet
rattle like bone on wood.
Perhaps he knew I had tumbled here,
dancing with the uninvited guest.
A cloaked partner, the shadow;
That I had grappled with the knife
finding itself gnawing at my spine,
scratching initials into my lower vertebrae
like twelve thousand feasting maggots
chaotically writhing in a garden of flesh.
He must have found me,
for his flee, th
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Literature
Held in Shiraz
 
Held in Shiraz
Sewage-soaked,
he faltered,
purple ears pricked
while once more
a windy melody
faintly harped
slowly saturating
him with
tales of misty fields;
swimming through crispy grass,
enveloped by the permeating scent
of orange trees,
chiming birds dusting splayed hearing;
nudged by the breeze, he dreamt
of being freely swept like a shiraz lily
on waters' ebb.
Distantly, in a gentle lull
rain pelts rung,
thumping with applause
into soil's cushion.
Laying dormant,
hissing yelps from the corridor
sang
and he heard a tiny voice -
There is an old Iranian proverb
"If you see a blind man, run up and kick him.
Why should you be kinder than God?"

Soot stained,
he bore audience
to the wind's accordion -
in faecal darkness
his shackles stretched,
spying light peeping
through cracks in the rocky wall.
 
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 20 61
Literature
Extremes
 
Extremes
Plastered pupils
rastered, the pupils,
inspired, desired
to purchase his latest attire,
staff surgeon urging
to get one autograph, searching
for crib notes while
wife-gossip splurging  
listen. Light leans are for show.
Heavy forwards are twists. Heavy back,
backflips.
Remember. Mastering the air is a pipe dream.
What does that mean?
Listen. Do an Ollie Mctwist
with an Indy. Don't forget attitude.
Pay attention to the breeze, because
only fools blindly follow
the coy seductress -
pop off the jump
struggling to pull another trick
for provocative photographers
thoughts of doom hidden behind a devil grin
though it doesnt matter
because once you're
in air its all about slight angles
correct manuovers flirting
with rocky ice approaching
that makes the difference between a phat jump
and your neck snapping.
 
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 6 21
Literature
Juggernaut
 
Juggernaut
Gooey morning dew
stirred me to life,
rattling eyeballs shredding
the inside of my dry-slab
head.
Iron clad,
in a steady procedure
akin to mechanical reflexes
of monotonous love,
I habitually rose,
underbelly's dusty cogs
deeply groaning, while
joints' neglected fluids
dribbled.
Brushing soot off thighs
I waited for the engine to warm,
its screeches for oil
falling on worn-out ear holes.
Hands and feet wrapped around gears,
in synergy, lead-weight pillars
rolled as we began to move.
Lungs brimming with mercury,
I looked out through two tiny
portholes at myself
in granule reflections
on my hood's greasy rust,
motor's grinding gyrations
from loose nuts banging
mutely in melancholy.
What looked like a shadow skipped
over my path, whistling.
A totem-pole, I opened my mouth wide
to shout a warning
then closed it to
stop sputtering copper fumes
from soiling the fresh shirt.
I frantically pulled on levers
and swirled valves, but,
exhausted juggernaut that I had become,
bri
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 6 22
Literature
Habibi
Habibi
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Literature
mad scientist
 
Mad Scientist
Minds'
abstract concepts
are likened to circles
linked by straight lines.
The world outside a mind,
where information travels,
consists of lined squares.
Dwelling between the two,
in the sphere of semantics
he can be seen running.
Flurry.
Flowing conflagration,
surroundings leak
information
to be captured
in furious mumbles -
digits neurotically
joining dots in the air
by this swaggering lunatic.
In his abode
a cavernous
collection of relics
archaically dust-stamped
awaits.
Scores of dimmed adventures
into time and space.
He ventures for pen
and paper, mentally
scribbling
his next hypothesis -
a sure epic
beginning with riddle,
conjuring plots,
relating character
variables.
Formulating quasi-
cliché punch lines.
Drawing up the plans
for his next addition
to an unfinished
life.
 
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 9 33
Literature
Sleep
 
Sleep
a tsetse fly
drinks its next meal
amazing shrieks
the sun, newborn crying,
is sky ilk
under
a maze of feathery canopy;
the Bandundu forest,
gives birth to a
litter of bananas-
grass covered savannahs,
stubborn windblown maize
yearningly sways
to the river, where
water walking fish farmer
casts a drowsy eye
on a school of tilapia
playing in his bamboo den;
a kihuta viper opens
its razor mouth
and belly,
fresh meat
wafting through
endless horizon;
while decadent sockets,
hanging by swollen neck,
sway
as he is carried to the garden.
Burial grounds
burn slowly
like an old antelope
pulses, waiting to slip
into its last coma,
palm stem walls blanketing
the mind's catacombs
while your planted carcass watches
a tsetse fly
drink its next meal.
 
:iconwernstrum:wernstrum
:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 61 73
Literature
Ancient Soldier
 
Ancient Soldier
Engulfed by a sabra cactus bouquet
rests one soldier
leaning on a wailing sword
amidst a field of bodies
and tranquil silence,
vision nagged
by a hazy butterfly.
Conical helmet dwelling beside a foot,
scarred with jabs and whacks
of some who have fallen,
pressed by sun rays purging
glassy clouds.
Indifferent weeping through ages
has grown on him an iron desert
battle-bathed,
now rusting fearfully
as hard wings dance coyly,
their scales an exquisite plethora
of white-blue patterns
begging attention;
tears-
lost children curiously gathering
in awe of a protruding proboscis,
laughing at antennae swivels
smelling sea sweat -
he watches in shock.
An empty grass patch
sentimentally stares
at tourist hordes
casually cascading by
while,
butterfly painting
this ancient warrior's face,
a breastplate slightly cracks,
tiny flowers spurting.
 
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 5 33
Literature
Rock
 
Rock
sun down-
gathering 'round
gallery rock
stuffed shirt at
flushed floozy by
craft connoisseur
at art assume
imprudent inference
counterfeit reverence
embittered tittering
metaphor filtering
rock
suns downed
gallery gone
audience dust
lights out
rock laughs
 
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 7 24
Literature
Corridors
.
corridors
Dark corridors murmured.
Limp limbs, cold and wet
under a silk shirt
that morning comforting as a sating swim
now a hot tub, asphyxiation.
Eye contact kept, though the jugular never lies,
frivolous rapid pulse
showed ill will for that shirt.
His face contorts to conform
with your tone and smile
and he hates  
beads of sweat running down his temple (jugular);
He, another flouted puppet,
could be comforted in the fact
that you will learn might tonight
struggling in warm sheets
tunnel gliding
on a leather couch
hands draped steering,
stick clutched while you thrust at the clutch.
He never knew
your destiny was smeared on a wall -
Warrior in a predestined battle.
That primal drums subliminally beat,
as you used every once in your body,
as it all came crushing down.
The weight of your eyelids.
Dark corridors murmuring.
.
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:iconwernstrum:wernstrum 6 35

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Activity


deviantID

wernstrum
Sam W
Artist
Australia
Favourite cartoon character: Homer Simpson and Dr Zoidberg
Personal Quote: "The geek shall inherit the earth" - Rainier Wolfcastle
Interests

Still alive

Tue Jul 26, 2005, 3:24 AM
Just incase anyone is wondering, I am still alive and well. I don't have the motivation to write these days. But I will write more poetry in the future. Hopefully soon.

To everyone that has supported me and my writing, thank you!



:pointr: Fellow deviants
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Comments


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:iconlemontea:
lemontea Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2017
:llama:
Reply
:iconfyoot:
fyoot Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2010   Writer
Are you still about?
Reply
:icontmpst24myst:
tmpst24myst Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2009  Student Writer
:omfg: you're still here too! how's life?
mines .. busy.
<heart> dae
Reply
:iconchildproof:
childproof Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2009  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Wowsers! I can't believe it's been since Jul 26, 2005 since you let us know you are alive!
Ah well, here's a nice message for you when you might return one day :)
HI!! Have a noice dayee!
Reply
:iconbatousaijin:
batousaijin Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2007
"WERNSTRUM!!!" screams Farnsworth. :rofl:
Reply
:iconwernstrum:
wernstrum Featured By Owner Sep 19, 2007
:P
Reply
:iconbatousaijin:
batousaijin Featured By Owner Sep 19, 2007
are we not futurama fans?
Reply
:iconwernstrum:
wernstrum Featured By Owner Nov 21, 2007
I reckon we are. I hope they release another season of that show!
Reply
:iconmochajones:
mochajones Featured By Owner May 19, 2007   Writer
Hey! Are you still alive? Long time... I've somehow found my way back here. See you around if anything... hope all is well
Reply
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