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About Literature / Professional Core Member William F. DeVaultMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 12 Years
11 Month Core Membership
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Literature
resurrect
laying down a beating where I’d been eating crow.
the blows are soft flesh on shattered sapphire.
too many business cards from timid MFAs,
mediocrities polluting Apollonian streams of consciousness.
I am sorry that your husband died.  
I acknowledge that you loved him,
and he, you, and I am grateful you found joy
to your own side of the Pillars of Heracles.
the fates did not hate us
but allowed us to stumble in blind bindings
until we crumbled under the weight of our best pretensions.
cornbread corners to the hollow plates of desire.
I was unaware of the demon I found and bound
only with your persistent assistance.  born of dragons
and chained in cinnabar and pitchblende.   pitchfork tongue
and the dung of desecration, left in the garden.  
he calls for you from within his cell, where I starve him
with distractions and abstractions while awaiting the resurrection
in a reinvented
winter comes for us all
calling us liars as the fires fade
and we are paid up beyo
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:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault 6 2
Literature
the curse of beauty
she was
and is
porn star pretty
more is the pity
the nitty gritty shitty city
grinds that currency up
and hollows it out
boring scoring pouring out hope and joy
like soul flavored pixy stix
onto a greedy receiving tongue
bartering beauty for security
which is a valid choice
as long as the voice making it is hers
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault
:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault 3 1
Literature
she meant it when she said it
you never danced for me
as I cast sacrifices
offerings
promises
in accordance with your wishes
and the strange scriptures
recorded in texts
ancient
recent
scrimshaw
glyphs
kissed and denied
like every time
that I lied to myself
out of charity
and hope
William F. DeVault.  All rights reserved.
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:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault 2 0
Literature
pretty parasites
freedom is not just another word
for nothing left to lose.
you still, at least, possess freedom,
which is a terrifying and mighty place
to find oneself.
even if the bedclothes are not as warm
and you miss the pretty parasites
of passion and peace.
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
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Literature
Anno Domini 2018: The Great Cat Gives Birth
labyrinthian fires
in from the ashes and against the wind
fire and desire are the sire of memory
cracking like bones beneath the boots
worn by conquerors and their toxic children
no surprise the lies as we all seek survival
even at the expense of love and truth.
squeezing the last few drops from the seeds
after the flower and the fruit is consumed.
whispers blister thin skin and within we die
to be reborn the next morning one less life
to barter like a feral cat, in labyrinthian fires.
buried alive
love is not a barter, but a gift.
grifters sift the dust of our trust and lust
to gather pretty pennies and peonies
to place on cold cataleptic eyes and graves
where we are buried alive
breathing the same breath
over and over
until the last of us dies in agony
but grateful it is all over
survivor
the heart that was left behind remembers
walking in scatter-step lame sameness
as in a thousand other betrayals
you get out alive
but the cripple has an intact soul
kindness
soft as snow in the dark
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Literature
into the void
I have found that when I shout into the void
anticipating reciprocity
on the part of strange and beautiful creatures
I am ultimately (so far) disappointed
in my mourning I contemplate
whether it was my expectations
as to the nature of those
that dwell in shade and shadows
or if my words were inadequate
to capture the focus of eldil
that dance in four dimensions
mesmerizing me and drawing dreams
there are times in recent times
where I have even begun to doubt
whether or not I am not heard
because I am not articulating
in a manner that penetrates the void
or perhaps I am a delusional mute
making not noise aside from within me
imagining that I have spoken or been heard
the void drains my soul and senses
making me a martyr to the heresy
that love is more powerful than dysfunction
the failing of flowers to bloom not guilty
when there is no earth or water or sunshine
to pound profund pulses of renaissance
offering my dreams and warm wines
as sacrifices to cracked idol pantheons
I have found
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Literature
intimacy
fit to flow, I know.
emotions like a confetti stream of dreams.
distance adds persistence
doubling down on wagers of soft sin.
imagining where your fingers are
right now.
wishing they were mine.
your spine is the rough racetrack
as I trace sensations
eclectic and electric
from lip to hip to tip inward
cured of pretense
until there is no memory
of you and I as
separate...
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault
:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault 2 0
Literature
the religion of poetry
I am called to prayer
air thin with remorse
but the course is mine
and wine turns to water
daughter of creation
father of memory
the convocations call
invocations to tomorrow
built on frail yesterdays
and the band plays on
the melody forgotten
but the words resolute
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault
:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault 9 2
Literature
we kissed as criminals
touched
we touched the aching sky
and told our truths in sighs and tears
defending pain, decanting love,
we were all we needed be
but we were fragile.
agile and asleep
to rising tides.
I cannot set back the clocks
that cast the rocks
we could not evade
our hearts and fleshes pale parade
was just a target for the stones
that tore our flesh and broke our bones
and all the kitten kisses
faded amber.
the walnut shells
in which we hid did nothing
but make illusions of our hope
as we clattered, scattered seeds
down Newton's slope
gathering speed but moss
declined to join.
and we kissed as criminals
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault
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Literature
The Samaritan's Empathy
another shepherd shot overseas
in the name of a disease called fear
grave men send brave men with bullets bought with your taxes
while the inner city is full of hungry babies
but its okay because neither the babies nor the shepherds
are white enough for the Samaritan's empathy
another Hispanic child sold into the trade
to earn passage to a promised land full of hate
the Rio Grande runs red with American dreams
fears manipulated to conceive, achieve, and relieve
in a placebo pharmacology paid for by billionaires
who want more than money to line their caskets
history is written by the victors.  dirty footed poets
and the spurned, learned prophets will have the final say.
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
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the best of amomancies by williamfdevault the best of amomancies :iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault 0 0
Literature
in the movement of light
writ here, and now, and under the movement of the spirit as sure as if painted in sainted kisses on the shoulders of a paramour...
as the season of apple harvest draws to a close, there are amomancies in the air. the scent of jasmine and roses. the slightest breath against the softest hairs. the clarity of the charity of the heart, light made white then bright until radiance dances on the very edge of the event horizon of time sublime. the soundless scream of understanding and acceptance as the dance begins again, the pirouette of memory and the frail blasphemy bound and found in the religion of a kiss.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
composed live, in one take, online September 28, 2018
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Literature
wonderlust
I shall lock away my heart
tattered battered shatter scrap it is
within a box of a strange metal I spat out in furious curious doubt
when I saw nothing of value remaining
in the faux stain of passion
worn like a cape of legendary beasts and hung on hooks of glass
I shall pass into the evening sky and never die
for Ka Latil is everywhere and nowhere
the ciphers on the doors are based on a religion
forgotten by the strange creatures that pass for mortals
out of a sense of misbelonging
valuing that fell from broken towers
like splintered tears on a morning pillow
rich with the scent of a woman's tresses
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
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Cover of Selected Poems and Passions 1972-2011 by williamfdevault Cover of Selected Poems and Passions 1972-2011 :iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault 1 0 selected poems and passions DeVault by williamfdevault selected poems and passions DeVault :iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault 3 0
Literature
in the beginning
the age of.
the rage of
poets
is upon us.
the sad glad madness, badness in Byronic whispers.
a religion beyond the mere fleecing of desperate believers.
in the beginning was the word.
we are the words.
the incantation.
the incarnation of the divine.
sacraments of warm wines
from the vineyards of the blessed and cursed.
the thirst for absolution
burning away the pains of
the chains of
the stains of mortal mediocrity.
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
:iconwilliamfdevault:williamfdevault
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More information and poetry

I keep a few sites around the web, aside from places that just have a piece or two of my work. These include:

My original blog, the City of Legends
www.cityoflegends.com

My pure poetry blog (with hundreds of works), Amomancer:
amomancer.blogspot.com

My primary showcase site, with my works, expressed with the art and photography of many DA regulars, williamfdevault.com:
www.williamfdevault.com

Yes, I am a Twit! Twitter me
williamfdevault

And I am on FaceBook:
WilliamFDeVault (of course)

And, you can find recordings of many of my works on blip.fm...

Visitors

:iconbooleethekid67: :iconwlkr: :iconatomicwick: :iconbirth-artofficial: :iconffleret:
In addition to my own work and poetry, I have been, for the past year, very busy with launching Venetian Spider Press.  We have 5 books already out, four more scheduled this summer, and four more for the fall.  We have a fair number of poetry books, but also graphic novels, novels, fiction anthologies, and even a childrens' book in the pipeline.


I am, in a word, buried, but loving it.

Activity


In addition to my own work and poetry, I have been, for the past year, very busy with launching Venetian Spider Press.  We have 5 books already out, four more scheduled this summer, and four more for the fall.  We have a fair number of poetry books, but also graphic novels, novels, fiction anthologies, and even a childrens' book in the pipeline.


I am, in a word, buried, but loving it.
laying down a beating where I’d been eating crow.
the blows are soft flesh on shattered sapphire.
too many business cards from timid MFAs,
mediocrities polluting Apollonian streams of consciousness.
I am sorry that your husband died.  
I acknowledge that you loved him,
and he, you, and I am grateful you found joy
to your own side of the Pillars of Heracles.
the fates did not hate us
but allowed us to stumble in blind bindings
until we crumbled under the weight of our best pretensions.
cornbread corners to the hollow plates of desire.
I was unaware of the demon I found and bound
only with your persistent assistance.  born of dragons
and chained in cinnabar and pitchblende.   pitchfork tongue
and the dung of desecration, left in the garden.  
he calls for you from within his cell, where I starve him
with distractions and abstractions while awaiting the resurrection
in a reinvented
winter comes for us all
calling us liars as the fires fade
and we are paid up beyond the end of the stay
we had envisioned when we bought the condoms.
the halls and walls are as I envisioned them
described in the romantique’s whispers
using words unheard in the most ancient places
where the Greek girl said I would find redemption.
she was wrong, but drunk at the time,
and I do not lay with the mysteries of Dionysius.
fire fire fire inspire desire conspire with the smaller mind
blinded by a scent of honeysuckle and night blooming jasmine.
reeling at the feeling of a greater death, of self, beyond logic
and the toxic remembrances that are mangled and tangled.
I gave up science and the truth of numbers
when I found that I would be always bound
by lesser minds, finding no freedom to discover
to uncover the essence of this transient life.



William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
she was
and is
porn star pretty
more is the pity
the nitty gritty shitty city
grinds that currency up
and hollows it out
boring scoring pouring out hope and joy
like soul flavored pixy stix
onto a greedy receiving tongue
bartering beauty for security
which is a valid choice
as long as the voice making it is hers


William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
Many of you know that my son, Elric has been posting on here for yours.  and while not as prolific, he has been demonstrating some solid craft.

I won't discuss his screen name as it is being taken off his account as his request.  It seems a while back, while entering the year of his birth (not his email, not his real name, not the day and month of his birth) he fat-fingered the year.  as a result, he cannot recover his password.  whether this is due to automated security limitations or strict definition of policy, TPTB at DeviantArt have informed him that without the year (he's even shown them his driver's license) they cannot help him.

As one who has held government security clearances, it is oddly comforting that it would be easier to get access to top secret materials than get a password reset on DeviantArt, but policy is policy!  I even got involved briefly to try and resolve the situation, but was rejected (if politely).

As much as I hate to see him go (and I doubt he will return, this endeavor has left a foul taste in his mouth), I wish him well.  I considered closing my account in protest, or at least deleting many of my pieces, but he talked me out of it.

Ah well.  At least they agreed to take his name off of the account (which seems an odd solution, but who knows what the limitations of their security system is).  
you never danced for me

as I cast sacrifices
offerings
promises

in accordance with your wishes
and the strange scriptures
recorded in texts

ancient
recent
scrimshaw
glyphs

kissed and denied
like every time
that I lied to myself
out of charity
and hope


William F. DeVault.  All rights reserved.

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williamfdevault
William F. DeVault
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
I'm a poet. Ronin for now, making my way in the world. I don't write poetry. I don't do poetry. I coexist with it, some have even suggested I am poetry.

I can live with that. I have to. Because it is true. And that is what poetry is: Truth.

Favourite genre of music?
---Experimental rock
Favourite photographer:
---Mariya Andriichuk (LadyMartist)
Favourite writer (and editor):
---So many, so many
Favourite style of art:
---Surrealist, hyper-realism
Operating System:
---Mac OSX
Skin of choice:
---Soft, warm, ready to explore and share.
Favourite cartoon character:
---Daffy Duck
Interests

Groups

:iconpoetsofda: :iconthewritergang: :iconwrittenexcellence: :iconliteratureroadtrip: :iconmy-art-and-proud: :iconarts-shadow: :iconnotreforteressebrule: :iconlove-original-lit: :iconlove-literature: :iconromanceforeveryone: :iconreadandberead: :iconfirst-floor-poetry: :iconoccupyartists: :iconpoets-n-prose: :iconfantastic-faces: :iconpoets-and-warriors: :iconlovecostsnothing: :iconthemadhatters: :iconopen-mic-poetry: :icontomes-and-grimoires: :iconart-students: :iconartistsmind: :iconandroxazone: :iconknownames: :iconuniversalpoets: :iconbardic-tomes-poetry: :iconthe-odd-group: :iconpoetryisart: :iconword-smiths: :iconwriterspen:

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:iconbaubleheadboard:
baubleheadboard Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2018
your poetry is admirable, i read it like i was losing my breath—congratulations on your literary achievements

ty for watching
but I must warn you
i have no art to show
i’m just a cheerleader
just so you know
Reply
:iconlindartz:
LindArtz Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018  Hobbyist Digital Artist
HAVE A GREAT BIRTHDAY, WILLIAM ! :party:


WISHING YOU A LOVELY DAY! Birthday smileys 2 by poisen2014

Cake for your BDay by KmyGraphic
Happy Birthday my friend! by TheGalleryOfEve    :iconhappybirthday2you:
Reply
:iconladylincoln:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Happya2 by Alimera

Have a wonderful and blessed day, dearheart! :heart:
Reply
:iconwilliamfdevault:
williamfdevault Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018  Professional Writer
Thank you!  :blackrose:
Reply
:iconladylincoln:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome, dear sir! Rose by SecretAdmirerPlz
Reply
:iconpennedinwhite:
PennedinWhite Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday!! :cake: Hope your day is going well! 

:heart:
Reply
:iconwilliamfdevault:
williamfdevault Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018  Professional Writer
It is, and thank you.  :blackrose:
Reply
:iconthe-darkwolf:
The-Darkwolf Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018
Happy Birthday! :cake: :)
Reply
:iconwilliamfdevault:
williamfdevault Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018  Professional Writer
Thank you!  :blackrose:
Reply
:iconthe-darkwolf:
The-Darkwolf Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2018
:) :nod:
Reply
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