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About Literature / Hobbyist beans, I say!Female/United States Group :icongotzombie: GotZombie
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Literature
Piano Thing
pull on me but let my fingers dangle
soft keys that make no noise
lost strings of me, I tangle
I've lost all my poise.
Come back and comb through me
you can make pretty of these strings
and maybe noise will soar through me,
Piano Thing.
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Literature
G E M I N I
Just like out of a crazy science fiction novel, I sat there staring straight into my own eyes.  The thing was, it wasn't through a reflection, it was into a girl that sat directly across from me, unblinking and looking exactly like my twin.  I didn't have a twin and that's where we begin.  Twelve days ago on the way to my work.
Car horns blared and steam rose from the crushed aluminum that was my front fender.  I was in the middle of an intersection, car pointed to a girl huddled into a ball in the very center of the road.  My knuckles were white with fear as they held onto the steering wheel.  My thoughts raced.  Where had she come from?  Was she there all along?  Is she dead?  I dared not think the last thought more than once, and slowly, I loosened my grip on my wheel and shoved the car door open.  The steam from my car concealed the girl till I bent down to assess how bad t
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Literature
Pushing Daisies
Lets pull out all the daisies
-that you pushed up from your grave
Push down your tombstone,
-you don't need a face.
Break the mask inside your coffin
-the person you've erased
And seal the door from your omissions
-they don't miss you anyway
Take the daises to a garden
-and plant them in a vase
Make you watch while nature grows
-all around, save in your place.
I'll make sure to forget your name.
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Mature content
Trigger Happy. :iconwritten-in-the-stars:written-in-the-stars 1 2
Literature
Frozen Beauty
         At first glance, you said to me,
“I’m always here to stay.”
              But why,    dear tree,
                 Have you froze your tears this way?
   Amid a midnight slumber,
                     of the sun and of his rays
   A wind of ice had made a wish
              To freeze you in your last days.
         You tell me no,   while glistening white
Sparkling like the dust from a fairy
                
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Literature
F U Z E D
I’m a catastrophe.
A cataclysm of a masterpiece
A fiend, inside a machine
Behind the mask of a beast.
A shooting star, covered in scars
Falls into my lap, a trap.
I reach out to stroke it, but instead I choke it
By just touching it on it’s cracks.
I mean no harm, turn off the alarms
I intend to speak to the harp.
Strangled sounds, a hate so profound
Songs like a cadaverous lark.
Inch a mile, I’ve got a while
To fend for my fleeting stature
Rise to occasion, my infiltration
I’m already food for the vultures.
Give me lobotomy.
Try to see what’s inside of me
Computerized, don’t be surprised.
My facade is a part of me.
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Literature
I Dream of Monsters
In my near decaying sleep I dream of things that I hope aren’t real.  She wears a white dress, hugging her curvaceous body like a second skin, flowing near the bottom like a blooming flower.  Like a fish whose eyes wither from long lack of use in the deepest depth’s ocean floor, she has no eyes.  Smooth pale skin stretch over smooth bone, no eye sockets, to a small dainty nose and a tiny set of plump lips that show the deepest red like ripe pomegranates.  She looks at me, not look with her eyes that aren’t there, but with her face, in my direction.  She breaks her pallid, stoic features into a grin so wide I think her paper skin almost rips as it stretches from ear to ear.  Teeth, two rows, like a sharks, glare at me in their shiny whiteness.  Any trace left of her calm demeanor disappear like her lush red lips, rolled away and sucked inside her malicious grin.  My dream-self knows her kind.&
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Literature
T A L L Tale
Once on a flathead not far from this range
I summoned a woman with eyes wild and strange
Her hair glistened like fire amidst a storm’s breeze
And her words were a-mingled with accents unnamed.
She spoke of a place in which I should heed
A place where she came that she need not be freed
And with that I watched as she lifted a finger
She pointed with anger like a scorpion’s stinger
Her words were long and spat out in cries
But her finger fell and she looked up towards the skies
And that was that, my story has ended
For the Star as she was flew up towards the Heavens
My lesson is learned, my sessions have ceased
Next up I shall rather summon the Seas
But of what danger shall I heed while I do what I seek?
Perhaps a mermaid is more fathomable than a star so-to-speak
And if that mermaid is not, then a dwarf I shall call
To tell me of the mines and the tales that are tall
Of the gold and the jewels amounted in piles
But if that doesn’t fair well I’ll go to the Niles
To le
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Mature content
Sex Scene :iconwritten-in-the-stars:written-in-the-stars 13 10
Literature
The Fortune's Teller
It was a quiet, uneventful day in the small town of Albacreed.  Scarcely did a day go by where one did not see a man mowing his perfectly green lawn, or a woman in her garden pulling out barely-there weeds and planting perfectly bright colored flowers.  Needless to say, it was quite the shock when rolled into town was an old horse-drawn red wagon.  The walls of the wooden box trailing behind the two large unkempt horses were coated in chipping red paint, and what looked like the words La Fortune Mystique stretched extravagantly on the side.  It wasn’t a bright day for long, as soon as that wagon rolled into town, clouds gathered and thunder threatened the release of rain, the cherry on top of this perfectly horrid moment.  A group of girls had been sitting outside of the ice cream parlor when the wagon rolled into town, and they watched as it parked itself in front of the town’s Yellow Sunrise Inn.  That moment right
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Literature
Wake
In case you were wondering, I wasn’t listening to you.  
My eyes make perfect contact, I nod occasionally to your dry,
derelict conversation.  I know I should be listening,
I can tell by your fast pace that no one listens to you.  
But I am preoccupied with the conversation behind you,
the one about normal things.  
Every day things.  
Crushes, school work, sneaking out.  
When you do nothing but think of anomalistic things,
normal can be quite intriguing.  
Like a fine wine after drinking nothing your whole life but water.  
You flash smiles at me, eagerness
lighting up your eyes when you see me smile back.  
I don’t feel bad.  
We’re both hearing what we want to hear, and believing what we want:
you, I cannot say if you really think I’m listening,
but its your own escape to think I am.  
And as for me,
I’m just thinking unremarkable things, for a mome
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Literature
Fairies of the Night and Day
Can you see them? Look
up, and watch they fly away
Fairies of the day.
Can you see them glow?
Sparkle?  Watch as they take flight
Fairies of the night.
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Literature
Dreamer, I confess
July 29, 2008
Can’t sleep.  My mind is an ever-flowing stream of consciousness, and even in my twilight slumber the thoughts don’t stop.  Thoughts of everything and nothing.  I sometimes picture myself a girl adorned in pale greens and fiery red long tumbling hair with an air of mystery with every wayward glance and step.  I picture endless Autumns and a constant buzz of inspiration.  I dream of stories I will never write and characters whose names I will never utter.  I create memories of love and loss and hopes shattered, all of which whose feelings are as true as night and day but have never walked this earth or breathed in a breath of life.  I live with these people, I breath them, and I release them back into the tempered atmosphere into the place where all lost things go and are never to be found again.  If I was to visit there, I’d feel more at home than I do sitting here once again th
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Literature
The Sandwich
My sandwich is getting cold.  It lies halfway to my mouth, dangling there between my hands as I stare at someone over the toasted white bread. It doesn’t matter that it’s toasted, its soggy now with soaking up the mustard and peanut butter.  Don’t ask why I have a toasted mustard and peanut butter sandwich, I don’t even like peanut butter.  I’ve thought for the past five minutes to just get up and give it to the man across from me, who sits on a bench staring at my sandwich.
His clothes are all brown with compacted dirt and mud; his dog, too.  Perhaps they can share the sandwich.  If I had been sitting with a friend, we’d make a bet to see if he’d share it or just eat it by himself.  But if I had been sitting with a friend, had I any, I’m sure I wouldn’t be staring at a homeless man, or eating a mustard and peanut butter sandwich to begin with.
I begin to wonder what he’d think
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Literature
Pond of Princes Pt.1 Narration
Once upon a time, in a kingdom atop a hill, lived three sisters in the three tallest towers.  They were the three daughters of the wise and just King Gabriel.  Life in the kingdom was easy and carefree, the girls happy and untroubled.  Perhaps their happiness was a blindfold over the eyes, for it was not happy times.  If I was to tell you a story of the happiness the three daughters shared with each other and their wise and just father, the story would be short and sweet.  Alas, I would like to tell you a tale of three daughters who lost their mother during the childbirth of the youngest daughter, and the tale of finding love long lost and buried.  I would like to share the magic that surrounds the hilltop kingdom each day, and the journey into fate and discovery through enlightenment of the past.
Wrapped inside their own woven worlds of happiness away from the blunt and harsh truths seeping below the surface, the three
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Literature
New Age Army
A knocking came at the door, an insistent tapping that I was fairly sure belonged to Molly’s mother.  I looked down at my captive.  My hand was placed over Molly’s mouth, her eyes two white orbs reflecting the street lamp outside because they were opened so wide, in fear.   If I let my hand up to let her shew her mother away, she might scream.  If I cannot get away unnoticed, I have to abort my mission.  I glared, face contorted to fury underneath my mask, and even though Molly couldn’t see my anger, I’m sure she felt it.  I spoke, my voice coming out like a muffled robot’s as I threatened her life if she didn’t tell her mother to leave.  Slowly, I peeled my fingers away from her lips, which were parted in surprise, momentarily unable to speak more than a squeak.
The knocking continued, joined by the mothers voice of insistence, hand on the knob ready to open the door.  My
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Don't be deterred by titles...
I write all sorts of genres.
Fantasy, scifi, paranormal, fiction, metaphorical..
Poetry, short stories, chapters.

Please enjoy, all the feedback I can get
will definitely help me improve :heart:

Random Favourites

Literature
Feral Child
Long ago, I remember like a distant dream
How he used to dance with me
With leaves spinning at our feet
O the death they had to meet
Passing the old willow trees
I watch Lady Willa weep
“Stiff upper lip deary or the flowers in your hair shall wilt in vain” says I
Her branches waved in response
As I dream the pasts
Ripples in my brain that are very fond
And shall forever stay, holding our anticipated bond
In the wood I used to play, by the sunflowers I lay
Streams that promise eternal youth
Lying cats wearing corduroy suits
Laugh we would, scare we would
Him and I at the cats we despised  
Dance we would him and I
The waltz that meant our lives
The waltz that meant our lives
Such ties
As we ran through the wood, we would sing:
“Listen to our song of mutts
The Feral Child has returned!
Mixed with things unknown to man
For only those with beast’s tongue shall understand
The Feral Child has returned!
Let us sing, --rejoice with us birds, you chime sets of stor
:iconDoodlebug-love:Doodlebug-love
:icondoodlebug-love:Doodlebug-love 3 4
Literature
never grow up.
I have a monster living underneath my bed.
He’s made up of burnt frog skin, white-red cobweb veined eyes and a collection of missing pebble teeth. Sometimes we play scrabble.
(The first time he was just a mechanical hum beneath the bowing wooden planks, he was just a faint smell of green and he was just a hot cloud of fog around my lips. It’s the wind, it’s the wind, I breathed. Then he breathed back, heavy and loud and monster-like; AM NOT.)
He always spoke in capitals; MONSTERS ARE MUCH TOO SCARY FOR LOWER-CASED LETTERS, he informed me one night under pink covers. I shined the flashlight into his eyes until they changed colour and he bared his teeth.
He sometimes visits my dreams. The grass turns sickly where he trudges and the woodland creatures whimper and scramble in his wake. WHERE’S MY HUG? He holds his warm monster limbs out, palms snatching me from my happy-ever-after and grins gap-toothily. I manage a chuckle as I buckle in his embrace.
He used to keep me
:iconPretty-As-A-Picture:Pretty-As-A-Picture
:iconpretty-as-a-picture:Pretty-As-A-Picture 2,227 446
Literature
A vampire's promise.
Mara stared out of the classroom window, ignoring the stinging remarks from her classmates. She sighed. Sometimes she just wished that it would all end. Then, she might be happy. She looked back down at her Geography work, which made about as much sense as Martian. She closed her eyes, moving a strand of platinum blonde, almost white, hair from her face. She opened her eyes again, glaring at the paper with her pale pink eyes, as if trying to burn a hole in it. She scowled and let her head fall on the desk. A wave of sniggers started, so that before long the whole class was laughing at her, even if many of them didn't know why. She felt the acidic tears of shame build up behind her eyes once again. What reason did they have to mock her? Well, that was obvious she supposed. She was born an albino. But no-one ever said that to her face. New excuses would be made up each week, but everyone knew that was the real reason. Because she was born different. Not like the others, girls with glossy
:iconNisa-chan666:Nisa-chan666
:iconnisa-chan666:Nisa-chan666 201 400
Literature
Playing God
Here is the world
Swinging eagerly toward my latest fancy.
My gravity bows the trunks of trees
If only I wish it.
I hum my own reverie,
And the stars join in with a chorus
That no one had to teach them.
Too quickly, I tire of the grace of heaven,
Bidding the dead instead
To ring my hollow tune.
I dance, leaving rapture
In the holes from my footsteps,
Brew honey in the air with my fingertips.
I sway from one step to the next
From one step to the next
From one step, to the
Next
Sustained, not by the steps,
But by the dance.
:iconphoenixmemory:phoenixmemory
:iconphoenixmemory:phoenixmemory 3 11
Literature
Unfortunate Thing
Unfortunate Thing
Here is the tale of Unfortunate Thing
Whom I found in our garden shed
He’s seven foot two, with shiny black nose
And horns on the top of his head
Unfortunate Thing wore a fine suit of scales
Which hadn’t been polished for years
All covered in dust and speckles of rust
From endless showers of tears
Reclined on a large sack of compost
A vision of gloom and despair
Alone in the shadows, sat sobbing
Needing some comfort and care
“Poor Thing” said I, “What’s the problem –
whatever is troubling you?”
And proceeded to give him a cuddle
(….which proved quite a hard thing to do)
Whilst blowing his nose on some sacking
Still sobbing, he tried to explain
How his rather unfortunate features
Had caused all his troubles and pain
“I love all the creatures of nature –
I love all their beauty and grace
But they all run and hide when they see me arrive
Because of my hideous face”
“And oh, when I look at the flowers
My ugl
:iconOtterwen:Otterwen
:iconotterwen:Otterwen 1,195 262
Literature
Drink it Up.
Her eyes lazily rolled about the room, clogged with cigarette smoke and the monotonous sounds of idle chatter. It was the same old scene, nothing had changed. Inwardly she hoped something had; deep down she wished her life was comparable to a movie, tragic, yet beautiful. The crisp lines of life would paint across the wide white screen, only interrupted by the gentle flicker of the camera. Needless to say, it would be more interesting than current life. The audience would stare, captivated at the scenes before their eyes, and little would they know that they were apart of the play before them. Finally, the brown hues came to rest upon him, the boy across the small wooden table and a brow quirked watching him.
He was just an ordinary boy. Shaggy black hair fell haphazardly around his brow and his blue eyes were angled downwards, apparently inspecting the wood grains. A cigarette hung precariously on his lip, it was bent from the evening spent in his back pocket, but it still functioned
:iconSonataofSilence:SonataofSilence
:iconsonataofsilence:SonataofSilence 2 1
Mature content
Tire Swing :iconwaltz-with-me:Waltz-With-Me 7 42

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I want to buy my Fiance something from here as a Christmas present. :meow:
He is in Afghanistan right now, at a base, and will be arriving back home mid December for R&R. I hope I make my goal by then. Thank you for all your support! ♥

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In a rough spot right now.  Not very much a type of person to be so personal on the interwebs, but I've opened up a donation pool.  I want to buy my Fiance a present from here on DeviantART.  He's in Afghanistan right now, and he will be coming here for R&R mid December, and I need to get some funds asap. I don't have a job at the moment, because no one would give me the time off to spend R&R with him, so I don't have many options. ^^; hopefully this donation pool works! :heart:

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written-in-the-stars
beans, I say!
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Writing is my hobby. I can't say right now if it will ever be anything more, but it does wonders for my heart and health. Right now, I write for me. Who knows, one day I might write for the world.

People do it everyday, they talk to themselves... they see themselves as they'd like to be, they don't have the courage you have, to just run with it.


Current Residence: with my head in the clouds and fingertips in the stars
deviantWEAR sizing preference: SM
Print preference: Gift ;)
Favourite genre of music: A little of something from everything.
Favourite style of art: all sorts!
Operating System: I am a PC
MP3 player of choice: iPod Touch
Skin of choice: Na'vi
Favourite cartoon character: Spongebob & Flapjack most recently ;D
Personal Quote: "When I grow up, I want to be a little kid."
Interests

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:iconpaul-1485:
Paul-1485 Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2011  Professional Writer
Hey, thanks for the lama badge!! :)
Reply
:iconwickedpaw123:
wickedpaw123 Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2011
thanks for the llama yo.
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:iconindigoopalstrae:
IndigoOpalsTrae Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2011
"Beans," he said, "I'm not a pest."
Reply
:iconplucky-lass:
Plucky-lass Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2008  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thanks for the fav on Delete Where Applicable. I guess I should have more confidence in it.
Reply
:iconwritten-in-the-stars:
written-in-the-stars Featured By Owner Jan 1, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
welcomes deary :hug: I really liked it :aww:
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