deviantART

 

Browse Open

Popular Newest
Most popular deviations in Open      submitted in the last 8 hours
[x]  
Join Now | Buy deviantWEAR | Advertise Here
Gazelle BoyGazelle Boy has weathered hands for  
shaking trees and giving race to the jeep.   
Treeless Savannah, she gave birth to a  
feral child. Outran a helicopter, leaping.  Mighty feathered hair, aerodynamic toes.  
 
Wild child; to fast even for the bear trap to snap.  
 
Men aren't built for the animal kingdom;  we eat with god damn knives and forks.  
Civilized and spoken for.  
 
Kissing our children, waiting for  
the leopards to lick their bones. Gazelle Boy
Wind Drake's Song"But high she shoots through air and light,         above all low delay,  Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,         nor shadow dims her way."   
All through the pale unearthly sky,         she sails out on her way,  There's naught but fragile dragon wings,         yet naught can bound her way.   
The winter winds and summer clouds,         the pale and sunlit, both,  Beneath the fragile wings speed by, &n Wind Drake's Song
It's funny. 
Its funny how time changes things,  how the memories fade into the past,  sometimes we struggle to remember,  when we forgot those things so fast.   
Its funny how love changes people,  they lose their rational thoughts,  they can only think of being with that person,  a feeling that could never be bought.   
Its funny how i feel the way i do,  when i look up at the moon,  the stars are like beakens of light,  and you'll be looking at them soon.   
Its funny how my heart races this fast,  and with yearning im positively seething,  i just need to feel y It's funny.
A Call To ArmsA call to arms to  Bear witness to  Something on  The very verge of being  Reality.  A  Call to arms  To signal unity   
Ring the bell to  Evoke the change  And  Let  It be as it should.  Then  You will know   
It was connected all the  Same, throughout the time   
Connection layered  Over the  Multiple plots, thickening  Into their very own climax  Near each other but not more than  Gambling with the   
Severity  Of the  Outcome, tightening or loosening the  Noose of the world A Call To Arms
Poem: The HarlequinWhat I have to say about this one is best read after you have finished the poem.  Author's Comment's ahoy!! ;)   
I’ll admit, only to myself  That I loathe the way your lies move  Ah, so caressing  With the darkest of intentions, unseen  You acrobatically leap around the truth  I must say, I’m impressed  Plotting the next move while you execute the last   
“Watch closely!” you tell the audience  in a voice as hushed as can be  “I present to you, a travesty in two acts!”   
Two acts:  The beginning  And the end   
In whi Poem: The Harlequin
A PoemA Poem   
Who…Am I?  Where am…I?   
A blank paper forms lines  Written by unknown memories  Whispers from past thoughts  Combining letters in waves   
Word by word, bleeding through the paper, ink  Fingers acting of their own accord  Tips leaving prints on a borrowed pen   
The words form lines  The lines, stanzas  Stanzas stack to form a poem   
The Sailor   
A poem swims in an open sea  White space breaking on stark black lines   
A lonely ship sailing home  Once lost on forlorn shores   
A tear of joy A Poem
IntenseHit me with you hand  Leave a stinging red mark  Let me return the favor  I fight you because I can't say how  I hate you  I hate the hurt you put me through  
On the inside  Where I can't do the same  Wanting to match bruises cuts and scrapes  I brawl  I damage  I destroy  Like the monster coming out  You'll learn to leave like we want you to Intense
A As In AwkwardBy now, the bath water that was once steaming  is sitting cold in the tub.  The salts all bored enough to drown themselves  like pearls in the ocean.   
 
Toe to linoleum  Toe to toe  Cheek to porcelain  Cheek to cheek   
 
By then, the dirt ring resembled rust  like pennies in a fountain.  The tap dripped pebble sized droplets  cold before it resurfaces.   
 
Toe to linoleum  Toe to toe  Cheek to porcelain  Cheek to cheek   
 
By now and then  The wait is colder  Drowning and  Lost its shine  Anticipatio A As In Awkward
Capture The MomentCapture the moment  Perfect  Looking through the family album  Laugh  Cry  Blush  Swear  Rant  What do you do looking at your album?  I know I do all of the above  Laughing next to my sisters as we spot a funny pose  Crying with my mum about how much we’ve grown and changed  Blushing at the embarrassing pictures from my childhood  Swearing about how bad I look in that dress  Ranting on about how it’s not fair how I didn’t get my picture taken  I know I do all of the above  And I love it Capture The Moment
Nourishment for all, Try itNourishment for all, Try it!   
Nirvana: Palaver  Commotion is the Solution  No silly, not Locomotion Commotion  Chaotic Commotion is the Notion!  Let’s Natter  Let’s Chatter  Titter, Tatter, Chitter, Chatter  Oh Dear what can the Matter  Be? To See, see-saw, saw see  Back to our Chatter  Some Splatter  Blood Splatter over the walls  Lovely Colour is it not?  Tastes better with sugar  Sweet, sweet: Oh so lovely Sweet  The symphony of the sounds on the Street  Love Life, have a knife  In the back, take that Jack!  
Know where its At? & Nourishment for all, Try it
Old Crap: Back in the DayWARNING! This is really old crap that I wrote back when I was messed up (lol). Why am I posting this? Not sure, my assumption is that people can compare this blah to my more recent stuff. I guess to show I've improved? Well, whatever. I'd say enjoy but I don't think that's possible...so...er...try not to puke :D  
 
 
Without a reflection to look at  Without a heartbeat to listen to  Without a path to follow  A numb wandering to nowhere  Just fable nothing   
A taunting song bids me to be in high spirits  I smirk and walk along, not wanting to find anything  I am a flower that wants to st Old Crap: Back in the Day
Old Crap: WandererI believe this was written while I was on the down slope for my messed up-ness. So, it's more hopeful.  Oh and by the way...ALL these "poems" don't have a name. The documents are titled things like "idk," "random song thing," "random...ness," "just a poem"  I r teh bieng EPICz at nmaing theengs! :D   
 
One story lays to rest  Waiting for another day  I am but a wanderer with no words   
A quiet mountain makes no sound  I am like that mountain  Sturdy, strong, silent  Silent for another day  I feel as though I am asleep  Asleep without rest, asleep without waking  No w Old Crap: Wanderer
Old Stuff: LiminalityAnd here we move from "Old Crap" to "Old Stuff" (start at the first poem, "Back in the Day")! Instead of trying to deal with my mind, I sat down and wrote about a subject. In this case, the subject was still closely related to my mind, it was liminality.  I am actually surprised by this one, I can actually read it without making faces :D  And! I can finally say "enjoy!"   
 
As my voice echoes off into the night sky  I feel as though time is standing still, waiting for the right time to move  Waiting for my first move, a reaction I assume  I send out a cry as nothing calls back  Solitude under the Old Stuff: Liminality
watch the fireworksactual title: bits and pieces of another stupid story where the boy leaves at the end   
10.  
 
she was a poet. she was a writer. she created things, she planned things. falling in love with him was not part of the plan, but the first time he held her in his arms like that, she understood why so many people write poetry about love.   
9.  
 
he loved the poet because she was fragile, breakable. she was something precious, something delicate and eloquent and different. he would hold her so gently, and she would think but never say,   
“i’m a person, not a flower.”   
8 watch the fireworks
Poem: The Truth of PainThe skeleton of this I found in my files and decided to apply spam to these old bones. I applied the spam quickly today, fingers just typing away and to my surprise...I actually liked it. Granted, there are some things I don't know how better to write, but I wish I could. Oh well. This will definetly be one of the things I will continue to work on.   
 
To whom do I owe this misery?  Not I  Says the mute  Not I  Says the blind  Not I  Says the deaf   
The liar, the murderer  The unseeing, the victim  The unhearing, the knowing   
O Father,  Forgive me  For ag Poem: The Truth of Pain
HagiographyI said: tomorrow let’s meet  
at this corner, I can buy  you a drink and we’ll talk.  
About what? you said, looking  beyond me, your eyes on the lights  of the Port Authority building and the signs  that kept trying to tell us  location. Approaching  Eighth Avenue. All the time I kept thinking  those shrimp were so good, that we ate  
at that bar in the theatre district. This still is  the theatre district, again – but that was  the first flush of twenty-one, swaying  
arms linked through the streets and punch-drunk  on a lack  of limits, though I poure Hagiography
Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,  Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed       through sludge,  
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs  And towards our distant rest began to trudge.  Men marched asleep.  Many had lost their boots  But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame;       all blind;  Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots  Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped       behind   
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling,  Fitting the clumsy helmets jus Dulce Et Decorum Est
24 60 120
RSS

Site Map

©2009 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Help & FAQ Advertise | Services Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy