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An expression of light by SecretShowMonster An expression of light :iconsecretshowmonster:SecretShowMonster 3 8
Literature
life is a noise
I.
life is a noise
one syllable
emerging from the pregnant tongue
or the green scream
of a leaf
sprouting defiance
in the golden face of silence
II.
begin
and from now on
the earth will break against the tide
and forests will grow on the sea
like them
i will hide my heart in the water
and even dreams
will forget about me
but maybe grain will grow from oil
and war will learn to hear
III.
the screaming is a color
that paints its own portrait
over and over
in the corner
because rich men
bar the door with tanks
and flag-waving
and faith
and drive Death away
who is afraid
for they are paler than even him
IV.
but still i request
when i am a grave
bury me with grief
and let me sprout trees
to shade you
while you sleep
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal 3 1
Literature
but you and i live
but you and i live
like wreckage
and the light at
the end of the tunnel
is the dull red crematorium
i ask for nothing
will you give it to me
so that i may share
what i deserve
with the world
that makes clumsy jokes
about bombs with ideologies
that cuts itself shaving
with paper
that bleeds on dark children
and stains their eyes
i have taken to
walking in circles
to mock the sun
because it cannot move
and is the broken witness
to our eternal revolutions
but you and i live
like wreckage
burning feathers
drifting on seas of oil
at least
our light will never set
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal 2 2
Literature
Thoughtful Transit Flowers
Each minuscule silken petal
of the orchids cried romance
unto each passenger's ears.
They were not for a particular occasion,
but simply to convey love.
I held them tight,
seated on the transit bus,
as if they were my children,
and I their compassionate mother.
White curls of age
and a soft maroon floral dress
held the elderly woman together.
She, seated adjacent to me,
smiled sweetly,
and kneaded her wrinkled hands.
"For your girlfriend," she told me.
"What a lucky young lady."
Fleshy lips curled
into the gentlest smile
I could muster.
"For my boyfriend."
Those words seemed to pierce
the old-fashioned woman,
like an arrow,
and she nodded.
Slowly, the blood rushed
to her wrinkled cheeks,
and she seemed to have been pained
by this, or confused even;
yet she spoke again:
"What a lucky young man."
:iconAntifreezeKisses:AntifreezeKisses
:iconantifreezekisses:AntifreezeKisses 82 45
Literature
the apology
i do not believe
that the world
is the stain of blood
that rain
is the scream of coins
that my home
stands on stacks
of dead paper
please understand
i have to eat
like everyone else
but as i have leisure
to lament about
money and love
i apologize
for my privilege
which you may mistake
for my voice
laden with flimsy ideals
lightly simmered
in the tin cup
of spoiled youth
still
what truth i know
begs for my hands
to write hoarsely
and defiant
to slobber gobs
of messy life
onto the blank cheeks
of the undying
(all those who now
resemble death
and sell the scent of memory
for a few minutes more)
to let loose
this obsidian growl
in the ear of pale humanity:
even if you bury one thousand dreams
i will dream one thousand and one
of colors you've never seen
sowing them in the soil
of my only life
and watering them
with youth
do you see?
they will wear poetry
on their feet
their skipping,
blackredyellowbrownwhitefeet
sowing peace
where they meet the earth
and none of them
will dine on money
and
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal 1 1
Lunar Worms by Life-takers-crayons Lunar Worms :iconlife-takers-crayons:Life-takers-crayons 742 154 Horse series 3 by SecretShowMonster Horse series 3 :iconsecretshowmonster:SecretShowMonster 4 12
Literature
some small drowning
(but once only ever
have the drownings gurgled wetly
secrets)
i am some small
number of things, a primary
color toddling between memory
and lonely five
new paint in peeling summertime
toe inspecting the hissing poolside
and my mothers doom is comfortable inside
on the phone
plotting in hospital white(planning
two-stories of broken nights for
age bleary truths)
and dear sister of naming,
distracted by blame,
misses when my air changes
outfits to miserable blue wet and
i am some small
drowning
a bloat of child gone missing
and rushrushrush
to tamers of the dead
they brush me back to life
but new paint is dead, only
pale wash of color
hiding former brightness from
its own page
i am some small
teeming of things, muddy
too many hands pastel at
ten past lonely five, and
mother is murmering
secrets of a small drowning
since then i have
been underwater
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal 4 8
Literature
what name have you given me
what name have you given me?
in the infant crawl of time
has the petty
shock of my two
syl lab les
become di lapi dated,
slug gishly
sink ing in to
jum
   bles of
no
ise
pe terpe
ter
pet
       er
is
    go
  ne
far
a
        way.
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal 0 2
Mature content
Unusual Angels :iconobsidian-sun:Obsidian-Sun 2 18
Literature
I'm So Happy to Be Alive...
Good, better, best. We will never rest, until the good is better, and the better, best.
Some of us are just failures at life. It's a depressing thought, but it's true. We are the ones who can never do anything right, who, despite having all the big things in life go right, have all the little things in life go wrong. There's food, water, shelter, nice things, but we're still unhappy. We fail at everything we apply ourselves to. Everything we apply ourselves to. To.
Good, better, best. We will never rest, until the good is better, and the better, best.
Depression is an amazing thing. It saps at your strength day and night, destroying your health in the process. There is nothing in the world like being tired all the time, like having no will to live, like wanting to just go to sleep and never wake up. Go to sleep and never wake up: that's all I want to do. All I want to do. Do.
Good, better, best. We will never rest, until the good is better, and the better, best.
Your strength and your
:iconZekio:Zekio
:iconzekio:Zekio 3 2
Bukowski Wallpaper Pack by egolatra Bukowski Wallpaper Pack :iconegolatra:egolatra 6 15
Literature
The Child
The child is burning.
Rocking back and forth in place.
Ripping out the sanity of being.
Tears streaming down faces.
Pain attacking forbidden wounds.
Fear casting out the light.
The child is burning.
The mother is screaming.
The power is dead.
I shot the father infront of the child.
Now the child is burning.
Touch me.
Tell me.
Hurt me.
Kill me.
The child is burning.
:iconRainSilentNight:RainSilentNight
:iconrainsilentnight:RainSilentNight 2 5
Literature
Beautyfull
Beautiful girl with her head in her hands,
Picturesque girl with smoke-filled eyes
Hair  with  whisps  from  bonfires
And a mouth which claims devotion.
Perhaps she knows what its like
To have the world swallow you whole
Perhaps she knows what its like
To believe you really are alone.
She knows the vines, that climb her skin
She knows the vines, that clutch her tight
That pull her close, to the dirt within-
That hold her still, deep in the night.
Picturesque girl with a question;
Does  the  moon  bleed  at  all?
High towers of the citys twilight
Seem to jab yet it does not fall.
Beautiful girl loves to love
The  murderers  of  hearts.
It shows her despair pure
In form and in pride to forgive.
And forgive and forget dwell
Within this girl so, like a
Dove  with  crimson  wings,
A swan as black as night.
Beautiful girl wants the moon
As her heart to shine and to sting
The people in the world with dull eyes
And to let them all know that everybody dies.
:iconSecretShowMonster:SecretShowMonster
:iconsecretshowmonster:SecretShowMonster 5 21
Literature
Drifting Sharply Into Liberty
So this was death, eh? Overall, Jack Simmons was a bit surprised. Is this what people were so afraid of? Then again, not many people tried it this way. Looking at it, a bottle full of a Valium was a nice way to exit.
Shaking his head, Jack attempted to focus on himself in the mirror. He looked blurred, dazed, and, oddly enough, rather stupid. Maybe that's how he was supposed to look, how he truly looked without any bias. His hair was not short and red, but rather an indistinct orange blur. His brown eyes, too, now looked like fuzzy brown orbs.
A soft chuckle left him, much quieter than he expected. I see I am going into the dark night he mused, his eyes flickering over his ragged jeans and torn black shirt. Maybe I should have dressed for the occasion. Another laugh, so quiet, so distant. It was the essence of beauty.
Life had been that way, too he reminded himself. Yet, much like people, life had little lasting beauty. He paused for a moment, nearly laughin
:iconZekio:Zekio
:iconzekio:Zekio 1 6
Literature
Change Burning Through...
Everything is static in this world. At least, for now. I plan on changing that in just a few minutes.
My house had been cluttered for the past couple months as things got progressively worse. More and more, I was dissociating from my emotions and from life itself. It seemed as though I were an outsider looking in, yet it was a painting I was looking in on. Everyday, the same scenes and events. Nothing ever changed.
The psychiatrist had said it was a common feeling. However, he prescribed medication, figuring it best, given that my father had succumbed more fully to disorganized schizophrenia in his later forties. It would be best not to risk that for myself, he thoughts. Regardless, I saw no need to take the medication, so I did not.
I had decided to make a change. Hopping from stair to stair, I carefully avoid the piles of clothes lying on some of the steps; most of them were at least foot tall and a mix of every color and type of men's clothes imaginable. The piles clash horribly wit
:iconZekio:Zekio
:iconzekio:Zekio 2 10

Activity


deviantID

I'm saying goodbye to dA. I mentally checked out ages ago and now I'm just making it official. I'm leaving dA. I'm not sad to say that I feel as though I have outgrown dA. Not talent wise or any such thing, but more in regards to my desire to make my own terms and conditions of what and how I post. So I am leaving dA behind and tend to invest more of my spare time (which is miniscule as it is) into my blog Lit Bit.

I am going to miss those of you that have been kind enough to always give me feedback and been willing to share your own work with me. I've enjoyed growing with you guys and watching you develop your own skills as well. For the time that I was here, dA was good to me.

I might keep my account around for a little while so I can check up on some of you guys, but generally, I'll be as absent as I have been for pretty much this last year. No new posts or journal entries will be coming along. I'm happy with this decision. I've been considering it for a long time now, and I'm content with moving on in my life. Hope everyone continues to do well. Love you guys.

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:icontramirez89:
tramirez89 Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
Hi, you have taken several of mine and =Corina90's work and posted them on a separate blog without either of our permission. I left a comment on the blog. Please remove that content immediately, you did not ask to use it and you do not have the right to use it.
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