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Life doesn't always make sense and no one ever told me that it would.  People have told me a lot of things which have turned out not to be true.  I've been told that there is a reason everything happens, that we have to fight through it all, that we are never given more than we can handle.  I don't know how much of that is true.  I don't find it easy to accept that there is a reason that everything happens.  Sometimes things happen that are just bullshit and there is no reason. 

I met a woman a long time ago.  I fell in love with her, completely.  I felt ways about her that I have never felt about anyone.  I thought things about her that I had never thought about anyone.  I imagined a future, a family, a marriage.  I dreamed of spending the rest of my life with her and to this very moment I am sitting here still thinking of all of those things.  She, apparently, didn't share my views on all of that.  She appeared to, she told me that she did, but something happened and I can't make sense of it.  She seems to have slipped away from me, or more accurately, she seems to have shoved me right out of her life. 

I know that this isn't a unique story and I know that many of you who are reading this, assuming anyone is reading this, have been through it before.  For me, though, it is somewhat unique.  I've been left behind, but never like this.  I've never lost someone for apparently no reason, I've never been left here holding all of these dreams and wishes and hopes.  Normally, I'd see it coming.  This came out of nowhere, this came for what I can only imagine is no real reason.  I cannot make sense of it, I cannot make sense of anything right now.  All I do know is that I am broken... but I can't quit.

I believe in something, I believe in someone and that gives me this drive to keep pushing forward and to keep trying.  I cannot accept that everything is gone and I cannot believe that a love like this has faded away so quickly.  My heart is leading me, and I am following it, and even if it leads me to a place of total destruction I will follow it because I have to know.  I have to know that, at the end of the day, I did absolutely everything I possibly could to regain this love.  I cannot give up on this.  I cannot give up on her.  I cannot give up on us.
dreamsinstatic's

Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest


Poetry Screams Stamp by dreamsinstatic
WINNERS

:pumpkin:    
This was the fifth year I have run this contest, and a hell of a year for so many different reasons,
some good and some bad.  That being said, this is the longest it has ever taken me to post the
results and I apologize for that.  However, I thank you for your patience and support during this
troubling time in my life.  With all of that being said, it is incumbant upon me to announce
that this will be the final Poetry Screams Prompt Contest I will host.  I have thoroughly
enjoyed hosting these contests and reading your amazing entries.  Now, on to the fun stuff:  Winners!


:pumpkin:Winners:pumpkin:

:pumpkin:  1st Place
 by brokengod--veins
1 Year Subscription or Equal Points dreamsinstatic
Prime placement in Friday Night Features dreamsinstatic
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Llama AyeAye12
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:pumpkin:  2nd Place
 
as lie the deadautumn was a throaty rattle
that swung in slowly
on summer’s back.
stars cradled
the drifting days
as they slipped
from hothouse-hazy
to apple-crisp,
and every pale sunrise
arrived wreathed in a shiver
of mist.
we shrugged into
our layers and
huddled closer,
crackling leaves the color
of brazen blond
and blood-red billowing
around our feet—
fallen soldiers
curled against the cool earth
as lie the dead.
on a wolf-howl moon
we wavered like wraiths
into the night,
walking without fear,
corn husks scraping at the sky
as the stars
pirouetted overhead.
the wind pressed
a cold kiss
to my neck,
then your lips followed,
and you whispered
you would love me beyond living.
heart leaping,
i hung your words
on the hollow hands
of hope.
but winter crept in
without notice,
a thief in white silk
and black bone branches,
and buried
our fragile dreams.
still, your voice echoed
in the silent void
and somehow
i found my way back to you.
why then, do you
tremble and turn away,
twisting your prom
by Pailei
6 Month Subscription or Equal Points dreamsinstatic
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:pumpkin:  3rd Place
 by NearlyInvisibleMind
Custom Poem Russianbear09
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Congratulations
to the winners and everyone who was involved with this contest.  I am
extremely grateful for your support, donations and promotion.  Most of
all I am supremely proud of being a part of something which resulted in
the creation of so much magnificent art.  Check out the winners as well
as all entries and give them some :+favlove: because they all deserve
it!  You can view all of the winners here:
Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest Entries

If I am being honest... I don't really know who I am right now.  I lost myself somewhere, I think I lost myself inside of her.  I'd name her, but I know she would rather that I didn't and for reasons beyond comprehension I continue to honor her wishes.

If I am being direct... there's something wrong with me.  That isn't a search for a compliment or the desire for an explanation.  I've known this for a long time and it's something that I have to figure out, not something you can solve for me.

If I am being intelligent... I would walk away from all of the things that are dragging me down and find a way to pull myself up, but I tend not to do that.  I mean, yes, I am intelligent, but I feel like I have to keep falling until I hit the floor because I need to find out what the floor feels like.

If I am being optimistic... I think now is the time to turn everything around.  To find myself, to find my future, to reach for what I can.  Tomorrow I am going to take some steps that I've been afraid to take for a long time and we will see what happens.

If I am being me... than I need to be who I am and not give a fuck what you or anybody else thinks.  I need to be this guy that I keep hidden away, the one that I truly am inside, regardless of whether or not anyone likes me.  I'd rather be alone and true than popular but false.  So, hell, this should be interesting.

As a little add on here, I've received quite a few requests for the results of the Poetry Screams contest.  I know, it has taken me longer than it should but try to understand I am a full time retail employee working the holiday season while simultaneously a full-time college student going through finals and doing projects and on top of all of that I am a human being who is emotionally and physically exhausted.  I hope to have the results posted early next week so... bear with me.


Year III - Issue XVIII
Volume CXXII
Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.



immobilityA long, tedious winter is lodged in your spine,
and every day that goes by, you see less and less of familiar faces
until you are alone, in a place you didn't consciously walk to.
The wind blows in the wrong direction
and the ocean is battling the surge protectors and this is when
you realize that everything is changing but you;
everything is forceful and confident and independent
while you scamper and forage for the pieces of your identity,
lost in the brambles of a forest you stumbled through on one of your
drunken escapades.
And when you finally feel like the world is at peace and
your heart has regained stability in its pace, a stammer through your window,
one you hadn't heard in so long, wakes you
and drags you back to a place of accepted discomfort.
Pursuitsthrough wood modestly thawed
deep, shade, its margins
and the moon
enter can-opener
technician, distributer
of jerky, assistant saran-wrapper
slash professional
tender of fires
that smell like spam
tent-er of trees next to trees
their beast could have tented
sleeper of hammock,
flannel, others’ arm,
others’ arm in flannel
reminder of axis
often forgotten
by the scientist
disposer of map and
stringer of cellphone lights
like buoys, bobbing on path
pursuers of bigfoot
don’t have to find him
but if they do
they’ll clink glasses
over the warmest pile
of verified bigfoot scat.
PristinityThe withering heart is
The fabric dissipating off
The designer’s dress
Your passion being torn off
A beautiful creation
The pain doesn’t feel the tare
It feels it landing on the ground
Abandoned and left alone
He won’t pick you up
Because you can no longer serve purpose
For the flow of pristinity.

Love Note.Your roaming fingertips whisper desires, I crave each and every touch,
Your lips never say enough while your flickering circles catch too much.
Eyes forever a-light, your nervous hands entangle in your falling hair,
But it's your beating chamber that I'm after and I don't plan to share.
The darkness falls upon us, we become two shadows of the night,
Yet as we sink closer together you still glow in the faint moonlight.
Let me comfort you like the ashen sticks; breathe me in if you dare,
I'd gladly raise you up from any pain that, all alone, you can't bare.
You favor grand and vast landscapes, wild arches of the unknown,
Hold onto the many friendships that you have humorously grown,
Childhood pleasures, they stay forever chiseled within each palm,
When I find my world in chaos, you are the greatly needed calm.
You crave routine in your cup yet adventure behind the car wheel,
Fight with the wrath of hells minions in battles that aren't even real.
How long I await the smile of victory, whe
Simple pleasuresEvening drew its cloak around the earth’s shoulders, creating a gust of cutting wind which drove through the flesh of the few stragglers. Its bitterness was surpassed by only one man. He scuffed his boots against the cobblestones lining the Venetian causeway and sent a rogue, black cobblestone skittering off the path and into the canal.
“Ungrateful Moor. I almost gave my life to save his life from the wretched Turks and he promotes Cassio. That man is but an old woman, he knows nothing of war. I should be Othello’s lieutenant, I who has served so faithfully.”
Iago paid no heed to the wind which continued to tug at his clothes like an insistent lover. He stood, forlorn. Wooden shutters banged against the windowsills of the humble houses. The only source of light on this treacherous night came from a lantern in the house at the end of the cobbled causeway. It spilled onto the ground, pooling and flickering, draining into the path like the blood of a wounded animal
<da:thumb id="411309797"/>
Merely StarsAll that we thought was lost is merely stars,
Burning brighter still than moon or sun;
But far, so far we cannot call them ours,
Waiting out of reach and never won.
This twilight drives an arrow through my soul,
Clinging to the dust at end of day.
Never to regain what bounty stole,
Driving all we ever were away.
You will always be my summer weather,
Warm and pure in ways I'll never know.
Gently in the blades of grass and heather,
'Twas you who held my hand and wouldn't go.
How far we've come and oh, how far apart--
So bright must burn the stars that light our hearts.
the starthis is the gospel of you:
i lay there,
naked and mortal and
starry-eyed,
and you,
crouched with large dark pupils,
you,
a nymph and a priestess and a vision,
you,
my muse who breathed soft wonderings,
baptized me
on a bath mat
with a plastic yellow bucket.
you poured the water over my breasts and collar bone
and it was holy, holy, holy.
8My darling, we can make
moons out of park lamps,
say this puddle is the ocean,
say we are the only two lovers
to ever have existed at all.
There is only getting caught
in the rain with you at midnight.
There is only me tracing the veins
in your hand with my thumb, the feeling
of your face burrowed into my chest.
Summer has left us and
the clock has resumed its truth telling,
but we are a magic all of its own.
It only takes a late night walk
through the park to realize-
we are the only lovers
to ever have existed at all.
There is only my hand stroking
the soft muscles of your shoulder
beneath your wet wool coat.
Everything else is only a dream.

WreckageI don't write love songs
because I fear I'll lose them
amongst the paper wreckage
and half-assed poems.
So instead I'll write tributes
to the insides of your thighs,
concrete things that I can touch
and press my resolute kiss to.
EscapeI wrap myself up in fantasies
Trying to escape this world while
Reality crashes down around me
Life spinning out of control,
Slipping from my hands
But fantasies don't help when it's my own mind
Killing me
Thoughts I want to run away from, I run away to
Escaping one niggling thought I don't want to face
Just to embrace another
And slowly, I become entangled by my own thoughts
Suffocating me
Where is my out? I ask
Just to realize
There are no outs in life
Why I stay1.
every day you wake me
with a gentleness
I did not know you possessed
every day
you are waiting at the door
like clockwork,
stamping your feet
on the frozen ground,
smiling grimly
with your bone white teeth
2.
there is a restlessness going around,
something I think
borne of this winter air
I am filled with a longing
not lustful, nor painful,
but rather like a constant
pulling
from every direction
3.
as if the particles themselves
that compose my body
are becoming detached
tired of the tension, the constant
push to shove
necessary
to deserve your love

Recycled SoulRecycled Soul
I spent my life living
with a recycled soul
looking young but feeling
much more old as if I had
lived many other lifetimes
than the one I now have
what other things could
I have once been or who
what names and professions
could I have been known by
I know not the answers
but yet I have always felt
as if I have been living
with a recycled soul
finally now I'm reaching
the age where I look
as I have always felt
so perhaps it is true
that a man can live
a distant lifetime
and return in another
who knows all of the answers
that exist in the universe?
but yet I live on and on and on
i haven't named thisi’m eighteen and you’re eleven
and there’s not a chance
in your small world
you’d ever doubt a word i said
and then you’re eighteen
and i’m twenty-five
and i know for sure now
how little i knew then
and you’re too quick to tell me
how little i know now
and it pains me to know
that i know enough to know
that you know so much less.

Leaping For Salvationi. i've been dangling off a cliff for
   the past year.
ii. if i don't jump to my death -
   i'll die waiting for him to
   save me.
iii. if you don't kill her,
  iv. i'll just have to take her to hell with me.
C'est la vieAs these days pass, I'm always by your side.
Each day, you wake and greet me with a smile,
one that shines so brightly and stretched so wide,
and I continue to stay all the while.
You never needed me so much before,
making me do things to keep me around.
Your mind keeps flying in and out the door
with a happiness now before not found.
For decades time, you never knew my name.
Together we're now, not broken apart,
and with that, you gave me your one last claim.
For some reason, you trust me with your heart
These days don't compare to years on this cord.
With my pull, you'll say not another word.
paint until there's only positive spaceI am the street artist; rough clothes and thin visage
you are the city, vivacious and loud.
Night after night, I find myself in dark places
spraying colours on your faces just to talk to you.
Have you ever tagged a train?
The art I envy is like you –
making waves at night to leave the landscape brighter in the day.
You are the cause I just want to connect with:
fresh, something different, something new.



Gloss by AndreaTeddySoft flower by AdorisArts617 by ricchy
Conversing During Work At Sunset by wolfwings13K 3F Memphis by srefislimitedAn autumn morning by Tazunee
P(l)ayoff by von-selAutumn 2 by sylverfaceRebecca by BlackRoomPhoto
Sunset by Simona777Where Bluebirds Fly by MissSoulsThe magic ballet by Morgan-Lou
Pretending It's Spring 5 by MordsithCaraPink haze by LanzieBridal lingerie by AshtrayheartRomina
Hong Kong Night by RichteralanStephanie by silkesmoothIn the mountains by Hell-o-Z


Lady Energy by xxMagicGlowxxUther Pendragon Excalibur by andresmorenoIn Control by thefreshdoodle
All That Glitters by cyndavalleBeatrice by DamienWormNovember 4 by nokeek
Losing the Way by nstoyanovDangerous travel by hitforsaAutumn Wind by AnnMarieBone
That spring by StasushkaATLA Azula by 0KiWi0Balcony Lights by Rus-Lev
Painting Practice by LijonGone Fishing by arisuonpaaClose your eyes. by XRlS
Karol Bak by AndriyMarkivQuiet Blue by EugeneTheCounterStrider by apfelgriebs

FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to dreamsinstatic
I am by no means a magnificent poet.  I doubt that I possess the talent to live up to my idol, Emily Dickinson.  She had something I can't seem to grasp, she had this quality that flooded through all of her poems that spills from the page and sinks into your skin.  The goal, though, isn't to be Emily or to be like her.  I used to look at poetry as a literary device, a style of writing.  That is where it began for me, in the mechanics.  Trying to determine the proper place to break lines, to employ rhymes, to use crimson instead of red.  A lot of people tackle it that way, and to each their own, but for me... that wasn't going to work.  I found it frustrating, trying to find my voice through this tangle of rules.  Yes, rules.  Everyone told me I had to follow rules, I had to adjust my meter and I had to sharpen my rhyme and I had to use better language.  Then, I began to get it... none of that really mattered.

Sure, there are poetry purists who consider all of that to be the most important things about it.  I don't fault them for that, again, to each their own.  For me though, that isn't what poetry is all about.  For me... poetry is an art and you cannot constrain an art within a box of rules.  So I threw them away.  That doesn't mean I decided to spell things wrong or not capitalize my I's (I still don't get that), but it did mean that I wasn't going to throw a poem out just because it didn't conform.  My emotions don't fucking conform to the world around them so why should the written extension of those same emotions conform to a damn thing?  They don't, they can't and they won't.

I write what I feel, what I think.  I take the thing I want the most and I try to show how incredibly desperately I want it.  I take what scares the hell out of me and I try to turn it on its head and see what it looks like from that angle.  I try to express exactly what it felt like, smelled like, looked like, tasted like.  I don't try to do that for you, though.  I try to do that for me.  If you read it and it speaks to you and it touched you and you feel what I feel or you understand what I am thinking than the poem is good.  No further work needed.  If you read it and feel nothing and think nothing than I suppose that the poem failed... for you.  It didn't fail for me.  I don't love all of my poems, but all of them are a part of me and I am not going to throw them away because others dislike them.  I have said what I wanted, and that is what mattered.  I have taken the overwhelmingly complex things going on inside of me and put them on the page.  That is my job as a poet.

Lately a lot of people have been asking me what is inspiring my recent flood of work.  Yes, I am writing a poem a day.  Well, she is my inspiration and she knows who she is.  If you read the poems and they speak to you, if you feel them, than I am so glad because that means that you have experienced the love that I am currently experiencing.  If you read them and have a sense of longing to feel that, I assure you that you will.  And if you read them and you're one of those "blah love poetry" type of people... you'll get over that.  I used to be one of those people until I discovered why love poems are so common:  love is one of the most powerful things in this world and when you find it you want to explore it, share it, tell it.  I know love, and I know her, and I love her, and my poetry shows it.  Outside of my own expression, what really matters to me... is what she feels when she reads it.  Hopefully she feels what I do, or even more so.

Regardless of my personal thoughts on it... poetry is whatever you want to make it.  Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do it, and don't worry if you can't find your voice and don't get caught up in the tangle.  You can, you will, you are free.  No one knows what is going to happen tomorrow.. so write and say and do what matters, express what needs to be set free because you might not have that option tomorrow.  Leave a legacy of poetry and don't give a damn what the world thinks because, most of the time, the best poems are the ones that people didn't particularly get back in their day.  Or maybe even like my idol, Emily Dickinson, nobody even read until years and years later.

Write and be free.

dreamsinstatic's

Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest


Poetry Screams Stamp by dreamsinstatic


The deadline has come and gone, all entries have officially been received and accepted. 

Now begins the truly difficult task of determining a winner...

Results will be posted as soon as decisions have been made, but I wanted to
thank all of you for your hard work, your amazing poetry,
your donations, your support and your continued interest in what has become
one of my favorite Halloween traditions.

Winners shall be announced as soon as possible so keep your eyes open
for the announcement article when it comes out.

Thank you!


Year III - Issue XVII
Volume CXXI
:new: Tthe Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest now OPEN
Final Hours to Enter
.
5th Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest [MORE!]dreamsinstatic's
Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest

:new:  Due to several requests, and a conflict with my personal schedule, I have decided to extend the contest by one week! :new:
New Contest Deadline:  11:59pm (Pacific Standard Time)  November 8th, 2013
Introduction:  Another year has fallen into shadow, yet the sun rises still and the wind refuses to fade.  We find ourselves caught up in the funeral dirge of nature as all that is green does not become gold.  The time has come when the shadows begin to grasp more of the world within their darkness.  Nature surrenders herself to the first hints of Winter's bitter embrace and the world begins to change.  The earth rattles as dead leaves rain from the sky and the harvest gives way to the wicked pursuits of the rising dead and we are bound to witness the cycle of life and to remember those we have lost along the


The first three Literature pieces featured tonight
at the winners of Memnalar's FrankenTales Contest.


Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.




Eternitywhenever i lay awake at night
looking up at my starless,
shadowed ceiling,
i always catch my mind wandering
to the questions i can't fathom;
what is life?
why do we exist?
where does it all begin,
and where does it end?
they say all is endless,
time, space, the universe,
but
how can we
comprehend
if all we know
has boundaries?
earth is simply a planet,
locked in a solar system
enveloped by the endlessness
of the universe,
yet
what surrounds the universe?
what is beyond the borders
we can't see?
that question haunts me,
torments me if i let it,
i may not be a scientist
or a number crunching mathematician,
still, i can not let it go,
i know i am simply a girl
who loves words and beauty
and unsolved mystery,
but the biggest one of all
will keep me awake at night,
like today, and many hours more,
till my eyes flutter and close,
and i dream about
eternity.
6.47for so long you were the colour of my blood
mixing with water on the bathroom floor
the smell of winter air, staining my bones
with bitterness and shame and the sound
of cries in the night, unheard and unanswered
i longed for you like the moon
longs to bask in the sun's warmth,
like the captain holds his breath
for the horizon; interminable and
almost unrequited
-
canapescanapés
people devour
all-you-can-eat buffets
undeterred by the grease
and excesses and after the binge,
they stick a toothbrush
down their throats.
note to self:
emotions are just as fattening.
at the rate we are going,
i fear you will tire of me.
so please love me in bite sizes,
in portions to sustain us
through birthdays and christmases
and in servings
where you savour me
the way i savour you.
© november 1, 2013  :house:

hauntingi am a ghost
an apparition of emotional attrition
dimly lit, fading bit by bit
disappearing into the past
where the living moves on too fast
the passing of decades….
so malleable… so insignificant
for I am now just whispers of air
on the exhaled breath of loved ones
sadness is jaw clenching
this slow sinking is my everlasting curse
i carry it heavily like I used to my shadow
as I stand in my kingdom of purgatory
tear drops rain down
to wish this storm inside would pass
is to give up and forget
that I used to be alive
turbulenceMy mind eats thoughts like they are a scarcity,
like one day my brain-mush
will disappear altogether,
like there will be a famine soon.
It gnaws on the bones of dreams
with fangs and lips red with love-sick juice.
I feel more insane than my mother’s
downward spiral circa 2008.
She sleep-walked through the seasons.
The lights did not come on all year.
I wonder if I can wake up,
if I can jostle myself from the delirium.
I pull the blanket through the thin skin-webs
between my fingers,
pretend it feels cozy when my arms touch my thighs,
when my fingers intertwine,
miniature bludgeons on my waxing stomach.
I wonder if I’ll ever be a quarter of my bed,
an eighth, a sixteenth. I wonder how long
I’ll keep measuring myself in loss.
I wonder if I’ll wake up soon.
Wake up soon.
Perhaps sleep is
the only thing I can be enough for.
My black-bottomed dreams love how charred they are,
flowered coal,
darkened pansies with corn-husk mouths ―
don’t tell me to

virgin birthin the mind of my special comatose
    violets,
i am a desirable hung-over afterthought;
in the eyes of my warm & lovesick
    voyager,
i am the incense of my mother’s
    alcoholic aftershock
watch the consuming stars as they
    break
along my paper-thin atmosphere’s
    ribcage
my trachea is a channeled beautification
in between your restless lips & teeth,
biting down & tasting the ginger
    daybreak,
rainwater over my planet that bleeds
    solitary
let the music of our hungry duplicity
    flourish
along these histrionic flowerbeds that
    beg for beauty
i am a shadowy & intoxicated timepiece
amongst the wreckage of my jupiter’s
    anguish;
& i will dangle my head as my eyes drip
    sore,
listening to your undying words
    twisting my maxilla
206 bones holding this war-trodden
    framework,
& not a lone soul rests between my
    ragged lungs
Dream
Purifying sights
Penetrate through the stars in dusk
It's the emblem of divine
Wrapped in solid gold.
A painted dimension
World in a memory sphere
Twisting shape
Creativity strings.
Venture deeper
Issues perish inside
Blasting through peace
Until the final sunlight.
THE QUEER MUSICA queer music was heard inside a beehive
announcing war and poverty on the earth;
-a mad folk begun to give up hope
butchering the last calves they found alive.
A few old bards quieted all this strain
taking an abbot bound by a strong rope:
-they killed him and played soccer with his brain…

P a i n t i n g Her r o s e s R e dI remember that girl
In the autumn dreary all those years ago
Where a heart beat was the drumming of rain droplets
And a smile was the burning tongues of maples set ablaze
I remember how a beautiful smirk died slowly like the fawn lilies
And how a copper stare could rust
How baby's breath grew breathless
And how the ribs poked painfully like the jagged tree branches
I remember birch stripes on her wrists
And yew on her tongue
How her flavor was of hawthorn
A bitter comb of honey
I remember how a pall of fog was her dressing
And how climbing ivy was her noose
How she pushed daisies
And caught only cobwebs
I remember the violets on her sides
And the weeping willow in her eyes
I remember how her roses weren't red enough
And how she slid tiger grass along her throat to paint them
Tunnel at the end of lightSeeking a parallel in quietus
from the smoking fields of nebulae
where I could see all there is,
while reality floats,
its distance doubling with the
passing of each second.
To discover there are no grasslands,
there never was a serenity
and how lonely I am for that.
Only the tundra of planets
with equators untouched
by their inner engines
in an existence unchanged through
the fish-eye lens of light years,
with tilted skull caps lined up like dominos.
LuminousWe lie together in the dark
the pale shape of you sleeping
rising and falling in the heat
I run my hands over the curves of your form and the walls
the curling corners of posters and
the four poster bed.
naked except for your shirt
the sound of the floorboards creak
in the hush under the soles
of my feet.
stopping to smile
at the faded play on words I can make out in the dark
"lettuce be"
outside the window
(and in my mind)
rain falls
soft
on wood.

to bid your heart to an elephantshe practiced the art of dying with heart half open
slipping words full of sleep and nascent of lilies
burdened on a windowsill unlifted. first:
reaching to touch the moon (to all its brittle bones)
she folded inward to a place of pale
and fullness and all what lies between the no other
kinder starlessness blossoming
chaos of flowers.
-
Cheekbones align to an array of mix-matched things forgotten (makeup, a smile) but 206 pieces come together to a thing of beauty in the void of parabens and laughter. So at 32, 2 kids, and 2 lips that only ever smiled for the lover which, also, was the time when she came to terms with the sticky thing of womanhood (too late.)
-
I quite like to think that I am something other than human.
Not for the thrill of knowing,
the greater shamefulness and kindred of breathing in (in)differences.
I guess I am odd in that sense, but I would fear those who don’t succumb to the oddities of the human mind.
-
there is a boy on his body as the fat moon pulled
The DulledThis dream is bursting
from the confines of my mind—
imagine my disappointment
when it was
you were throatless like the rest of them.
Entrails folded neatly under the bed
where you daren’t peek,
I make a nest of hands in my lap and give patience a try—
though, I balk—
nothing I can say could be meaningful.
i writei write for the feeling of maybe-kind-of-acceptance
because everywhere else i look, i feel lost in myself.
and there's the haze of a bonfire i shouldn't of gone to,
filling my mind with things i thought i'd pushed away
(but apparently i didn't
because the smoke in my lungs -
it brought it all back).
i write because maybe once someone will read it
and maybe just once i'll have accomplished something
meaningful. but of course i crammed for that test
and failed at the last minute but who cares right
(since it's not like
i've ever been good enough
for anyone).
i write in hopes of being able to stay stable long enough
that my internal fractures won't shatter me like broken mirrors.
when the one day i actually feel okay enough to smile,
the effort was washed back down the drain by your cruelty
(but, you know, it's
okay because i've learnt now
that you live only to die).



<da:thumb id="410856155"/>Toxic Sunset by PeterJCoskunsupercooled by SYNTHPROJECT
dream by stevenfieldsNancy by tristan69rainy afternoon by cookieowl
20130802 Ivy156 by MickleDesignWerksGolden tide by Orain-seinnPandora- Roswell Ivory by Roswell-Ivory
Autumn journey pt.XI. by realityDreamHistory of India 2 by felixheruUnknown Germany pt. XLIV by TheChosenPesssimist
_Amelie III. by BloddroppeHeaven and Earth by WickedStar7Chun Li cosplay II. by EnjiNight
Return of a Friend by clippercarrilloProsthetic Make-up by Pavy-CreationsQuiet ballade by sylverface


Halloween by Last-ValentineWicked Glasses by DrKujoPsyche by gabrielleragusi
Nocturnal by RaiechaWhat am I ? by ignacio197Wraith by Kodaic
pluto by TanyaShatsevaAbbey Clancy Painting in Photoshop by PackwoodWatercolour Still Life by NastiaSer
Uh....Norm? by DevineScribblesTree of fire by XtranuRhaegar Targaryen by inSOLense
Old Hong Kong by rainbowtseLet us play! by Aurora-SilverLunatic by Vasylissa
Lulu by SoraNamaeinsert name by SiljaVichClassic Scorpion by taylorweaved

FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to dreamsinstatic
</u>


Year III - Issue XVI
Volume CXX
:new: Tthe Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest now OPEN
Only 2 Weeks Left!
.
5th Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest [MORE!]dreamsinstatic's
Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest

:new:  Due to several requests, and a conflict with my personal schedule, I have decided to extend the contest by one week! :new:
New Contest Deadline:  11:59pm (Pacific Standard Time)  November 8th, 2013
Introduction:  Another year has fallen into shadow, yet the sun rises still and the wind refuses to fade.  We find ourselves caught up in the funeral dirge of nature as all that is green does not become gold.  The time has come when the shadows begin to grasp more of the world within their darkness.  Nature surrenders herself to the first hints of Winter's bitter embrace and the world begins to change.  The earth rattles as dead leaves rain from the sky and the harvest gives way to the wicked pursuits of the rising dead and we are bound to witness the cycle of life and to remember those we have lost along the

Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.



tangled in heartbeats, tangled in youstay with me through nights of uncertainty and hand holding.
stay with the loudest parts of me, the ones that are filled with shimmering wonder and make-believe,
calm me when i am caught in the stupor of what was last year, when i am drowning in sorrows that i have created.
please love me as though i'm not living with fierce and unforgiving conditions, love me as if i am so much more than my hurt.
promise me we'll watch the stars again as they peel across a sky bearing a hearty moon, under blankets we were meant to "share", promise me i can run my hand over the smooth acres of your chest and stomach.
promise me we won't be typical, promise me we'll last longer than our bodies will allow us.
i want our love to be a legacy.
promise me we can sleep in the same bed every night, so that i can collect your heartbeats, so that i can leave kisses to your shoulders and neck, leading up to rest on solely on your lips.
let my breath move among yours now and forever, let my hands wander through ev
taxicabs for ghosts.gypsy cabs pass through
the clumsy and gritty
los angeles streets
coldest shoulders, and guns for mouths
but there's stars under this thick muggy pollution
the angry factories pump hot air and disillusioned hope
we'd all climb out, if we could only find a rope
here I am, trembling through
the backalleys with a somber face
while they're asleep marching
through the streets, apathy
inside the morning coffee
intersections and streetlights
could never really make the people meet
cigarettes and my guts firmly clenched
in my teeth
and here it is, the ebb and flow
the traffic packed, the freeways
look like clogged veins
where the fog resembles the confusion
and the tears resemble the rain
and sometimes it's so hard
to be dreamweaver
when all your dreams
only keep you awake.
FirefliesDespite the austerity dealt you in life;
You remained sweet.
I fell in love with your broken-winged smile
And the fireflies in your laughter
Along with the shy confidence and loyalty in your heart
The true hardship?
You  and I are never meant to be.

1.36tell me -
at what point did you stop meaning it
when you said that you loved me?
and where did you wish you really were
on those nights you couldn't sleep?
what was it, really,
when your eyes glazed over
and you looked like you
had forgotten your own name?
between those moments
of wanting everything
and nothing,
what was it,
really?
and what did you think would happen
when you placed a painting
over a hole in the wall?
the colours are pretty
but the wind is cold
and i'm tired of chasing, and
loving what cannot be loved
i've taken a page out the book
you wrote with my blood,
i've given up too
tell me -
what does that mean?
meanwhile, statesideheat in the darkness
your pulse in your fingertips
thoughts of distant skin
Part One ~ DownhillSmoke clung to the air like a lover. The rain tapped on the roof and peeked inside wherever it could.
God, my head was pounding. Broken glass, bottles and promises littered the floor while I tried to regain my memory. But the darkness that swallowed life had struck again. Bitterness lingered in my mouth together with the many tastes of liquor. I searched my pockets only to find that last joy, a cigarette untouched by the mishaps of my night. The flame burned bright in the darkness and only then I saw my misadventure. Three men, face down in pools of ruby red. Shattered glass had chipped away at their appearance. The fumes took my mind down into a quiet alley. I focused, how did I end up in this ruin?
The cig burned up, always too quickly. “Such an exquisite taste, and leaves one wanting.” I said to the room. The rain seemed to agree with my decision of awakening. The tapping had made its way for waves of water that seeped into this rat hole. Barely a light was lit. I crawle

<da:thumb id="407986724"/><da:thumb id="380032410"/> Lost Spacewhat is this pain that shadows over my heart
so cold
yet on fire
lighting me up
as a christmas fire 
my desires
they are tied to this wire 
link to my fiery soul
aching 
to be free
as i wonder lost 
scrounging through the trees

He is my sinHis blue navy eyes keep me sidetracked,
As we walk side by side, along the far-off road
Nothing on this planet matters anymore, 
Except this wooded fragrance of his
My mind into the seventh sky, 
My body strays into his comforting arms.
Crystalline surface of this lake, swans are lazing

Our bikes resting on the alabaster sand

Lost among the aging greenish hills
Only the moon is looking at us.
So many sweet words are coming out of my soothed throat
Former lioness. His curved grin... I'm a kitty.
Lying - on the grass remains the shape of our promises
The taste of his tepid lips is a prohibited commodity.
I wish I hadn't lost so much time fooling around
A bright future will bloom from my former miserable life.
Jealous birds are mocking our terrestrial innocence

Daisies loudly whisper "passionately" to my ears
Mother Nature is painted admirably, our kisses fly away through sneaky twilight.
DepressionI tend to keep
a smile on my face.
I fake it for you
but that's not the case.
I hold everything in
because I can't let you know.
I'm not afraid,
just can't let the fear show.
I stand so tall,
but inside I'm ever so small.
I seem shy,
but that's a cover lie.
It's not that I don't want help,
I just don't want to look weak.
But if I tell you...
This secret you'll have to keep.
I hurt on the inside.
I fake it for you on the outside.
I want off this coaster ride,
but I can't make it to the other side.
I want to tell you everything.
Want to tell you all.
I want to let you know.
But I'm afraid of the fall.
RenovationsThey will come again, and when they do, the others will hide.
Mr. Brown will curl up in his hole in the eaves. The Wife in the crawlspace, and I'll be here, clutching my dear ones close. I'm wrapping my legs around them, and I can hear them fidget against the soft sac, their little tremors not unlike the desperate throes of flies, but warm, beautiful. It won't be long now. Now is the tender time. Soon I'll wear them on my back, and we can leave this place. But not yet. Not yet. Now is the time when a swift strike would kill them, and me with them. I will not leave.
I can't leave. I've hidden as well as I can. A small shadow between the braces under the mantel, where their lights don't penetrate. At least not yet.
Too much light. Too many sounds. They come with their sounds, with their fangs at the ends of their legs, shooting explosions into the walls, toppling everything. They are giants. They grumble at each other, tear up the floors, rip down the lights. Destroy everything that has

A Tragic SinA selfish desire plaguing the entirety of my being -
I want you completely; fully; indefinitely; earnestly.
A rose of pure budding innocence so lovely
Once captivated this heart so fragile, so fickle.
But I could not accept the bitter shock bestowed
As I witnessed my beloved fall to blackened ashes -
I lament; I lie in angst; I grovel on stinging torture,
For how could such a change occur without warrant?
In many endeavors have I defied the cruel reality
In hopes of claiming all that I have miserably lost -
(Circumstances are not so kind, need I say.)
Acrid tears burn my flesh as they fall,
Reminding me of the chaotic travesty I must suffer:
I am enslaved to you, forevermore and into eternity;
My love cannot die, even if you have long not been mine.
The disappointmentThe disappointment
In being exactly as disappointed
As I anticipated to be
In being disappointed
I can't stand losing you again
So losing you now
I might let it be the last time
I lose you
A Boy's Broken Wingsblack-eyed-boy,
just stop,
silence your
tongue,
negativity
may flow through
your veins
delivering that
burning ache
of depression
to that thing
you call
your heart,
but not all
of us thrive
on charcoal
souls,
so, i beg you,
please lock
your own ideals
away,
leave me be,
before you
break my
wings
like you did
yours.

Dreams: A Gateway DrugA grief-stricken moonset--
burning clouds for the sake of silver linings--
captures
the secrets of fireflies.
Under the bed,
hindsight
keeps a close watch
through the dark.
Morning CoffeeHe only wanted to love the moon again
And have her afterimage swirl around in his mind;
Like sugar, she was sweeter than air,
And he wanted her to be the atmosphere he breathed.
When he reached up in the night he felt oceans
Swell like light into his waiting arms,
And when he let go and fell back to earth
He saw the stars in his morning coffee.
confessions of a compulsive liaract i
tongue tasting of metallic and
words as sharp as knives.
i know my way around. 
it makes you look like
a fool. 
i can't remember the last time
we talked but it must've been the 
last time i cared.
you used to be carefree and kind.
now you're another paperboy. 
yes, im not one to talk. 
i haven't been as real as i 
claim to be. 
not since the summer of 2012,
back when the world was my oyster
(and you were all just merely background
characters that i hoped would die off like
those in Harry Potter)
you haven't stayed around me for
much longer, instead it's with that
faux brunette
was it something i didn't say 
convincingly enough?
act ii
ive addressed many letters to you
with blood for ink and tear stained
parchment
i like to play pretend that we drifted.
i know you couldn't deal anymore. 
its funny how you would always find 
a way to put the blame on me.
you were always perfect.
but achilles, i will be the one to stab



Red WB by KyaWolfwrittenthe sun behind La Gomera by Fr13Falling up by JuliannaRembrandt
Another day in October by DaywishGlamorous Pinky by AlexiaPikViolent by MilanNikolaPetrovic
For Bella Morte Magazine by Angelwhore-WildWhen The Trees Tell A Story by Alfie-Griet-KippsDreamer - 05 by shiroang
Like A Painting by TeaManiacHome is just another word for you by iNeedChemicalXPastel by Blue-Harbor
Mdp 0653 7636 by metindemiralayClouds by FeralWhippetGothic Fox by VMPSelene
Autumn ridin' by adamcrohMusic Is The Soul Of Language by stefangrosjeanSligachan Three by Nelleke


Alluring Lighthouse by ParagonPlazaThe One Adventure He Can Never Have by nogooddreamerSWING INTO THE LIGHT OF LIFE by BUDDYFORME
Joker by KRIZ507Samurai by Nicklas81Autumn Girl by Amro0
dk by chenboHighland river by queenofeaglescall by solartistic
Hope by AndreaCCastanedaKatarina Poster Art by ArtgermRed Riding Hood by godcreated00
LPDT : Sleep well by ArtemisiaDarkSunrise in the September Sky by CinderBlockStudiosIn the End by Elentori
Dopaminergic by seanwendtTears of Blood2 by Farah122Presentation ME by Shyzuka-chan

FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
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Overthink and Poetry Screams

Journal Entry: Sun Oct 13, 2013, 6:28 PM


I've been told, often, that I over think things.  I know that to be true, but I continue to do it anyway.  I figure it is better to over think than to not think at all.  That being said, despite all of the thought I commit to things, I still don't understand a whole lot of myself.  I understand the world around me a lot better than I understand me.  It's amazing how you can spend countless nights laying in bed trying to figure things out and nothing comes to you, but one night sitting in a crowded bar with a few shots a vodka in your system and things become clear (as other things become a blur.)

I'm told I am unapproachable / intimidating.  I can see that.  Normally, when people hear these things, they think "Oh I should fix that."  While I, I think "excellent."  I'm not exactly a fan of... people.  I tend not to like them and they tend to complicate things.  I'm more of a lone wolf, although I do have some, ahem, needs and desires that are harder to satisfy when you are alone.  (Although it may seem like it, I swear I didn't use the word "harder" to be the play on words it has turned out to be.)  That being said, I'm not sure what this says about me.  I have friends, I have coworkers, family, ex-girlfriends.  Obviously I interact with people, it'd be hard not to.  I suppose I just... generally have a distaste for people and want to be alone, but I do crave company at the same time.  It doesn't make a lot of sense, but neither do I.  I also don't think people like me which may ultimately be at the crux of my antisocial attitude. 

I sometimes wonder if I am losing my writing abilities.  I'm unsure if I am blocked, losing it or in a state of transition where I'm reaching for new things, new words, new styles, new expressions.  I know that I hate not writing as much as I could, or at least as much as I once did.  However, working full time, going to college and having a life in general are certainly contributing factors.  I'm working on it, I assure you.  Maybe one or two of you will have some thoughts on it all...

The Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest has launched.  I would love for you to enter:
5th Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest [MORE!]dreamsinstatic's
Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest

:new:  Due to several requests, and a conflict with my personal schedule, I have decided to extend the contest by one week! :new:
New Contest Deadline:  11:59pm (Pacific Standard Time)  November 8th, 2013
Introduction:  Another year has fallen into shadow, yet the sun rises still and the wind refuses to fade.  We find ourselves caught up in the funeral dirge of nature as all that is green does not become gold.  The time has come when the shadows begin to grasp more of the world within their darkness.  Nature surrenders herself to the first hints of Winter's bitter embrace and the world begins to change.  The earth rattles as dead leaves rain from the sky and the harvest gives way to the wicked pursuits of the rising dead and we are bound to witness the cycle of life and to remember those we have lost along the

I can't believe this is the fifth year I've run this contest... doesn't feel like that long ago.  Anyway, send me some entries!  I want to read more.




Year III - Issue XV
Volume CXVIX
:new: Tthe Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest now OPEN.
5th Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest [MORE!]dreamsinstatic's
Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest

:new:  Due to several requests, and a conflict with my personal schedule, I have decided to extend the contest by one week! :new:
New Contest Deadline:  11:59pm (Pacific Standard Time)  November 8th, 2013
Introduction:  Another year has fallen into shadow, yet the sun rises still and the wind refuses to fade.  We find ourselves caught up in the funeral dirge of nature as all that is green does not become gold.  The time has come when the shadows begin to grasp more of the world within their darkness.  Nature surrenders herself to the first hints of Winter's bitter embrace and the world begins to change.  The earth rattles as dead leaves rain from the sky and the harvest gives way to the wicked pursuits of the rising dead and we are bound to witness the cycle of life and to remember those we have lost along the

Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.



WantI'm drunk on
wanton poetry;
each morpheme
on key.
I can not see
straight anymore;
is he the lamb,
or me?
to refine by nature (is to love by night)it is a fever, a gasoline wet dried and drowned in drunkness
and then, she
a grenade in the process of being pulled
and caught in the perspective of saving but never
quite wanting
;
there is a tongue-tied mess reeling beneath the cacophony of lover’s sheets.
peeling down the nanoseconds to the first kiss
they drowned in the taste of the ocean cry of never matching collarbones
to the fat of her neck and the hearth of her belly
like she was licked with the moon
with the touch of wine-stained kisses,
a well-mastered disaster
loving and loving
and…
;
“just tell me what you want.”
lungs shiver into the December nights
their hands folding into each other’s
like papered wings of birds.
she’s never been a musicality,
falling off to the trains of thoughts of her inner mind
but her cheeks are dabbled in sun-flecked freckles
and unfinished dreams
stolen words.
she’s listening with a heart wide open
and ears closed into the shiver of night.

“you
10.22it was all pale blue
and raw honesty;
tangled limbs
and heat
i said it was like the titanic
and you didn't understand
that's the crux of it

SnakesWhen I washed my hands
of her, my arms came back
bloody, but I already have a dirty
reputation so I don’t know
what she was trying to prove.
I look younger without her too,
like a small angel; I even smell
angelic. My tongue is more saintly,
but still tastes like a snake.
My baby girls love the way it
slithers, and how I only wear black
or nothing at all.
I may be heartless, but I still
have twice as much heart as her;
and I may be scarred, but that’s
nothing a new love can’t fix,
one with a wrong name and
a beautiful face. The rosary
swings from her neck,
right below my bitemarks.
We like to pretend we
will get into heaven,
but the thrill is that we know
we won’t.
pollenwasp-waisted beauty
pray into my collarbone
let your snake tongue slither
with the syllables.
i wish for soft-chested nights,
and the trickle of champagne down crystal glass.
poppy-lips, lull me to sleep,
nurse my coiling tongue with yours;
tap my scalp like a silent drum,
and wind my hair in between your fingers
like broken guitar strings.
(serenade me with the buzz of pollen in your kiss.)
O sing, museI fell asleep once with my memory caught
in tadpoles and roses and water and light,
in the mausoleum where bloodshot eyes
And paper meet (where ideas drop from nubby pencils,
to splay, stillborn, across a sea of white).
My pen bled circles
through my desk that night.
When I woke, you were standing
on the edge of my sight,
your eyelids trailing ink.
I watched your hands fold in and out,
The smell of words too strong to think.
You smiled at me and let me fall
into the promise of your face.
There I read snowflakes, sea-foam and angels;
flashes of of glory and splinters of grace.
I asked you in, and your words behind -
'Sing, muse, of roses and water and light,'
I was fool enough to call them mine -
My pen bled circles
through my desk that night.

9the man with the
cigarette
doesn't blink
an eye for you,
never looks away.
the moths in his
lower abdomen
dance salsa today,
praise your subtle
being
until night disappears
into the sun.
her dark-walled homei weep,
though in the name of her prosperity
and her fortification,
still her pupils escape rainwater,
and her blood pleats around promising gashes;
i am afraid,
i am alone,
and though my eyes deny the actuality,
my muscles seep empty ashes at the hilt of her throne –
her happiness is my righteousness,
and her falsehoods are my scriptural notions;
“you can only appeal for the truth,”
she says –
but now there are fleapits in my bullet wounds,
and there are mouthfuls of veins in my warmth;
“but i strain for you,
as i’ve never strained before,
yet you glorify my shame,
my fault, and my pain;
declaring that you will continuously loathe,
and that you are afraid,
you are alone,
and though you know the truth – “
“i will ignore my feelings for you”
i weep,
in the wake of her self-inflicted euthanasia,
“i was sworn to protect her,” i will beg and doubt,
but the placid answer
Shattered EquilibriumThe foundation of me slowly deteriorates
             By the words that you say.
My equilibrium is that of a shattered mirror.
I’ll forever see myself as
b
r
o
k
e
n  . . .

Can I Be Cain, and You Be Abel?You've never starred in one of my poems
but so many times you've crept into my dreams,
crept is the wrong word, you've barreled in,
steam-rolled this safe place, planted yourself,
tendrils reaching into every corner,
unwilling to let me grow
away from the watchful suffocation of your shadow,
always leaving me hollering, antagonising, defending,
screaming, retching, yelling,
for you to only listen.
I dreamt I tried to explain to you
how my eyes got their blue,
I told you about how there was no special pigment
that gave them this hue,
that their colour was but a trick of light
in the exact same way the sky forms
that yours, so brown, were made of the same
just more,
thicker, denser, darker.
That I was just like you,
just a different view, a different light,
that there was no need to,
no need,
to shut off, to fend, to fight,
to dream so often of
a throat scorching stand off,
so I can just feel that I can just be,
without apologising for so much blue.
Dream worldI am painting one picturesque dream world in my mind,
a place so fragrant and colourful, you'll never want to leave.
With ease you can breathe there, it is free of every lie.
Closing my eyes and opening my psyche, am I not naive?
When a dream kisses your temples, the brain feels no pain.
All gets better when you are floating in the river of blissful rest.
Got your secret dreams? What are you hoping to attain? 
Enjoy thoroughly the night, tomorrow comes yet another test!
Good night, may your dreams be blessed!
~Petra
A Collection-I-
I heard his agony through the door
This burst of emotion, of blind despair that exists only through his heart
How many hours has it been?
How many days since he said he loved me?
Since he
Touched
Me?
I was confused
Tormented
Afraid
Of someone who I held so dear
But those three little words
When they slithered from his mouth
I knew this was not the tune of the lonely man seeking light
Rather, all he wanted was another piece to his collection
-II-
I have a reason for all of this
The need for the ropes that burn the skin
The need for the lock, the secrecy and greed
No, ‘tis wrong
I hold no greed, rather, this is
Necessity
I need her
Only a manner of
Hours, days, months
Years
For which I will care for her
And she will begin to care for me
She will pity me
Confuse loneliness with madness
LOVE me
No harm meant to her
I love her, you see?
I meant no death
No ill thoughts escaped me
When she left, she did not know

my body's slave is my mind.it's barely summer
but i've forgotten how to breathe;
i fall in love with strangers
before they even speak.
it's like i'm
entangled
within the pulsating crowd
like a fly trapped in a spider's web;
questions are spun
all around.
inferiority screams in my ear
& consumes all thoughts
until i can't hear
all the questions that are caught
between threads of my insecurities,
weaving around
& around
the fabric of my being -
tightening its grip
with everyone seeing
me
choking.
it's barely summer
but i can feel
winter's chill:
each pump of my left ventricle
is an exertion against will,
& leaves me cripple
& frozen, still -
but feeling like i could run
before you could catch me.
i watch the moon
trade places with the sun,
racing against time,
but my day
has still not yet
begun.
Not that She Would Love Me BackThe way she looked at me
was as if a million galaxies
had occupied her eyes and mind,
making her the owner
of a higher form of wisdom.
She smiled, her eyes lost,
longing for something
withuot a name or color.
"Why are you smiling?",
I asked.
"Because I know something
that you don't know yet."
"And what could that be?"
"That you love me."
A lightning ran down my spine,
burning my fears, my desires,
my hopes, and reaching my mind,
leaving me in a thick haze
of stardust and heavy perfume.
Deep down I knew I loved her,
but not then and not there.
The feeling only materialized years later
when she no longer loved me.
I didn't hate her for that-
she only promised that I would love her one day,
not that she would love me back.
roadsi always did like the way i swing around narrow curves,
how i glide with the center lines, never crossing them, just following their lead.
it's kind of beautiful when you think about it. that is,
if you can find beauty in that sort of thing.
most people don't find beauty in driving.
fuck, most people don't find beauty in anything.
except maybe themselves or some overrated celebrity in designer jeans.
one of my past boyfriends said he didn't trust me behind a wheel.
"woman drivers" was his reason.
fuck him.  
i almost lost my virginity in a car. truck, rather.
didn't happen though. i was too afraid of us getting caught.
we were parked on the side of a secondary road. it was nighttime
but cars were going by with their bright headlights,
and with my luck some kid riding shotgun would point and say "look, mommy!"
and remember for the rest of his life the boy and girl
who were wrestling with their shirts off
in the truck sitting on the side of the road.
plus, a cop could have driven by and

Golden Eyeshe sits
          waiting
golden eyes staring at the still shape
         patient, she lurks
just until that one moment until 
   the time is just right
             i place the can on the counter top
         all my weapons of choice lying next to the plate
i know she stares, waiting patiently, silently 
   i crack open the top, the smell wafting around me for a few seconds
       i grimace and scoop it onto the plate
and i can imagine her licking her whiskers 
   intently waiting for the moment the plate connects
          with the concrete
bells twinkle in sudden succession 
    and claws dig into flooring 
             as she skids into the plate
knocking over the water bowl
  and a quick rush of water floods my feet
  &
crash and burnas a pilot, you are brave,
but reveal yourself, let honorifics slip
off kamikaze shoulderblades
and where the body should be
there's an opalescent blur: unknown to yourself,
you.
the black box harbouring your contents
is a phantom. somewhere on the plane, it hides
the bit of context that could break paralysis
and let the curious hydra head rise
regnant. so won't you seize the impulse? crash; crash casually;
they might never see for
there's no chance of grasping
the butchered birth cord, no hope
of survival known. but you're a brave one, after all.
so don't tell them. don't let the scribes take you down
and don't let scrawled clones become flowers on the grave,
your grave approaching.



Convergence by OlgaAthensEschwege by LykoriasSweetS by Miss-MischiefX
Winters Creek Aspens by DMMDesignPoison by MirishThe Organ by Voedin
Reptilian 7 by MordsithCaraWillow Island Autumn by EarthHartCissi och Selma AW13 VI by MarkusOskarsson
Country Road Of Color by kkartevery day has a different feeling by Rona-KellerProtection by OlivierAccart
The Hunt by shauntiamodelSunset. by knooserosenlicht by SYNTHPROJECT
Autumnal Velvet by FlorentCourtyCloser But Closed by hugodeathyBlue Lakes Sundown by KseniaMaytama


Maleficent by VentapaneSummer Light by Izzy-TRobocop by bmac78
Goddess of Destiny by YayashinNature Photo Study by SomberNocturnaLu Bu - Romance of the Three Kingdoms by MoshYong
Listen to the cry of the river in autumn cold by 13EnemiesBloody Sunrise by TercelBgAt dusk by kazuyaI
At Last by ilonaxxxehhoho by SchastnySergeyDisney's Snow White by SBuzzard
Flowers and fruits by KaitanaEarly Morning Light by FineArtCandiceLondon on Fire by Joshb941
Sing Me Out The Rain by NanFeBloody eye by Nayra93Jesienna zaduma... by MTrafimoff

FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to dreamsinstatic


Year III - Issue XIV
Volume CXVIII
:new: Tthe Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest now OPEN.
5th Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest [MORE!]dreamsinstatic's
Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest

:new:  Due to several requests, and a conflict with my personal schedule, I have decided to extend the contest by one week! :new:
New Contest Deadline:  11:59pm (Pacific Standard Time)  November 8th, 2013
Introduction:  Another year has fallen into shadow, yet the sun rises still and the wind refuses to fade.  We find ourselves caught up in the funeral dirge of nature as all that is green does not become gold.  The time has come when the shadows begin to grasp more of the world within their darkness.  Nature surrenders herself to the first hints of Winter's bitter embrace and the world begins to change.  The earth rattles as dead leaves rain from the sky and the harvest gives way to the wicked pursuits of the rising dead and we are bound to witness the cycle of life and to remember those we have lost along the

Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.



<da:thumb id="275296860"/> WavesI cannot control them
When they come for me
I fear I cannot tell you why
They are a mystery
These feelings they roil, twist and churn
Until my insides there is nothing left
The ruins they leave in their wake
Are nothing compared to the ache
In my heart
Caused by so many confusing waves
That you leave behind
They tell me I can stop it
But how can I?
When you are the one to have caused this
You did this
You broke me
And I cannot help these feelings I am having
Because in the end
I am only a victim
To my own heart’s waves
The Figure in the Shadows                      I'm basically just the figure in the shadows,
                      when I try to talk to new people they look
                      clueless..almost like I'm a ghost. When I
                      try to talk to my friends it's almost as if
                      they have their own circle,but of course
                      sometimes excludes me. Sometimes I
                      regret being so shy..
                     
                     Whenever I'm in the classroom,I rar

temporaryperhaps home is never close enough,
because i've been watching stars through frosted glasses
only to realize i see more hope than there actually is.
and all i want is to hold on to arms
that keep my fragments in one, solid shape, so i can get
just a little bit of sleep.
home is not close enough, when my heart is lying, beating,
on a road i haven't traveled yet.
though the nights wrap me in a blanket of sunset-tainted skies
and distant thunderstorms,
enclosing me in the envelopes of peacefulness, tinged with chaos,
i find myself wishing for a home that has no due date.
fetishizingsupposedly it's beautiful
to cry at the crack of dawn
when the world is still sleeping
and cannot see your pain
you have to grieve
at a specific time for it to
mean something more
as if being heartbroken
at midnight
is something worth it
but it doesn't make sense
because sometimes it's
three pm on a wednesday
when you feel the tears
prickle behind your eyes
because you miss him
so much
it burns in your bones
and this has to mean something
too.
That SongI remember city streets and a song, and
I remember laughing and singing along.
I remember the fountain of pearl white, and
I remember it bathed in the sun's light.
I remember the melody and the words, and
I remember that we thought no one heard.
I remember finding the secret place, and
I remember how it disappeared without a trace.
I remember the phantom applause, and
I remember the cheering from behind curtained windows.
I remember so clearly, the details of that day, and
I remember now that they've all gone away.
I remember crying when I thought of the start, and
I'd rather not remember how we drifted apart.

immatureI am in love with you
in the way that children
are in love:
incompletely, sporadically,
self-consciously.
you appear to me
as every adult appears
to a child:
faultless, omniscient,
unendingly generous and honest
and kind.
and, as must happen
to every child,
I will lose my god:
the slightest human error
will cause you to
fall
PresenceMy mind would love to touch you, but you are out of reach.
The lips of mine long for your passionate and fruity kiss.
You are the dreamy presence I so deeply love and miss.
What if you are only a dream? Scared, my heart beseech...
Please, be of this world, and your honest love for me preach.
~Petra
Broken Sleep, Red LipstickI am only an insomniac when it rains. The pitter patter of the raindrops reminds me of the pitter patter of cat paws.
(He liked to sleep at my feet when I could barely think, just to make me feel better. I think you used to tell him to.)
I wish I could wrap your memories around my spine and wear them as a backbone, because they are stronger than the arch my broken spined back seems to have developed of late.
(Spines are oddly brittle, and a lot like wrists. Easy to break and forever to heal.)
But I cannot depend of any of that anymore. So I wear red lipstick and high heels and go to parties and tell strangers how amazing they are to be wearing red lipstick and high heels and how different they must be to come to this party instead of the other one.
(All because you would hate parties and think nightlife is so stupid.)
It is what I do with my insomnia. Because my spineless back, the memories of you incessantly looped in my sleeplessly addled brain and the raindrops

Love's SchisimYour beauty has a fragility
that can be painful to look upon,
because it tears me in two,
achingly all I want is to reach out and touch you,
to clutch you close, and be your shelter from the world,
yet I fear you are so unflinchingly perfect
like Eurydice you will disintegrate before my very eyes,
and then I will be left stranded in this world alone
without you, and all my beautiful words will mean nothing.
But still, that delicacy, like the membrane of a butterfly wing
caught within the sunlight belies a vitally warm strength
which transudes through your pores, gives me new faith,
and suddenly you become my stronghold, my hold-fast,
it seems impossible now that you are capable of combusting.
my straw manmy straw man
between the green
and the grey-brown
shades of autumn
and pemberly
falls ever-after
a romantic's grave
by long-dead waters
never to rise but
i will wait
beside them
even if
you never
come
The Reasoni am dead 
because you put love in my head
promises of a better life
my ends would be tied
you lied
as you silicon cried
i tried
i was pushed aside
the forgotten
to be an others burden
for a certain
you hid behind the curtain
waiting to pounce
bleeding my back
every ounce

let it all go.let it go.
i will never stare at fountains of dreams
because mine isn't in there.
the fountain holds wishes that were blessed to come true--
i never put mine in that fountain because..
mine wasn't meant to come true.
let go of your dreams.
come on, now.
i shall never wish on stars at the brink of dawn,
because the dawn holds invisible falling stars
that are not supposed to be wished on.
those stars hold too much power, and it would
burn my intelligence if i begged for something to hold--
to hold in my heart forever.
i will never fall asleep with my chest on bottom,
because i know it cages my heart under my shadows.
if i ever do, it will not free my sorrows and pains,
all the lies and fears. i will never, ever cry on
my diary, because there are too many tears in it already.
please.
i saw you clawing and tearing your hair, because it wasn't
"beautiful" like all of the other people's hair.
let me tell you this:
let your dreams go, let them fly away. let them be free.
dreams are stressful
ObsidianMelancholy fields of thin fingers,
sustain Mother Nature's sense of touch.
Stars die above us, a supernova symphony,
listen to them fade, listen to them end.
Something today died inside,
but only the stars could see.
That the fear inside,
created a tomb in me.
Asphyxiate the Amygdala,
let it turn blue.
Kill the parasitic fear,
that dwells within you.
As the stars die in time,
I will as well.
But they know my secrets,
but I'm not worried,
because the dead will never tell.
GOD DELIVERS PIZZAToday God is a pizza delivery boy,
You call him to place an order,
You want this but not that,
And expect it to be hand delivered.
Today God is a hired assassin,
You live in fear of his wrath,
But quick to call upon his services,
To strike down your enemies.
Today God is a street hooker,
You want all your desires fulfilled,
And in the moment of passion you love,
But then you turn away in disgust.
Today God is a servant boy,
Like a slave at your command,
You want everything done for you,
But will do nothing for him.
Today God is a cleaner,
He scrubs your polluted home,
But you smear dirt on the walls,
And place the blame on him.
Today God is God,
You could ask for truth and love,
But instead you want pizza,
And definitely no olives.

The Clouds Never SpokeThe clouds never spoke. Even thunder claps and blinding flashes from a storm without rain in late summer had nothing to do with the lack of words.  Exchanging this brief life for the view of a pinpoint universe in the belief, with that same view blocked from my aspheric vantage, that I was being observed, never suspecting their indifference. Yet for all the muteness in their constant rebirth, I recalled how awestruck the sight of the slow majesty of clouds redefining the summit of a distant range was, than the lidless glare of a day's clear sky sitting featureless on an endless stretch without a single rise.
never to meet
the same cloud twice
in a lifetime,
they never acquire names
the way a strong wind might
memoirs of a mother
memoirs of a mother ;

a cuddle every time you cried
my ear, in which you can confide
those tiny arms can link around
this now stone cold old neck
a kiss upon your silken cheek
though you endured my long critique
i only ever meant
to keep you secure for our eternity
i bore you for nine long months
you held my hand for many moments
i carried you within my heart
for as long as i can feel
i wish that i forever could
protect you like a mother should
if only things weren't as they were
perhaps we'd be together
but a mothers love is very deep
like a mountain it is steep
it's tried and tested countless times
it's torn and betrayed with tiny lies
it's a heavy burden to bare
when your child will leave from there
and fly the nest or so they say
but you're just waiting for that day
when baby bird will flutter back
tumble through the door like he once did
covered in filth, big grin on his face
but those days are over
for she is a mother
she was a mother
waiting for the bab
Last GoodbyeI opened my heart;
I put it in your hand.
I trusted you
to take care of it
just like I wanted
to take care of yours.
There it was, shivering
like a timid bird
willing to be tamed.
But your heart was closed
from the very start.
I gave you my all -
you gave me nothing:
closed doors and empty windows,
silence and no explanations.
Cold in the dark
I called in vain;
you only saw your own pain.
I gave myself to you -
you threw me away.
Why do you keep knocking
on my door again,
only to disappear
every time I open it?
Why do I keep running
after the shadow of a hope
that I no longer desire?
This was the last time
that I wrote to you,
the last time you didn't reply,
the last time you made me crawl for you.
This is the last good-bye.



Mdp 0305 9476 by metindemiralayMemories of summer by iTimeOfSilenceJulia Vamp by GLAMICON-NET
Golden Sea by BlueLunarRoseXaimara V by RobertSleeperDark skies by Hell-o-Z
Light Of My Life by MissStormShenandoah Dreaming by MashutoBaby Doll Shannyn by ImageDesigner
Clouds #24-2 by Titu89Olga by Hart-WorxBeaver Lake by MyantheMayan
Last  bonny moment by Shin--ShinA View In The Afternoon by MatthewReedCorpse Bride 2 by Frutodetuimaginacion
Loner's hut - Edited! by marshalbains437 by crelightMidnight Sun - Rework by Omelettu


the heart asks pleasure first by aryundomielLast day of summer by Aida-ArtZombie Crawler Walking Dead by JWheelwrighttattoos
Rogue by lenadrofranciGaruda VII by m0zch0psHalloween night by Candra
Mila Kunis by PevansyObi-Wan Kenobi by DominiqueWessonBlue Eyes by Rachopin77
The Money - Floyd Mayweather Jr. by debuhistaSomeone In The Dark by ArtemisiaDarkCassandra by PerlaMarina
Atelier Rorona by beckyTURF WAR by moonxelsTime has come ... by Someone-Else79
Bounty Hunter by inSOLenseIllusory Light by NLevaschukShahrazad 1 Cover H by JwichmanN

FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to dreamsinstatic

dreamsinstatic's

Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest


Poetry Screams Stamp by dreamsinstatic


:new:  Due to several requests, and a conflict with my personal schedule, I have decided to extend the contest by one week! :new:

New Contest Deadline:  11:59pm (Pacific Standard Time)  November 8th, 2013

Introduction:  Another year has fallen into shadow, yet the sun rises still and the wind refuses to fade.  We find ourselves caught up in the funeral dirge of nature as all that is green does not become gold.  The time has come when the shadows begin to grasp more of the world within their darkness.  Nature surrenders herself to the first hints of Winter's bitter embrace and the world begins to change.  The earth rattles as dead leaves rain from the sky and the harvest gives way to the wicked pursuits of the rising dead and we are bound to witness the cycle of life and to remember those we have lost along the way.


Expiration:  11:59pm (Pacific Standard Time) November 8th, 2013.

Contest Guidelines:  Choose one of the following prompts and write a piece of poetry based upon it. Allow your mind to stretch the words out as far as possible, be creative and have fun. In fitting with the theme I have chosen 10 prompts for you to experiment with.

All entries will be displayed in the Poetry Screams 2013 gallery on dreamsinstatic's page.

Prompts:
:pumpkin:  The Colors of Change
:pumpkin:  Shapes in the Void
:pumpkin:  The Ones I've Lost
:pumpkin:  Shedding Skin
:pumpkin:  Autumn Kiss
:pumpkin:  The Devil Inside
:pumpkin:  Nightdance
:pumpkin:  The Persistence of Memory
:pumpkin:  ...And the Stars Screamed
:pumpkin:  To Love Beyond Living


Rules:
:pumpkin:  Poetry only.
:pumpkin:  Submitted pieces must be posted to deviantart after October 1st, 2013.
:pumpkin:  Three submissions allowed per deviant (you can use three different prompts or write three poems for the same one.)
:pumpkin:  Please send a note with the link or thumb of your entry to dreamsinstatic with "Poetry Screams" as the subject and including the prompt you've selected
:pumpkin:  Please post a link to this article in the artist's comments of your entry.
:pumpkin:  Visual Poetry is accepted.
:pumpkin:  Poems cannot exceed 75 lines.
:pumpkin:  No restrictions on content, though if material is adult oriented please apply filter.
:pumpkin:  If you have any questions please comment below or send a note to dreamsinstatic

Prizes:

:pumpkin:  1st Place
1 Year Subscription or Equal Points dreamsinstatic
Prime placement in Friday Night Features dreamsinstatic
1 Month Journal Feature dreamsinstatic
1 Month Journal Feature Poetry-Screams
1 Months Journal Feature Literary-Visions
Journal Feature Memnalar
Artwork StormWhiskers
Llama AyeAye12
300 Points Donated by LadyLincoln
100 Points Donated by rlkirkland
Journal Feature dietcocaine
Journal Feature xmoonshinedreamersx
Spread the Love Feature xmoonshinedreamersx
20 Points Donated by ArtCrusade
100 Points Donated by Anonymous
200 Points Donated by Memnalar
100 Points Donated by RapidHeartMovement
100 Points Donated by NearlyInvisibleMind
:new:  Journal Feature AzizrianDaoXrak
:new:  Journal Feature SeaPlume

:pumpkin:  2nd Place
6 Month Subscription or Equal Points dreamsinstatic
Secondary placement in Friday Night Features dreamsinstatic
2 Week Journal Feature dreamsinstatic
2 Week Journal Feature Poetry-Screams
2 Week Journal Feature Literary-Visions
Journal Feature Memnalar
Llama AyeAye12
150 Points Donated by LadyLincoln
Journal Feature dietcocaine
Journal Feature xmoonshinedreamersx
Spread the Love Feature xmoonshinedreamersx
:new:  Journal Feature AzizrianDaoXrak
:new:  Journal Feature SeaPlume

:pumpkin:  3rd Place
Custom Poem Russianbear09
3 Month Subscription or Equal Points dreamsinstatic
Placement in Friday Night Features dreamsinstatic
1 Week Journal Feature dreamsinstatic
1 Week Journal Feature Poetry-Screams
1 Week Journal Feature Literary-Visions
Journal Feature Memnalar
Llama AyeAye12
50 Points Donated by LadyLincoln
Journal Feature dietcocaine
Journal Feature xmoonshinedreamersx
Spread the Love Feature xmoonshinedreamersx
:new:  Journal Feature AzizrianDaoXrak
:new:  Journal Feature SeaPlume

[Any prizes donated after posting of this article will be added in so check back for updates!]

Check out the entries so far:  Poetry Screams 2013 Entries


Poetry not your thing?  Check out Memnalar's All Hallow's Tales Prose Contest:  Frankentales.

To ask questions or donate prizes please contact dreamsinstatic [journal features, subscriptions, points, anything is appreciated.] Anyone who donates a prize is still eligible to enter the contest. Spread the word, lets make this a big contest


Year III - Issue XIII
Volume CXVII
:new: Support the Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest.
Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.



RoutineI washed my face with the hottest water I could stand,
thinking afterwards that the pink in my cheeks looked attractive,
but not really sure what I was trying to accomplish.
I decided my hands are more delicate than my face.
As I brushed my teeth, I paced the bathroom floor,
running random numbers through my head but not really counting
the white tiles I thought I should be doing something more than staring at.
So I was careful to step on all the cracks because maybe I'm an opposite.
I left the bathroom unsure of everything, vision blurry with glasses in hand.
At least that made sense to me.
The only clarity is his echo in my head:
"It's rare; most people never find that."
--
9/24/2013
Copyright © Jen Fowler 2013
All Rights Reserved
Delusions of SocietyMy bone-dry mouth whispers "We are free." and I silently nod.
But my bloodied, mangled fingers grapple the pencil...
"We have failed."
YOU.
You have glorified your poisonous diatribe
to create "equality" for all.
But we continue to be chained
with indestructible clasps of malice.
Many are oblivious to the shackles that
dig into the ankles of the naive.
But not me.
And not them.
I see the selfish, inflated perversion
of your empty words.
Lackluster and void of sincerity;
Full of superiority.
Guaranteeing your protection is all you desire
Your heart is black and covered in rust
And when you reach the top
That darkness will consume the last bit of you
And you will cast your whips and chains upon us
Forever holding us down.
And they tell us that we are free.
"We are free."
IntensityI dress in broken greyscale,
In walls of smoke-charred glass:
The paper-lined abysmal veil
That glistens as you pass.
I live in boxed enigmas,
Counting star-drenched seas
Until the etched out sigma,
My breath a sour wheeze.
I am the tattered sailboat
Among your wispy words;
I dip and fly 'til I can float
Beside your past, lust-lured.
My ceiling is a blanket
You wove with mirrored stars
And set upon me, "take it",
And carved my fledgling scars.
My body is no canvas
But the artwork that you make
Within the winds around us
And the watered earth you break.

the way i close my eyesthis is the way i close my eyes
while lying in the dark chill
and huddled under blankets:
shakily, with shivered hesitance
and a frosty breath of nostalgia,
with a will to turn the clock forward
and cheeks yearning for
the warmth of the sun.
this is the way i close my eyes
while sweating under the heavy air,
bare-skinned and bare-boned:
with resignation, wearily,
as if a hundred thousand years
have eaten away at my skeleton,
fragile as bird wings,
and the aching desire for another soul
to lie broken beside me.
this is the way i close my eyes
while trembling in a cold sweat
in the dead of the night,
too terrified to glance behind me:
with forced whimsy and
a manufactured, prepackaged diorama
constructed behind my eyelids
of your presence next to me
and a soft breath pressing
against the back of my neck,
an everlasting reminder that
i am not alone in living.
BreathMy reality;
Scattered like dandelion seeds
Caught on your breath,
You laughter in my ears-
Dreams just as fragile
Sent spinning adrift...
No shelter.
You bring the wind,
Your bring the storm,
You bring my destruction
With your careless romance.
NostalgiaMy life is made up of brief moments of intense magic.
You were one of them.

true affectioni.     sometimes she felt like a coin,
old, rusty,
flung down a well and
sinking to the bottom, surrounded,
but unable to touch.
    and while she was looking at lights
she didn’t know were turned on, a
blue bird laid an egg on her
pillow,
and when it hatched it was just
sunshine-colored seawater.
ii.     he was a pair of earbuds,
tangled,
stuffed in a pocket and left to be
washed out, lost
on a train station bench, waiting.
    he felt like a crooked picture frame
no one bothered fixing,
a burned-out lightbulb
on the back porch that
never gets changed.
slowly, and then all at onceand for once, he slips on his wedding ring, to cure the monotony.  it slides over his knuckle, a perfect fit, and in the morning release of sunlight the silver gleams at him.  it glares, calling him a liar: she is not a whorehouse and you are too broke to own her, you harlot, you.  he buttons up, tucks in his shirt tail, and buckles his belt.  the clinking of metal parts is the only sound in the room besides the dusting of her breathing beside him.  and when he's gone, the only thing he leaves behind are the bruises on her collarbone.
-
you find him because you're lonely, (well, it's actually the opposite.)  he finds you because his wardrobe is black and his shoes are scuffed and he asks you where your castle is.  you're the only princess he sees 'round here.  the rain soaks into his shirt and he curses it, grinning.  and damn girl, you follow him, because you think you see some kinda warmth in his ice blue eyes.
-
it takes you days t
I think I thought I saw you try-- a big bang
      was what I was left waging on top of a Russian roulette bed  
      the night the world collapsed upon itself unto
      my staining inkblot eyes and your fading g-clef footsteps
      hissing noises in a background of waxen black, white, and red.
-- polytheism
      I spat out every tongue in strife-striped breaths
      to every statue upon every monument I had collected like stamps
      at the back of my burning head, all the while my pennies
      grace new penny cases as I plead with them to plead for me.
-- monotheism
     
      almost-rabid sea spume and monsoons rave of the oneness
      in particles of posthumous composition, fragrant with notes
      of skyscraper blinkers and helipads not forgetting that of
      pesticide cans approaching us intravenously in a coating of
                    (I) dre(am) (a)nd be(lie)ve.

splintersi can’t stop thinking about you.
i know you were not a lover. you were not someone i spit silly words at over soup and telephone-air. you were not someone i admired from afar, wishing i could craft my words into something that wouldn’t come out in stutters. you were not a best friend leaving me, not a sick parent whose limbs i sent off to heaven, not a lost animal whose please return if found poster i kept as a sacred artifact.
they told me you were a mentor, a counselor, a listener, and if i was lucky, a friend. i suppose i was lucky, because most people i know wouldn’t pull your phone number out from under their tongue just to hear the rhythm of your speech. most people i know wouldn’t dream about sending themselves back to a place where the only way they could reclaim identity was to eat, already just so you could make them feel properly untouched. most people i know have thrown shoes and books and the roots of their worst nightmares at you, hop
Poem from the PavementThere are stony faced facades
imposing judgement upon my daily viewscape.
They clutch a fence to them like cards
as if to hide their poker face behind.
I am a step away from them
behind festivous displays of success
the pride of the University plathered
over hardnosed metal.
On this side, between the rock
and the green space,
I hang a yellow satchel from my self
and paint myself with painkillers and Prozac
as I try to find the perfect place to be.
Somewhere dreamy by the lake,
under the wise eyes of a beloved castle.
In the clutches of a tree cluster
in the shadow of a fallen oak.
With hard edges and cornices,
bright colours and Tetris windows.
With lush grass, reality's stench presiding,
I search for my place.
On the inside, between a rock
and a hard place,
I strangle down my anxiety and fear -
paint myself with painkillers and Prozac
and try to be the person I always wanted to be.
Denouement                 The meadow beneath us slowly
            sprouts from sand, scorches earth
    like wildfire. Its tendrils drink in dust
               until it mirrors the curvature
             of our bodies lying on a horizon,
        clinging to each other with the power
                   of a thousand setting suns.

His life, His art.Your hand moves like an elegant dance 
on a barren canvas
Slowly changing hollow nothings 
into sweet perfection
Your sweeping gestures 
tear into bountiful colors
Making a creation 
all of your own
You take no waste in time, 
yet your hand seems to portray a pace of its own
creating life 
out of color and imagination
Were ash and night 
form a creature of beauty
Coming together 
as if one
Your masterpiece, 
its bloom, 
is most magnificent
And absolutely timeless
DepressionI am suffering from depression.
Every stitch I crochet is a sad thought.
These chains last for miles.
I often sell them but the money doesn't help the depression.
Some chains are created from suicide thoughts.
I keep crocheting chains to hopefully fill the hole in my heart.
But alas, material objects cannot fill holes.
One day, a goddess comes by to admire my melancholy creations.
Her eyes are of emeralds.
She asks me why I am depressed.
I just simply put a finger to my mouth and say shh.
People will usually walk away when I do this.
But she follows suit.
I am shocked.
Finally someone who understands.
You can continue to be depressed and I cannot cure that.
She cuts off a piece of her gorgeous hair.
However, use this hair for your next creation.
She put her finger to her lips and shushes again.
I do the same and we exchange goodbyes.
She leaves and I take a closer look at the shimmering hair.
I know exactly what to make from it.
Arming myself with my hook, I start crocheting away at th
ElectricMy touch is electric to her sensitive body.
I run my finger along her collar bone,
she breathes heavy on my hand.
I caress her neck,
her breath catches.
I kiss her,
jolts of pleasure coursing through.
I pulse at every lip bite.
We spark at the touch.

HotlineThe first time I dialled your number I felt a skipping in my chest
the skip that comes with talking to strangers
the skip that tells me that I’m strapped into the rollercoaster, ready or not for the ride.
You answered, and your voice was like a cave,
deep and warmish and mossy
with echoes trapped inside the dark spaces
like a cave to keep me safe from the storm.
I spoke to you and my own voice was like cobblestones,
cracked and scattered
strewn out across a much-trodden road and kicked into the gutter,
like cobblestones with missing bits, crumbling from the elements.
You told me that things would get better from here on out,
that I’d made the first step and
that you would talk to me for as long as it took to get me from one place to another one
or longer, even.
You spoke to me about large things
responsibility and Ferris wheels and distant nebulas
you spoke to me about small things
garden mice and sub-atomic particles and how many spoonfuls of sugar you take with your tea.
then she writesI waited until the stars fell to the ground like snowflakes. There were little parallel shapes in the breaths I take.
                I must have smelled of sea sweat & leftover breaths of saltwater when I showed up. The sun bled through my hair.
I'm not a writer anymore. I throw words into a pile on the bed, & leap up & down. The fabric spreads, & I trace the pattern back to me, back to me, back to
the last time I saw me do something for myself.
I'm only guessing it's for my health. My shoulders are cold, & I walk through unfamiliar streets pressing buttons & pulling down my sleeves. Fold, release, expose, my
niche is an autumn rolling into my fresh, uprooted hands.
    I try to understand what it means to just be, to just live with
fingers spread out for the ones who love you, & it's been more beautiful than I could ever imagine.
           I am so undeserving of love, but it is enveloping me like letters imprinting perfect impressions of my freckles that leave me screaming.  
<da:thumb id="403362689"/>


Trinity Blood - Helga von Vogelweide (Eishexe) 7 by Ank-samaA world of ice by matthieu-parmentierOctopus by Miss-MischiefX
Fall Signs by moisEdyMarina by SnezhanaMorozovaelapsing by augenweide
Louisa by feebonaccidfyu by HeardbydeafVogue by Aisii
Oahu by Blueeyes0001dark opera by felixheruramp it up by jaelise
Lacheln 4 by recipeforhaightLeap Of Faith by sueznPurple oblivion by S-Lancaster
Rock River Drought by mdtrudellKristina /02 by StanislavMironovOcean Grove Sunset 2 by DanielleMiner


Fishing Up My Dream by YanasPrecursorPleasant by Mourn777A Private Conversation by ltuininga
I loved her. by apfelgriebsMy Dearest Valentine 2013 Remix by SpookyChanBittersweet by DenGalindo
Grace Helbig by Wanted75Dark Priest by Darkcloud013Colorado Love - Pastel Drawing by secrets-of-the-pen
Lili by darknezMichael Myers - Halloween by Kevercaser<da:thumb id="403409813"/>
Bright Meadow by Fragula2003Priestess by NaeNekoTransition by kass-maura
Khar'zul - The Underworld gate keeper by MikeypetrovGirl and Weapon - Sniper by SekiganSaruman, come forth ! by Sieskja


FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to dreamsinstatic

:pumpkin:dreamsinstatic's Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest:pumpkin:
Poetry Screams Stamp by dreamsinstatic


Five years ago I decided to launch a contest which, for the most part, has become one of my absolute most favorite projects on deviantART.  Throughout those five years I've seen some ups and some downs, gained friends, discovered new talents and reaped the benefits of inspiring creativity.

This contest has become personal for me, it's my thing, so to speak.  A lot of people on deviantART do a lot of different things.  There are projects and groups and contests galore!  To fill in the rest of the year, and my desire to expose more people to more writers and artists, I created the Friday Night Features series which I have been posting each Friday for 116 weeks now.  I love the feeling of featuring someone, as much as I love the thrill of seeing all of the amazing poems created for Poetry Screams.

All of that being said, whether it is Friday Night Features or Poetry Screams, none of it would be possible without all of you.  Your work, your suggestions, your assistance have always been the foundation of these activities.  In terms of the Poetry Screams Prompt Contest, I can't do it without you and your generous prize donations.  This is where I am asking for your help once again:

This is the fifth anniversary for the Poetry Screams Prompt Contest and my prize list, as of currently, isn't quite up to par with what it usually is.  I have several prizes I am offering, and I've received notes and comments for point donations, features, etc.  However, being that Poetry Screams is hitting the big 5, I'd really like for this contest to explode and so I need your help.

I am seeking prize donations, and no that does not mean they need to be monetary.  A Journal Feature is a fantastic, free way to support this contest.  In addition to that you can offer things like critiques, writing a poem for someone, interviews, group features, etc.  Anything you could offer is greatly appreciated.  If you want to go monetary, points or subs are always welcome, obviously.

So, I am asking you to donate anything you are capable of donating, and if you're just not in a position to donate a prize, perhaps you could do me the great favor of sharing this article in your journal, on your twitter, etc, in order to bring more attention to it.  The success of this contest is based greatly on you, your submissions, your donations, your care and consideration.  Donating a prize has no effect upon your ability to enter the contest, so if you can, send me a note or drop me a comment and donate something.

The contest officially launches of October 1st and will be based on 10 Prompts.  More details will be revealed in the contest release article I post on October 1st.  Also, prize donations are still accepted as the contest is running!  Thank you for your consideration and you can view the original contest pre-release article below: 


Introduction:  Another year has fallen into shadow, yet the sun rises still and the wind refuses to fade.  We find ourselves caught up in the funeral dirge of nature as all that is green does not become gold.  The time has come when the shadows begin to grasp more of the world within their darkness.  Nature surrenders herself to the first hints of Winter's bitter embrace and the world begins to change.  The earth rattles as dead leaves rain from the sky and the harvest gives way to the wicked pursuits of the rising dead.  For a single night the living and the dead share the same world and there is no certainty of a dawn on the horizon.

The Contest:  This is the Fifth incarnation of the Poetry Screams Prompt Contest.  As always, this contest will be based upon prompts, and for poetry only.  The contest will officially launch on Monday, September 30th, 2013 and end at 12:01am on November 1st, 2013.  The list of prompts and full rules of the contest will be revealed in the launch article which will be posted on September 30th.  I seem to always be thinking of prompts for this contest!

:bulletorange:  You:  Those of you who participate and who assist with the awarding of prizes are the backbone of this contest.  Without you, this simply would not be possible.  Once again I am asking for you assistance in the following areas:

:bulletorange:  Prize Donations:  Donate anything you'd like!  You don't have to spend a dime to donate to this contest if you don't want to, there are plenty of free ways to help out.  Subscriptions, features, points, critiques, commissions, group features, interviews or anything else you can come up with.  Donating a prize does NOT affect your ability to enter this contest.  Please contact dreamsinstatic if you want to donate a prize or have any questions!

:bulletorange:  Entries:  Entries, entries and more entries.  Last year there were 108 entries, the second highest in the history of this contest.  I'd love to improve upon that number and you can certainly help me in doing this.

:bulletorange:  Promotion:  I'd love for you to help promote this contest.  Use the stamp at the top of the page if you like, put this link in your journal, post your own news article directing people here, post this contest information in your group blogs, tweet it, tumblr it.  Any promotion you can provide will help.

Poetry isn't your thing?  Well head on over and check out Memnalar's All Hallow's Tales Prose Contest.

Please direct any questions, donations, ideas, suggestions or etc to dreamsinstatic 
Really looking forward to having this contest again
and I'm hoping you are too!


Year III - Issue XII
Volume CXVI
:new: The Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest is Coming :new:
Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.



Recessshe had a secret
the sky was a rummage bin
all full of pies
to put their fingers in
he told his teachers
he was an epileptic
she read him all wrong
he called her dyslexic
and they drew pictograms
halfway between parades
to compliment each other
when they're not talking praise
he steals another kiss
she thinks crime pays
they favor hop scotch
when playin drinking games
she explored his space
and his conic sections
and when they got lost
in their affections
they grew a compass rose
it bloomed in all directions
then drew a map of dots
and traveled to connect them
he wrote her love letters
full of ink blots
she wore her heart all over
like a leopard's spots
her love could never change
shaped like forget-me-nots
and one time in the forest
where a stream had stopped
she guessed his real name
that's how his soul was caught
so he made her a promise
she made into a secret
the day would never end
if they both believed it
FictionWe think of it as
Clothes gracefully falling on the floor
And hands running over flawless skin
While lips move together in unison
Only letting out pleasure filled moans
In reality
It is much more clumsy
With limits being set
And still more beautiful
While we laugh into each other's lips
lullabies for psychopathsi have too much blood to give away,
sanguine, sanguine, and too many other
weird-bodied creatures of thick - no -
not thick enough - latex and their
liquidity it inches out and then
all at once. all the wrong type.
lately i haven't gotten a single moment
alone, not even in sleep with names scrawled
and pressed too hard, narrow and illegible
in my jugular seething quite crooked and untouchable
through neural passageways as unspace spaces in
the forgotten hollows between hemorrhages;
we're the only ones who know and so
obscenely destruct it felt nearly
too graphic to give, you, fuck -
viewer discretion advised.

<da:thumb id="401098058"/> .: Every Twelve Seconds :.Waves
Roaring
Like love
Crashing over you
Every
Twelve
Seconds
Frogs
Chirping
Like happiness
Teasing you to chase it
Every
Twelve
Seconds
Trees
Rustling
Like secrets
Begging you to keep them
Every
Twelve
Seconds
And I swear
These sleepless nights
They drive me crazy
And I long for that
Every
Twelve
Seconds
And I long for that
Which made me feel at home
The cliff-based foghorn
That went off
Every
Twelve
Seconds

untitledHere lay conduct in the face of whim,
Therein contained within reason:
                                       Caught between stimuli,
                                       Crossed eyes, legs alike
                                       only to be caught singing
                                       to the rhythm of the bugle call.
Lines written three blocks from the pawn shop,
We catch ourselves in flight, within our right
To have these wings of doubt and shame,
All the while, tapping away at zeroes and ones
Hoping to derive emotion, fetishize apathetic
 Dream after
   Dream a
love paragraphs and trianglesstardust particles and paper-skinned lips;
grey under-toes, it's all a non-complete paragraph
would you be in love with a fairytale? no roses,
no sadness, no drama allowed
just fairytales
fairytales which can never, ever happen but you
want to be so real, with no pencils to complete
the love paragraph, you'll just have to fill
in the blanks with your thoughts
but you really won't give a damn--
there's a reason this paragraph
isn't written on your paper
that's because it would be too
much for you to bear
It's a romantic phaseI don’t want to be touched—
I want to be traced.
I want someone to find me map-like,
some constellation with Leos and Virgos
and Saturn with rings
and an Ursa Major and Little Dipper,
to say that yes, the skin under your skin,
it glows like the light of stars and suns
and your face is a moon
and your laugh is a comet.
I want someone to want to travel me,
like I am some destination,
maybe exotic and maybe next door,
but always a place he wants desperately to go,
like the drowning need air,
like the hungry need food,
like the thirsty want nothing more
than ice in their water.
I think I remember,
what it was like to be in love—
for someone to say
yes, I’d gladly fuck you
but baking and gazing
and sharing souls
late into the night
is also perfectly fine.
But that was awhile ago,
as if I am old,
looking back on memories,
as if I am someone else completely,
who can’t believe that once, it was her
who someone found
another world in.

Jackson PollockAnd in that lake above
I saw cosmic milk
spilled like Pollock,
white fish winking
from their empyrean aquarium,
and stars kissing away the ocean.
Adolescent Prisonerin the back of my mind,
there's a child, with bleeding knuckles,
banging against the walls of my hysteria.
i won't let her escape -
because no one will love her.
Thousand
A thousand eyes that crowd together watching me;
They dance around me singing menacingly.
I cannot strike sails for I have nowhere to flee,
So I sink deeper and deeper into the cold sea.
After all I am not as big as I thought,
And now I am but a kid that never was taught.
A haunting voice pours liquid fears into me,
And a ghostly wind churns my skin viciously.
A thousand souls cry that are held in my chest.
I was sailing to find a place for their eternal rest,
But now I am trapped here, they bulge my skin,
They surge against me, my hull is ailing.
A thousand hellfires burn me down in a flash.
My eyes are adust so I can never see,
What lies before me and what I could be,
And a thousand souls that will never find rest.

Abyss of a Loveless HeartYour soul is a starless midnight.
Black and cold as the tail-end of December,
And as I stare into that vast expanse of sky I’m met with a hollowness I’ve not yet felt.  
An emptiness I’ve not yet experienced as I consider the universe that is your being.
It was a universe I once thought teemed with life.
Beautiful organisms hiding under layer after layer of rock.
Beneath mile after mile of endless ocean water I imagined things living inside of you.
Captivating, complicated things I sought to reveal.
I ached to bring forth these foolish imaginings and see them shimmer in the sunlight...
The very sunlight so foreign to you..
I was once naive enough to believe you would show them to me yourself.
When you never did, I was forgiving enough to believe the walls you’d built were simply too high.
Too immense for even you to climb over them.
Though as I aged, and the frail, tender skin of youth was shed,
I realized you never revealed them to me because they n
NevermorePromises fade one by one, to define every living soul to absent knocks of shadowy
Fatality, the emptiness inside to no longer see, tides of ongoing childish fantasy,
Remaining in slumber lies a thousand nightmares, along a dark forsaken road
In the brains of dragged about feathers, now ones are no longer able to
Sleep in gallant streams of passive serenity….
Antarctica XIVI'm not sure if I believe in discontinuity.
I
believe in... not in reencarnation, just,
in things that start from other things that stop.
I don't know,
maybe the world's circular so
some things are inevitably chasing eachother,
like... the clear air that comes after the rain.
Like...
... empty cups of coffee.
Like...
... cold 2 am chill and warm yellow streetlights,
like...
well, like meteor showers and summer solstices.
Maybe it's some kind of gravitation, when everything spins without sense,
until it eventually falls into the perfect place.
I can't explain it.
But there is something like an epicenter,
drawing all the world into a cauldron of renascence,
like the first blurs of color you paint,
like a new beginning,
maybe even like the first spring dawn over an icefield.
Like sense and honesty, when all I do is try to find words that are coherent,
and they're not, but it's always me always trying to say
that I want to see you again.

Funky Sock Fashion ShowI want to stand naked in a thunderstorm and let the rain fill the empty cavities in my heart.  
I want to feel you there, swimming inside me and making me whole.
I want to tear down these walls you say I have built around myself.
I want to let you inside and then build them back up so I can be alone with you.
I want to put on a funky sock fashion show just for you.
I want to see you smile as you watch me.
I want to climb on top of you and lick your face and tell you how sexy you are.
I want to tell you that I love your skin, your eyes, and your hands, love everything about you.
I want to tease you until you can’t take it anymore, then tell you that I’m yours and let you ravage me.
I want to purr when you touch me, moan when you kiss me and then scream your name.
I want to make you laugh; make you feel loved, make you happy.
I want to make you…
even phantoms, my lovemy love, there are things you should know about me:
instead of ribs, there is a birdcage in my chest
& locked inside is a sparrow that flutters its wings
against the bars every time you come around.
my blood is pumped by a metronome that
whispers your name with every practiced beat.
you told me that you like catching fireflies
so i trapped my soul in a mason jar for you
& i hope that you will keep it for years to come,
place it on a shelf where you can take it down
once in a while and blow the dust off the top
like a bottle of wine that you'll never open.
i wrote my love for you inside of a prayer
& the words knitted together to create bones
so i built myself on them one hallelujah at a time.
you described your eyes as the color of the sea
so i anchored myself in their blue-grey depths
and left my castle abandoned on the shore.
i am not a person anymore:
no, i am a collection of objects and ideas
that i have taken from you and used to
build myself into something comprehensible.
one day
The Inevitability of EndingsWe are summers of sunny-colored citrus fruit
we are euphoria
we touch each other the way the  wax caresses the side of a candle
we let our feet lose their cool in garden mud
we crash, spin, swirl into the canyon of our love
Your hands carve flutes from all of my rib bones
your lips bring music through mine
you fill me with windchimes until i am a  am orchestra, an anthem of starting new
you do cartwheels for me on the front lawn
i am giggling.
you lean close and call me “love”
we kiss.
It is December now and the snow today is fine as chalk dust.
Your hand falls across mine.
I close my eyes against the inevitability of endings
as you whisper “I can’t”



Devil girl 2 by ElisanthRiverside Sunset by BomuPolli by TzR
Sunset Over The Rockies by GrouperThe Cold Song by RapidHeartMovement_MargiN_ by Real-Janifer
Poison Ivy - Baltimore Comic Con by mariegreycosplaySeptember Sunset by JsceneUnicorn love by LadyMarlene
Alone by mikeyb3178The Girl with a camera by hopeforaliceFarm Park by kristineL13
Maya Mysteria VIII by JohnnyDiamondOrange autumn by SawyerAFKRepress by vera-baby
Silent by Lady---VengeanceApples by HocspyShine by Leucareth


Unsustainable Instability by simonpark81Break in the clouds - Watercolor by nicolasjollyNight by LosOjosNegros
Korra by GENZOMANWhy Sisifo... Saint Seiya Fanart by danielbogniRed Riding Hood by yigitkoroglu
The Kiss of Death by BabyDollBWaiting by fearnpShe talks to me of death and darkened days to come by Svenechoff
Awaken Destruction - Dragon crystal Guardian by phanou36Ina, Red Reaper of Death (regular version) by AniaMituraBiancamela by AuroraRahBraga
Galadriel Lady of Light by DiscoveringArtWorldTo the end... by SomelarderLISTEN!!! by PastyWhite
Hierophant by KimberlySwanScenery by madam-lara-croftThe Righteous Dawn by Somnicide
Including Suggestions From:
xtcgm

FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to dreamsinstatic

:pumpkin:dreamsinstatic's Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest:pumpkin:
Poetry Screams Stamp by dreamsinstatic




Introduction:  Another year has fallen into shadow, yet the sun rises still and the wind refuses to fade.  We find ourselves caught up in the funeral dirge of nature as all that is green does not become gold.  The time has come when the shadows begin to grasp more of the world within their darkness.  Nature surrenders herself to the first hints of Winter's bitter embrace and the world begins to change.  The earth rattles as dead leaves rain from the sky and the harvest gives way to the wicked pursuits of the rising dead.  For a single night the living and the dead share the same world and there is no certainty of a dawn on the horizon.

The Contest:  This is the Fifth incarnation of the Poetry Screams Prompt Contest.  As always, this contest will be based upon prompts, and for poetry only.  The contest will officially launch on Monday, September 30th, 2013 and end at 12:01am on November 1st, 2013.  The list of prompts and full rules of the contest will be revealed in the launch article which will be posted on September 30th.  I seem to always be thinking of prompts for this contest!

:bulletorange:  You:  Those of you who participate and who assist with the awarding of prizes are the backbone of this contest.  Without you, this simply would not be possible.  Once again I am asking for you assistance in the following areas:

:bulletorange:  Prize Donations:  Donate anything you'd like!  You don't have to spend a dime to donate to this contest if you don't want to, there are plenty of free ways to help out.  Subscriptions, features, points, critiques, commissions, group features, interviews or anything else you can come up with.  Donating a prize does NOT affect your ability to enter this contest.  Please contact dreamsinstatic if you want to donate a prize or have any questions!

:bulletorange:  Entries:  Entries, entries and more entries.  Last year there were 108 entries, the second highest in the history of this contest.  I'd love to improve upon that number and you can certainly help me in doing this.

:bulletorange:  Promotion:  I'd love for you to help promote this contest.  Use the stamp at the top of the page if you like, put this link in your journal, post your own news article directing people here, post this contest information in your group blogs, tweet it, tumblr it.  Any promotion you can provide will help.

Please direct any questions, donations, ideas, suggestions or etc to dreamsinstatic 
Really looking forward to having this contest again
and I'm hoping you are too!


Year III - Issue XI
Volume CXV
Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.



printed heartsThe centrifugal force of spontaneity
Pulls gravity out of its element from all sides
Sends its scientific certainty into a nameless vortex
Where laws are poison.
One statement cannot possibly clothe
The live sparks of each fragile mind-wire
This shredded force seduces order, fucks it raw
Between sheets of breath
Makes love to the uninhibited gravity
You’re as unbreakable as glassed fire
(in other words, I’ll break you with a whisper)
I’ve been un-centered
Since the atmosphere was boulder-deep
Since breathing was medieval torture
Because when I watch force fucking order
I don’t even close my eyes.
My mind goes elsewhere
Somewhere artistically licensed as pure science
They used to say that science made sense
A proven theorem to grasp onto with bloodless knuckles
When art, in all its frailty, only abandons
But I see
Fingerprints on bandaged hearts
Bloody, authentic connection
I see permanence
You cannot disengage me from the hearts
I have entwined wit
infant atheistBelief burnt like these bricks,
each step a step to
that door that
can never open.
And here I stand,
slate-blue shadows
and God's guilty light
searching for a faith fled,
but the garden is ripe for picking.
Ring Around The RosieI never really liked roses.
When you held one in your hand, it pricked your fingers and your palms. I never liked the moments when I touched one.
Well, for me, the prickling of roses is another story. I would stare at them all day, disgusted as they grew on my lawn. You would say my taste is sour, but it's just how I roll.
Once, there was this girl I liked. She was mostly a fairytale, but it seemed so awkward for her to be real. She was very hypnotizing, but not so much that I would be a love-sickened wretch.
That girl gave me a rose on the day we met. It was a sweet gift, but I knew that deep down inside she was a cursed, little vermin. Every night we fell in love was depressing, but I will save my tears for the song. I thought that she would actually be someone good.. someone to cherish.
Wrong.
Well, the day I was just rolling around in the meadow, she was too sympathetic and out of words to make up any more lies. She was not cursed very much now, but it rolled off onto me. My heart

blind eyes wide openwords falling from your open mouth
like soldiers falling from a single shot.
a domino effect.
deep sea spirits
tumbling relentlessly
into the gaping mouth of the Nile,
and slinking down into its depths
to serenade the forgotten dead.
but you'll never know;
not with your stubborn refusal
to open your eyes
and see the world as it is-
full to the brim
with shadows
of those
unseen.
I fell from the sky when I tried to kill god.I gathered wild grief stricken boys
And stored them in glass jars
Their moon shine eyes hooded,
Under the train tracks red light glow
Much like the local strip of neon slit sidewalks.
I realized I was not so much the Doreen in my queer little life
So much as I was Esther.
When I’d take slugs of cheap wine whilst reading the classics
And writing obscure essays and analysing dead poets
Licking the burgundy liquid from my wrists
And mopping up the spilled ink
With my frayed sleeves.
The autumn air smells of rot and I can’t help but reminisce
About bonfires in old abandoned warehouses
Where we’d run across open fields that split the sky
Open and twisted it into
Something like a looking glass
Except there’s no fire in your eyes.
Just watered down sonnets about girls who work at diners
For minimum wage, who get into cheap bars,
And drink martinis with rich business men.
Maybe we were born to be the lost generation
Or maybe silver linings
Are just the silver refract
the value of c.nothing travels faster
than light; and we use this
to measure distances in the galaxy
because areas of darkness
are what allow us to form
the idea of constellations.
they say we are made of stars.
I knew this when I saw
the vulnerability of your
crooked shoulders, bearing
the weight of worlds
you did not ask for.
the universe is constantly
expanding. I wonder if this
means we race to fill its
edges by increasing our
spaces. each celestial
body has an effect of gravity.
I knew this when you drew me
into an orbit- starting
revolutions where I knew
I would not always be
facing your light
but I would be sure
it was always there.
I have always believed
the universe is trying
to pull itself back together
after its unintentional
creation; your value is not
lessened just because you
know you are an accident.
Nothing travels faster
than light. You did not
come to me as an instant-
we were a collection of
satellites, learning
the push and pull of
the collision of your
waves, as a response
to all

On the nature of the sky1.
I touch the sky --
greasy fingerprints left on
rainbows and butterflies,
glimpses of the West
torn in pale clouds.
2.
I left my heart somewhere:
in the atmosphere
above heaven but below
the dead zone where float
spacemen and aliens.
3.
I often refer to myself as a
crow,
especially when I notice
dark wings unfolding
and a shadow spreading beneath me.
4.
I see devils drifting on downdrafts,
angels falling from flight,
and my rapture begins --
I rise up through flames until
the storms extinguish me.
5.
I live in a corner of
the astral dimension "Gravity,"
where everything falls and
kisses the earth, leaving my home
empty and dreamless.
Still Alivei am the moon,
still alive;
a painting in the sky,
don't trust me,
see, sins make us who we are;
tangled fate 'n
eloquent dreams,
everything ends-
ends up in flames,
a circuit board love
in cigarette city
remembering roses.
handstouch.
give, receive, give
feel.
sensations, teasing, emotions
lust, love, need
engage.
a graze, stroke, push
wait patiently for it.
grasp, caress, steady, shake
outline the contours; guide me
manipulate and bring forth
now.
ask permission.
hold and be held; interlock
match pairs, never let go
protect.
wave hello, goodbye,
and wipe tears.
remember.
--
9/11/2013
Copyright © 2013 Jen Fowler
All rights reserved

<da:thumb id="398505941"/> Hiding the Bruises Behind Blackout BlindsBruises up my spine, sickly yellow.
Fire bursting from the sun,
Casting light where it shouldn’t go.
Mucky foot prints through the house,
Round in circles and then run out
Marring the carpet, staining the floors.
 
The bruises accumulate in the dead of night,
Reminding me what it means to be alive
Not singing drunken ballads of stormy fights
And hiding the bruises behind blackout blinds.
Alone.
 
I like to set things on fire, things I can’t have
Creep around strangers houses at the weekend,
Look at all the memories in photo frames on the wall
How can you miss something you’ve never had?
How can you grieve for the feelings you’ve never felt?
 
Is it wrong to avoid the mirror because when you look
You’re the only thing that's there?
Even then the ghost is getting thinner,
Sooner or later I will look and
She will no longer be there.
 
I feel like a ghost who leaves behind footprints
Too trampled for anyone to see,
Setting fire to people

Run-Away FeetYou're not over her,
And I can tell you why.
I seem so weak and frail
When I cry to you.
But, you don't seem to
See all the things you do.
You avoid questions
Like "Are you sure,
Are you sure it's through?"
And every little thing
That says "Lacy" seems to bother you.
No honesty in simple words
Such as "I'm fine, how are you."
I feel the sin way deep within
From the maze you drug me through.
Your little tease of "Forget it, please."
Insults me more than soothes me.
Your ironic laugh is nothing but nervous chuckle.
So, save my time
And say, "I'm not fine, it's true."
Don't use a smile to avoid the guilt
That your run-away feet seem to skip.
I wish from you nothing more than the truth,
And it's depressing to know I won't get it.
To see you lie and act as a disguise
Does nothing but disgust me.
Please do me a favor
And save the sweets for later.
Because my treats are through.
Anything Meaningful?A crown of bone,
      Should I take it?
I breath in the poison of the stars.
The infinite vastness of the universe.
Where our silent echos fall,
Where our voices are unable to reach anything solid,
                                              anything meaningful.
Soft Autumn BreezeSoft autumn breeze
Blowing golden leaves
High tree tops whither
The breeze made them whisper
Thick light of evening sun
That's when my heart sung.
Soft autumn breeze
Was what made me pleased
His mischievous eyes smiled
Even though he was tired
In golden leaves pile
I rested by him for awhile.
Soft autumn breeze eased
Made me feel unease
White fog embraced him
I couldn't trace him.
Fierce autumn breeze fought
Making him one with the fog.

091013I try to paint a portrait of you and I remembered that I can't even hold your heart correctly.
My tears kept messing up my stroke, too much water combined with the paint. The picture looks fading like you faded from me. Clearly, I'm not much of a great artist like I am as a lover.
Four of a Kind (Confessions of a King).I am
The upward curl
Of her mouth,
The smile she wears
When she has no doubt
That what she sees
Is true.
I am all her cares.
I am the glimmer
In her eyes -
All she sees
Because I leave her blind.
I am the polluted oxygen
She thrives off of -
The very same toxicity
Coursing through her veins,
Merely a harlequin
Who increases her pains.
I am the king
Of her body,
Of her heart.
I am all that she values
And I value all that
She has to lose.
I am the fall
Before the pain,
The slow dancing
Of the dying leaves
In a season
Without the rain.
I am the largest planet
In her universe,
Maybe not her sun
But I am the only one
Her earth
Revolves around.
I am the diamonds
Around her neck,
Throttling her with authority
And leaving her to be
Nothing but a silent wreck.
I am the one
To whom she willingly
Sacrificed her sanity,
The one
Who should consider himself lucky
To receive it all for free.
I am lacking
The adrenaline that conquest
Should bring -
The fire I set ablaze
To triumph her
Old ways
Now mea



dark snow white V by SilverWolfieShizumaUntitled by thergothonIris - Daddy's Little Princess by AmphyRainbows
Chace Mill by Metal-BenderSunset by AnneLysasea of fog by mescamesh
Promises- Roswell Ivory by Roswell-IvoryAutumn fairies by DiplinerBraided by ariadnese
Redwood Milkyway by fti7Saridjan III by Hart-WorxViewpoint by Shzphoto
Indian girl by rager-acnice sunset by georgebozinovBlack Canary - New 52 - Birds of Prey by WhiteLemon
sunset4 by bluesgrassDracula's Daughter by AisiiIvory Bloom by Narodenia


Faraway in Thoughts by GabrielGrobCrveno i Crno by KoloritaAspen Flats Hectorrubilar Vic55b Colors by vic55b
Crusader - Unbreakable warrior by hunqwertMerc1 by GarretAJKitsune by Lun-art
The Amityville Project: Phobos - 'Catoptrophobia' by XeemingThe Hobbit - Thorin Oakenshield by greQ111Tree of hope II by JoanLlado
Brynden Rivers by inSOLenseSophiaVerborgen by artbysophiaKANE WWF by tyller16
Blue Moon City by SARAYA-PFEIFFERJantar by VasylissaDon't cry my little Joanna by sharandula
Scale by escumeI Need to Believe by weroniA Song Of Ice And Fire - Mother of Dragons -fanart by alexnegrea
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FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

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Year III - Issue X
Volume CXIV
Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
a cross section of the most striking, entertaining and powerful
literature, photography and artwork on deviantART.
Show your support by faving this article and checking out
these amazing pieces.



shetar-tongued;
sea-brittle sugar
bones & star-
stitched
withering
waste of
fever burns &
blue lips
raking the fogi can remember
having our hopes weighed against a vacuum
molecules in jars
on shelves, staining baso-
philic cells
and then encasing them on plates of
glass to tease a stranger's eye
quartered days
of the quick and quarrantined
that will linger in the caverns of my
lymbic memories
where stitching backs of rats was deeply
carved into my cortex
and gradual displacement
from the norm was well in form
nothing to alarm just one more
assumed risk of the voyage
and when it's over alabaster
children will evolve
some for the good
some for the better
and some not enough to even recall
i'm surprised as it is
i remember at all

Breathing InkBreathe poetry into me.
Show me what it means to live.
Show me that someone still knows
How to speak with their heart.
Show me something beautiful
Trapped in your thoughts.
I want to know the sound of your voice,
The one inside your head.
Tell me everything you didn’t say
Before you met the pen.
Tell me everything you didn’t say
Before you smiled in ink.
Tell me everything you didn’t say:
Tell me everything.
Show me that someone still cares
About the written word.
Show me that someone still knows
The gentle touch of ink.
Show me that someone still knows
What it means to live.
Breathe poetry into me.
Bring me back to life.
petals, bright and warmopen to me, your petals bright and warm.
inviting to my touch and fragrance not sensed
since Eden was a garden not a lost paradise.
I will drink, softly and deeply, careful to show respect
and not resurrect the memories of cruel harvests
where you were just another random flower cut down
fallen angels covet this pollen and nectar,
for in their taste is the secret to immortality
and a sacred joy unknown by those lost and gone
I will feed here for a season, hoping you are perennial,
and that you will let me inhale your attar and kiss
your soft petals until time itself is irrelevant
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
born to be a greek godthese words are
cheap wine
(and whiskey,
and jagermeister,
and rum).
three weeks
and you're still
on my tongue,
the weight of
your body
still on mine.
twenty one days
and all i've come to realize
is how slow everything is
when it's happening,
but when you look back
it's a fucking bullet train
colliding with the sun
and the conductor
is dead
with nothing
to slow you down.
and still,
the dreams are the worst;
you're always in them
(and always perfect)
but just out of my reach.
no therapeutic mattress
or memory foam topper
can ever be as comfortable
as that crappy old
dorm mattress
with me in your arms.
home is only half
my home,
and i'm a different person now,
but you,
you're my hope
for a better future.
you're the reason
of my being home
just to
talk to you
and i'm not going anywhere
unless anywhere
means closer to you.
and somethings i think being drunk
is the only way to live with myself
because five thousand miles
mean i can't
live with you.

<da:thumb id="398194043"/> ghostyour cologne
still lingers in
the stairwell
like lovelorn
kisses on
dead roses;
the fiery trail
of your fingers
burn on my wrist.
green eyes
haunt the spaces
between my ribs,
listening to
the lub dub
of forgotten
promises
& outdated
love songs.
a merry-go-round
of colors and
sounds
echo in my
mind as I
carve your name
into my lips--
the crumpled paper
note you left behind
is still lodged
in my throat,
the words
"i love you"
choking me.
Simple ThingI’d like to be an off-beat
syncopated little thing;
note and stem floating on the melody, just sitting in
appoggiatura, grace-note, special thing.
I’d like to be a sailor
swinging on the ocean wind
coarse old rope between my hands and salt-spray where my toes begin
nimble little sailor, clever thing.
I’d like to be a bed-sheet
gentle thing to warm your skin
thing that you hug tighter when the morning starts to filter in
falling through your creases, lucky thing.

SaraiSarai
Leaves shed, petals bloom
A blaze of glory by the moon
A million flowers, a thousand roots
But a lonely tree that bears no fruit.
In golden years, borne no son
In the dark her hopes now gone
A taste of Summer but gave no wine
An endless Winter her fears define.
When the snow will fall, she can never say
But she’ll forever dread that final day
When her body’s frozen but heart still warm
But to never hold a child in her arms.
And when snow falls and tears descend
She’ll keep on praying until life ends
Because as heavens shower rains in Spring
God rains mercy to who believes in Him.
braille.her paperthin skin
bear the scars from within
& his hands seek
all that his eyes fail to satisfy.
he'll try to read her like braille -
he is too blind
to see otherwise.
actions may speak louder than words
but his touch has little worth
to someone who knows it can't
get worse.
if his thirst is quenched
by mere touch,
then maybe
he doesn't care too much
& if he is too poor of himself
then is she too cheap?
why does he explore each scar
like it's a prize
for him to keep?
an eye for an eye
would leave the whole world blind
but what do you do
if you want to leave the whole world
behind?
Bipolari am done with patience
and its deadening face.
i want what spills
out of her eyes when the waves crash
against the shore;
and the shrieking
i want that too,
banging against my spine.
and maybe i'll ripen and burst
falling from the tree
ready to ride on the back of windy days
audacious and free.

PhantasmShe sways like autumnal soliloquy—
trunk rooted, twisted like wrung cotton;
her limbs, splayed and frantic,
dance without purpose
with fingers that pluck at invisible strings.
With the leaping flame, she twirls in time—
both wax and wick her creators;
her dance, so replete,
a haunted projection
of lace ribbons and her porcelain smile.
BeatenMy sunset
              will
                   be
                       others
                                sunrise.
                                              .
                                                   .
Time's LegacyThe hands of Time
paint a mural
of jarring strokes
and violent colors.
The occasional, soft
strokes of green hide
behind broad, vibrant
schemes.
As our earth spins,
an insignificant sphere
in a vast universe,
the hands of Time move
quickly, steadily.
No moments are neglected.
Every detail must be
expressed for mankind to
remember.
Time's hands will grow feeble
but no one knows if its mural
will fade along with it.

The Soldier's DanceHis legs are moonbeams when he dances,
and he can move like a river.
But all songs stop when the bullets come,
and he would rather be paralyzed forever
than be caught dancing in the dark.
They rip him from the meadow
and darken his eyes with fists.
One whispers, “You fight like a ballerina.”
He goes to war the next year
and he saves time for dancing each night.
He dances in uniform,
thinking he will be a hero when he returns.
But then he has to kill five men,
and he sees a woman in a red dress
with an infant in her arms.
And he shoots her.
When he returns, there are ribbons
and metals and congratulations
from people he never met.
He sees the men from his past,
who are unchanged and call him names.
But this time he speaks to them,
and he has a soldier’s voice now.
“I would rather fight like a ballerina,
than dance like a soldier.”
And he leaves them with mouths gaping
and eyes wide,
because they don’t know about the infant girl
who may or may not beco
Armageddon Embracesfractured wishes you had kissed me with
for the first time, a romantical trickster
was my future.
he made mischievous love to me beneath demonic
eyes, as if possessing a soul - less lover will
manipulate my emotions.
his territory is bruised along my body,
his sadistic autobiographies carved
into my skin to tell the world I'm his
prisoner.
I asphyxiate his dreams, because
a dreamer of love is useless to me.
eclipseour moons wax like the carved balm of candles
dripping atmospherically in an unformed
patternless pattern
we look up at the night sky
ablaze with the heat of autonomy
and hear notes of crescent silver
like a welcome crescendo into the unknown
i slept under cracked parchment
and above coffined wood
wrapped in supposedly comforting novelty
pressure saw me swimming
in between air and fire
and held me bubble-wrap-less in its claws
i’ve never sat in a window box before
where temperature meets sound
and home is nowhere
just how you always pictured it
there’s splitting now
our moons burn in the same spot
in this frightening hub of freedom
i split
in the cracked window box that i claim
jolts poetic prefixes from bolted brains
(although i share this claim with no one)
i split
in private fountains running
not on moldy pennies
but on brick-built self-indulgent
silent crying
and rawness cutting from esophagus to brain stem
to fibrous heart
i split
in battles unseen and wounds
internall



spaceship by rodgersvDolomites pt. I by TheChosenPesssimist690 by ricchy
Bellinger Delight by DrewHopperKanu Unchou 1 by NanaKuronomaField wars by ljenda
Juliet Lollipop by Gabriel-LunaMeditation by christelburgerLady Death 2 by ImageDesigner
The Opening by 5isaliveSparkling by Michela-RivaMoonrise 008 by dkbarto
Lacheln 1 by recipeforhaightHigher by PiddlingEdelweiss by OKn-Photography
Heaven on Earth. by NatashaShatySilent storm by DarkVenusPersephonaeLast Sunshine by LeonsFilmreviews


Vlad Dracul by KejaBlankAragorn by AlexndraMiricaYin-Yang... by Lukyanovart
Moonhair girl by DusanMarkovicBibop by KhezuGRed by RaymondMinnaar
Tanuki by EastCoastToastLakeside by aragoniafantastic decline by hitforsa
Sinister by ShayneOtheDeadFreddy Krueger Watercolor by Feel-the-steelTorchwood star by ladunya
Zodiac eyes - Aries by SchoerieStreet in red by sanderusGabriel by Ondjage
Hannibal Lecter - Silence of the Lambs by gambitgmbScarlet Horizon by C-YenThe dance of wrath and pride by Ashvin-3

FNF Stamp 3 by dreamsinstatic

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to dreamsinstatic