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Fri Jul 17, 2015, 7:21 PM

© Copyright 2010 Journal Skin by Airamneleb

The wheels are a little rusty, but I'm trying to get back in the habit.  Lines are rolling through my head, but I can't quite put them together way I'd like.  I can't wait, though, because I know that one of these nights I'm just going to explode and poetry is going to pour out of my skin.  I love when that happens.

I ran a little poll asking about Friday Night Features.  I think I might bring the series back, although it'd be on a smaller scale.  It'll take a little while though as I have to build my favorites gallery back up. 

Just checking in... I figure if the poetry isn't flowing yet, I can at least get some words down.  In addition... I think this is going to be the year I finally start pursuing publication and commit myself fully to one of the many novels I've been developing over the years.  I'll see if I have true talent or if I am just a decent writer.  Either way, I'll never stop writing.  It all depends on what scale I'm writing on.

Hope you all are well!  I appreciate all of your comments and support.  When you spend too much time away it can be easy to forget how awesome the community is here.


Mon Jul 6, 2015, 6:57 PM

© Copyright 2010 Journal Skin by Airamneleb

I feel like every time I write a journal entry it's about how I haven't been around a lot lately.  That goes the same for this one, but I'm hoping to make it back now.

Life has a crazy way of getting, well, in the way.  Between a full time job, a full time girlfriend and full time school, I'm kept pretty busy these day.  That being said, I need to get back to my writing.  As any writer has experienced, when you're away from it for a while, it starts pouring out of everywhere.  For me, it starts in the car.  Driving - thoughts just flood in.  Lines begin forming, poetry begins coming together and by the time I reach my destination I'm too busy to jot it all down.  Just another gem lost in the ocean of my mind.  Well, I'm sure some of them are just stones destined for the bottom.  Either way, I need to do it again.  I'm going to begin keeping my writing journal in the passenger seat.  I took it out of my bag today for the first time in months and it as just calling out to me.

For the longest time, deviantArt was such a drive for me.  The community, the environment.  Being surrounded by so many other talents just drew the work right out of me.  I'm not sure that there is still a place for me here, but I'm going to see what happens.  I've got a few words rolling around in my head, and I'm going to splash them on the page and see what happens.

I deeply appreciate those of you who have supported me for all of these years and I'm going to show you some new things in the coming months.  I don't know that I'll ever be able to post something every day like I use to, but I'm sure going to try.  Hopefully I won't have lost my touch.  It's not necessarily like writing a bike, but the muscle memory is there.  Hope to hear from you all soon and to jump into the ocean of your words which I've been missing dearly.

I started a GoFundMe for all the dental work
I have to get done.  Take a look, if you're so inclined.
Steven's Smile Fund

A New Year

Mon Jan 19, 2015, 3:17 PM

© Copyright 2010 Journal Skin by Airamneleb

Haven't been around much for the past few months.  Sort of a combination of events culminated in my absence, or at least in my lack of presence for the most part.  Crazy holidays season + emotional experiences + finals in school + needing to recharge the batteries = a lot of sleeping (in between bouts of insomnia.)

You ever write so much that you find yourself not able to write a single word you can appreciate?  It's as if my mind becomes this junk pile and it's just full of poem fragments that I shaved off of other pieces until all I am left with is a bunch of junk that I can't snap together.  That happened to me back in November, so I decided to take a complete break from writing.  I haven't written a thing since the last poem I posted on here and, for the most part, it's been really nice to refresh everything.  I know I've got some new words coming, and I've certainly got a lot going on inside that needs to break out.  Hopefully you'll see the results soon.

I'm lonely.  Severely.  I feel as though the world is a big, dark space and I'm just a dot within it.  This happens, from time to time, where I feel like I'm shrinking into some shadow I cannot define.  I'm going to try to write my way out of it... but I keep waking up in the morning with these fantasies about disappearing.  Just packing up and moving to Seattle or Iowa.  Maybe it sounds crazy, but I'm tired of feeling like I'm a plug that can't find an outlet.  I need something to jolt the system.

Thanks everyone for you comments, well wishes and notes.  I apologize about the lack of response, but like I said, it's been sort of crazy for me.  Hopefully I'll catch up with you all soon.  I could certainly use the company.


Thu Oct 9, 2014, 5:28 PM

© Copyright 2010 Journal Skin by Airamneleb

I want to get a few things off my chest.  I have been on dA for six years now, although I've been writing for a lot longer than that.  I originally began writing as a young kid and it was an escape for me.  I could create the worlds I wanted to live in, I could have the friends I wanted to have, win the girl, conquer the enemy.  I discovered poetry in my early teens and it quickly became the area I wanted to focus on.  I've never been so optimistic as to believe that I was going to make some sort of a career out of it, although that is a dream I wish I could construct into reality.  That being said, I lost the purpose somewhere along the way.  Poetry was, for me, this ultimate way of expressing all of the chaos inside of me, my views on the world, my experiences, my dreams and my fears.  It was as much an extension of me as anything else could be.  However, I slowly found that I was beginning to write words that didn't connect the way that I wanted, that didn't say what I wanted, and out of some necessity or compulsion, I continued to post them here.  Yes, there were some diamonds in there, but there were also some lumps of coal.  I don't feel a poem I craft has as much power or purpose if I don't feel it screaming inside of me, fighting to get out.  So, I wanted to take a step back.  I took a lot of my work and I locked it up in storage and my gallery is fairly empty.  Eventually, I'll unlock a good portion of them, but I wanted to edit them and sharpen them and though I may never be a famous poet, I'd like to see some grace the pages of a book someday.  That being said, I'm not going to fall into the trapping of perfection anymore.  I want to make mistakes, write some bad lines, adjust, and learn from it.  I want to continue the evolution of my style, to learn new methods of expression, to experiment with different forms and see what happens.  For a while I was worried, like I had some reputation to uphold and as such I had to stay inside of a box.  Well, I'm not going to do that anymore so you're going to start seeing some very, very different things from me.  Some you'll like, some you'll hate, and I'm sure I'll feel the same way as you from time to time, but I want to expand and I want to be more of the poet I dream of being.

I needed a break, and I took it over the course of the past week or two.  I needed to recharge, to find myself, because I was lost.  Yes, I've got some things going on in my personal life that can be both uplifting and damaging, but this is the man that I am and I no longer want to try and be something that I am not.  Whether that is good enough for the people around me remains to be seen, but to be true to myself is definitely good enough for me.  I am a confusing guy and I feel lost more often than not, but I know a lot of who I am.  I love deeply, I fight for the things I believe in, I refuse to surrender in the face of overwhelming odds and I find something beautiful even in tragedy.  I don't know that I am enough for some people, or that I could be, but this is the man that I am and I have to believe that if I cannot add up in someone's mind than I am just not a part of the equation that they're interested in solving.  I feel sort of like a kite set adrift on the wind, tied to a tree with no hand manipulating my string.  I dive and I whirl, I swing and I soar, but is the person I'm trying to fly for even watching?  Time is going to tell, and I am going to continue down the road that I have chosen.  Ultimately, it is an inherent belief of mine that you cannot walk away from the things you truly want in life and there is no better way to tell whether or not someone wants you around than to see if they actually have you around.  Dreams are sweet, and wishes are wonderful, but action that solidifies the truth and intention of words is progress and progress is what is necessary.  So, if you want me, take me, and if you don't, then I'll see you around this big blue marble sometime.

Maybe it doesn't all make sense, and maybe I don't either.  However, new things are coming and I am going to live my way, write my way and no longer be afraid to pursue those things which I've always believed to be just out of reach.  For those of you who know me, read my work, talk to me on a personal level, don't be too shy.  I always enjoy seeing someone reach out.  It's nice to feel wanted or missed.  It's nice to feel.  It's nice to be where you want to be while being where you are also wanted.  So, here I am.  Show me something and I'll come a little closer.

I have not taken a vacation since April 2013.  I have gathered so many PTO hours at my job that I am pretty much in a place where I have to use them or I'm going to lose more than half of them when the year ends.  So, I've finally scheduled to take one.

I'm driving up the East Coast with my final stop being my old home state of New York.  Along the way I'm planning to make a few stops, see some friends, see some sights.  So, I'll be passing through several states.  Primarily I'll be in Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey for the long hauls.  I'll pass through a few others along the way.

After arriving in New York, I'm going to take a side trip up to Massachusetts.  I'm going to head into Amherst to see the Emily Dickinson house.  I've always wanted to go there and I figure, what better time than now? 

I'm going to take this trip in early August, tuck it in before I head back to school in late August.  Either way, I'll probably pop onto dA when I get the chance and for those of you who keep up with me through other sites, I'll probably post a lot on them.  I get bored on these long road trips so your entertaining messages are appreciated.
As some of you may have noticed, I moved almost every deviation I've ever submitted into storage.  One of the reasons I've selected to do this is that I want to work my way back through my gallery and sharpen up, edit, change around and rework a lot of my stuff.  Some things I'll probably leave as is, but I know there are some pieces in my gallery that I'd like to sharpen up or bring them closer to what was intended.  Not all of these changes will be dramatic, and some might not even be all that noticeable.  That being said, when I do select to redo one, I am going to release the original version from storage and then post the new version with the word "Redux" added into the title.  I'll then link them together.  In addition I'll add a "Redux" gallery folder. 

I think it will be fun to go back through six years worth of postings to see what changes and what doesn't.  I don't know about you, but for me, my poetry is like an emotional time capsule.  I can read something I wrote three years ago and I can immediately feel what I was feeling when I wrote it.  I'm curious to see how that all affects me as I go forward with this.  I will still be posting some new writing along the way, as I have been hitting my notebook pretty hard as of lately...

I've gotten a few notes and comments asking me whats been going on, where I've been, why I've been so quiet.  Etc.  Let me boil it all down for now, and later I'll go into further explanation.  Over the course of the past two years I've been through a really complicated, emotionally draining relationship experience which during some days left me so tired and drained I didn't even want to move, let alone talk to people or write poetry.  I assure you, the complications I experienced were complex and strange enough that I am, in fact, working on a book about it all.  There was some good, but mostly bad.  However, like many things in life, the bad experienced can lead you into good places.

As a result of all of that chaos I finally began seeing a therapist, and I'm very glad that I did.  I've wanted to see one for a long time, especially considering that I am a Psychology major.  It's interesting to experience it all firsthand and I think it's teaching me a lot about myself, and about what I need to do to be in a better place in my life.  So, it's sort of all about new beginnings for me right now.  I'm hoping that the adventure of this life starts becoming more of what I want it to be.

For those of you who have been wondering where I am, drop me a note, send me a message, I'll definitely get back to you.  And for those of you who want to keep up with me outside of this place, you can find me in a few different locations:

It's a fascinating thing, the way that we so often put ourselves through hell when we know better.  There is a battle waged between the emotional brain and the logical brain, and although logic seems black and white, the emotional side begins to fill in shades of gray.  I have a habit of doing this.  I tend to put myself into the most difficult, painful, complicated situations because I can see that slim, sliver of a chance that things can work out.  I am not sure what you'd call it, but I have a kind of complex where I always believe that something is possible.  It's infectious, to some degree, and it eats away at me.  I try to take the world onto my shoulders, I try to guide people through dark environments where I will lay myself down for all of the pain, as if I can take it away from them and bring it onto myself.  Sort of an emotional "Green Mile."  I push my own feelings into a corner, I box myself in, and I allow myself to get broken down piece by piece.  I don't do it because I enjoy it, because it's pretty goddamn miserable.  I do it because I want to help, I want to take someone's pain away, I want to be able to shake that person and tell them the truth in a way that they can recognize.  It isn't always easy, because most people will ignore the truth even if they know it.  They will push it down inside of themselves and pretend that things are not as bad as they are.  They will pretend that they are happy because it's easier than accepting that they are miserable.  The thing about it is, I never wanted to live a fake life and I never wanted to lie to myself.  We all do sometimes, it's unavoidable, but I'll take truth over bullshit any day.  Give me pain, heartbreak, anger, but give me truth regardless.  You know that infectious thing I mentioned earlier?  Some people call it "hope."  I'm beginning to believe that it is one of the worst things in the world.

So yes, I'm pretty unhappy at the moment.  I suppose I've been unhappy for a little while.  Some of you reading this may remember a previous post of mine where I discussed losing this person that I loved.  Well, I've lost her again.  Actually, "lost" isn't the right word.  That implies that I misplaced her, or that I did something to result in her absence from my life, but the truth of the matter is that I did everything I could to keep this person.  Maybe that was my mistake, haven't figured that part of it out yet.  Regardless, I've lost her.  Which brings up an interesting question:  did I ever really have her?  I'm not sure of that answer.  For a while, I believed that I did.  I saw the look in her eye, her body language, the way she smiled at me, touched me, kissed me.  The way that we made love, the way that she fell asleep draped over my body.  Maybe she did and it died, or maybe she thought she loved me but it was just heightened interest.  Maybe she does in fact love me, but finds herself unable to be with me.  I'm not really sure, but I've reached a place where I feel like I've done and said just about everything a man can to show love, to give love.  My therapist had an interesting thought about it:  what if she doesn't actually want love?

You have to understand, without revealing too much, this is a woman who has spent her life feeling as though she is not worthwhile and she has learned to find comfort in the familiarity of miserable and mistreatment.  Treating her well, giving her love, these things cause greater fear in her heart than the misery that another can bring to her.  I am not, and I never would, allow myself to treat her poorly.  I love her, and yes I do still love her, and I wanted to give her whatever I could, but I don't know now that she could have been then, nor is able to now, accept love and trust it.  It's sort of like a set of lines from my favorite Emily Dickinson poem:  "I like a look of agony / because I know it's true."  I don't know that this is the case, but I do know this one simple fact:  When you love someone, when you truly love that person, you find a way.  I have bent myself into all manner of shapes to conform to the world as has been necessary to be beside her.  However, she has proven to be less flexible than myself.  I am unsure if this is a result of her not loving me, or her loving someone else more.  Couldn't say for sure, but it hurts all the same.

It's been a difficult year.  Yeah, it's been a year.  I have fought and exerted myself.  I have bent and cracked and fractured.  I've risked my physical safety, had my life threatened, surrendered my emotional well being and, in a sense, allowed myself to get thrown aside.  It is inexplicable, the feeling of being tossed away like you are meaningless.  No matter what someone says, if they are not with you or working to be with you, than they don't want to be.  It's that simple.  It's difficult to see the harshness of the truth, but to have your emotions telling you that it isn't true.  Not because it isn't, but because you don't want it to be.  As someone who adores truth, I have been denying myself that very thing.  People will give you all of that bullshit about love, you know, how if you let someone go and they come back that it is meant to be.  That isn't really how it works.  Sometimes, when you love someone, you let them go and you do so not because they are going to come back, but because they are not going to come back.  Sadly, by letting go of her, I am giving her the freedom she so craves, but she is going to sacrifice that freedom by returning to the vicious cycle of abuse and neglect she has experienced at the hands of this other person. 

She can't see it.  I wish I could show it to her, but I've got enough knowledge in this field and experience with her particular situation that I can make a pretty educated guess of what is going to happen.  And it makes me sad, and it makes me angry.  It's so difficult to watch someone you care about, someone you love, allow themselves to be treated in this way.  However, you can't save them.  They have to save themselves.  This is a very difficult lesson for me to learn, and I'm not sure that I fully accept it but it does seem to be true in most cases.  How do you break someone out from a prison cell that they choose to go back into?  I guess you can't, you can just watch.  Maybe it's like dealing with a child - sometimes you have to let them fall down so they can learn.  Maybe I need to let her fall so that she can learn to lift herself up.  I worry, however, that she'll just stay on the ground resigned to the life that she has selected to follow.  She's a woman who ties a lot of anchors to herself and finds it incomprehensible that she can't swim across the sea.  She just doesn't see the anchors.

But I can't change her, and I can't save her, and I can't live her life for her.  I can only be here, as I am, and that puts me in this complicated situation where I have to watch the woman I love slowly sink into the dark.  I have to believe, I have to have some faith, that she will pull herself out of it eventually.  And if she doesn't, I have to ultimately accept that there is nothing I can do about it.  People come in and out of our lives, and some stay in our head forever.  Some stay in our heart forever.  She is someone who will be with me forever, and although one day she may exit my life and I may never lay eyes on her again, I know that she will always be a part of me and I will always worry for her and wonder.  Love... is not ever that easy.  I love her, and I have to let go and hope that she makes it ashore.  I don't know if she'll ever read these words.  She used to visit this page, to read the poetry I was writing about her, but lately she's doing her best to put up walls between she and I.  Maybe, one day, she'll be curious enough to look.  I hope that if she does, she'll know I cared and she'll know I tried.  If not, I just hope that she can make it through all of this. 

Beautiful things are corrupted and destroyed every day.  The love that takes a lifetime to give, can be crushed in such a small amount of time.  The spirit that is broken over time can take a lifetime to rebuild.  She is one beautiful thing that I truly hope survives because this world will be lacking one of its brightest lights if she never finds a way to shine again. 
I'll just never understand. 
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.

Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest


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:  1st Place

Mature Content

 by brokengod--veins
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 xMotherMoonx
Spread the Love Feature xMotherMoonx
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
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
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 xMotherMoonx
Spread the Love Feature xMotherMoonx
:new:  Journal Feature AzizrianDaoXrak
:new:  Journal Feature SeaPlume

:pumpkin:  3rd Place

Mature Content

 by NearlyInvisibleMind
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 xMotherMoonx
Spread the Love Feature xMotherMoonx
:new:  Journal Feature AzizrianDaoXrak
:new:  Journal Feature SeaPlume

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.

<da:thumb id="413647856"/> 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
and you,
crouched with large dark pupils,
a nymph and a priestess and a vision,
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.
<da:thumb id="413567232"/> 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
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
from every direction
as if the particles themselves
that compose my body
are becoming detached
tired of the tension, the constant
push to shove
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

Mature Content

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

Mature Content

P(l)ayoff by von-sel
Autumn 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

<da:thumb id="412518004"/>Uther 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 0KiWi0<da:thumb id="413662875"/>
Gone Fishing by arisuonpaaClose your eyes. by XRlS
Karol Bak by AndriyMarkivQuiet Blue by EugeneTheCounterStrider by apfelgriebs

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.


Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest

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

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.

Mature Content

Mature Content

Mature Content

<da:thumb id="411366081"/> 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
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
i am a desirable hung-over afterthought;
in the eyes of my warm & lovesick
i am the incense of my mother’s
    alcoholic aftershock
watch the consuming stars as they
along my paper-thin atmosphere’s
my trachea is a channeled beautification
in between your restless lips & teeth,
biting down & tasting the ginger
rainwater over my planet that bleeds
let the music of our hungry duplicity
along these histrionic flowerbeds that
    beg for beauty
i am a shadowy & intoxicated timepiece
amongst the wreckage of my jupiter’s
& i will dangle my head as my eyes drip
listening to your undying words
    twisting my maxilla
206 bones holding this war-trodden
& not a lone soul rests between my
    ragged lungs
<da:thumb id="403247999"/> 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,
that 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 dominoes.
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
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-seinn

Mature Content

Pandora- Roswell Ivory by Roswell-Ivory

Autumn journey pt.XI. by realityDreamHistory of India 2 by felixheruUnknown Germany pt. XLIV by TheChosenPesssimist
_Amelie III. by josefinejonssonphotoHeaven and Earth by WickedStar7Chun Li cosplay II. by EnjiNight
Return of a Friend by clippercarrillo<da:thumb id="400265042"/>Quiet ballade by sylverface

Halloween by Last-ValentineWicked Glasses by DrKujoPsyche by gabrielleragusi
Nocturnal by RaiechaWhat am I ? by ignacio197Wraith by Kodaic
<da:thumb id="410825971"/>Abbey 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

Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.  Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to dreamsinstatic
Due to some requests and a personal matter I have coming up, I've decided to extend the deadline from November 1st to November 8th!  Get your entries in now!

There is only a week left to get your entries in to the 5th Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest so... hurry up!  Still plenty of room.

Year III - Issue XVI
Volume CXX
:new: Tthe Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Prompt Contest now OPEN
Only 2 Weeks Left!

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="407941466"/> 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,
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
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.
<da:thumb id="408012696"/> 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
<da:thumb id="406797489"/>
Dreams: A Gateway DrugA grief-stricken moonset--
burning clouds for the sake of silver linings--
the secrets of fireflies.
Under the bed,
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
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

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Red WB by KyaWolfwritten
<da:thumb id="405129091"/>Falling up by JuliannaRembrandt
Another day in October by DaywishGlamorous Pinky by AlexiaPikViolent by MilanNikolaPetrovic

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For Bella Morte Magazine by Angelwhore-Wild
When The Trees Tell A Story by LupileloupDreamer - 05 by shiroang
<da:thumb id="406761842"/>Home is just another word for you by iNeedChemicalXPastel by Drake-Photography
<da:thumb id="408016071"/>Clouds 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 XBUDDYFORME
Joker by KRIZ507<da:thumb id="407457284"/>Autumn 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

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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:

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.

Friday Night Features is a weekly feature designed to showcase
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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
“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.

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
doesn't blink
an eye for you,
never looks away.
the moths in his
lower abdomen
dance salsa today,
praise your subtle
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
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!
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
I was confused
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
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
I need her
Only a manner of
Hours, days, months
For which I will care for her
And she will begin to care for me
She will pity me
Confuse loneliness with madness
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'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
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
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
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've pointed and said "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 dri

Golden Eyeshe sits
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
<da:thumb id="401481190"/> 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,
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

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