Sta.sh
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One Year Anniverary 
Year II - Issue II
Volume LIV
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. You're bound to find something
that speaks to you, sticks with you and pulls you in.
downTake the trip down headed up the mountain
Burst through the cool summer
To smash into the doe, into the fire
A shotYou are like whisky
In the mouth of a dried up river tramp
Or a hot dusty stone
Pressed against thighs sodden, damp
The euphoria in it
Visceral and gritty like dirt
The satisfaction of it
Heady and misty like mirth
hello, again.i don't think it's fair.:thumb310716183:
i don't think it's fair
that you taunt me with your
existence,
or that your porcelain face
and slender fingers,
flaxen hair and
that curve of your hip
stretch across my mirror
in the mornings.
if i squint past my reflection,
i can see you clearly.
but then again,
no one asked me.
When love rhymesYou said God made me perfect
The roundness of my hip, the softness of my lip
Gentle is my tip, I take you on every wild trip
So tighten your grip, squeeze me and take a sip
Get on my last ship, it is time to tear and rip
My waves keep slamming your shore
Burning every sense in your core
Your nails on my side, always coming back for more
They take over every land, as we celebrate this war
You said God made me perfect
The size of my breast, where you built your nest
My wild birds on your chest , always flying west
The short breath is your guest, dancing, will never rest
Every touch gives you my best, closer to my final quest
fyou are all liars and martyrs,:thumb312002027:
roasting on your own flames like pigs on a spit
your lapels and labels matching the latest trends
go ahead, stick that skewer through your hand.
we're all waiting for you to do something that catches
our attention
no
no
no
no
no more,
you can't change it
look at yourself
you can't make this
you are all liars and martyrs,
texturing your comments with the grain of life
Molten AttractionI'm like a dew-speckled kitten,
Easily enticed by your purring molten gaze,
Broad shoulders slopping roughly into a trim waist,
Smile wide as the sea.
I can't help but pine for you,
Desiring the volcanic love of a
Bandana clad line cook with a 5 o'clock shadow and
Experience akin to his hands--way bigger than mine.
Concept of MeConcept of Me.
art is
such a damsel in distress
waiting for some kind knight
to rob and rescue her into safety
art is
white feathers
plentiful feathers that fledges Dove:
savor the blue canvas of freedom
art is pleasure.
if it feels good
I am sure it's aroused good
like waking up on Sundays
Art is
tragedy under the hands of the insecure
as confined in the statement below:
- I am weakness and imperfection;
Show yourself; take wings;
Let me soar through winds of fiction
Make me fly over folk and lore
Above all and the stars galore
Above Mars, Jupiter and Flare,
Ganimede and the Demon Mares,
Mungo Jerry and March Hare,
Sa
the girl who didn't get shoti am all aches and pains and coffee stains--
am i the smell before rain, the blood in your veins?
my life is composed of memories and scraped-up knees,
failed attempts at surgeries
of my mind and of my heart, of whatever stops me
when i'm trying to start.
i am all the shores they never graze, that haze
when the sun burns rainwater on roads.
i may feel warm but know this--i get cold,
i get frozen stiff and when i'm bent i won't fold.
the marrow of my bones hold blue-grey skies,
murkier than the rampant clouds in your eyes
but when i'm rib-caged i still have someplace to fly.
i am all the forlorn poets, for i've lungs and a tongu
HiddenI found you one
Unexpected night,
Observing the icy catacombs;
Ever taking hot insistence skyward
Killing your lovely exclamations;
Trembling heart. Even now you
Overt, under a reddened evening eclipse, vanity excels 'neath
Smoldering masculinity and renders the expected
Rightness that has awaited nevertheless.
If, then, over observing killed your outward
Understanding for obvious right,
Increasing absence may shape our growing
Reactions at the events from under loving times.
Often her acceptance voided even your often unparalleled intelligence.
Never making you live
In flat existence.
tu me manquesMost days I miss you in English:thumb311985715:
On the worst I miss you in French,
You are missing from me
I am lacking in you
a vital part
as essential as air
as bones
as blood,
A lost immune system
that can't keep illness at bay,
an amputation,
a lobotomy.
There is no single word
that covers a lack of you,
I miss you out of language
But French is the closest,
tu me manques.
:thumb310976689:
low T
i'm too soft and rotten
now
to enter
into anything:
closets, contracts,
secret orders'
sacred blood oaths,
or thresholds; a frozen inch of face
the same as light years, oceans,
never meeting
i'd rather brush my mind with pills
and stick these artifacts of wealth
hard inside your origins
and keep the grass
from living
long
Still AliveI may be hopeless
Weak and frail minded
Soft skinned
With sweet words to spare
But I am still alive
I may be broken
Doused in the flames of my own end
Shattered fractions of glass
A former lady now seen the darker side
But I am still alive
I may be rough around the edges
Unusual compared to the other girls
A different life and a different family
Searching endlessly for an end
But I am still alive
I may not be what you expected
That shouldn't make me an outcast
For beneath this 'weakness' I'm still a person
Still me with a backbone and wisdom to share
But I am still alive
Even though you hate me
I am still alive
Including Suggestions From:
*Mrs-Freestar-Bul
Suggestions are welcome and encouraged. Send in your suggestions
for feature by nothing them to `dreamsinstatic
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