Sta.sh
Happy Holidays to All 
One Year Anniverary 
Friday Night Features
Volume XL
Friday Night Features is a weekly feature aimed at displaying
a cross section of the some of the most striking, entertaining
and fantastic literature, photography and artwork from across
deviantArt. Show your support by
ing this article andchecking out these amazing pieces. You may find someone
new to watch
Literature
standing beneath a tough cloud of duststanding beneath a tough cloud of dust
swimming around my particles
creating poems of intimate forgery
wandering around, comes him with wings
coloured with rust, though fully functional
merging into the background, chirping away
tremors overwhelm the showcase,
the multitude of life that it displays,
the subsequent indigo flares that flash throughout the sky...
everything is clean-cut, washed away
like a secret paradise within my soul
everything flourishes: everything grand and visible
but they haven't left yet; they haven't faded
they, who spoil all the blossom in my eyes
they, whose purpose I can't seem to find
...steps...
..
All Dressed Up And No Where To GoI drape myself in words
With redundant fabrics,
Cliché buttons,
Plot-twisted zippers,
And "happy ending" slip-on shoes.
I conceal my precious nudity.
I hang "love" on one ear,
And "me" on the other.
Abstract perfection. 1.
my skeleton screams your
name.
you are remarkably beautiful - all
soft curves and gentleness,
pain
and happiness
etched together in
one complicated mess of a person
that is somehow perfectly made
up of imperfections.
2.
it is a world of conflicting definitions,
it is.
and it hurts me when you hurt,
when i imagine you bleeding out
like so many others in
this awful, awful world.
maybe
we're all immersed
in this
dream
stuck, like a poster
on the wall, just barely 3-D.
imperfection becomes you, honey,
f
:thumb291854218:
Forest FireWe're proper lovers with miles in-between
Like the devil floating down the river valley
That baptizes in its water
I am not where I would like to be
Like a pagan dance, you tend to inspire
The flirt in your lips, the kiss in your smile
You've got the earth eyes and I've got the sky
This passion: a forest, the anxiety: a fire
ShardsYou were a painless
Miracle
Nothing less
Your bright light suddenly blacked with the
ashes of burnt hope
you've failed me
failed yur last Test
stabbed
with my own knife
I guess we can consider ourselves
Even
I dont want to be even
I play to win
And with these tears
I drown the miracle of
What Could Have Been
First KissLaughter tumbles, slowly,
From old metal balconies,
Where timid lovers share
First kisses;
And hold each other
A little too tightly.
Sunlight dances softly
Across lines of bright flowers,
Caressing red and yellow petals,
Blowing lightly in the breeze.
The sound of cars far below
Permeating the summer haze,
As they rush to and fro,
Between places
Only they will know.
In the evening
The last of the light
Gently slides across chimney pots
And bright red roof tiles,
Sinking slowly to sleep,
Leaving closing flowers
And the slowly dying laughter
From dark old balconies
As weak reminders
Of the bright day,
Hidden by the pal
salvaging ______there are downsides to living next to the sea, you know
summerthings rust in scratched wood garages
that stand sleepy and let the soggy air come in
with little fight-
maybe some groaning
and stretching
but no fight
and you find them on especially hot March days
and you fix what you can
maybe i am a summerthing sometimes
because i find myself annually
with a lot of rust too
.h u s h e d
this is the sound
of angels suffocating
it is summer
and we laugh at
the tender-sweet
suicides
with guns
to their lover's heads
the stars are bleeding
across the sky
.you make
wishes
&
liars who stop
dreaming
won't
forgive themselves
you are consummate
as you slip in
choke on your own tongue
murmur sweet-nothings
it doesn't mean
as much as you think
because your lover-boy
is a liar-boy
these
arsenic kisses
will poison; you
eventually.
Memento Mori: MotherMother:thumb291562728:
You were my first Mother, Parent and Death.
How would you feel if I had other mothers,
Abusive, gaudy and stagnant, rather than you?
They were interior, buzzing away; but
I am like a worker bee with no queen,
So everything is in vain.
Our glass hive has been dropped,
And the shards have shredded my Brother's feet.
He's almost mute, you know.
It wasn't the tumour, but the second
No, third
Mother why did you die? Is what
I want to ask
But instead, I accept that you were ill,
And that you're hidden in a casket
Just waiting to jump out and declare:
"Surprise!"
But I digress, you couldn't jump,
And neither can I.
The Suicide DreamHer suicide lines the floor,
like red flowers on a black rug.
She cries
whether for life
or death
it is unclear.
Her life stains the carpet,
like her white nightgown
it is tainted.
Whether her life was
or her death will be
it is uncertain.
He asks her if she wants to die.
Her blood can not hurt him;
he is clean.
Whether he means to save her
or kill her,
she will follow.
He will save her
but only if she wants to live
and promise
never to die;
not like this.
Do you really want to die?
:thumb286021223:
Few Words Short Without Any Less MeaningI never felt like this before
The feeling when you
Are watching the empty screen
In front of your face
The opened conversation
Right there
On the bottom right corner
Her words becoming unreadable
As my tears start to pour
I didn't want this to begin with
Is it really my fault
That you did all those mistakes
With our friendship on the line
And knowing how jealous I am
You didn't stop
Even if you knew
How much he meant to me
I poured out my frustration
It's alright if you don't understand
It was way past midnight
When I wrote those words
Not that I didn't mean them
But I should have known
That there was
A way easier way
Step DancerShe moves to the music,
A silent ballet in the countryside,
A hush of flute music and violin,
Feathered motions to the rhythm,
An honored silhouette of the ages.
Quiet and calm and beautifully orchestrated,
White as the freshly fallen snow,
New as the rain rushing to the ocean,
A sea breeze returning home,
A flower blossom drifting in found water.
There is unity in silence,
A call to the maidens of the past,
The healing of brokenness and scars,
A whisper of the ancient lands,
A note rising on the wing.
She is joined by many,
Those with clasped hands,
Rising in accord to her own song,
Stepping lightly on the cobblestone,
A b
Photography
Artwork
Suggestions are welcome and encouraged. Send in your suggestions
for feature by noting them to `dreamsinstatic
