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Waiting for a coach
that never came,
a ball gown
out of sackloth;
are not dependable
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
Definition of a Writerwrit•er
A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery
They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish
A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own
They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone
Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.
The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress
Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.
A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.
Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:
giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --
burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.
it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.
L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that
Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.
Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.
Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,
Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.
Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.
Missing piecesMissing pieces
There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.
-SophieCT, 2012, 2013
Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs
I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight
I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family
I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push
I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"
I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says
I can't trust anyone because they do
field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.
MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings
Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee
The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.
And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.
van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
of murmuring lips of
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns are midnight requiems
That tell me to look beyond the
light and have &
Monday, Erased and Re-WrittenDawn broke brittle Monday morning, the sky cracked like eggs
(All done in silence beneath the roaring of my tinnitus)
Twenty 'til something and I'm driving out into blazing light
Looking for what, I won't know 'til its found but its
Just so damned bright and quiet and I think of a sniper in the clock tower
Fallen asleep waiting to pick off his targets but how can he sleep
in this goddamned brightness and nothings moving anywhere
Empty streets, has the world called in sick this morning?
Am I awake? Am I alive? Am I in a movie, maybe a character
in someone's book? Why don't I feel anything? Am I waiting for
the writer to tell me how I feel,
DreamsIn my dreams I tried to find,
The place where truth and myth collide,
You rose from deep within my mind,
And taught me how to live in kind.
Deep inside I feared to see,
That I'm just You, and You're just Me,
But somewhere in You's something great,
Beyond my grasp but yet your fate.
And now you're both my sword and shield,
To you alone, the stars will yield,
It seems my part is almost through,
To dream, create and harbour you.
Not just a Dream, You'll never die,
Though in my sleep, for you I cry,
For now's the hardest part you see,
I'm waking up, to set you free...
YourselfWhy adhere to one convention,
I am of my own invention,
What I am is what I choose,
What I am I'll never lose.
You can give up all your mind,
Become the crowd and walk round blind,
But me, I'd rather face the blade,
Than wear the crown that others made.
All I am I choose to be,
Not for you, but just for me,
Life's too short to spend a clone,
It's better lived a way your own.
Don't spend your time a faceless crowd,
Say you're you and sing out loud,
So let them judge you by the cover,
You'll prove there'll never be another.
Sepulchre Signals I: SurrenderAn idea is a purpose, and mine is just,
I champion the hearts and the minds of the fallen,
I am an epitaph on the grave of a million dead Gods,
An answer to the call for peace.
Fall unto me and witness our glorious steps closer
to absolution with every passing moment.
I beg the ones who defy my noble goal, Surrender,
I am all that dies, and will become all that lives.
Surrender the Stars to me my foe,
so that I might snatch them from the jaws of eternity...
For YouHow to start this Poem,
Of what you are to me?
I cannot write in words,
but wish to make you see,
I'd try to rhyme a rythm,
To show you how I feel,
But every time I write of you,
My thoughts you simply steal,
So what I write beyond here,
I want you just to know,
I feel beyond it's wording,
The words just seem to flow,
Your smile is the saviour,
From all my wordly fears,
Of losing you a moment,
Which brings me unto tears,
For you I'd kill an Angel,
And offer you my Heart,
I'd render you a Goddess,
And tear the the World apart,
Your kiss is Absolution,
I'd Die for you, I'm sure,
To hear the sweetest sound I know,
A Broken WonderlandOur lives are fleeting, harsh and cruel,
I sought to run - escape it all,
Along my way I lost my soul,
And tumbled down the rabbit hole,
My heart was free but at expense,
No longer one with time and sense.
In the madness shone the dark,
Within the chaos hope was stark,
My blood and tears were shed in vain,
The nonsense couldn't stem the pain,
I found no quarter from my past,
My mind was weak - not built to last.
For this worlds peace I deeply yearned,
But such mad hope just crashed and burned,
I cried a pool of crystal tears,
To vent my pain and drown my fears,
I scorned this world and hated mine,
And in the dark I drew the l
UndesignOur Planet's time will end abrupt,
It's soon to face the forge,
Where all design is crushed to nil,
And time has run its course.
Our selfish fear of our demise,
Has damned our hope,
And nulled Earth's cries,
No more lying,
No more killing,
Earth is dying,
Lights are dimming.
Faith eludes us,
We close our eyes,
All will fall and so it is,
We should have learned to see,
That all our wrongs will give the Earth,
It's last catastrophe.
No man nor God,
Could stay the hand,
And no-one saw the sign,
All erased to start anew,
And so ends Undesign.
LonelinessLong I've played along the plot,
On the words that friends forgot,
Never checking twice my line,
Every day spent in confine,
Long awaiting their return,
I always hoped but never learn,
Never changing words nor tone,
Every day spent on my own,
Singing out a broken creed,
Singing so I might be freed.
27He had 27 bones
in his left hand, all under a thick netting
of coral reef. He had 27 bones in his right hand too, each perfectly preserved.
Both hands held their breath
as he approached stage exit.
Hit every bar, tour every state.
A river runs interstate through Texas.
Small yellow lines jump straight through it.
Take the US-27 from Fort Wayne to Miami. A second doesn’t make it
to his destination.
Cobalt. Aluminum. A third was found dead, drowned in his pool,
an empty shot glass floating beside him.
Cobalt weighed down his shoulders. Alumi
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`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More