|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Thump. Beat.Follow the sound of your heartbeat.
For there, there shall always be a rhythm.
It will not sound like any sound you have heard before.
Yet you will know every volume
As if you had been hearing the same song for every day of your life
Since you first gasped.
And the beat began.
SshRace to the beating trail of your own heart,Listen to the own sound of your feet running for the abyssful wonder of a dream,Look to the flight of your wings in your eyes that are always searching with the clouds high above, Feel the bliss of your puffing breath gasps of leaving the world of black and white to chase after a red butterfly.And Ssh as you learn to know the gentle screaming voice around you, the words the voice are you, learning not lost, but searching.
Sadness in the StormRain drops trickle down upon my eyes, my eyes that burn with a sadness and spread in the raindrops like a fire that has lost it's hold,scolding my cheeks in it's fury,
I think it has spread to my heart thus well.
Thunder sounds it's roar, and deafens the ears of the other creatures near,drowning my saddened & forgotten cries in its immortal ecstasy, so we may mask our voices together.
The lightless shadows of the forbidding clouds, plague the path I walk upon and swallow the presence I think is me in there gently dark curtains.
The lightning stretches it being across the sky to strike down fear of passers by, so that no one but the storm will brave my side.
The Wind howls through the mountains and tree's just to embody me in it's grasp, bringing with it the whispers of the world.
My path is shaded in a yellowish hue, lit by a thousand lightning bugs,they show me the way while I am lost,the path upon this floating field of gold I walk.
Imagination of Prettier DayI sit here now and stare I may, I can't imagine, A prettier day. The storm clouds are comeing & sunshine day is turning way. Moonlight is rising, the fairies they come to play, dancing & frolicking in a music you cannot hear, Poisen Ivy is becoming a flower and death is playing chess with god this hour.Checkmate they say as a dragon is saved & a man becomes a slave, Madness is strolling in the midnight hues hunting for a victim both old and new. Here comes the devil, fashioned in light,Caring with him, an invisible fright, an unwinable fight. The nymphs are drowning in there own lake, such a shame, I guess they'll be late. Mother nature is having tea with a human this eve, my oh my, what a party! Dancer and Prancer are playing pranks, while santa picks out a new pair of sleys. Sorrow and Pain, one and the same, are walking the planks for the pirate queen Shanks. Succubis is playing with all the men as they follow her in her flanks, the dead are rising and pigs are flying, a werewolf is
The Rose and It's GuardianLong ago there was a Guardian, who was told that he was to forever guard over and protect a rose.
In a grassy valley surrounded by the forest, a single tree grew in it's middle and by it the rose, and it was there the Guardian sat. In snow, In leaves, In wind, in heat... never onc
The Gentlemans Dance
A Goddess of fire and spice, the Goddess Coriander danced in the night, all who would see her would run with fright, but one gentlemen on a moonlight night, took out his hand to the lady, the Goddess, upon the broken stones, and asked her for a final dance, a single romance. The night was there music the moon there spotlight, the graves there audience and there hearts the witness's of the night the gentleman, danced with the Goddess for a single night.
Long ago in ancient times there was a Goddess that weighed the fates. She did it without mercy and cared not how they screamed when her fates dealed low. She cared not a single teardrop. That is until came the time she was to pass judgment upon a small child, a girl with fire ember hair. She had stolen bread from a market nearby and for this the goddess, cruel as she was, sentenced, and fated her to die. She expected the girl to cry, to plead for life, to fall upon her knees as death embraced her face. But she didn't! Instead she reached out her hand and touched the Goddess upon her face and smiled without disgrace as her small figure turned into the first snowflakes of winters rain. And the goddess, being the cruel fater she was, cried ice, for the first time.
Feeling for the first time so terrible and sad, she gathered the snow from which she had fated the girl and layed them into her scales, freezing in time forevermore, so they may never melt away.... and she turn hersel
Bleeding love in this heartless realm, bleeding in a body that is suppose to be cold, no love, nor hate, only time, only wait. I searched the stars a thousand times and saw nothing but flashing lights like the bright city street life, they all are the same, I am without a name. Fear and death, love and pain , hand and hand, nothing to be gained. The wish to fly, the desire to swim, the desire to be, greedy aren't we. Leaves from the cherry tree drifting through, silently, unlike you, so like me. A stare is spared but is forgotten as the bell tolls a second has passed. Future and present, past and unknown, knowledge we want , time we need. Dreams and hopes are all we have, bread and butter isn't shared, love me or hate me, the options of life. but I, for either, choose neither, I care not a single breath. stare and stare is all I shall do, but in the end, I am just You.
Moonlit Night Were have you gone, my Moonlit Night.
I am waiting here again, yet another night, under forest shadows, the midnight summer mist and forgotten wisps, surrounding me. I am waiting here for you. I cannot utter a word as the silent hours go by, the fairies and things of dream filled nights, dance around me for hope of a smile, but I only get lonelier and sadder with the sound of a wolf howl so far, so near. An illusion, that you are here. I can only speak one word of how these nights feel, but will you hear me? Or am I just an echo, never reaching. I don't know, but I do know, brother, I miss you so.
Delusion becomes meDelusion becomes me
it echoes with the listless duty
of confining me
within the horrid tyranny
of my own fiction.
There will be no coup
no revolution nor rebellion
no cries for reality
nor exuberance of freedom
only the echoes of duty.
The monotonous drown of forgeries,
atrocities, and apologies,
the dying screams
of impoverished souls
of fancy and fantasy,
the rapacious shouts
of fallacious joy over
the births of new yet
lovely children of fate and belief,
more loudly the gunfire
these shouts are meant to cloud
horribly loud in themselves
though they quiet some of the screams,
and finally the repetition
of my own whispers
,my own words,
repeating the implication
and imagery of every sound
as is my duty.
My duty t know
every tragedy and ever
XVIII (Melting Brain)XVIII (Melting Brain)
18 days left till 18.
and i feel x plus something
equals the sum of adulthood.
and i’m missing the formula
to add that math up
so i subtract myself from it
in hopes of finding the answer.
damn it to hell, i missed a step.
so i make it a fraction
and hope that divides a prime number.
but that only multiplies the anxiety
because i know that doesn’t come out real.
and i can’t separate myself from reality
because what you add on one side
you must do to the other
when the variable isn’t known.
(and basically, you can be imaginative
but you have to make it a reality
or it’s just an idea
and ideas don’t get you paid
and realities eat money
like hungry hippos
but democrats are donkeys
and republicans are elephants.)
and no matter how many moments
i try to make into a solvable problem
the issue only comes out as x.
so let’s put it into a science.
i was born on the 19th of october,
Indie Wraps Around My EarsIndie Wraps Around My Ears
i like indie rap because it’s art
trapped under a stigma of astigmatism
which is probably why my favorite rappers
wear art frame glasses to see miss
and conception. or somethin’.
i like indie rap because i see myself
in the dudes who weren’t popular enough
to make it into the main’s ear,
soundwaves, or bloodstream
but those other weirdos
wearing sweater vests
with a gold cross linked round necks,
bow ties and nine fifty fitteds.
i like indie rap because i can whisper
broken assonance confused for direct rhymes
and snort lines and hide behind bars
and listen to prison songs
without ending up under the jail.
i like indie rap because i can repeat words
and look cool so words slice through eyes
like swords through irises
because i swore that i’d write
what sounds right and how i’d want
even if you don’t understand how i pen.
so even if my pupil can't pin
down these tones, rhythm, and space
we know tones sigh l
Relief. Relief, oh sweet relief
Miles and miles away
Now, like a nice warm bed
It floods me like the Nile,
Nourishing the irrigation of my veins;
Oh relief, tears of joy
And I will only be honest in this once -
I feared you had left already,
And I had not known you well enough
To understand this.
Today, I am happy
All I could sayIs take care
No harm will be wish upon you
No hatred thrown at you
I will not run after you like I used to
I will not explain myself anymore
I told you enough
So take care
QuartzI am your enigma
I am all that you despise
I am all that you adore
And I never leave your side
I consume the world around you
I am every step you take
I hover just below you
And make your heart ache
I am everywhere and nowhere
I am alive and I am dead
I’m in your head and in your heart
The monster under your bed
I am the caresses you crave
And the kisses you desire
I am the love you deserve
The attention you serve
So I’m not so pure and clear
And I don’t have a golden sheen
My cheeks aren’t sweetly rosy
My purple grace is not mien
My skin’s not milky or sublime
I’m not even shiny gray
I am just a fragile crystal
Almost black from decay
Hermes' Wings Need to be ShinedI'm replacing my eyes so I can stare at the ceiling
and watch as the cars' shadows run past
my window; I'm sick of this bed. I'm tired of this sickness.
I'm tired of being called diseased like I'll get you sick,
stay away from me.
You never left. You never left me alone.
I want to be alone, away from you who sends me endless messages
a day saying how I've done you wrong and caused you so much stress
that I've depressed you, and yet you still come to me with your
"baby, I need you"s; and I can't lie,
I've stretched myself far enough "baby", what you need
is to find someone else who will be your mother
because I'm done "baby"ing you.
I will not rock your cradle, or your world, or
your rocking chair when you get old 'cause god knows
I'm ailing from that motion and I'm just waiting 'till
I'm kneeling before toilet water because I've been struck with sea sickness.
Maybe I brought you good, but god damn it this
this is no good for me to be tied up by your threats of suicide;
IEC 5009IEC 5009
red ring circuit cut, circa unknown
variable change to the power
of the broken infinity symbol-
ic(e) like jewelry, freeze up,
and choke on the chain.
Almost and closeWhat is death but the lack of beauty
that I find in you and me,
the trees that accompany my poetry,
the sky that feels lost,
vast and knowledgeable as it is,
in front of my pleas?
Don't blame the music
sometimes, only it could seal my wounds
and stop the bleeding
but I've given some thought
to the new slate, a pristine name -
I could let my next reincarnation
bring truthful fulfillment
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
Keep in Touch!
A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More