| This poem is eerily relevant for my current situation - and I was pretty much okay when I wrote it. Life is so weird. |
*neonxaos
Try★to★star!Saturnine days
Newest
Spitting imageI am told that I bubble-shell the world away. They say that I am imagined strange.Spitting image
They also say I have potential – but always shy from why. They say that I should shake the world with it – but leave "it" undefined.
I find great pleasure in words like clandestine and your face is fire. This is what I do. I starve doing only this.
Only this I know.
I imagine my potential for it. I laugh until my mind splits open. Fragments of a life pink and palpitating.
My Mom once said that when I grew up I would
by *neonxaos
ReturnerBack through the loop start of the innerspace no heart there to find only this holeReturner
back to the early years. Back to the fear. Back to the darkened room. Back to the
gun to my temple.
by *neonxaos
Being-in-the-wordStanding on the rooftop reaching for that elusive silver lining.Being-in-the-word
If I grab and peel, I expect a silver skyslide, imparting a new way with words and finally some heart&brain connection.
All that happens is that my hands grow oddly long and older. They make eccentric air-figures that only I can see. They make noises like paper crumbling, then burning. But where is the smell?
I stand there, contemplating for hours of annoying seconds, each one pecking my skull, reminding me of things I wasted them &nb
by *neonxaos
StonewalkersYou cannot know the ground ahead, it might be simple fantasy. But every stepStonewalkers
is a realization.
The view from a grave leaves a lot to be desired, so most of us take easy steps. We lay our lives on the sidewalk daring it to hold, and when the day comes, wanting it to break,
to encapsule us in the terra firma and compress us into stone.
This is really all we ever do. Fossilize until we turn to atoms. It is the perfect backlash crime. One day they will pave the sky and we will remain forever, dead like pretty diamonds.
by *neonxaos
My poetry
The day the leopards diedAlarm clock - check! The city humdrum - check! The noisy guy upstairs - check! The sound of running water - check! The angry woman on the phone - check! The furtive cat legions, stray, spoiled - check! The wars on TV, clamorous, onerous, futile -check! The shadowy stalkers returning to their hideouts- check! The mother, worrying about offspring whereabouts - check! The birds - a farrago of doves, gulls, sparrows, crows - check! The dogs - spaniels, Great Danes, retrievers, pomeranians - check! The plumber, wanting money for that job he never completed - check!The day the leopards died
The
by *neonxaos
Bloody EuropeShut up and learn when not to shut up. You were so beautiful when I was growing ears, but now they're blasted, tattered, going deafBloody Europe
Your voice rainbow arches into peoples' eyes and fountains from their aural canals, now unicolored, when you don't give proper warning. You shatter ideas of porcelain bosoms, you splinter dreams of rusty ankles,
you devastate the ground on which they wish to stand. Don't you see that you are raping yourself? You never give proper warning now! You only give the !s and the ?s and you pulverize the world and shoot it up like crack cocain
by *neonxaos
| Randomness from my poetry submissions. |
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Random Favourites
The Writing ProcessWhat is the Writing Process?The Writing Process
Many of us learned that the writing process is made up of five parts: Pre-writing, Writing, Revision, Editing, and Publishing. Indeed, this process has been so ingrained, and the vocabulary and terms have become such a part of our education, that some students (and adults) feel as if writing is a formulaic, rigid thing—not unlike learning mathematics—that they simply never excelled in. Fortunately, this simply isn't true. While the five basic steps of the writing process are effective, they can only be effective if the people using the process understand the
by ~LaMonaca
Uncle DannyIn the Beginning, there was the Word.Uncle Danny
And some say that the reason there was only one word was because Uncle Danny got hold of the rest and God just had to make do.
And Uncle Danny had black nails and no hair, and he wore big glasses and a hat and a coat, and he walked around Copenhagen at night and wrote it all down on the cobbles, and in his head, and in his hat and, sometimes, on paper.
And Uncle Danny was everybody's Uncle, even if nobody could really remember why or how. And Uncle Danny had the Words. And the Words had Uncle Danny. And sometimes it would be hard to see where the Words ended an
by ~Skyen
Small talkTapping the baton of her teaspoonSmall talk
twice on the saucer, a bright start,
'You've dropped out,' says his mother.
Her vision of a career in White Hall
disappointed by his small charity job
and arts trifles, not one to acknowledge
the legislative clout of poets. She's
a resurrectionist, keen to deliver him
to Society's scalpel, 'What's wrong?'
through the light percussion of cutlery, mobile phone calls, and monotone
hum, which he hears as Om.
by ~venturus
Questions of Moving OutWhen you told me - at one AM, no less!- that it was high time we moved in together, close the gap of state lines in an orthodontist like way, I must admit I panicked (zebra caught in the maw of the crocodile, pulled into murky tepid water as the killer cries softly) and hid behind my mother.Questions of Moving Out
Freud would have have a hey-day, much like my father does with pointing out his pain, sticking from his chest like a tumor shaped like a mango. I bite down and the juice runs sticky sweet down my chin.
He and I pass (not ships in the night, but more like a couple a
by ~crimson-regret
EpiphanyI understand thatEpiphany
my knowing my place and staying in it are vital to your well-being.
I’m afraid, however, that your well-being is no longer my top priority.
by *Blueskye27
The FuguistJonah hated Mars. He hated everything about it. Every minute he spent there he was plagued by a vague feeling of unrest: Mars was not quite foreign, not quite familiar, an endless mirage or coma dream. Maybe he was dead, and maybe this was purgatory. Sometimes he considered praying at night, asking for forgiveness, just in case, for whatever sin might have banished him there, but then he looked out over the barren, forsaken wasteland and thought his time was much better spent sleeping, or walking.The Fuguist
But he hated how soft the ground was, how little clouds of dust exploded under his soles with every step, and how he could turn around
by ~deadend-zenith
The New BridgeA machine torn straight from the pages of the War of the Worlds, it has dug claws into the soil of old Dundrum and hunkered down on its haunches.The New Bridge
St. George's Bells peel its arrival. Spider on spider on spider, little feet disturb hairs on the back of my hands, and ivy sinks first roots into concrete - the webs we weave,
the bridges new lovers build for each other, rigging stretches to the sky and wind plays the cables like a harp. It is like a beached ship, you whispered. Before it landed here on our small planet a sail of purest whitest e
by ~a-random-quigle
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I think the shot is generally great, but is let down by a few technical issues. The flash in the top right leaf is quite dominating, an...
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Moving on... 
AnguishAre you a happy person?
| 45%
27%
9%
9%
9%
|
Journal History
- Jul 14, 2009 Moving on...
- Jul 11, 2009 Oh no... anything but this.
- Jul 10, 2009 Shoutouts
- Jul 6, 2009 Happiness...?
- Jun 26, 2009 Michael Jackson
- Jun 24, 2009 Cormac and me
- Jun 13, 2009 A winner is me!
- Apr 14, 2009 Obsessions
- Mar 14, 2009 Writing lots of poetry!
- Feb 13, 2009 I got Street Fighter IV!
deviantID
| I can write stuff here now. I can't wait until we can write stuff inside stuff. |
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--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
are
wel
com
e..
.
--
[link] Unreality flickerS [link]
right round
baby
right round
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
--
[link] Unreality flickerS [link]
--
As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. -Carl Jung-
Not that that necessarily means much, praise from a stranger, but, you know. Been reading through it, and, thumbs up.
--
[link] Unreality flickerS [link]
That's good, then.
--
"If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking."
— Haruki Murakami
~distinctpoetry
--
[link] Unreality flickerS [link]
Pixel made a new game a little shmup called GUXT check it out if you want it's pretty cool i think
Knytt Stories has amazing atmosphere. i suggest you check that out as well
good free fun
--
"If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking."
— Haruki Murakami
~distinctpoetry
--
[link] Unreality flickerS [link]
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