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Literature
Vortex
Round and round and round she goes,
circling the drain, circling the drain,
the art of perpetual motion embodied,
tantalizing the heart of slender glass,
shadow play through condensation,
the sign of recent loss and future thirst,
never stopping, never escaping,
circling, circling, circling.
When the glass is crushed
in desperation or in rage,
she flits to the next,
butterfly phantom,
who cannot be drowned,
no matter the poison.
She is intoxication,
the wild eyes, the edge
of bliss and despair, dark paths
into mechanical sunlight,
the transformation of meaning
into temporal progression.
The damage that can never be paid for.
She is the illusion
before and after the fact,
burning her actual self away,
circling, circling, circling
into the void.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 0 0
Mature content
Shame :iconneonxaos:neonxaos 0 3
Literature
Salt of the Earth
Memories of you
in a zebra dress,
radiant with irony and
damp with the sweat
of new dawn -
the futility
of driving a wild animal
to drink and dine and
dance to any expectations
without a native rhythm
stirring in the rancor
that fell upon your face.
I was not the good man
I mistook myself for,
thoughts legion,
rebelling
against their own
foundation.
Idols tumble from their pedestals
and become the dust we walk upon.
From dust the clay, the salt, the earth
rise and grow the new horizon.
Let them fall and walk unshadowed.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 2 1
Literature
Sojourn
I have no power left
from the wide-eyed attempt
at changing the course
of the river.
There is no time left
to sow the seeds
for forests
in my future.
In the dreamscape
there is no vision left
of the right way
to sail for death.
It will simply come to this,
the journey home,
the nothingness,
the peace.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 3 5
Literature
Sailor
I set out to test the waters
and push my limits,
but the depths were hungry,
and the limits fluid,
far too close to shore.
All the complexities,
the terror and the pain,
flooded the brain,
drowning the fact
that happiness can only rise
from deep within.
It is your own damn job
to learn how to swim.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 5 12
Literature
The simple end
So it seems that
as the years go by
like autumn leaves
in snaking rivers,
the sense of distance
is swallowed by the sea.
So it seems that
there are no perfect circles,
only jagged lines
folding on themselves.
So it seems that
a human body
is simply matterless
from violent beginning
to the simple sweetness
of the end.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 7 9
Literature
Supermassive
Reality never bends
to human expectation,
it simply does its thing
and becomes the consequences.
At times it blossoms perfecly
in the gardens of our creation,
but when it dies and rots away,
we may have been the poison.
No result is guaranteed,
even when thoroughly tested,
but life is all but barren
without the seed of risk.
And in the end,
strange beauty grows
from feeling things
big enough to break you.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 4 3
Literature
Suprasolar
We call it the Local Group,
this, our neighborhood of galaxies,
in which only a single star
among billions
is even remotely reachable.
And we tell ourselves
to dream big.
That hard work
will get us there.
But on the cosmic scale
our collective capacity
is nothing.
For every star in the Milky Way,
all four hundred billion or more,
there is a galaxy.
Even the Local Group
is nothing.
Yet since dreams are orbital
we hold our breath to reach them.
And when we perish in the vacuum
the stars still burn
everything that matters.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 8 4
Literature
Forest fire
We were snaking up the I-84
through Deadman Pass
in the Blue Mountains
of northeastern Oregon,
where stories write themselves.
The trees are evergreen, you said,
defiant spruce and pine and fir
protruding from dirt and rocks,
exclamation points
following the death of everything else.
I recall a membrane of clouds
at the apex, a reminder of borders
that should never have been crossed,
as overanalyzed by a tired mind.
It may or may not have been there.
We penetrated the veil,
the first Chevy
to sputter onto the Moon,
monochrome and lifeless,
under a radiant crystal sky.
The fire had ravaged
the land to the bone
leaving us trapped
in the rib cage of the world.
Something else descended
into the desert below,
but it was no longer us.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 16 22
Literature
Awoken
For years I slept with open eyes
and fibrous dreams, cut into shapes
so real to the touch.
It took a shock to wake me up
and shed my baby skin.
The cold is raw now,
honest and lethal
to a naked body,
freezing words
solid in the throat.
Light once imagined
shines no more.
Love once whispered
now rings hollow
among the echoes
of the dusk.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 4 4
Literature
Why the ostrich bleeds
I have overshared
enough.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 5 4
Literature
Starpulse
Ten folds
of singularity
around and around
that lucid pain
& sing across
the great divide
like a pulsar,
a throbbing star.
Let them hear you
long after you fall
through your heart-hole
into the never/ever
& keep them wondering
why.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 6 11
Literature
Visitor's guide
In small-town America
that biker dude at the local Circle K
will greet you every time,
by name, even, after a while,
and he will ask you if you're OK.
This is not an actual question,
but that is all right.
In small-town America
you should not ride your bike
while wearing a shoulder bag,
hanging like a koala bear.
A school bus will eventually pass by,
the kids will laugh their asses off,
nice Mormon bros will call you "nice" and "bro",
and a '74 Chevy will nudge you into a ditch,
endangered, like a koala bear.
In small-town America
you should not just turn left for the hell of it
if you don't want to see a giant old man
straddling a John Deere, wearing nothing
but nearly swallowed shorts,
massive gold-rimmed Aviators
and a double-barreled shotgun.
You should never ever wonder,
where he keeps his extra shells.
Small-town America.
I was a stranger,
but you spoke to me,
and I wish I had known
how to actually answer.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 1 16
Literature
Missionary

I’m ready to be used, you said;
but you’ve no clue what I could do
to you if you let me.

It isn't a matter of control,
a matter of fact, a sense of the matter;
it's the thrill of losing them all.

Will you declare the same
when I gain the bend of your thoughts,
or take your latest hours for myself?

The turns you take yourself
lead you down predictable roads;
I choose to close my eyes.

I want your hands, your mouth—
not your eyes, or even your concern;
just the weight of you over me.

Let's draw the blinds and see
what primal tongues our bodies choir
in the cosmos of the dark.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 17 15
Literature
Departure
Reason runs dry
along the Eastern shore
where NYC fingers
for the mainland.
The man who went
is a complete stranger
to what returned
from a different state.
Now he just watches
the land drown below.
Everything else
is already gone.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 1 3
Literature
Differences
The asymmetry
between you and me
is poetry.
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 3 6

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cool banana radio
a windswept hairline crept out of the shored up morn
collecting the wiry thoughts of night to fresh spindles
as the rest of the body caught up in a rush of coffee...
or was it tea? ah, it's a dry cotton mouth either way,
good practice cranking the motormouth stammering
out wrinkled logorrhea readied for the hot ironic.
and the man said he'd be damned if he won't...and he was,
or wasn't, just spouting from the mouth to be held at bay
'til words like waves found sound and played the proper yellow -
the shade of his heart, drowning out & droned: a cool banana radio.
he brushed the static from his teeth, flossed the whispers
from the ears and threw them out the window into the world
where they could do the least subconscious phenomena
of absorbing into the porous organs of popular ideas.
still pyjama clad he trudged into his work-at-home studio
like velcro clinging to the burs of pearly disturbance.
there was always this one caller, the tone with sunburnt coconuts
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goodnight heavy head
unzippered
i drape my spine
across the bed
dust my mouth:
"you cannot hurt me
anymore.
you play
your raw music
for the
moon
like a dog"
-you dip your lips into my neck
like a pool of night sadness
tiny breath chunks flying.-
yes,
right now
i'm the sun
and the sun
is going to
sleep.
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fire works...
america (the beautiful?)
your badlands
are showing
I courted you cross-country
and it was no easy ride
remembering time well wasted
with purpled mountains
and darkened skies
but your love leaves scars
and only sometimes
starry eyes
so
please pardon these promiscuous thoughts
scattered like miles left behind
and the last remaining years of youth
we've yet to let die
trembling beauty
I've seen some
obscene sights
cemetery roads
and rapid decline
grown tired of windswept plains
languishing in the shadow
of their great
and terrible god
still waiting
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and equality implied
not
liberty
for just
US (that's) All
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all and every
all the sand
on all the beaches
in one grain;
every star
from each galaxy
in one spark;
all the truths
from every wise man
in one breath;
tao.
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Literature
Riding Bikes
Going off medication is like riding a bike.
The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.
"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.
I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration. I am an exaggeration.
I like to compare mental illnesses to mundane physical activities. Also you should know that I am sick but trying to get better.
Sometimes I relapse and then write poems about it.
It's not even the kind of sick where people bring you soup in bed and soothe your fevered brow. It's the kind of sick where I'm late to work because
:iconestallidos:estallidos
:iconestallidos:estallidos 720 395
Literature
Cloud Formation
the hulking
the heaving
the nights i wake up screaming
the bright skies
the yearning
the sweat and feathered squirming
follow the red sails
racing along the razor
slaves to the dreaming
whispers of wasps
on wings cutting layers
of fabric and air
below the folds
but within the bounds
of a broken capacity
for romance
the true feeling
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Literature
Even in dream
I am a poet. A galloping echo
  of horses: their strong legs
   pound along the green plain
    unrolling from my mind like fog
     lifting from a virgin landscape.
Such a rarity now, the free-fall wind
  through their manes, wild blood
   unbound by harness or saddle, crowds
    cheering them through the cruel,
     unending oval of a derby. Jockey-struck.
It is luck to view their untethering,
  even in this ethereal place
   where I stand, pen and notebook
    in my perfect hands, even as they
     trample along an unsuccessful foal,
fetus-bent, a white flake in the green.
  The horses, they understand death,
   a dark stallion doubling back, unknown
    to the taint of gelding, lifting
     the weanling up the way dreams allow,
laying him beside the sudden, dust-whi
:iconfllnthblnk:fllnthblnk
:iconfllnthblnk:fllnthblnk 6 8
Literature
Bed Warmer
My father thought it weird,
the coexistence of two species
where we spend a third
of our lifetimes. To him, we sleep
as robots, a soldier's stance,
our bodies cold and inert, rigid
as the television's remote, the day
rerunning as static in a dream-tapped
mind. But I don't mind, I tell him.
Best friend is the appellation
man does not bestow on others
so easily. Even now, a war cry of bullets
perforates the wrong colors of flesh,
a drunk man says he can drive, does so
into a mini-van, full of arguments
and twenty questions just seconds ago.
We know what good people we are--
the teen mothers, the cheaters
on Maury invite the devil's fork
of commentary to split our fast tongues.
That is why I slip through the beautiful
evenings and write, away from Fox and CNN
that show us how we've shaped the flat
square box of the world, now foul and ugly.
My poetry: foul and ugly, words that twist
other words as anchors do. My dog
rests his head nearby, honey-warm eyes
watching the glide of my fi
:iconfllnthblnk:fllnthblnk
:iconfllnthblnk:fllnthblnk 8 18

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neonxaos's Profile Picture
neonxaos
Try★to★star!
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Denmark
The spark, the fire, the embers and the dust.
Interests
I still exist. Best holiday wishes to you all!

Activity


Round and round and round she goes,
circling the drain, circling the drain,
the art of perpetual motion embodied,
tantalizing the heart of slender glass,
shadow play through condensation,
the sign of recent loss and future thirst,
never stopping, never escaping,

circling, circling, circling.

When the glass is crushed
in desperation or in rage,
she flits to the next,
butterfly phantom,
who cannot be drowned,
no matter the poison.

She is intoxication,
the wild eyes, the edge
of bliss and despair, dark paths
into mechanical sunlight,
the transformation of meaning
into temporal progression.
The damage that can never be paid for.

She is the illusion
before and after the fact,
burning her actual self away,

circling, circling, circling
into the void.

Mature Content

This content is intended for mature audiences.


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It is going to be all right
is what they said
when electing him.
How bad could it possibly be?

Scores
of political prisoners,
resistance fighters,
homosexuals
and deportees.

More than two hundred thousand Romani

About seventy thousand mentally handicapped people

More than one million Yugoslav civilians

More than one million Polish civilians

More than two million Soviet civilians

More than three million Soviet prisoners of war

Somewhere between five and six million Jews,
we lost count.

These were just the main targets.

All told, over 60 million dead
on all sides
or three percent of everyone
on this planet.

It is going to be all right,
they said.




Fool us once.
Memories of you
in a zebra dress,
radiant with irony and
damp with the sweat
of new dawn -

the futility
of driving a wild animal
to drink and dine and
dance to any expectations
without a native rhythm
stirring in the rancor
that fell upon your face.

I was not the good man
I mistook myself for,
thoughts legion,
rebelling
against their own
foundation.

Idols tumble from their pedestals
and become the dust we walk upon.
From dust the clay, the salt, the earth
rise and grow the new horizon.

Let them fall and walk unshadowed.

Groups

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconanisa-mazaki:
Anisa-Mazaki Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2017  Professional Digital Artist
Hello. I saw a badge suggestion from you via a Badge Group I'm in.
Since the 10 yr badge isn't in place for you, and DA hasn't awarded you a "Deviant Award" for your yrs of use, I thought you could have this  some free (Celebratory) Art to cheer you up :) (Smile) 
Candy-free Wallpaper 2 - Full by Anisa-Mazaki

I usually make art like this to give out to my watchers and everybody in general as a positive gesture. I hope you like it ^.^ Atm I am currently creating more art like this, but progress is very slow ^.^
Reply
:iconneonxaos:
neonxaos Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Haha, that's a nice gesture. And it's 13 years now! :)
Reply
:iconanisa-mazaki:
Anisa-Mazaki Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2017  Professional Digital Artist
Star! Heart Love Star! Ribbon 01 Star!  You're Welcome  Star! Ribbon 01 Star! Heart Love Star!


and Thanks :D I try my best. 
Reply
:iconimariposa:
iMariposa Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks very much for the fave! :love:

Also, please forgive me if this is strange, but I couldn't help telling you that you're very handsome Llama Emoji-10 (Shy) [V1] 
Reply
:iconneonxaos:
neonxaos Featured By Owner Nov 28, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you :blush: I don't get that a lot.
Reply
:iconbiodeferentiata:
biodeferentiata Featured By Owner Jun 16, 2015
I have a hard time believing dat.
Reply
:iconimariposa:
iMariposa Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014  Student Writer
That's insane . . .
Reply
:iconcopper9lives:
copper9lives Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2014  Professional General Artist
:wave: Hello, and welcome to :iconwrittenexcellence:Thanks so much for joining! :heart: :happybounce:

:pencil: We're delighted to have you aboard! Please see our most recent journal for information about our writing theme of the week!

:pencil: Please take a moment to check out our group information! If you have any comments, questions or suggestions, please either comment on the group's page or :note: the group, and one of the friendly admins will get back to you ASAP!

:heart:
Copper
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2014
:glomp: Thank you so much for faving my poem, "Paradigm Shift"!
Reply
:iconyouinventedme:
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2013   Writer
thank you for the little yellow star
Reply
:iconbark:
Bark Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2013  Professional Writer
Congratulations on being a MOM at Wordsmiths!
Reply
:iconneonxaos:
neonxaos Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you, Mr. Daily Deviator :D
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
pomohippie7 Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2013   Writer
We would like to inform you that you have been chosen as one of %Word-Smiths member of the month for October. Come on over and see the feature! And congratulations on such outstanding work.
Reply
:iconneonxaos:
neonxaos Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Well, happy birthday to me. Because it literally IS my birthday. And thank you!
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
pomohippie7 Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2013   Writer
Well happy, happy birthday! :cake: :party:
And keep up the good work! :D
Reply
:iconneonxaos:
neonxaos Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I shall try!
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
pomohippie7 Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2013   Writer
Oh, thank you very much for the watch! :heart:
Reply
:iconneonxaos:
neonxaos Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I thought I watched you already. This happens all the time for me.
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
pomohippie7 Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2013   Writer
I do the same thing. Then I'm all like 'What the hell?' :grump:
Reply
:iconavfc4me:
avfc4me Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2013
So, this is your regularly-scheduled nag, what's your progress?
Reply
:iconneonxaos:
neonxaos Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
It's going pretty well, in the beginning of Chapter 4, 42 pages....
Reply
:iconavfc4me:
avfc4me Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2013
Bravo!

At SOME point, you're going to have to let someone see it.

*ahem*

Just sayin'...
Reply
:iconneonxaos:
neonxaos Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Yeah, I've shown it to a couple of close friends, but I gotta admit that I'm feeling quite protective... :)
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconavfc4me:
avfc4me Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2013
by my count, chapter 3 should be nearing the finish line. If this statement is NOT true, sit y'er butt down, pull out a pen [keyboard] an' get to work...

:)

Said with only your best interest at heart.

Well, and mine.
Reply
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