|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
SilenceI met her in a dim-lit room. Beside myself,
I was enraptured by her simplicity, and
conquered thoughts left astray long ago by
her grace. She was lovely, draped in a ricochet
of blood pounding through my veins. She held an
eerie familiarity in her thin, bony arms and
grinned a night sky of stars. I watched with awe as
she sat close beside me, so our knees just barely kissed.
Yet we were distant. Both of us: lost, in longing to be
found and worshiped like the gods that molded us in spite.
She held modesty between two elegant fingers
that dusted the surface of my very being. It was, at long
last, kind. I listened eagerly to the melody laced in her
voice, and swayed to the beat. So soft, so merciful.
Yet she fumbled a B flat. Bustling cities and harsh cries
stirred like parasites in the pit of her belly, leaving
gratitude beneath vice. Yet my lady held that night sky
between two pale, white lips. She curved them, humbly, returning
to a forgotten melody. And I, unbeknownst to myself, struc
GratitudeYou asked me how I was today, so I
looked up at the bright blue bars above
me, where the departed - oceans away -
took refuge in frozen time. I answered,
You asked me about the weather as
the clouds wept liquid bullets, who
familiarized themselves with marching soldiers,
and crashed to Earth, forgotten. I answered,
You asked me what was new as lives began and flew
from wombs; as cities burned and good men died;
as rebels saved and saviors lied;
as mothers wept upon the end; as bullets soared
through the sky. I answered,
CircumstanceHe was, through circumstance, a hero.
He knew the corpses of a thousand men,
some as brothers, some as strangers. Each
a new name he bothered not to familiarize himself
with, or a family he dared not meet. He conquered
the unknown, and the unwanted with a modest
handful of bullets; he ranked himself among gods
by his superior's orders, and a loaded AK-47
he received the day he enlisted. I learned
to hail him as a hero through circumstance.
She was, through circumstance, a murderer.
She never knew his corpse,
only the memory of a New York night and
cold, cruel brick walls. She knew a voice
that demanded, hands that took, and a pain
that tore through her in ways she could hardly
fathom. She never knew a name. Only a stranger
who bothered not familiarize himself with her,
and a corpse she dared not think of. She was
conquered by the unknown by a modest threat to
her life; she ranked herself among the damned
by her incapability to prevent it, and the empty
apartment that echoed the pitter-
Linguistic HonestyLinguistic Honesty
No vivid imagery necessary for this kind of poetry,
Just stream-of-consciousness, this is simply linguistic honesty.
I have so damn far to go and I know my mind can get the best of me,
That these worries of failure can sometimes drudge up worn insecurities,
Frightened that society’s norms will keep me from where I really want to be,
But I know that if I continue fighting I’ll surely reach whatever life has destined for me.
So even if I love and hate the obstacles in my path, I know I will eventually pass all of these things.
Sometimes though, I just need a little help and she’s the only one I want with me on this wild journey.
And more than anything else, I just really want to be able to say, “Six generations, my little lovely lady.”
A Freshwater Soulyou didn't dream he'd tear blank walls, whip
furled fists, let partly tattered tales slip
early echoes, and allow
the lonely ships to sink, baring bows.
sail sea. river, remove
yourself far forth. prepare to prove
that you can keep a gruelling grip.
to the girl teaching herself to flyShe is trapped by a moonlit mind,
come silent in the night.
Surrounded by clouds, she is blind
to barren worlds; their light.
Searching for a sign, she survives,
although she knows she cannot thrive.
Searching for a sign.
Searching for a sign.
Anything to remain alive.
Her voice calls out, though no one hears,
screaming for redemption.
A shadow comes to kindle fear,
adding to the tension.
Someone please help me, she shouts, cries,
though on her cheeks, her tears, they dry.
Someone please help me.
Someone please help me.
But her screams turn to desperate sighs.
Weeks pass, and she remains divine,
still searching for escape.
Vines corkscrew themselves on her spine,
leaves curling up her shape.
Borrowing wisdom from her brow,
she learns to
She Is HumanBlood-bathed warrior,
priestess and healer,
she was the fury
the calm and pity.
Heartbeat to deafen thunder,
yet drown beneath whispers,
she swept across worlds
tripped upon the same rock
hurtled through lifetimes
never wanted to die,
scrambled for maturity
defied to grow up.
Saw all on her axis,
chose blindness to the past.
Threw shields before enemies,
opened her heart,
refused to begrudge
forgot not her pride.
Every little bitNo one noticed the empty chair
They were all busy
Telling each other what had happened over the weekend
People didn’t really notice the chair anyways
Even when it was full
But today is different
The teacher walks in
With a strange look on her face
And she tells them
The girl that filled that chair, is dead
It happened Saturday night
She was driving home
She fell asleep at the wheel
The semi didn’t even get a chance
They pronounced her dead at the scene
The shock comes first
She was such a quiet girl
Always at the back, out of the way, you know?
But not today
The chair is staring at them, with unseen eyes
And that’s when people remember
How polite she was
The small smile she wore
The soft voice
The tired eyes
The boy in front of her,
She used to let him borrow her pencils
Because no one else would
He didn’t even say thank you
Or always give them back
She would help clean out the locker of the girl beside her
Without being asked
Even with the moldy lunches at the
A Well Meaning LieSomeday I will lie
To everyone alive,
And they will never see
That the liar was always me,
Because my words of sin
Will only bring a grin,
To their faces
Which were always so very grim.
I guess I'll be ready
When the wolf comes slow and steady,
But I will not cry out with fears so heavy,
Because this is what a liar gets in the end of the story.
So even if I made you smile,
Just for a little while,
Try to hold onto it when you find out the truth,
That there's no joy in youth,
When it's all you can look back upon
While you lie forgotten and long gone.
You'll always wish to change,
Maybe then things won't be the same,
But isn't it strange,
That you would think that way?
I guess the good memories did nothing for your soul,
Just cause you all this pain while you're growing old.
You pretend it never happened
While you're looking at it,
And you complain that you want that feeling once again,
You want to feel that grin,
But you forgot about the lie
Told by none but I.
So when you're screaming
it isn't geniustruth is
I am not your
of ends the means could justify
where words would make
silence beg "bravery
is much like a run-on sentence"
between your left index
finger and thumb when feeling numb,
that will warm you
in the winter, chill your
bones in a summer heat. lonely
dried like petals,
jailed by secrets written
in some guilty tome. prodigy
spadeyou, into my bones
dug marrow with a spade.
my house, filled with cats & combs;
only breathless air can fade.
the points of his nails
raging against her patchwork quilt,
ripped off the ends of my cattails
and my celosia began to wilt.
there are many wicked things
and the spade is most impartial.
swords and daggers will slay kings
but the spade buries the marshall.
Life Of A ConscienceRain slides down the window pane
As I slowly go insane
Falling with tears, down my face
Slowly making an empty space
Fall out the window, float up high
Deeper and deeper into the sky
Dance in sunshine, bathe in clouds
Away from people and looming clouds
Fall into a lake, see into the water
Cut nets and save, fish from slaughter
Spiral up and down, with the waves
Follow the paths that have been paved
Follow the turning twisting bends
Never giving up until the end
Jump over barriers, crawl round mistakes
Sleep and take a decent break
People laugh and people frown
Taking turns to wear the crown
When it’s hard, together we try
We don’t want to say goodbye
We stand together, you’re not alone
The same down to our very bone
We light the day, comfort the night
And together we will make things right
HonestyShe walks beside a reaper late at night,
Her pleas hung as a noose around his bones:
They paced the willow seemingly alone
But the moon grew brighter in her spite.
The reaper breathes a sooner, heavy sigh
And listened, hallowed, by the woman's shriek
That ricocheted like bullets; their mystique
Dependent on a pleading mother's cry.
Beneath the willow, now, lay two departed
Beside a reaper who'd just barely started
To tear the world from its triumphant lie:
The lie of living honest in the womb
Of gods they knew in faith, but shunned in doom;
And men they killed but never questioned why.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More