|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The WomanThe woman from whom dishonor birthed is proud and strong, of middle years yet still attractive. She stands in her well-appointed, lovely apartment still in her business suit from her work filled life. She stands at her polished clean shining granite kitchen counter's surface, her day's mail spread before her unopened. Her polished nails dance a rapid rhythm, and then stop as she looks out the nearby window. There is something in the air that sets her nerves on edge and her perfectly painted face shifts into a frown. She pulls the cream white vase of flowers to her and leans her nose close to take a breath and to see which of these must go. The vase is returned to its proper place and she lifts her chin a bit, to sample more carefully what scent it is. She turns and walks to her living space, where guests sometimes rest and chatter politics over drinks; her nose is her concentration now and she's following a trail. Her us
The Man with Singing EyesThe Man with Singing Eyes
My mother loaded the weaponry
That stung his country's pride
His eyes and soul sing uncertainly
Life's magic placed him in mine.
© Amanda 2013 1.24.2013
"Frozen moments, veritable in time and space."
[Bullet; Green] [Bullet; Yellow] [Bullet; Black] [Bullet; Blue]
Bits and Pieces … of Me
I've told small pieces of me and my history to the public, to you who read these words now; others, who I have been closer with, have more of it all, the filled in details of who what and how. There are the pieces I've written and told in comments "Short True Stories" gossamer threaded bits of fluff, sometimes cruel, sometimes soft touched. There are the Stories from My Life, the one with the knife, the one wishing for ending, the two important books read that led me to an understanding.
There are the poetic works I've spoken to you, to your eyes or with your breath, of love and anger, of desire, and of my deepest lust. There are the longer woven pieces of fiction where are kept, how I see and Memory Mansion within, those I have loved and then have wanted and become. The struggle always becomes "Is she new and different, not m
SHOUTING AT MY EYESThe characters that survive and hold us in thrall are those with few or no morals at all.
"Promises like lies can be bought so very cheap." Oingo Boingo
The patterns of actions set plot lines that poetry cannot escape.
Exercise not made as a preparation for combat is vanity itself.
Bodies require decoration or humor is their worth.
"They won't do it, I won't do it, the Sun and the Moon won't do it, and God certainly won't; that leaves you, you'll have to do it." - Todd Rundgren
A brightly lit bar or dance club is just a QuikMart with Musak.
Active participation in political causes is just another attempt to join a rock band for sex.
Bad sex is good sex for a noble reason, and pays the same.
Stay on the edges of crowds and calculate escape points at all times, you may be a follower but you will survive.
Human flesh tastes better than pork because revenge is sweet.
I prefer to dance and fuck with the right background music and the boleros all suck.
Things that woke my mist gre
Heavy and thick
between my hands, the blood drips
in puddles at my feet. I strangely
remember the smell of burning flesh
and rotting entrails.
were plenty that night; they barely
escaped the carnage. I stood there
looking at them flee while pondering
what I had done.
for the stone in my chest, I peeled
off this charred skin, and scattered my
ashes into the wind.
SophieCT, first draft 2012
reworked the night of april 30th-may 1st 2013
Une vie - A lifetime (poetry)
Douce était notre étoile
soyokaze ma soeur
lorsque tu vins au monde
enveloppée de feu
Le pin sous le nuage
cueillait ton souffle pur
et la neige au printemps
sous tes pas légers d’air
blancheur frêle tamon
Mystère et crépuscules
lointains yeux fatigués
labeur tambours de guerre
sous l’ombre de nos fleurs
bleutées fraîches zocho
Rapide et vertueuse
nos âmes amarrées
au-delà de la plaine
pourpre chaud komoku
Une ombre te frappa
froide et parfois sagace
mais ce qu’elle ignorait
notre lien par-delà
Sweet was our star
soyokaze my sister
when you came into the world
draped in flames
The pine under the cloud
picked your crystalline breath
and the the spring snow
under your light-as-air foot
frail white tamon
Twilights and mystery
distant tired eyes
drums of war labouring
under the shade of our flowers
crisp blue zocho
Fast and virtuous
an unexpected storm
our souls moore
L'OMBRE I - SHADOW I (+ audio reading)
(English adaptation below) version audio ici
Quand vous verrais-je au sortir des songes et des tombes il ne reste que des lisières
Frangées d'or et d'herbe coupez vos désirs d'au-delà lorsque l'écume affolée efface la tempête et
Si vos yeux glacés sur mes mains stupéfaites j'aurai voulu vos chants sous des feux de
Tambours et l'ombre de vos danses enroulée sur mes cuisses un éclat de vermeil la
Ménade mâchant le coeur de nos combats des tonnes de serpents silencieux sur le sol et la crête
Des dunes rayée d'horizon morne votre bouche à la lune reste la nuit vacante et mes rêves
Blanchis l'automne est déjà là dans les pétales fauves et les pleurs oubliés
Frantz, octobre 2011
When will I s
YouYou made a fire out of a flame called soul, so it feels again
You put the pieces of my heart back together, so it beats again
You played your piano and gave life to the words within me
You are my guardian angel even though
You just protect me from distance
You dont know how special you are, do you?
Naya Selenia, Feb. 15th, 2013
No WordsYou say I am
The greatest writer
You have ever met
But even though
I am a writer
I dont have any words
How I feel for you
Naya Selenia, Nov. 16th, 2012
the bright scarlet egg of dawn
nests in my head.
when it is time, it will crack my
skull like a shell
and be born.
I have a witch's fingers and a
witch's eyes, rough pewter lenses
through which I see the world.
I have sabotaged their crops,
I have plagued their children,
I have eaten their livestock in the night
(so they say)
and I hear the whispers in the streets.
they will be willing to kill
for their conviction, though
I am not willing to die for it.
I am no longer human.
I've been branded
with an ugly mark
of fear and desperation,
one terse syllable that cuts
like a switch.
a thin reddish line splits the horizon;
I set my ribs on hinges
so they can get to my heart.
a damp wooden platform,
a rough rope necklace
I am not a Spartan
carried home on his shield.
this is not an honourable death.
Love Poem No. 138i heard him pounding in between the
cracks in my head;
he was wondering if i had
fallen for it all. i told him yes,
thought better, amended 'no.'
Better he not know that my
heart is magnetized to that basement like
cold air is to snow. i am strong.
i am strong,
i am strong.
He was wrong to reward my
dignity with his eyes,
he should have lied when i asked
if he watched my hips when i walk,
watched my lips when i talk,
should have acted surprised that i
thought he was mine.
But the ownership begging
for recognition is aching
in single syllables my,
names are intertwined in my mind,
and one last time i look over
the solace i felt when i thought
i didn't mind if
the follow-through followed through
or if time licked and swallowed you until
our exchanges slept themselves into dust.
But i do mind and it
burns whiskey-kissed wounds into oblivion on
saturday nights when i have
convinced myself that i'm having a good time, and i
look up into the DJ's eyes and
CarvingSitting upon the roots of an ancient tree
Pondering how to send my star a message
Looking to the dark sky for inspiration
I find her within the clusters
Shinning so bright
I want to wish upon such beauty
Though wishes for me
Never come true
So I serenade her
Singing to the moon
Hoping she can hear me
I take my knife out
To scratch the bark of my ancient friend
Singing of how I miss my love
Carving out an image to last forever
Crystal drops begin to fall
as I sing in hopes
That on the other side
She's singing to me too
I drop my blade and fall to my knees
Bowing my head and wishing
Wishing my shining star
Will fall down and love me
For I love her
My love shall live forever
Carved in this tree
For my love will last an eternity
I have watched him from afar
From morning until the sleep of day
Sitting in solitude beside his friend
Wishing for the touch of a not so brilliant star
How can he not see that even from this distance
his fate was always meant to be
That within his wishes, hi
It appears you don't have PDF support in this web browser. Download PDF
Little Miss It“Do you enjoy her company?”
That, Avadaci concluded, had been the extent of his grandfather’s kindness. Thank the stars he had broken his neck after a failed attempt to ascend the castle staircase. Not that many were privy to this information. The official listing on the cause of death involved something along the lines of falling in battle after slaying at least a dozen demons, although this was treated with quite a bit of skepticism by the general populace. Yet, interestingly enough, a decent portion of the locals believed a tale about the cannibals of Unkhtom devouring him whole.
Not that Avadaci really cared how his grandfather had died. He was just glad he was dead. And if he was glad his grandfather had died, Avadaci wondered, why did he have to attend his funeral? In fact, the whole kingdom was glad his grandfather had died. Why did they have to attend the funeral?
“Oh Avad,” proclaimed his mother, “obv
Twenty-three years before the crippling of Crown Prince James III
He was fourteen and she was probably aged about the same, give or take a few years. It had been an hour since he'd met her.
He hated her already.
She scowled behind him and likely shared the sentiment as they scampered up the hillside in a desperate attempt to escape the roaring mob that seemed to be growing perpetually larger and coming ever-closer. Gabriel would have liked to say that it was all her fault he was in this situation, though it was his careless nicking ofwhat was it? A chicken that started the first old woman running, but how was he supposed to know that she'd stumble and fall and everyone else would think he'd assaulted her?
He hadn't. He'd taken the chicken, snapped its neck and run, because he hadn't eaten meat in weeks and he was starting to feel the affects on his already weak limbs.
This is what happens, he thought. This is what happens when you live like th
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