|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Autumn LeavesAutumn leaves
The sight is breathtaking
And yet so dreary
A cruel bout of mockery
That beauty be so waking
In ruin lay smoky huts
Dry are the watering ruts
Toys abandoned in yards
Nothing here left to guard
Admittedly, a crestfallen village
With nary the merest breath
In its streets that scream pillage
And yet no outward sign of death
Collapsed are the roofs
But foundations remain aloof
Life leaves an afterimage
In the absence of bodily ravage
Gone is hope, without regret
Gone, somewhere, secret
For it to return with all reason
When chimes the right season
Such force laid this torment
Inexorable, cold emissary
Yearly repeating the event
And so, such morose beauty
Such morbid, guiltfree happening
Metallic tools rendered glistening
By sterilizing flaming fealty
Ephemeral smoke abounds
Always shifting, full of tricks
The precise chaos of bricks
Toppled over in mounds
Painters, know what you depict
Before to the brush commit
Splendor in full volition
Of its fatalis
Humonculous Delight_______"Humonculous Delight"______
Red stone................................. 2.00
Red stone & bacon..................... 3.00
Red stone, bacon, red stone........ 3.50
Red stone, red stone, eggs,
bacon & red stone.................. 5.00
Devil's nest eggs........................ 4.50
Red water................................ 2.00
Red water & miso...................... 2.25
Red water w/ red stone croutons. 2.25
Famous state alchemist arm*..... 10.50
Famous state alchemist leg*...... 10.50
Famous state alchemist
naughty bits*.................... MARKET PRICE
Armour limbs (w/ digestive
Scar's ass platter...................... 14.00
Remains of the person brought
back during your creation....... 18.00
Red strap spaghetti w/
The Once PlumThe once plum________________
The plum, so succulent
A taste so rich and opulent
Juice seeping in sensual rivulet
Tantalizing feast for my palette
Is it the acidic tease I crave?
Or the overflowing sweetness?
Why question the savory caress
It should be enough that I so rave
And yet it isn't...
As I devour this fruit supreme
I irrationally expect a hint
That it shows for me equal esteem
Should I be to blame?
No other crop ever let me claim
Such an intimate complicity
Normal that I should seek mutuality
Yet food cannot taste the holding hand
It soaks in praise embarrassingly
Wishing the repast be not so heavenly
More functional, sometimes even bland
Yet forward I plough, selfishly I bite
Digging deeper without respite
Until a mistake is made, rather rash
And onto the hard pit my teeth crash
As agony overwhelms my dentition
My bliss turns to admonition
Despite my own boldness
Having caused the duress
Unmoved the plum remains
Expected as it is to have a core
Can it be faulted therefore
Is it genuine captivation
That compels all my attention
To be drawn to this philosophy
Or is it merely morbid curiosity?
My fleece is but one of my companions
Keeping me from the weather's variations
But as platonic as we remain
Is it wrong for me to wish for rain?
Rhubarb makes a strong contention
That bonding with its roots is perfection,
But with its poisonous leaves would only be cried
I say: who can tell until we've tried?
The bluebird may well be right all along
Certain of what its heart wants in song
But would it be abject impertinence
To point out it has little experience?
Doesn't the arlequin comprehend
That despite our creative differences
Happiness, our time together can apprehend
And with love tear down all fences?
Vanity, over the raccoon, holds no sway
And yet, in all its imperfection
I can never look away
It is, to me, most beautiful in creation
Am I then such a flawed mirror
That the eagle fails to see its striking grace
Last night I met Miss Trust
But blind faith puts me on my guard
I made the acquaintance of Miss Use
Who wished to abuse me, and not well at that
Miss Conception was under the impression
That I was ready for parenthood
Miss Communication shared a lot
But I couldn't understand a word
Miss Interpretation was quite a performer
With too many liberties in her work
Miss Carriage had a coachful of stories
All of them ill-fated
Nothing panned out with Miss Information
Because too much is as bad as too little
Miss Fire had a blazing personality
But threatened to explode at me any time
Miss Guided knew where she was going
Unfortunately away from my home team
As for Miss Age-in-a-Bottle
Her years were utterly unreadable
Only a glance at Miss Demeanor's conduct
Told me of her criminal past
Miss Spell put me under an enchantment
But she wrote the word as 'insanmant'
Miss Led was just that, however astray
Miss Stress' adultery was unnerving
I had doubts about
I can not rhyme
This I say for the last time
I can rhyme with the ease
Of an egotist saying "please"
"What's this I hear?" you wonder
"These suffixes he deftly affixes
Their consonance have little discordance"
So "Can he not rhyme?" you ponder
He who hunts and not consume
Hunts not at all I dare impune
She who swims with no destination
Merely performs mental masturbation
So if my rhymes abandon meaning
Their purpose is lost in the void
But if there's really a point to my meandering
Flaunting it, I try to avoid
So I maintain what I said earlier
But it may not suffer repetition
As that was its last iteration
And masturbation is niftier
MasksEach of us wears a different mask
For daily use, and every task.
Knowing that, with the right face
We might fit in around the place.
Are they a real part of who we are?
Merely an aspect to help us get far.
Does the truth of the mask cover the lie
Make you feel good, or prompt you to cry.
They say that a mirror reflects in a different way
Dependant on the viewer to prompt what to say
But this simple saying hides the most obvious fact
That your own mirror image reflects your desperate act.
Its not always clear who is hurt most
The strangers, the friends, or you; the host.
Is this charade worth all the pain
When it’s not your true self that stands to gain.
Only we know whether it is through fear
That prompts us to make these false visages appear
But once they are there for all to see
Do you only become that which you appear to be?
The SilenceIt strikes without clear warning
Cares not if night or mid-morning
Makes the warm hearted cold
Distinguishes not the young from the old
Its manner is capricious
Universal, not malicious
Conveys peace to those who wane
Transforms pleasure into pain
Brings an end to beginnings
Collects all of life’s winnings
Turns future into past
Changes first into the last
Defeats all the best defences
Inexorably it advances
Feared by many a soul
Yet for others, it’s their goal
Incapable of hate, though hated
Accepted as fate by the fated
The final act of our birth
Returns us all to the earth
The silence will fall on our day
There is no stopping nature’s way
None can escape its sensuous pull
So live each precious moment to the full
Rubai Of SorrowAs midnight becomes a memory, do you lust
For dawn's caress, for your body to become dust?
Do you often lie awake haunted by nightmares
That make you doubt all that you see as fair and just?
FearI see you fear
I know why you are here
Joyless robber in the night
Breeder of that unknown fright
I hear your voice
Not that I have other choice
Those mocking words you use to taunt
In my quaking heart they always haunt
I feel you close by
Ready with another lie
Know the bitterness of your pill
My confidence you seek to kill
I know your game
But not what you seek to gain
Destroyer only, you can’t create
The mother of unreasoned hate
I live with you
Daily told your point of view
Disabled me from golden youth
Distorted with corrupted truth
You hold me back
Focussed on what I lack
Sought to sell my value short
In your net you think I’m caught
You listen to me
What you want can never be
Though with you I’m doomed to live
Never an inch to you I’ll give
You have no power
This is not your finest hour
Those tainted words I will fight
On this darkness, I’ll shine a light.
You see me fear
Understand what I hold dear
And know that though you make me shake
I shall nev
Writers of LifeIn life we are the creators,
of new joys and life.
In spoken or written words,
In reality and in fiction,
we are nature's renovators.
We follow our own destiny,
in the path of pure evil and good.
We slip up, pick up, laugh, cry
to sounds of our only love.
Among the ones who bring joy,
bring laughter and sorrow,
that imprints on people's hearts..
Is simply an orange fox,
who is heart's killer dart.
While our hearts are struck,
his head is in the clouds.
While our breaths are forgotten,
his feet are in the sky.
He dreams of fortune, fame,
to win this true game.
He only dreams,
to have it stay in the seams.
And so he writes.
He writes of his life.
He draws those identities,
who put joy and misery in his mind.
He colors the pictures of events,
who hides treasures and pain to find.
For finishing touches,
he adds top joys in story world.
To have his life on pages,
colored only in the mind,
is hard to comprehend.
No matter what he denies,
hot to trotinside out
this years' toy
hot to trot
On Helplessness and AntipathyWhat of this love in which kind hearts know no bounds?
Walking on roads; drained, stained, without hopes and dreams -
What is there to wish for? There are none, it seems
Who will know of felicity's serene sounds.
This life... is worth living? held back like a hound -
To be battered, bruised, always flowing in streams.
What of this love in which kind hearts know no bounds?
To care for those we love, but none hear our screams?
Alas, such woe was never meant to hold grounds -
These stains are not to be known, nor to be seen.
Triumph against these odds, happiness supreme!
For all this we are known, but are never crowned
What of this love in which kind hearts know no bounds?
To care for those we love, but none hear our screams?
pencilsif life was a pencil,
my eraser would be gone.
all used up,
but the lead would live on.
it would make it's mistakes,
but couldn't take them back.
so the lead would live on,
until it cracked.
RIP ChastityI hate the feeling
Of being pressed
Into a world
Where I'm something less
I'm not a person
Just a conquest
But I'm not buying
I'm not the rest
"No" means no not
"You should persist"
I'm not the next name
You'll check off your list
If there's anything
You should be learning from this:
I'm not a target
Can't hit what you can't miss
Cards of SpainMy arms are clubs
My legs, they are spade
Of diamond my head is made
Its namesake my heart rubs
The other, they are my mason
They build upon me
They build for me
Of me, they make their bastion
Delicately, oh-so delicately
A red seven is tilted aptly
Against a black three
As I look upon this artistry
This frail tower finds itself between
A black ace and a red queen
This castle is for me
This castle is me
Might I be the better architect
Of my own project?
Irrelevant is the notion
Compared to your devotion
You dare to add another floor
Cards add up, defying gravity
Nothing for me to deplore
But this moment's brevity
To see you toil for me
Care for me
Is the grandest Castle in Spain there can be
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More