|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
canceryou said i could talk
but every word i chalk
are you deafness
or am i cancer
off the canvas
such is madness
yet what beauty
lives without flaw
to contort is unruly
let it want
forcing only nulls
souls that now haunt
see what did icarus
winged feet thawed
down in ignorance
unbluei wanted to
fall into your heart,
just how lovers do,
and become one without part.
i'd pour down
as though i was the rain's
kisses... and the droplets sound
would be my hushing away your pain.
and i'd be the dancing
in your steps,
'pitter patter' they'd sing,
birthing life in your treks.
just to be the sun
that awakes you
from nights that make you run...
but i wasn't so unblue...
i only became your rue.
echo in the skull
with the lingerings
that make you lull
beets that bleed
deep maroon so true
wondering if your breed
pours like that, too
and weeds wither
whilst still breathing
is oldness so bitter
once you begin leaving
yoursongthat song sings
like a dagger through my breast
on the edge, my heart hinges
barely holding onto what's left
singing of days that were better
and summers that were brighter
reading that synthetic letter
which, at one time, made life a bit lighter
it sung truth
that only existed back then
yet i seem to demand proof
articulated by a voice, not a pen
searchingstarsto my dearest moon,
am i not the only one without some warmth on this night,
are you missing the sun, too?
how do you, in such plight,
that every dawn and dusk, follow the sun wherever she goes?
far and farther away, across the star-lit sea you seem to loyally row.
she leads the way and doesn't look back,
never once does she turn to meet you in the black.
are you a romantic, waiting for that eclipse,
the short time you both will finally kiss?
superherowhy people plain like
you and me
will pick up the mic
shouting how to be
fuck your opinions
screaming fictitious injustice
feigning wronged civilians
that’s what hero lust is
couldn’t care less
you all got cocks for brains
wanna hear you’re the best
so fucking vain
sleepingforlovei was naked
and lying along
the path faked
where love went wrong
you were there
looking my body down
without a care
knowing how into love i’ll drown
Silent desireIf only
You would know
How much I feel for you
That the darkness consumes me
When you're not here on my side
I wouldn't have
To spend my nights alone
Because I need your warming embrace
To keep me from the cold
I could keep
These feelings forever
That make me feel alive
When I think I'm dead inside
This eternal enchantment
Would take me away
Off of this world
Taking me back to you
If only I could tell you
Whatever kind of sorcery this is
It has taken over
I'll be all yours
Now and forever.
Needing YouI am writing this letter
Two weeks in advance, for I
Cannot pay the fare for anything
Faster. I am unable to deliver this
Myself because I will be long across
The highway. But I have overcome the
Distance, so let me continue.
I am writing this letter as if I would
A vision, because messages are more easily
Remembered when shown, not told.
When the words lose their form and
The ink shifts and morphs into what is
Meant to be seen.
I am writing this to you because
I am going off to war, against
An unbeaten enemy whose backgrounds
Have been burned. I know that I
Must rise up to meet the road,
But I must ask you this.
Will you still be there,
Waiting with a smile and a shrug
Saying “‘Bout time you showed up”
Will you still be sitting
On your front porch steps,
Whittling away like some
Will you still need me
After I’ve left and gone?
Because I’ll still need you.
I chose to fallI look around
The coast is clear
I look down
I just can't
But I do
For once I feel free
For once I can dream Fly
For once, it seems Can
-i did not stop for death
because death will not stop for me
he spoke to me
on a melting summer's eve
"flower child dear,
you're too alive to live in fear"
i cried chrysanthemums
from bloodshot dreams
just as he wiped my tears
and smeared my black lagoons
That Gay Boy Sitting Next To YouLook at the gay boy sitting next to you,
the one who you kick, physically torture and verbally abuse.
Look at his eyes that were once vibrant with life,
and keep in mind that you and your friend's were the one who stole his light.
You called him a sin and condemned him to hell,
every day he walked through the school doors, he was greeted with your intolerant yells.
With your injustice , you treated him as terribly as you pleased,
and when you were through with your torment, you treated him like some sort of disease.
Was religion your actual excuse to act like an ass,
or was there something that you refused to see past?
Because that gay boy who sits next you daily in class,
is the one who knows your present, future and past.
He knows where bullies come from, so don't hide fully behind Christianity.
Because when you go home, you yourself are showered with profanities.
The same fist you used to beat the blue eyed boy,
is the same fist that your father uses to wring around your neck
ManiaMad nutters, one course.
Unknown sanity, no return.
Soaking in silence, he writhed and croaked.
Inarticulate cries tortured him.
The door closed.
My Selfish Little WorldPeople die in Gaza, I frown
People killed in Syria, I ignore
People massacred in Burma, I shrug
People slaughtered in Nigeria, I overlook
People butchered in Kashmir, I forget
He lies, I cry
He cheats, I wail
He says he doesn't love me any more, my world dies.
One person less means nothing to the worldI tug at the edges of my bleak future
Stretching the endless possibilities
Echoes of failure reverberate in the background
The floor is damp in this kingdom of tears
Steadily, forcefully fear invades my core
My smile wavers like a branch in the wind
I prepare myself for that final step
Rendered motionless, I am no more
Call It LoveI have to admit that I've never much relished the irony.
“Love child” was their polite euphemism. Though I rarely heard it, I knew that the phrase was used to describe me, when I wasn't close enough to listen. An improvement, you might think, on “bastard” ?
Depending upon whether you prefer to be patronised or denounced. Either form of words confirmed my status. I had been pre-judged. Society had formed its consensus long before the time came for my mother to suffer the pangs of birth.
Mother: such a resonant title! Yet what was my mother but a senseless scrap of a girl, who hadn't had the wit to keep her legs crossed, as good girls should always do. She had taken her interpretation of the phrase “in service” to its outer limits; appreciated, no doubt, at the time, until “before” became “after”. After birth, that's me. After and disowned by the dashing hero,who could easily dismiss the “wild oats”
wordvomitout of my stomach
acidic and sung sonnet
into the nearest bucket
is a word vomit
is the truth between the lines
these naked thoughts are mine
you tap the tipping point
out are secrets barely contained
lies now disjoint
bad taste in my mouth
insides run out
everything's gone south
least there's nothing more to spout
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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