Where camels cross across the sands
In hot and dry and desert lands,
Where just to live's a desperate scheme
We watch a fellow, fevered, dream:
Uncontrolled, his limbs, they shake!
On fire, his thirst he cannot slake!
But as he drifts into the dark,
His febrile mind begins to spark
With visions of idyllic zones
Of castles, kings and queens, and thrones,
The yurts of Khans, the tents of sheikhs,
The Romans, Spanish, and the Greeks -!
He stops then, dreams of nature's gifts,
Of mountain ranges, shining cliffs,
Of rivers babbling to the sea,
Of forests, of a single tree.
And then he dreams of something grand -
His one and only lotusland.
As in h
1.
I told you once you had to choose your battles.
You smiled and you told me you'd be fine,
The invulnerability of youth hanging on your shoulders
And your yellow scarf around your neck
And your hair just so,
And went.
2.
Much later you had forgotten I ever mentioned those words,
You flung yourself into countless skirmishes with me instead;
In my defense I tried hard to get back at you
But my arrows meant nothing, shattered on your worn and dirtied armour like sugar cubes
Or nothing. Nothing is what they meant to you,
And when I held you off neither of us could triumph, I told myself,
But the weariness I felt facing you could mean only o
i.
She opened her eyes,
Searched for the sounds of
Information, creating a current of
Electricity through her body,
Eyes to brain and back.
She turns to you, and you read her mind,
Read it through her eyes,
Such a strange
Pale
Shade
Of
ii.
You glance up,
Escaping wrong conclusions/
Near electrocution.
Black specks in the distance/
Your eyes.
Lambs lack all stain (Zounds!)
But you know He was wounded,
He must have been,
And mental instability never beckoned so hard
And you fall, purpose or no,
And you lie on your back
And you live on your back
(And you die on your back).
All above you is the vast crushing emptiness of colour.
It makes a p
The strings of rain in summer pass
Outside the window, dampen grass;
A pattering upon the glass.
A bird is singing unsurpassed
Despite the grey. The memory brings
The strings of rain. In summer, pass
The places we once caught sea bass.
Fat fish thrashing, fit for kings,
And pattering upon the grass.
We drank the sun as days went past;
Allowed to fall upon our wings
The strings of rain in summer. Pass
Control to me- Too late, alas.
The severed ends of puppet strings
Are pattering upon the glass.
Though we may hope, love never lasts;
The bird must cease, for all it sings.
The strings of rain in summer pass:
A pattering upon th
Red Head with Bourbon and Lime by since-then, literature
Literature
Red Head with Bourbon and Lime
His idea of beauty was a red head, eleven shots of bourbon, and six lime wedges.
He was drunk and she was too.
They fell into bed after, giggling about this and that.
He slept fitfully, stealing the covers.
He awoke in the night, wondering what a terrible mistake he was making.
He got out of bed; he tucked her in.
3am he left, worrying about the morning.
The next night he was at the bar again.
Throw all your worries out the window, yea,
And dash your little ones upon the rocks.
Night comes quick and soon to your detractors;
The sland'rous shepherds will fast lose their flocks.
Your critics will be silent evermore,
The ignorant and liars must all learn
When they harp upon your every movement,
They only will condemn themselves to burn.
So feast, feast! on the hearts of enemies!
So take a life's course best described as random!
So take the things that lie within your reach!
Behave with the utmost impeccable reckless abandon.
(Completely)
Still.
No sound
(Of breath).
(You have) no
Pulse (right now).
Brain (function has) ceased.
(No need to) worry.
Just another statue now;
No life left.
(I blame) the winter.
Pa, we have a lot of Land... by since-then, literature
Literature
Pa, we have a lot of Land...
Pa, I know you'd never want to split up the farm.
I know that our family's held on to this land for so long. I know that your granddaddy's granddaddy bought it off a shifty guy they all called Crooked Jim. I know that Crooked Jim got shot here. (I know it wasn't any of our family who did it, though.) I know that your own momma got married here, and that your granddaddy built a little tiny chapel on part of the property for the occasion. I know that the chapel burned down three months later when a local boy knocked over a few candles. I know it was never rebuilt.
I know, too, the ins and outs of farming, Pa. I know why we need so much land a
A month later they found you, alone.
No violence upon you, silent and desolate;
Your abandonment, unreasoning.
Terrified, they passed you around:
17 men in 13 years-
The oldest profession for your kind,
The Amazon type (if you know what I mean).
You were ruined by the last,
A greedy fraud and conman,
Left for dead for 100 years and more.
They found your bones in the water where he left them,
Hard and cold and rotting.
If you only had talked to your rescuers,
David Morehouse and his faithful Dei Gratia,
You could have been better used.
You could have been a rescuer.
You could have been proud for years.
But when you died,
You
She came by today, the message on the door says.
She was wondering whether you had her scarf.
She didn't want to call you, it seems to say.
She worried that would give you false hope.
It was a different scene, that night,
(Just three weeks ago, but it feels a lifetime!)
When she came up to you in the hotel bar.
She didn't know you, but she liked you then,
Liked you enough to let your transparent flattery get the best of her
And get the best from her in your bed.
She left it there then, the scarf she had been wearing.
It was still there in the morning when you woke up and she had gone.
You kept it on your bookshelf against the time
Where camels cross across the sands
In hot and dry and desert lands,
Where just to live's a desperate scheme
We watch a fellow, fevered, dream:
Uncontrolled, his limbs, they shake!
On fire, his thirst he cannot slake!
But as he drifts into the dark,
His febrile mind begins to spark
With visions of idyllic zones
Of castles, kings and queens, and thrones,
The yurts of Khans, the tents of sheikhs,
The Romans, Spanish, and the Greeks -!
He stops then, dreams of nature's gifts,
Of mountain ranges, shining cliffs,
Of rivers babbling to the sea,
Of forests, of a single tree.
And then he dreams of something grand -
His one and only lotusland.
As in h
1.
I told you once you had to choose your battles.
You smiled and you told me you'd be fine,
The invulnerability of youth hanging on your shoulders
And your yellow scarf around your neck
And your hair just so,
And went.
2.
Much later you had forgotten I ever mentioned those words,
You flung yourself into countless skirmishes with me instead;
In my defense I tried hard to get back at you
But my arrows meant nothing, shattered on your worn and dirtied armour like sugar cubes
Or nothing. Nothing is what they meant to you,
And when I held you off neither of us could triumph, I told myself,
But the weariness I felt facing you could mean only o
i.
She opened her eyes,
Searched for the sounds of
Information, creating a current of
Electricity through her body,
Eyes to brain and back.
She turns to you, and you read her mind,
Read it through her eyes,
Such a strange
Pale
Shade
Of
ii.
You glance up,
Escaping wrong conclusions/
Near electrocution.
Black specks in the distance/
Your eyes.
Lambs lack all stain (Zounds!)
But you know He was wounded,
He must have been,
And mental instability never beckoned so hard
And you fall, purpose or no,
And you lie on your back
And you live on your back
(And you die on your back).
All above you is the vast crushing emptiness of colour.
It makes a p
The strings of rain in summer pass
Outside the window, dampen grass;
A pattering upon the glass.
A bird is singing unsurpassed
Despite the grey. The memory brings
The strings of rain. In summer, pass
The places we once caught sea bass.
Fat fish thrashing, fit for kings,
And pattering upon the grass.
We drank the sun as days went past;
Allowed to fall upon our wings
The strings of rain in summer. Pass
Control to me- Too late, alas.
The severed ends of puppet strings
Are pattering upon the glass.
Though we may hope, love never lasts;
The bird must cease, for all it sings.
The strings of rain in summer pass:
A pattering upon th
Red Head with Bourbon and Lime by since-then, literature
Literature
Red Head with Bourbon and Lime
His idea of beauty was a red head, eleven shots of bourbon, and six lime wedges.
He was drunk and she was too.
They fell into bed after, giggling about this and that.
He slept fitfully, stealing the covers.
He awoke in the night, wondering what a terrible mistake he was making.
He got out of bed; he tucked her in.
3am he left, worrying about the morning.
The next night he was at the bar again.
Throw all your worries out the window, yea,
And dash your little ones upon the rocks.
Night comes quick and soon to your detractors;
The sland'rous shepherds will fast lose their flocks.
Your critics will be silent evermore,
The ignorant and liars must all learn
When they harp upon your every movement,
They only will condemn themselves to burn.
So feast, feast! on the hearts of enemies!
So take a life's course best described as random!
So take the things that lie within your reach!
Behave with the utmost impeccable reckless abandon.
(Completely)
Still.
No sound
(Of breath).
(You have) no
Pulse (right now).
Brain (function has) ceased.
(No need to) worry.
Just another statue now;
No life left.
(I blame) the winter.
Pa, we have a lot of Land... by since-then, literature
Literature
Pa, we have a lot of Land...
Pa, I know you'd never want to split up the farm.
I know that our family's held on to this land for so long. I know that your granddaddy's granddaddy bought it off a shifty guy they all called Crooked Jim. I know that Crooked Jim got shot here. (I know it wasn't any of our family who did it, though.) I know that your own momma got married here, and that your granddaddy built a little tiny chapel on part of the property for the occasion. I know that the chapel burned down three months later when a local boy knocked over a few candles. I know it was never rebuilt.
I know, too, the ins and outs of farming, Pa. I know why we need so much land a
A month later they found you, alone.
No violence upon you, silent and desolate;
Your abandonment, unreasoning.
Terrified, they passed you around:
17 men in 13 years-
The oldest profession for your kind,
The Amazon type (if you know what I mean).
You were ruined by the last,
A greedy fraud and conman,
Left for dead for 100 years and more.
They found your bones in the water where he left them,
Hard and cold and rotting.
If you only had talked to your rescuers,
David Morehouse and his faithful Dei Gratia,
You could have been better used.
You could have been a rescuer.
You could have been proud for years.
But when you died,
You
She came by today, the message on the door says.
She was wondering whether you had her scarf.
She didn't want to call you, it seems to say.
She worried that would give you false hope.
It was a different scene, that night,
(Just three weeks ago, but it feels a lifetime!)
When she came up to you in the hotel bar.
She didn't know you, but she liked you then,
Liked you enough to let your transparent flattery get the best of her
And get the best from her in your bed.
She left it there then, the scarf she had been wearing.
It was still there in the morning when you woke up and she had gone.
You kept it on your bookshelf against the time
Current Residence: Somewhere with KITTIES! deviantWEAR sizing preference: Whatever fits...I hope. Print preference: Does it matter? Favourite genre of music: Didn't the previous question already cover this? Favourite photographer: Haven't heard of any (whose names I remember). Favourite style of art: It changes like my hobbies. Operating System: o3 o3 o3 o3 o3 o3 o3 I made paw prints! MP3 player of choice: Don't have one, don't care. Shell of choice: Does this have anything to do with anything...? Atlantic Scallops, they're pink/orange/both. Wallpaper of choice: A cat. Or an alligator snapping turtle in my yard. Favourite cartoon character: Me! If I were a cartoon character. Personal Quote: Good morning...
Favourite Visual Artist
This is hard because I'm bad with names...it was...I don't remember.
Favourite Movies
One with absolute stupidity, I'm sure.
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
I listen to really random stuff, you don't even want to know.
Favourite Writers
Joseph Heller -- because everyone's crazy.
Favourite Games
Doing random stuff...(not a game)...I know!...(so?)...GAH!
Tools of the Trade
Pencil, Paper, Keyboard, Camera, Whayamicapitalizingtheentirelist?, etc.
Other Interests
Cats, reading, whatever. Multiple hobbies that I quickly lose interest in.
RULES:
1. Put your MP3 player, iTunes, Zune, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle. (Kay...)
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer. (LOL, IT WORKZ!)
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS. (YAY SILLY!)
4. Tag at least 10 friends. (LOL NO.)
5. Everyone tagged has to do the same thing.
6. Have Fun! (How?)
IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
"How Far We've Come"
Matchbox Twenty
HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
"Poker Face"
Lady Gaga
(...true. ;))
WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
"Circus"
Britney Spears
(Entertaining?)
HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
"Let it Rock"
Kevin Rudolf an
"Day 4: Shop til' ya' drop.
O.K. For breakfest we had french toast. I had cereal called Frosties (Frosted Flakes) Then we went shopping in Galway.I got something! Yeah!
Well {the} when we got back we ate lasanua and a brownie for dessert Then me, ally, megan, and Owen, made the S.S. (Super Spies) It was fun! Ok, and when ally goes to bed, we all have different names.
List
Sarah ---- Crazy Person
Megan ---- Sharpie
Robert --- Bob the Bottle
Steven --- Elmo
Michael -- Junior
Emily ---- Tissue
Ally ----- B.F.W. or A.C.
Well {Ta} I had Fun Tootle -ooo
With all the outrageously talented artists and writers here on dA, for you to take a moment of your time to watch me and my work, it's an absolute honor.