|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Keep your powder dryi.
he looks away, the lines under
and around his mudded eyes as
known to me as my own,
as known to me as the hot air
of the death months, the death December,
the blowfly fester, the light stretched
and bright to breaking;
as known to me
as the eucalyptus leaves
that are slicks of fragrant summer
in every January of every year I have
ever lived –
as known to me as the smell of my
floating ’cross the ruined cities
of Christmas lunch –
i am six. he puts the air rifle
against my shoulder, and tells me to
pull the trigger tight.
i’ll try, dad,
The Purple and the SunSpill your blood on the seven swords –
as darkness comes, they are shouting
Artos, Artos, Artos.
You are not just a man. I’ll say it again,
even as you sweat and grunt, shag-headed,
terrible and real. You are not just a man. Let your
heavy head fall, and become
the bones of the hills
and the birds
of the sky.
Let them claim you for their own,
Emperor, o Emperor,
even as the smoke tastes bitter
on your tongue. The Sun is setting,
and the thing is done. Die, and live forever,
with what you’re given.
A crown of oak leaves,
and a lake,
for your resting place.
Touchand given that my life is not so much a life
as it is a void, and not so much a void
as a transposition,
three steps away from the
truth of things,
a smear of grease-paint vision,
given that i have spent hours with
my back on the asphalt spine
staring at the pale shell of the sky and
imagining myself as nothing but the
nothing i saw,
the paper-bone annulment of life,
some misstep between
‘born’ and ‘die’,
given all this, i had no choice
but to throw myself down
at the temple of incarnation,
and say before i drowned:
‘oh lord, save me, for i have
lost it all, and i am floating,
and i am falling,
and i am gone’.
at first i offered him blood sacrifice,
or close enough,
stinging tallies of the days
when i could not remember
what it felt like to be alive –
i decorated my skim-milk thighs
and waited for fruit,
or stars, to burst
behind my eyes.
but then i learnt better ways, gentler ways,
things that he gave me, or perhaps
things that i gave him
speaking in silence
profoundly effecting lives.
words or silences,
when you listen to your life
do you hear the difference?
[A spark by somethingzenzen ]
One Half Of A Pair
Dead shoe in the road,
Driving on looking for more.
A long lifetime together
Lost in fragile metaphor.
The Place Where You're At
Every foot step,
Every moving moment.
Every deep thought
Making you what you desire
Taking you where you require.
[A Serendiipitii spark]
Free FallFree Fall
Suggested by delice1941
The last thing i saw
A cluster of clouds, like cotton puffs
Then everything seemed to plunge
Everything was darkness, then
When I could see, I saw leaves
I revived in a tree
The chute would not open
I screamed and yelled as I fell
But I stopped my screams
And my adventurous daydreams
When at last I broke
[Stanza 3, 5-7-5-7-5, adapted from a comment by Gytalf2000]
listening to silenceThe party had ended, nothing to do but listen to silence
glitter on her sore and bitten lips still, she listened to silence.
She'd left the boy and he didn't know what to do with himself
anymore. He couldn't muster up tears, so he sat and listened to silence.
Taste of peppermint chewing gum in her mouth and the
woods quiet around her, she was happy as she listened to silence.
The poet sat in front of her computer, and observed the things
her heart sent fizzing to her fingertips, and she listened to silence.
Of Snake Charmers and TreesThere are mathematicians
that calculate the gravitational
pull that tethers us to one another,
teasing sense out of the fabric
of Time and Space like
wizened snake charmers.
I thought them so horribly
unromantic, searching for
logic amidst wildflowers--
reasoning being reason enough
to put one foot in front
of the other each day.
True beauty lay printed
on petals and pages,
where I delved for pearls;
the patterns in the pathos
intriguing me into each
rising of the sun.
I do not remember when
it occurred to me that
without fractals there would
be no trees, nor without love
would people have any reason
to calculate the distances that
separate them from their muses.
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