deviant art

Deviant Login
Buy ArtBuy T-Shirts & Gear Buy adCast Buy Premium Membership
Shop		  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
[x]
silver-tinged twilight                                                            owls

                                                           nestle,

                                                           hooting

                                                           along

                                             with the help of lofty, fresh leaves

                                                so too, do the summer's evening

                                                     winds whistle around

                                                 the empty park bench passing

                                           through the p
Owl and CrowYour fingertips stuck to my forehead, and popped off when you pulled them back. We were both wearing black that day, mourning our own deaths. (Those little deaths that happen again and again.) Kisses planted grow rainbow flowers at twilight. We were waiting for twilight, that day. I pushed your fingers back into place on your hands, kissing the tips of each one. You cat-purred, I bird-screamed. Twilight rolled in like a fog, smooth and beautiful, the way it does sometimes in autumn. We didn't need anything more.
I Modestly Trudge OnMuck plastered and carcass ridden:
the earth is a burial ground
where humanity went extinct long ago.

And we, the souless wanderers left,
we hope for a new meaning, a new life...
We hope, and we pretend desperately
that hope is enough

to keep us human.
ListeningListening

When the angel speaks, Mary dips a finger
into the wine, holds it out for the angel to taste.
This may be the last thing
of the world .... The angel's tongue
wraps around her finger, a string tied tight.
Mary wants to remember the cracked cup,
the wind fluttering like a trapped moth,
the taste sharp as a pinprick in her mouth.
"Chosen," the angel calls. But Mary is listening
to the scrape of an oxen's hooves
as he drags a cart, wheels crunching leaves,
the last thing .... She already knows.
She sniffs her hands: eucalyptus, pungent, crushed,
a bright thread tying her to this world.
"Innocent," the angel says. "No," Mary answers.
keepsakein old boxes we keep
next to spider web walls and heirloom
root cellars

small pieces of ourselves

watermarked
hoarded like weapons from the
enemies within

the shrapnel of unsettled palavers

waiting
for the right time on the wrong day
or
the right day but the wrong time

to echo sharp olloquies
thought erased with the analgesic
ebbing of time

salvaged from boxes
and back to the surface
displaced

like sickness in gingerale dreams
confined to the marginsapproximate silence has killed
our mystique with dancing out of time
proto-
vertebrates conscribed

         to the physics of a ripple

See there's the girlSee there's the girl
The girl who's losing grip
Who is slowly losing everything
her screams of pain and sorrow
Fill her heart.

Do you hear her
Can you see her
Can you
Listen to her
Look at her scars that bleed

She means no harm
She's just dying inside
Help her before she's gone
Don't let her slip

Do you hear her
can you see her
can you listen to her
look at the scars that bleed

There she lays
The girl who cried out
the girl who everyone
Laughed at
The girl who did the permanent  
Solution to a temporary problem.

DO you hear her
Can you see her
Can you listen to her screams
Look at her she's six feet under now
catch and releaseproselytizing disparate discoveries
opined by rusty keys
contraindication was a craze
that could rout us through these doldrum days
hegira fed and ostentatious
quicksilver in a haze

and drawn the perfect line, i've never
usurped the universe
inscrutable,
re-usable,

but i can't spit out the hook...
She stands tallShe stands tall and brave
no pain is clear,
but look in her eyes
and you see
the mask of fear and
sadness.
she has a secret
a small one
but it is big
she
           fakes
    her
     smiles
  her
             laughs
anything
        she
    tries to
hide
              her
pain
      with laughter
and falseness

she is slowly slipping
losing her sanity
her grip on that fragile line
she calls her relief.

You see a girl
that smiles every day,
but maybe she has a
secret one like no other
a plain to escape
the hell
she calls earth.  
ProphecyProphecy

Above the kneeling angel, a sun dangles,
a ball of yarn. I want to unravel
what they did to me. Mary crosses her arms,
an X of blue cotton. They hung her son
on an X, cedar planks haphazardly nailed together,
no pattern, only
what has already happened.
I want prophecies,
warnings, road signs, a hand that scrawls,
their hands deep inside me,
claw hammers. Under Mary's blue robes,
red cloth drips, the folds gathering
into a puzzle on the floor.
The painter knew the end,
so he shaped the beginning so
there could be no other end,
no, if only I ....could I?
DepressionI visited my psychiatrist today
and in an office with no evident emotion
no obvious soul beyond a Gettys image
in a painfully drab frame
screwed firmly into a pale green wall
that matched the colour
of his uninspired suit
he told me
that people like me
infuriate him,

he said that six months earlier
he had been told that he
only had mere months to live
and that he had been clutching, snatching,
grasping onto every second that he had left.
His light brown skin creased and
cracked as he told me this,
frail grey hair fell onto the lines of his forehead
and I said nothing
aware of my body swallowing itself in shame,

'So to see a person,' he sai
ThawAs you are loaded
into the back
of the ambulance,

you thank God
that something
is happening at last.
gumshoedear Detective:

Nixon had his enemies,
and I have mine,
and for reasons it seems
you count yourself among them
but i'm sure we can find some reasonable terms
in the body of these mandatory matriculations
somewhere in the median,
of this semblance of humanity,
can we not surely coalesce?
like a mortise and tenon and calmly recite
common sense compartmentalized

[the new permutations on the plateau]

so if you'd please reign in your dogs
with their electronic ears and
surveillance eyes
and now longer beware of the darkness;

i'll share with you when and just how
slowly you'll die

yours truly,

the Abyss
The Gorgon's lullaby:The Gorgon's lullaby:

The gorgon sits on the rock on the edge of the world
she see's nothing but the dark sky, nothing there
she was all alone in the world
not one soul to comfort her
not a set of eyes to turn her way
seeing hatred everywhere but she says to herself
its going to be okay because i'm here with my sister's
these heavy hands curl around rocks and tree's
never to see another living soul
for if she does
she'll turn them into stone
where she could only stare but never have any interactions
the Gorgon's lullaby is the only thing that keeps her calm
as her wings stretch out behind her
she lets out a soft hiss
nothing else is h
Ding dongDing dong

A burning we will see tonight.
Ding dong the witch is dead,
pussy in the deep dark well.
Harvest a green witch.
Weak is the knife held by the child.
But the Greenman will sew up the chasm
which you planted,
which I plaited
Into a belly of winter wheat.
Do you have to tear?
I have no liking for pain
despite the scars,
despite the seams.
There can be no knowledge without the knife
but did you have to tear?
Browse More Like This
Download File
TXT, 556 bytes more ▶

More from *thesquareroot

chikaraunique eyes in the sky

           ::distorted:::

kinetic wells that lack
no bottomless threat of potential

gods
before  the siege encased
     their bones in [history]

like seeds
to fertilize a future race
the flourish only in the after-

math of our erasure

before repeating our disasters
that are now called commonplace
authentic fakeryself-proclaimed -

we demand small tributes from the universe
 bright gifts of its secrets
to awaken

more build-our-own paradox days

comfortably numbed and dislodged
from dualities

from the rough constructs
we call memories

and dreams and their templates
of an intrinsically two-button world

and behind our backs self -
 proclaimed
armies are just days from the door

barking war, but we won't ever see them
only hours until we implode
physics(of the fourth dimension)it was angular thinking;
   throw away the wolf's hide and finally
flock with the sentient sheep

bleed the black holes
dry until they coughed and heaved
   perfunctory lights into the sky

   lulling gods to sleep
lugubrious concubines
exhausted by the infinitely

weightless fists of time
templarsecluded with old miracles
we stain the solemn page
like animals before they're broken
pacing trenches in a cage

the good life was voracious
so we silently seceded
let Icarus play paper wings
and build heretical machines

and while the valley fog is lifting
we'll flood the empty lakes
with bodies of the baphomet
to atone for our mistakes

a third of us confined
to ride these facile theories to our graves
and the rest will nurture rust, convinced
one night we'll all be saved
permanent reachevery night our voyeur eyes
drink maria on the Moon
hypoxic pseudoforms performing
false-flag-operations
gratifying only
those who skate across the surface

of poorly padded curtains
or over-polished spoons

and no wonder we're unsteady
when left without our sundries
no wonder we enlist such bawdy
anachronistic ruses
that sets the truth at ready
but keeps our hands unsteady

ripened 'til the day the kingdom
collapses on its own
pseudologycircumambious
nearly lubric in loquation

prolix to the point
that no rubicon can fathom

and it paints a pretty picture
venial, yet neat

approaching facile thresholds
of sycophantic bliss

a calculated venom
stored succinctly my cheek

closing eyes complacently
for at least another week

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

February 26
556 bytes
Link
Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 1
Favourites: 1 [who?]


Views: 30 (0 today)
Downloads: 1 (0 today)
[x]

transpositional thinking

:iconthesquareroot:

infringined upon itself and staggering
the meat is on the move
unpolished hooves and all

painting outside the imaginary numbers
fighting
battles with the pavement

and gossamer wings are given
to any with the constitution
to eat their younger brothers

or worship with the moon when casting
pagan shibboleths
a wolf inside the congregation

holding heavy breath
:iconpinchesol:
~PincheSol Feb 26, 2013
worship with the moon.. haha awesome
Reply
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
©2013 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Developers | Careers | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Premium Membership Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy