Oh, Siren Songdancing, drowning –Oh, Siren Song by imaginative-lioness
oh, that siren song
causing his heart
entrapped, ensnared –
oh, that daring woman
causing him to fall for
Cacophonyand I am drowning insomnia.Cacophony by brokengod--veins
The sun has become my enemy
while the moons sings for me.
And my heart
is full of words,
but no wine.
[A drought in my lungs,
but no voice.]
This lonely poet drags
her soul through the skies
in the hopes of finding wings,
because the stars have melted
through her visions,
widening in daylight
[A line cast in the ocean
and the smell of salt
in auburn hair...]
I have swallowed
and taste nothing
Dust & rain.
The silent wind
rattling my bones.
A flame flickering
in the darkness.
and I’m still left with
nothing to say...
Jackson Pollock: Number 8, 1949at a certain angle of my dreadJackson Pollock: Number 8, 1949 by spoems
I can see the motion of your hair
glomming onto chaos in furious tangles
slickened with existential after-birth;
i have faith in our confusion.
comtrails of protozoa
desperate for the exit
collide with vectors of a monarch
in a honeysuckle rage
and deep within the forest
of your dark and brittle neurons
i am buried to the eyes,
waiting for a seizure
The Beyond Aches Like The OceanThe Beyond smells of wisteria,The Beyond Aches Like The Ocean by AzizrianDaoXrak
over-fragrant and twining its vines into your death-rattle—
it is a mosquito summer rising in a haze
over the marshes,
a keening like cicada-songs and a crunching
like cicada husks.
Yellow—the Beyond is all yellow,
it is an April dragging me down
on all fours with coughing—
I mark my handprints in the pollen pits
and think I can never be clean again;
pollen like sand,
making an ocean of my lungs.
I wonder if the sea shores ache like this.
MantisI thought I was a kaleidoscope of euphoric perceptions,Mantis by glossolalias
a sensual overlap of sixteen color-receptive cones on the acid spectrum,
creator of words to describe what only I could see when those sinews melted,
and the ocean waxed at my backdoor. I was bottom-feeding, heat-seeking,
capturing bent men like stunned seahorses boiling in the rainbow coral,
blinking wake of sonoluminescent dazzlement: tight jeans wrapped around their ankles,
faces blue but bubbling dank blood to their lips that sealed a pseudonym—
Then I was tongue-tied like a victim complex: always the receiver and never the sadist
of an infliction self-invented. I was wordless and mosquito sex stagnant,
playing in kiddie pools I called the Atlantic, wanting to tear a hole in reality or literature,
make the currents foam in the shape of wet letters that curved for my diction,
but I am not powerful: I am a shrimp. Not a writer, not a leviathan—
Though I don't think I've come to terms with it yet,
so I'll just keep br
No Refuge from MemoryForgetting is only half the battle, when the hands of timeNo Refuge from Memory by Medoriko
only serve to help remember. Bones brittled and a heart, bittered
rests in my minds eye, deep. These memories replay like cinematic adventures;
every word hissed from your chapped lips sends me on the
verge of a new dawn. As the sun rises, so do I, with
every thorn in my back. But for every prick, I
remember to harden. And for that, I am all the wiser.
A Little About Me on DeviantART:
I have been writing since I was about six years of age. I write for my own enjoyment, a sense of inner fulfillment, and I judge writing that I read on the heart and soul of a piece that speaks to me in that fashion only. I write how I desire to, and what I desire to...I have always had a rather personal rule of thumb that I live by: write to please only myself, and for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. I do not expect to earn a "quick buck," or even to "change the world," I just want to express my feelings through the hearts of my characters. I enjoy writing and reading novels of all sorts, but my favorite genres are Historical romance, fantasy, and suspense.
Away from DeviantART, I work daily in an Emergency room. Not surprisingly, there is always something exciting going on there. I do consider it my life’s work and love every minute of it. I also deem myself as a rather serious Abraham Lincoln scholar, and spend a great deal of my free time when not working studying, reading, learning, and eagerly collecting all things Lincoln.
What Can I Do For You Here?
As a former Literature Community Volunteer, I am very familiar with the community and will happily offer support to anyone who has questions or concerns at any time. I continue to strive my personal best to do whatever possible to make everyone’s experience here on DeviantART and beyond the absolute best that it can be.
Any other questions? Please feel free to send me a note.