.I do most of my commenting on my other account...
[link]
But most, if not all, of the work will go here
Newest
NauseaHow can thisNausea
Gargantuan universe
In which we are
Both but specks
Be so small
As to make us
Both so huge
If only to To each other?
by ~world-clear-as-water
Affirmative1.Affirmative
Fleeting moments
First kisses and just-missed opportunities.
2.
Science classes ditched
for clandestine little jaunts into not-so-far-off places.
3.
Drunken evenings &n
by ~world-clear-as-water
All your thoughtsAll your thoughts And hopes And fears Are just about made clearAll your thoughts
By an outward facing Claddagh ring Worn proudly on your finger
Like a wedding band betrothing you to life.
by ~world-clear-as-water
UntitledThis summer I’m in love with the world The sights, the sounds The greens, the bluesUntitled
Just like these days Twelve months since
Made by playing Hide and Seek
in grass more open than our souls
It’s words washing over you Collide into one Behind eyes that close With bliss &#
by ~world-clear-as-water
Favourites
What I Found on Wooden SlabsGraffiti. Most notably "Class of '64" etchedWhat I Found on Wooden Slabs
into one forlorn corner, "September 10, '79 / Marc was here"
penciled on another, and one more which just said "1988" -- generations whispering amongst themselves in lewd remarks scrawled thick with purple permanent marker.
A remarkably correct sketch
of Fred Flintstone, winking, I think, at me, or at something beyond.
A swastika, a swastika, a large swastika, which was crossed out and connected to an arrow pointing towards "CHRIST WOULD NOT DRAW THIS!" scribbled on the edge.
by ~ashellessmind
Quiet NeighboursCurtains pulled, lit up some nights: but no one’s ever sitting outsideQuiet Neighbours
an infant stroller upright in the frost-thick grass, growing mould next
to a wire clotheshorse; both been there weeks, though someone’s still mowing the lawn
around the concrete slab, marking where the apple tree fell with autumn’s storms
and gave rise to an occasion to plant
commemorative rose bushes
all twisting branches, wearing only leaves now their season has passed,
but who wants to see roses
by ~pseudometry
Measured in YearsEliza is six and there’s something unusual about the morning. The day seems to have forgotten to wake up. It’s black outside the windows except the silver pools the streetlights leave on the pavement. She can hear a faint, familiar noise: her parents’ alarm, an ongoing stacatto rhythm that usually ends just after it begins. She goes downstairs in feeted pajamas, one warm thing in the dark house, one pink smudge in the somber white living room with its vaulted ceiling. She sees her mother sitting on the sofa in her nightgown, part of the pale triangles that lace the shadowed room.Measured in Years
Eliza stands in the center of the
by ~are-bee-s
Watchers
deviantID
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Norn Iron
- Interests: Whatever takes my fancy at the time. Music and film are the only constants
- Favourite movie: Probably American Beauty
- Favourite band or musician: Sigur Rós, Mogwai, Animal Collective, New Pornographers, tonnes more
- Favourite genre of music: Post-rock, indie, ambient. I don't like genres though
- Favourite poet or writer: Anno Birkin, Sylvia Plath, Séamus Heaney
- Favourite photographer: Annie Leibowitz, Anton Corbjin,
- Favourite style of art: Photography, music, film, poetry
- MP3 player of choice: iPod
- Personal Quote: "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy" - Tom Waits
- Tools of the Trade: Whatever's to hand plus some imagination
- Website: http://www.bebo.com/_pagan_poetry_
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--
♥ Kate ♥
A system of morality which is based on relative emotional values is a mere illusion, a thoroughly vulgar conception which has nothing sound in it and nothing true.
~Socrates
I'm not really new though, technically.
I've only just made this account to put up some work rather than on my old account where my friends would see it. I'm very particular that way >.<
So, if you get any comments from [link] that's me
--
♥ Kate ♥
A system of morality which is based on relative emotional values is a mere illusion, a thoroughly vulgar conception which has nothing sound in it and nothing true.
~Socrates
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