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Oyster HamstringDyslexic disregard for
dopamine receptors and
bring desire dumping down to
the dumbest of derelict duties
determining love, lust, and concubines.
Touring the facilities and never
picking up the pieces to remain
relieves the relegated retardation of mankind
to never know the once proud and
prudent makeshift monkey-wrench
in your own head which another
Losing total feeling found adrift among the ashes
finds the jonesin’ jubilee drowning in deep, dank waters.
When IT pours out opulent opals appear in your mind
and clog your receptors leaving you rank and reeking of
ridicule and ridiculousness.
Now can you see the sunshine in the stars?
Can you feel the cold from the fire?
Does your mind deceive you? Is it decrepit?
What are you left with but a feeling of total feeling
and a loss of self-aware control?
Never in nine lives does the cat speak,
but never in seven years does a dog peek.
But stand still and the world will revolve around you.
Our Eyes, Together TonightI want to fall in love with
the sky in your eyes tonight,
but not just for tonight –
And I want to run to you
under the deep blue sky,
My arms, under the stars,
want to trace your scars
and wage wars with yours,
Ice to day-lit sky in the night
lock tight and fight to not
Our HeavensBreathe my name to the stars and
watch the constellations play –
Cassiopeia dances and dines
with The Archer,
Cepheus points the way
to salvation in the words heard
with whispers from lips made of cosmos
who witnesses world from conception,
my world – us.
Denote happiness, salvation, and truth
in the eyes that shine like the red dwarf
that burns brighter than our sun,
but seems mute from distance
that lags and drags on our souls
out softly yet violently
leaving you and I in its wake,
fearing nothing but a starless sky in return
for without my light (you)
I have no moon and you
are no universe alone.
Breathe NowI can only see you with my eyes closed now.
The shell I see with open lids is a husk of my love
and I would die and kill to return your fire, your passion
to kindle in my heart, but instead I live with what I want,
but never achieving happiness because you cannot release,
letting go of fears and doubts to just love me for all of my faults.
Life, to you, is surviving – not thriving on
the love that surrounds you.
Stop the flow of interruption and
clam your nerves. Find peace in the children;
let your confusion of right die. Just be happy,
be theirs, be mine.
Be yours first. Let me not knot you,
let me hold you, spiritually and emotionally –
physically we are well, but tenuously we die
with each breath you breathe alone.
I want to run. I want to be alone at times and at times
I am, but you have no such loneliness;
anxiety and suffocation is all you know, so
perhaps you need those breaths alone,
but when you breathe, use my air
even when I am not there.
Be alone for a time, be
No One Will Teach You How To LiveMy mother taught me
that someone else will always
take care of you and
is worth fighting for because
nothing is worth it.
She taught me that smoking,
snorting, and drinking was cool.
She taught me how to inhale.
My mom taught me that
grandparents raise children
and aunts are wise.
She taught me
the value of the dollar -
the life of your children.
My mother taught me,
most of all,
to not be like your mother.
My father taught me
that walking, no
was okay. He taught me how
to roll a joint, tie off my
arm and how to spoon the tar.
He taught me how to hunt
for the best dealer and
how to cheat on my wife;
he explained to me that
how you were in life meant nothing
to how you were in bed.
My dad taught me just
how long you could
sit in one spot
before everyone around you
My father taught me,
most of all,
that my life is lived
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More