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Scarecrow Green W. Body ImageSCARECROW
the trees are still green.
ive got a boy in each ear screaming in a strained falsetto, "find god, then fuck, rub war paint over your collar and choke those dreams of adolescent fancy!"
maybe not in that order.
i feel that those might be reasonable demands.
if not, ill stay a virgin forever and stop posting my barely lucid projections on cross walk buttons so the world can join me in confusion.
ive decided to marry myself to this moment, a rubber band ring on my finger and everything.
i cant tell if theyre asking for a fire or a union.
all i can hear is sex and murder, a whisper of masturbation.
the feral cry signifies a busted climax so maybe these boys are in love and the songs merely rut against each other.
its a valid enough theory.
a part of me hopes that they become beautiful monsters when the lights go out.
for them my heart goes.
today ive decided not to believe in love.
its a silly little thing, not suitable for children my age
"just jealous 'cause we're young and in love."
im jotting this down overlooking stairs to the concrete people playing evergreen games until the grass hits and feet sink against the movement.
my fear is the position to topple into bodily harm, she told me because my statements were laced, hardly contrary to the truth. and my knees are buckling, body sways forward and panic spray paints my senses 'til they're all bright yellow. i fall backwards on my ass, knees pressed tight to my chest so i can breathe normal again.
luckily no ones noticed that its happened for the third time tonight.
it might be a bit cliche to proclaim myself toeing the edges of our small existence 63 percent of the time.
eyes closed and learning how to meditate, recite the best poem ever written to the better half of my memory that sits in the dark until special moments when i wish to remember how to make decisions based on my mistakes.
this is different.
im listening to someone else's favorite song, strike to my ski
Sunglassesi look down and my hands are clasped, the light washing over them in broken stretches, intervals like broken clockwork. fingers interlocked atop the plaid fabric draped down and around my hips.
for the past hour or so ive been writing in my head.
about boys and girls.
those who i have, haven't, should've and desperately want to kiss. im 16, so honestly, theres nothing else for me to write about.
i wanted to start this with a sentence in my mental draft that would state, more or less, 'i tell him i love him but im not sure by what definition i hold it, perhaps whichever he feels it to be.'
something like that.
its about a boy who ive kissed despite knowing just how much i should not have. because my decision making skills are just about as flawed as my parents' are.
i guess i wouldve gotten all poetic about it too. about the songs hes sang to me and how hes just a stepping stone that i paused at, knowing it was merely 'til i truly get what i want (sniff, i say, 'what i had'), but no mat
Blackbirdthe sound of breathing over labored guitar chords.
he says 'rooftop', i think E minor, maybe binary code.
its just that simple.
with an arpeggio inhale and the positioning of awkward fingertips.
now hes humming something i cant discern and the song is supposed to be about lonliness, he says, a thin mouth tilted up in the corner.
'lovely melancholy' i say to myself.
but i hear moonlight and silver glinting off earlobes, hollowed in the dark.
dont believe theyre lonely, more but reaching out from the edges.
scribbles in the corner of papers with outstretched arms, to use figurative language.
a tendency to ask what i am writing, always thinking it be about himself (8th grade memories floating like notebook paper, i remember, small smile and bright eyes.)
right now the sound is repetition, shifting soft and to a feeling--green grass like comforters and arena seating.
and i can hear what this is asking for, a mirror imaged and a sideways glance through crowds.
to break his concentration, th
Counter Topi need to make that night seem more poetic when i write it down.
inject some sorry romanticism into those few moments.
felt like i had no face and even with the lilt of eyebrows, creases in the corners of my forced smile, the expression wouldnt have mattered anyway.
they dont explain it to you in those middle school classes.
the overwhelming sense of power found in sometimes hazel eyes, bright in dimly-lit rooms.
yet crippled in knowing how these things tend to mean nothing.
how my knees give out and quiver.
how in the minutes before, my lips mirrored the action, trying not to weep for the need of piteous decisions.
and voices are obsolete.
but breathing means everything.
i might actually call that my own, unless imagination runs wild and my skin goes blank for an open canvas---close your eyes and see anyone else you want to hold.
theres nothing at all beautiful to see when i let myself be picked apart for the sake of wanting someone i cant have, even when hes looping his perfect finge
Criss-Cross Designthe light has then adjusted
some twenty times since
weve been staring
with hair caught behind cold ears
and the irises expanding
for there is no way
to go blind in these rooms
with white-washed vision
blotting out dark figures
as they might rise slowly
in some distance
but you might switch these lines
to different angles
looking out windows
see the dull drone
of brown eyes
against brick walls
im writing your movement
as i stare at this pen
conjuring some demon
kill you dead
with the unrelenting desire
of this swirling madness
out the tip and over the page
so i could draw the distance
of just where you migh
be looking and write
those lines back to my eyes
and my mouth
because they are both open, staring
as you look anywhere but for me
Adenei've got a safety pin fastened through a collar and a name i dont know fit under the swollen rasp of my dry tongue.
the name like peril, little girls in sunday dresses, celestial in the songs they sing.
as if i knew that definition.
maybe stringing descriptions along branches and stuck with metal points, rusting red through the sides.
spelling out letters with stick tips in teh dirt and memorizing lines on her knees, with her hands upon the ground.
with hair threaded through like loops about her fingertips, passed through pink tinged lips and breathin in her air through filters, left there speechless.
reflecting the sun and leaving their sketches on tree trunks.
the countours gold, eyes closed and blind to the moment.
spit at her feet and found mud squished through toes, causing dissension among the ranks.
and she speaks quietly to the pins in her shoulders that whatever youre seeing, its not happening.
i say Adene, you draw a picture and the lines overlap.
running like water.
We Can See Thisive found out that these lives are like movies and the voices set are scripted pieces of beauty.
my gaze, taciturn, green grass in graveyards.
lifting his chin with the tips of my fingers.
as if holding the pose, fighting breath under water.
and walking away, found an exit through hanging branches of willows wilting in the heat of some lost summer.
the glances then fashioned are disguised 'round my fingers in trying to remember why i could not look away as he tread over flowers, skipping over their stories held in the words chipped into cold stone.
unless laying on the park bench and closing my eyes, finding letters encrypted in the stones thrown at my feet.
if set to the chorus of the soundtracks so celluloid, you could find our names up in the lights of grocery store tabloids.
because we are stars.
pretending out way through the moment of fake love, shielding faces from sunlight in late afternoons.
Hair Clip in Those Bedroomsdarling
i can hear the quirk in your voice
so i know its not okay
and im not gonna tell you i approve
but hes gone on an ego trip
and it extends beyond the hours of jet lag
that pulls you into his arms
from whence he might throw you upon the ground
to hear his drunken hero stories
the fatigue breathes alcohol into his thoughts
and theres that girl that we know
the one that i love more than the world
who whispers two names into everyones ear
and plays off the repercussions as her innocence
so lets all nod and call this okay
i remember the summer
when we smiled
as they played out the night in the comfort of bedrooms
it was okay wasnt it
the dialogue of deception
and hes lining your ears with it
its not the soar of piano concertos
and sonnets spoken with the bow of stringed instruments
if he looks you in the eyes with sunflowers in your vision
know to stare away
because is it not preconceived in the hours that he travels back in time
back to you
to whisper that hes not sure of what you ar
Universe In My MindAn endless mind
To which it knows no limit
I escaped, leaving reality behind
In this new world, I no longer felt timid
The comets passing above head
The moon beneath where I stepped
To a world of imagination I fled
And among the stars I slept
I drifted away, to a universe of its own
Dreaming of the sun bathed in gold
Exploring further, I delved deep into the unknown
Seeking for what my imagination will behold
An infinite galaxy, I was a star among billions
Words painted a picture to my vision
I drifted to reality, left only with a gift worth giving
muddy sheepsuicide boys
unafraid of dying young
chain smoking vandals
waiting for a reason
trigger happy combustion
to tinder box hearts
half lidded and milky
behind burnt hands
counting on the cancer
running, always running
wrinkles and the like
delicate breast bone left ajar
Jack and JillWant to play a game?
Would you like to play a game with me?
Take off your coat and take the the reins,
And when I sob take what remains.
What once was sweet turned so bitter,
What once was bitter turned so drunk.
So goes what we forget and who would have thought,
That life can continue when the soul is gone.
Oh Baby, you know this is oh, so wrong!
Jack and Jill when up the hill
To fetch a bucket of water.
Jack killed Jill and tore her gown
And the hills were filled with laughter,
A sadistic laugh that no one noticed
And it took years to notice that Jill was gone.
I was lost
I was hidden and hindered,
Forgotten to be remembered,
Broken and bruised,
Lost and confused
Naked and alone, wandering the streets.
Just another one of society's casualties.
So forgive the theatrics
And forgive my dismay,
But my soul was left for dead
And my life did decay!
So play a game,
Just one or more...
Am I really the one
That you want to adore?
Dead EndYour warmth on a cold road
Spill some of that quick wit
To fix your flat hair
What’s one more split end?
A kind heart now spread thin
Same Old - Same OldEveryone faced
with an impossible life situation,
will constantly hear the same advice:
that success is all about attitude & motivation.
Just like true-believers
in snake oil & so-called 'alternative medicines'
can never be budged from their script:
'If you can believe it, you can achieve it!'
No matter what the actual reality of a situation is.
But when cracks appear
in that unbreakable façade
and they realise that ignoring
& denying the truth will only get them so far;
there's always the passive-aggressive
retreat position of:
'I think you forget how lucky you really are!'
But such an argument
is both weak & lazy
because no matter who you are
or what you do,
if you look around your community
or the world as a whole,
there's always someone else,
who's worse off than you.
& being made to feel guilty for all of your blessings,
isn't much of a motivation to try & succeed-
if anything, all it really does
is to make you feel worse;
and that your
so-called 'blessings' wer
Darker today.There is nothing more terrifying
Than looking at yourself
And wondering how
You could love
There is nothing more dark
Than looking at yourself
And feeling like
You are just
Laughter @ Costthe man who's laughin' hardest, he's just tryin' not to scream.
he hides a breakdown in the punchline w/ the mantra on repeat,
saying: "Men don't cry. Don't hurt. Chin high.
Strong men are made of marble; only stoicism thrives.
So fill your belly up w/ laughter,
Fill your palm w/ your fingertips,
Square your shoulders; firm handshakes never give an inch,"
guillotine tip of tortured tongue,
or metacarpal fracture punching holes in the drywall.
starless city nights impede a never-never casting call...
You ain't gotta grow up, but you oughtta grow hard
because the measure of a man, they say's a tally of his scars
& how far he'll go to hide those that still bleed
--bleach on his shell-toes, ammonia underneath the sink (he)
speaks in "Hell-no's" to hotlines redialed from his sleepless
concrete mattress, velcro sheets,
beneath an airwave blanket, Jesus leaflets,
cover stories, storied stoner meekness,
The unity of humanity...The unity of humanity is found in the space of our individual perspectives. an unobstructed view from above, Always reveals the truth below..Teaching is the sharing of truth. Learning is the acceptance of knowledge. two things are constant in life. Resistance and perseverance, we all exhibit and reflect both. When we accept the enlightening truth of our energy and being, we find inspiration to make a positive difference not only to ourselves but to others as well..Life is a ride through the physical dimension, the thing we all seem to forget is that its not the route of our path so much as the perspective of our journey. With a proper perspective the road is as clear as our destination..The traffic of our life is caused by negative emotions and denial of the truth. These are formed by uncontrolled Ego's and self-righteous perspectives. Without strife there is only love and conscious awareness of the elements in life.One breath circulates through the lungs of humanity, The purity of our
step up!“step up! step up! hear da glass clink!”
blot out the world in the wake of a drink
“step up! step up! hear your lungs roar!”
free ‘em from your ribs forevermore
“step up! step up! no time to waste!”
leave ‘em behind, the lives which you’ve graced
“step up! step up! feel yer body adrift!”
was it fair your life ended, so quick ‘n so swift?
“step up! step up! a quick one-way cruise!
on da highway to hell, there’s no time to lose!”
I Wanted To Be The Soundits raining as i write as i listen to
a song and my life is consumed by
perfection whilst i ignore its
faults and the moment weighs
upon my eyes and overtaken i
begin i want to cry but its
my nature to soak up the outer
layer of every small and lonely pain
just as im not tired
I COULD STAY HERE
BECOME SOMEONE DIFFERENT
BECOME SOMEONE BETTER
i want nothing more than to drown
what i am in my love
for the drops of rain down and
through our drain pipes
because i cant remember the last
moment i felt whole all
encompassing grip of night
and cool air doesnt feel as cold
KEEP ME ALIVE
the sound is dwindling
this song imagined every
moment passing through
the day because im prone to
the obsession settling in fingertips
the rain is falling but i do not
pray and i cant step outside my
legs frozen to the air
hitting the ground, soft sound
through the window i breathe in
i could never be as beautiful.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More