|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Making HasteDon't rush me.
Don't tell me to make haste.
Don't tell me
That my time is not mine to waste.
Don't say I'm making life hard
By always finishing last place.
'Cause I don't know 'bout you
But I've gotten used to tailing the chase.
When I look back
A myriad images I see.
There's what I lack
The care in the world for me.
It's not that I don't try
But just sometimes I shift gears.
Till I can get back in the game
With my head all clear.
I appreciate the concern, though.
What I WantI want to draw.
I want to create.
I want to awe.
I want to animate.
I want to animate my dreams
I want them to come alive
I want them to roll off endless reams
I want to them to pick speed and drive.
I want to set sail
On a boat of fantasy.
I want to hop over that rail,
That separates my dreams from reality.
I want to accomplish things that others have done.
Things they dared to try.
I want to do those things that look so fun.
I want to see if I can fly!
The Wright brothers touched the air,
And Armstrong strolled on the moon.
Someone replaced plain, static stairs
And I want to do something soon.
I want to be what I want to be.
Take a chance and begin to live.
I want to draw out the passion in me,
And oh! what I wouldn't give
For one chance....
To be worry free....
A Second Coming?Where "The best lack all conviction",
Where the will to right does hide,
In the backseat of our actions.
Our who-we-ares have died.
This is the worst to come about.
Even worse than a passionate worst,
For with no good counter about
There is no hope, the state is curst
The bad is intense;
There is no opposition,
And the wrong must be right,
There is no contradiction.
"Surly some revelation is at hand"
But pause! There is no conviction in the land.
Middle GroundMiddle ground, neither here nor there
Neither right nor wrong
Neither weak nor strong
In the penumbra, both light and dark
Half truth, half deceit
Part plant, part meat
You can't win with me.
I can't win with me.
Forget about the Love Laws
Whose love is in
Whose love is sin
Never mind Human Nature
If you don't say High
You still get bye
Life's what you make it -
Don't like it, don't take it.
Scolds and reprimands
Out of line
Out with the lion
You can't - - me;
you don't understand Life!
Monster"You've got no eyes,"
They whimper in fear.
You'll never see the passing life,
One of one held dear.
You hear no cries,
Those of ones you kill.
You'll never listen
They scream still and still.
Truth and lies,
They differ not.
You'll never regret,
Maybe you forgot.
For one who defies,
You have no heart.
You'll never feel
As you tear apart-
And yet, you live
Amongst ill glory
From pain you give.
You do not fear, for you are feared.
You've frightened all away.
You don't worry about tomorrow
When you kill so many today.
You are no human,
With no human part.
You are not living,
With no beating heart...
But I'd believe different-
Even as it stands,
If only you did good
Rather than evil with those hands.
You have no hands,
And you've got no face.
You a monster with metal claws,
The man that was gone without a trace...
Short Skirt, Long Jacket ch.1
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Soul Eater (c) Atsushi Ohkubo, nor the song: Short Skirt Long Jacket by Cake.
Passing by the popular little burger joint on the corner of Âme Street and Terror Avenue, one would have seen a possibly horrific sight. There was red liquid squirting at the window, possibly blood shooting from a ruptured artery as result of a vicious murder. Though the laughter that followed might assure that passer-by otherwise, it could always be that of a crazy killer. You could never be sure around there. This incident might instigate an investigation or the involvement of the police but in this city, that sort of thing was not abnormal. Not the killing so much as the laughter which is so well-known and is associated with nothing more evil than mischief and annoyance and headaches. This little red accident would go unnoticed by any resident of Death City. Black Star is a common and uninterestin
RainGloomy, grey clouds for as far as eye can see
And a single raindrops to tell
The heavens will open, paying no heed to me
I might be soaked before the bell.
I'm sitting in class but I can't pay attention
While watching the world get wet.
Raindrops are attacking without apprehension
Soon I'll be the thing getting wet.
Walking down the roads that are flowing like rivers
One to an umbrella, two or maybe four
Squeeze into a soggy bus, soaked and with shivers
I get home and leave my things at the door.
I sit by the window and watch the mountains fade from sight
Curtains of pouring rain hide the whole world from sight.
Sing me a song that only I can hear.
Sing it aloud softly, just for me.
Tell me something - beautiful and unheard.
Show me something no one else can see.
Let me feel special, important, chosen.
Let me speak the words that are yet unspoken.
Tell me what you like - your favourite treat.
Tell me what colour looks best in your eyes.
Take a walk with me, come and share my seat.
Take a look with me, let us share the skies.
Let me feel special, wiser than the old.
Let me be the leader whose hand you'll always hold.
Share with me a secret, one you've never told.
Share with me your worries, those that keep you awake.
Share with me your hand when you feeling cold.
hold onto me tightly when you think you're gonna break.
Let me be special, lasting forever long.
Let me be a person that's reliable and strong.
Now can you tell me your name, that thing I want to know.
And would you care to know mine? Oh how I want you to!
Can we continue with life now? Just follow with the flow.
The Rat and the DollSome time ago there lived a Rat of fine whiskers and a finer tail who stumbled across a small porcelain Doll in a farmer's rubbish heap. Entranced by the Doll's beauty, he carried her home with him and, to the amusement of his fellow rats, instated her as his wife. Finding that she was of little assistance in his daily rambles for food, the Rat placed her upon a slight ledge of the barn in which he lived and brought her an offering of sustenance each day, as well as flowers and other pretty objects with which to enhance her loveliness.
One day the Rat returned from his foraging to find the other rats throwing pebbles at his Doll. "Stop!" he cried. "Why do you abuse my wife? What has she ever done to you?"
"She does nothing at all," said the other rats, "and that is the problem. How has she proven herself worthy of the attention you grant her, or the offerings you provide?"
"Her beauty proves her worth," claimed the Rat.
But at that moment, a gust of wind swept the Doll off her perch an
The Crane Wife
The Crane Wife
Does that bird
think of bygone times
as it flies singing...
- Princess Nukada
There on the poor man's doorstep,
an arrow biting into my wing,
I flew into the arms of decision
my cries calling clouds,
even to the brow of Moon:
I would not be this;
kindness come to me,
and songs of a different flesh,
irresistibly new. That was why,
sped to health, I fled only to return
to the poor man's doorstep
a bird no more, a woman of silk.
And how the bamboo blinds
quivered with the storms of Spring;
how Wind shook Moon in the p
Truth and FalsehoodOne day, Truth and Falsehood met at an inn, both weary from their travels. "My old friend!" cried Truth, "Come, allow me to buy you a drink." So they drank and exchanged stories of their travels. As they talked, Envy walked into the inn. Upon seeing Truth and Falsehood, Envy grew jealous of their friendship. Envy decided to find a way to make them hate each other. Now, it so happened that Greed was staying at the same inn. Envy met with Greed to form a plan. "Look at those two," Envy hissed. "They can't be friends, they never agree on anything!" Greed was only half listening. Envy knew this, but was ready for it. "Of course," Envy said softly, "we need to stop it. It is unnatural, like a bird with no flight, or a fish that can't swim." At this, Envy pulled out a bag of gold coins. Greed's heart began to race, fingers itching to just grab the bag, to caress the gold with loving fingertips. Envy smirked triumphantly, the plan was working perfectly. "Now, this is what's going to happen,"
The Black Fox
Once upon a time, in a forest where three streams merged into a small, fast-flowing river, the locals say a shadow took life in the form of a black fox.
So shiny and thick and smooth was the coat of this black fox, it was said that hunters who caught sight of her were driven mad with the desire to own her pelt.
The best hunters for miles around chased after this elusive prey, but none succeeded. Indeed, many of them chased after the fox, deep into the darkness beneath the ancient pines, and never returned. Some believe they came across misfortune. Some believe they were taken by the fox into the fairy realm. Some have even more sinister theories to relate.
In a time when the autumn was crisping the leaves and turning the air cold, a young man went into the woods to gather firewood to sustain his family through the oncoming winter.
His bow was slung across his shoulders, and he carried an axe to cut wood, but he had no intention of killing any living creatures this day, and after many l
The Worm and the EpiphanyAlas, the worm was blind. Making its way through fertile earth, never meeting a soul, not even its own. Not knowing kith or kin, it didn't seem to bother him as, day by day, he burrowed his tedious way through mulch and mire; heeding not the dark or the cold. Not needing to ask the question that never would tire because it never grew old. He was not simply "you" -- he was "it" who did not exist.
So on and on, as often goes with a worm, it continued the clandestine tryst to turn the soil. It was what he had learned, or was born having known. Was he born -- and born to toil? -- flashed a thought in the dark. Had he not? He never thought to ask it before.
Then suddenly, the worm broke through the crust of ground! It squinted hard into a blinding light, and basked in the shade of a sunflower whose head bowed low with curiosity, and promptly doused the worm with a shower of dew. And
The Teacher's SuccessorOnce, at a certain time, in a village with no name there was a teacher. As he aged he knew he would need a successor to take his place when he died. He decided that his smartest student would be his successor. Of all his students, three young boys were the smartest.
One day, the teacher brought the three boys up a hill that over looked the village. On the hill were three grand, majestic trees that stood at the same height.
He assigned each boy a tree, then said, "Get rid of your trees and you must tell me who did it the right way."
The first boy ran home and brought back an axe. After a few swings the tree was cut down. "I am right because this is the way to get wood to make our homes."
The second one ran deep into the forest to a raven's nest. He took some seed from his pocket and offered it to the raven. The raven swooped down and exchanged the seed for an elixir. Running back, the second boy doused the tree with the elixir. The tree writhed then turned into a flock of swans that fle
Fable: Lion and HyenasA lion had a deep hatred of hyenas, and he would roam the savannah and ruthlessly hunt down and slaughter any that he saw. For a while, the hyenas feared him, until one brave individual rallied them all together and proclaimed that they should fight back.
The next time the lion began to maul one of the hapless animals, the others emerged from the long grass and tore at the lion's flanks. He tried to defend himself, but there were so many hyenas harrying him from all sides that he was at last forced to retreat. Covered in bites and scratches, he wandered through the plains shouting, "Help me! Those hyenas have always had it in for me!"
Men claim persecution often when they are no longer allowed to persecute.
The Peacock and the Fox
The Peacock was one day striding along very proud of his beautiful feathers. As he went by all the animals, they bowed down to him. And so went with all the animals, except one. As the Peacock passed by the Fox, he noticed the Fox did not bow down to him. The Peacock cleared his throat: "aham!"
The Fox, who although was not better looking than the Peacock, was very smart pretended not to hear anything.
"Perhaps you haven't seen me" said the Peacock.
"Actually I have" replied the Fox.
"Well, as I pass, everyone bows down to me."
"Really? I didn't know."
"Well then, what are you waiting for?"
"There's just a small problem, I don't know how to bow"
"Oh, that's odd. You just have to bend like so..."
And when the Peacock bowed, showing the Fox how to do so, in a swift movement he gobbled him up, and for the rest of the day, he felt no hunger.
No Country for Old CrittersBein' an owl, I reckon I see most things that other woodland folk are just too blind to see. Can't see the forest for the trees, an' all that. Mostly simple stuff, nothin' worth writin' a book about. But I seen a couple things, mind, as could make a creature ponder its rightful place in the world. I seen a rabbit once't, possessed by the devil (or an adrenal excess) who done broke the nose offen the fox what was chasin' 'im. True, it's an unusual twist to see sich a thing happen, but that weren't nothin' compared to how that same rabbit feller got his nose broke by a female what he done decided to make friendly with. Glories of nature, spring . . . phooey. March madness, that's what it is.
Now, if he's wise, a creature might take a lesson from this here yarn. Might learn somethin' how danger'll getcha most easy in your own backyard. Another might see in this story as how despite all 'pearances no one is ever truly helpless. Me, near as I can figure I jus' reckon as how women is the mos
The Pigeon and the Pheasants
The Pigeon and the Pheasants
Once there was a pigeon who wandered around a pheasant coop, looking for bits to eat. It noticed that every everyday the farmer would feed the birds and shoo him away. One day the pigeon thought, I'll pretend to be a pheasant and get as plump as them too! He found some old feathers, put them on, snuck into the coop and feasted heartily. A month later the farmer came out to collect some birds for dinner and selected the pigeon as well.
Don't envy a person for what you THINK they have.
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
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
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
Keep in Touch!
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