|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The History of the World in Eleven LinesTribalism, tribalism hip bang, bing -
us against them, babe,
that's the thing.
or be a bum,
grab the brass ring
don't let those fools get it -
they want to be our king
but we know we’re the chosen ones.
Let our righteousness sing.
Tribalism, tribalism, hip, bang, bing.
If I Really Answered Your QuestionHow am I, you ask -
do you really want to know?
and I don’t mind the wisdom,
and I don’t mind the experience,
and I don’t mind that I don’t look like a spring rose,
but I hate
losing people I love one by one,
not being able to do
things I once did,
the loss of precious once upon a times
that will never be recaptured.
feeling things fail in my body,
the daily pain,
the fear of this condition and that,
wearing out before I’m ready,
as I look into my husband’s eyes,
that time waits for none of us,
and a day will come
that I will not see the sun rise.
How am I, you ask -
tired and filled with doubt,
against the knowledge my sands
are running out
one by one,
so my grandchildren
may see their sunrises,
and that theirs will be many
and not like my nightmares
of what their tomorrows might bring.
How am I?
Anxious and determined
hopeful and sad,
and wishing I could escape
into one of my s
Words Upon an Early Autumn EveningLet us go then, you and I,
where the shadows touch the sky,
sunset shadows touch the sky,
a ruddy sunset of an evening -
early Autumn, barely breathing
with its changing of the time.
Look at the changing of the time
as tired Summer limps her dance,
routine motion, almost trance.
You can tell she's almost done,
you can tell she's nearly done,
letting go now, changing tone,
entering into that last, lone zone
of peach and apple, changing leaf,
peach and apple, trembling leaf
soon to sleep beneath the snow,
soon the Summer, she must go.
The Weed And I: A DialogueWeed, weed,
why are you so tall?
I’m looking for the sunshine,
so I can bloom before the fall.
your roots are very long.
You tug on me so often -
I need them to be strong.
you’re so bitter and so tough.
I have to be, or you’d eat me
and never get enough.
your seeds fly all around.
Preparing for the future
when I am not around.
will our battle ever cease?
Stop digging in my dirt, child.
Then we both can have some peace.
An Autumn PoemAh, Autumn,
tickling my memory
of days not so hot,
russet the season,
the last sweet warmth
into another time -
walk me lightly, Autumn
through the ebbing days
dancing like a fallen leaf
head to toe
in your cooling wind,
hold my hand,
your amber fingers wrapped tightly
about my own,
until winter’s chill grip
drags me into
that cold tomorrow.
CollapseWe stepped into Dystopia Land,
that midnight place
one bright September morning -
no doubt it was already coming,
yes, already we were on the brink,
do you remember that day
the lumbering dragon awoke,
twisted by the falling rubble
symbols of what we were
pancaked into smithereens.
the dust of our dreams,
tasting of fear,
the lost looking for those
they would never find again,
and we tasted the dust
of our perceived vulnerability,
that we too were open
to the dragon's bite.
For some, the dust
was opportunity -
looking with grim satisfaction
as the dust drenched the fleeing figure
stepping out of the collapse,
running from the chaos
so they could lock her in a cage
while the drumming band
played the tattoo
for the American ideal.
Thoughts While Bending Over In My GardenOh, evil grass,
creeping runner by runner
the landscape fabric,
through the pea gravel,
to mock me
as I bemoan
the need to bend down
scrape the gravel aside
and pull your roots
up and out,
where you snake across the pathways
my raised beds.
I bless the gods of the earth
that you are Fescue
and not Bermuda.
A Been Awake 15 Minutes PoemAnother day
and I wake up
six hours after I lay down,
to think poetic thoughts
and for some reason
free of most of my daily aches
Anglo-Scots fae folk
running through a story
if I should skip a day
reading the news,
when I know that’s a personal lie,
and whether there’s enough coffee
left in the coffee pot
to microwave up a cup,
or if I will have to
grind some more beans.
Soul MatesBetween dream and moon tides,
The light weaves a new day.
A first glimmer lights the darkness,
Where even still a shadow lay.
For ages swings a song
From star guardians into the world
And first diamonds glitter,
Where luminosity falls on the water.
The young morning is still hesitating,
Promising us hardly the return.
Still the night wraps up the life
And silently breathes the great sea.
Then … finally, the golden time calls.
Water marries to the light.
And shining our heart sways
Where sunshine breaks through waves.
The wind carries my soul
On its wings away from here
To green valleys, ocean lights,
To blue lakes, to you.
You are the life, you are the dream.
You are my soul and my light.
And when the day draws to a close again,
I will not forget you.
God My Constant CompanionPain is constant
Sickness is normal
Joy and happiness a burden
Ordeal of becoming old
Life became a misery
Through the pain and suffering I became closer to God
My thirst for His knowledge grows
My thoughts revolve around God and me
I fear not because God is with me
Only God, my constant companion, understands my plight
Only God comforts me with love,
knowledge and understanding
Only God, through Jesus’ blood sacrifice,
can free my soul and give me eternal peace
I praise God for all the blessings He has given me
Thank You GOD for the love You have given me
by E. W. Rantala/RocksRose - December 7, 2013
AlgizHer hair looked dark and tangled like tree branches as she stood at the moonlit clearing.
The creatures in the ground sang poems carved in runes in the bark of the evergreen pines.
The trees on the hills were adorned with Orion and her face was obscured by a veil of shadows.
She felt the bedrock crackle as it embraced the fire within the planet traveling in space.
Saplings quivered in the gale while the clear greys and evening blues melted together.
Shooting stars like sinking ships of light drew evanescent lines over the treetops.
An elk with the Pleiades in its eyes came from the woods as it heard her whisper.
It crossed frosty sedges with the shining streams of prayers hanging from its horns.
It wandered the cold earth and found buried sadness with every step of its hooves.
The uprooted human followed invisible tracks and sought answers in the soil.
Down on her knees on the frozen ground, her breath turned into clouds of vapor.
The Moon and the trees studied her in the embrace of th
The Angel who can't flyShe doesn't know how to live
without the constant fight to keep her head over water
The struggle is her Safeheaven
An Eden which
her fragile feet.
She can't touch without scarring
Still she yearns for a place to belong
an Utopia for angels
But her wings are to heavy to fly
when she spreads them she can
BetterPraises and prayers go out to You
Everything is Yours and has been Yours
From the heavens where Your throne stands on to the Earth below
You reign all, and yet You are better than all
You are better than all
Better than Your devoted servants to the animals of the world
Better than the Earth You made to the dust You used to bring life
Better than everything that You have made; the ultimate better
The only perfect and You will always exceed beyond our expectations
You exceed in the heavens beyond, and yet You can recreate from the ashes of hopelessness
You can move the mountains and make rivers flow
You can slip open the skies, and yet love with a loving heart
You are better than all
Better than the smartest men in the world with Your perfect wisdom
You know how to softly break us and yet still love
You know everything from the smallest creature to the depths of the human heart
You are better than all
You have all authority and sit on a throne of righteousness
You loved the sinners and b
A Dying old WomanHer skeletal remains left imprinted on the bed
bodily fluids of plasmatic yellow sugar cane
had stained through the sheets and into the frame
the vast wealth of her knowledge had been lost with age
the visage of shaking muscle tissue over bones wrapped in too much skin
was the only image imprinted on the land lord who came
he came and he knocked
and his nose hairs burned with the stench of what had remained
nothing left but empty veins
wire hair and bones saturated in dark decaying flesh
under the hot sun of a long summer day
her fingernails looked like wood chips burrowing from under the skin
her sunken yellow eyes glazed over life and sin
and anguish held from so deep inside...
it all seemed very innocent
until the grandchildren no longer came
until the siblings squabbed amongst themselves
as to who was responsible with what had remained
now there is nothing left to say
nothing left for the casket to lay open for all to see
because after the math what was left was a pile of old bones
MultiverseClinging desperately to reality the unknowable knows the gravity of what we do not see or perceive in this infinite sea of possibilities. Still grasping firm to discern as it yearns to learn to return to a time or place before being concerned with how to be reborn into a world it knows and is confirmed in and known in in turn. Entangled between fabrics of temporal mathematics and dogmatic moral fanatics in choral their horrible quarrel systematic in nature to cater their material god trapped static by a celestial equator in the erratic pre-protohistory of the arterial abroad of existence if not a mystery much greater, a fraud.
I think therefore I am yet am crammed into detention theres no mention of my creation and no attention to my nook between dimensions. You took a look in your history book but couldn't find the one between those binds about the mind of a man that god shook from his grand plan. To be or not to be is beyond me to understand, I am the meta-absentee the sages pretend
FreefallingI took the final step, away from Heaven
Leaped off the edge, close to the pearly gates
Salvation isn't for me, but I will know freedom
As I plunge feet first into the fire
No one can save me, I've made my choice
Breathless, I gaze at the beauty below me
For the first time I can feel some sort of happiness
No more pain, no regrets, a feeling of belonging
Knowing it will end only makes me savour it more
The sensation of total 'aloneness', without a need to share
Detached from everything, while feeling one with the world
Total enlightenment, light above and fire below
I close my eyes, ready to face my destiny
Trapped inside the flames for all eternity,
But I don't care, I will endure the hardships
Nothing can hurt me, because I ceased to exist
Wings Of ChangeProgress marched upon them,
New weapons and new skills,
And so a boy, terrified, ran,
To keep away their ills.
To a far off city,
He slowly found his way,
When lanterns like stars guided him
Unto a brand new day.
On the night he met her,
He told her of the change,
For he felt he was drowning,
And she’d keep things the same.
She said she would not help him,
For to obstruct all progress was
To never learn to fly.
But drowning he still was,
In changes uncontrolled,
Until some fins and gills he grew,
And swam into the gold.
StoriesIn the beginning
a voice cried in the nothingness,
and nothingness became,
then things went boom,
back to back those two,
creator and destroyer,
And breathing over the waters
the preserver wandered -
or so the stories go.
we weave them in in some form
creator, preserver, destroyer –
things last for a time,
things go boom.
How red the blood,
by lone drop
to scatter in the wind
as they weave their dance,
a seed to bloom to wither,
and then to seed.
Taking a deep breath,
I ponder how we weave the tales -
I think of Siddhartha
sitting by the river,
and those who wandered
across the desert,
and blood on a cross,
and Schrodinger’s cat
and the eyes of a dying woman.
Staring at the wasteland before me
I bat away the flickering shapes -
specters, ghosts, goblins
crawling in the midday heat -
their stories get old.
The sun feels good on my shoulders.
Thirsty, I take a deep drink.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More