|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
systemhe said that one day I,
who have grown accustomed
to accumulating moons,
drawn like moths
to my Venus-brightness,
would meet my match.
he told me I would be
captured by the brilliance
of a star,
a Betelgeuse, a behemoth:
supergiant turned supernova turned
supermassive black hole.
he informed me, peeking out
from under my gravity,
his erratic elliptical orbit,
that one day I would be
and that it would be poetic justice.
relapsethis, I think,
is the way that empires
there are sometimes
but I will not go out
in such an explosive fashion
my second death
is preceded by decline,
slow and inglorious;
erosion working its
upon my architecture.
the difference is this:
disaster is unprecedented.
it is a noble sort of way to fall,
at the hands of that which
you could not control.
but I am allowing myself
to crumble to dust.
the forces of entropy
have not strengthened:
I have simply stopped cobbling myself
will discover my ruins
bargainif you wanted me to,
I could be your muse:
paint your prose purple, prick
your metaphor ‘til it sang,
lure your ideas
into lurid, tragic urgency
and watch them take flight.
I could inspire
with the best of them,
spill words like oil
into your open mouth, empty
head: I could
make my poetry
could be a neurosurgeon
both possess a certain
dexterity of hand,
a delicacy with
(and love for) their
a joy in manipulating them
to create form
both can calm nerves,
with a swift and decided
twitch of a finger.
a question of enduranceI wonder if my heart
will ever grow tired
of its repetitive seizing,
will want more rest
than the scant pauses between
can afford it—
if I will be obliged
to draw it, glistening,
out of my chest, to
cradle it in my palm
like a bird, dark red and shuddering
in its wanton plumage—
if, when it is rested,
(its role in the mean time
having been supplied
by my opposite fist, or branches
of lungs, or sheer
force of will),
I will slip it back into its assigned
and feel it stutter into life again.
I wonder if the stain will remain
on my hand.
nothing like the sunit occurs to me
that I do not love you
as much as I should.
your voice is not
musical to me,
is not by far
my favourite sound:
I prefer the skeletal
tones of a harpsichord,
the rustling of the pages
of old books,
the wild clanging
of a projector
winding up its film.
nor do your eyes
hold for me
visions of the stars,
in all their fierce, deranged
intensity: I love the sight
of a massive, gaseous
more than that of your
the touch of your hands
sends me in no quixotic raptures
that the lazy fronds of a lily
or the crushed softness of velvet
skin is skin, and quite frankly,
I've felt better.
I have no such love
as is described by the
old poets, those masters
of drama and artifice;
I wonder if I am
incapable of it.
jamaisthe truth, as staunch and without ornament
as I can make it,
is that I did not want your love,
your voice rattling like the hoary whispers
your dreams (rustling like cattails
and half-extended to meet mine)
were as foreign to me
as moonlight, concealed
in its various robes.
your sucking fireflies,
neon mothish words meant to draw me in,
flurried uselessly about me.
but now that your attempted eloquence
is more akin to the wick of a lamp,
charred and drowning in oil,
I may vaguely nod my head.
ReddistBefore you, there were women
with full breasts,
breasts with perk tips and beneath them:
hips wide as my hand spread,
but never love.
Athenas before you,
my eyes only followed the apples;
and then, suddenly:
A wild brook unleashed
and I never knew I was a basin
meant to be filled.
A woman sewn
from the smile of Coyote,
from the same hands that bent time
and created life for a laugh-
the sweetest fruit; be my reddist-
I will love you madder
than a hatter and brasher than a miner.
Wilder for a gypsy.
I Didn't Buy CherriesI licked juice from your lips to your sandpaper chin
pungent as desire; our mouths and fingers
stained each other purple-red
until we stroked our bellies, satisfied
the ruby swell of promise out of season, nearly done.
ocean planetsRead aloud here.
and what immortal hand or eye could frame
the cities drowned in sharp, unspoken fears,
and sound the silent depths and dream to tame
their deepest of abyssal teeth. and years
will pass and years will follow down below.
and roaming jaws will take their prey and grin
and fear no cosmic consequence. they know
that blackened waves will hide the darkest sin.
no faith survives these godforsaken seas,
no faith can match the weight of death and space--
the snow of snuffed-out souls feeds this disease:
leaves leper scars on corpses doomed to waste,
and soft, with gentle hands it leads them down
He Found Me Before I Knew1
suddenly rain -
our reflection in the windshield
becomes a deluge
texting each other a renga -
on rain-soaked streets
home from work
he finds me on the bed
in a pile of warm laundry
between desires -
the children we were
in another life
finishing the fence
he smells of wood chips
from my dad's workshop
I connect constellations
of freckles on his shoulders
gray morning -
I open a melon
its green perfume
at the dining table
writing this haiku
the fridge faintly hums
You always tell me the same storyHe's in love with a scene from the winter
that occurs on a trip to Washington,
when the dark is constant and the trees jog
like legends alongside the highway;
as his eyes fall half-sleep but his senses remain
taut and vigilant, sweating on the wheel,
pitching nerve to the sound of branches cracking,
bristling under his wind-torn jacket;
the time of evening when the sunset rests
at its very highest, bright and sudden as Heaven,
an aureate glow around the birdsongs,
the stench of roadkill muted by a golden frost;
a taste of nirvana,
an instruction of faith,
the blatant existence of God,
lost as soon as he rounds the bend.
caring for p(o)etsscribbling down vicious verses on
tissue napkins while seated at
the corner of a sidewalk cafe is
about as romantic, raw and
honest a p(o)et
-outside of the four corners of your bedpost-
if you've got that person dreading over
drafts and dreams on end
-of you, for you-
consider yourself a new owner
it is now time to
tame this p(o)et's perverse mane
you've got your hands on
a fragile purebred
which can be very tricky for
My words are flightless birds Hey, is it okay now?
Is it alright to tell you how
I cannot eat,
I cannot sleep, I always,
Always want to weep
I look for you in lonely corners
Of bus-bus-busy streets;
You are nowhere to be found
Can you keep my secret?
I don't want to keep
Let me spill, shout it out
I long to know all you're about
I want to feel
Your steady gaze
Stuck on my skin
As I graze
Your lips with mine; I cannot find
My head, lost in a maze
I am unscrewed, feigning
My words are flightless
Heartbeats cause erratic echoes
In my rib-cage
Since God knows
When; I hum along
This broken song
Make me, break me
Love me till I cannot
Till all I taste
Sans you is bland
Love me while holding my hand
Tell me all I long to hear
Force me to see
How you fear
Losing me; Certainly,
Prove me wrong
Show me how men can love
I am mesmeri
summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?
you are crowthroated and tumbling
through the aspen grove
hair on fire with sunrise, lungs
full of sky.
eyelashes like wildflowers
and every morning brings
a new spray of freckles
and a sharper curve to your collarbones.
the cornfields hold no shadows
for your lighthouse eyes
and there are no endings in that
ii. you have grown
autumn finds you with broken ankles
leaning on an oak branch
and watching the skies.
crow to sparrow--you are quiet.
summergirl, there is peace in silence,
fallen antlers in your hands.
you will come to mourn your deer.
keep them close.
iii. by winter you have paled,
and like the streams
your eyes have frosted over.
you feel the chill--
there is no need for sight.
creamershe took her coffee black
like she took her
and her tongue has never soaked
in anything more acrimonious
than every past relationship
because she was drawn
to hurt that hurts
to coffee that scalds
to the caress of fire
across the roof of a hesitant
but welcoming mouth
always sipping impatient
for the taste behind the burn
all she meant with her cream spirit
was to sweeten and blend within them
till all was soft brown and
smooth as true love ought to be
but someone has to take the brunt of boldness
someone must temper the angry boiling bitter
so she poured herself into each and every
dead dog julyI.
the summer heat lays limp in the city’s lap,
breathing long oppressive breaths.
it does not even lift its lolling head
to bark out hoarse indignancy
when a strange man brings the mail.
there might be heavy rain today,
brought by some swollen, murmuring cloud.
the world will whirl and howl,
then settle down,
to die a little more.
o, quickly, love,
press your back against the wall in fear
as the universe spreads her arms and
shuts her eyes
and starts to summon the end of all things.
come with me
to the place of windows full of speechless afternoon
hot windy whispers of half-formed solutions and resolutions,
sweltering sunlit meadows we’ll wander and then forget.
o quickly, love,
let’s to the season of forgetting
and unwind all of our harshest memories
and fill the universe’s mouth
with mute cotton.
i’ll whisper these words to you some evening
with all my exigency in the hand i rest on your arm—
AndromedaAmongst the darkened skies
Brightened by only starlight
Field & Sea.
Gravity is only an afterthought
Hilltops become ladders into the sky while
Inferior planets stare down upon the Earth
Jealous of such simplicity yet contemplating grandeur.
Keppler only thought of science
Linear, elliptical, movement…
Mythology had no such thoughts
Neptune & Nebulas both inhabit space
Orbiting across the lonely darkness
Probably never worried about mundane things
Questioning their existence
Right now or for all eternity such as us.
Shooting stars make us joyful while
Terminator is an otherworldly spectacle
Unknown to all those hidden in their houses
Various stars await us outside
Waiting to play like we did before
Xenagogue & inviting
Youthful but ancient curiosities.
Zenith induced euphoria continues until daylight…
Transformers: We Came in WarTransformers: We Came in War
Setting: Sometime during the Bay films
Characters: Optimus Prime
We came to this planet because ours was gone.
The quest for power consumed our home. The need for domination destroyed us. Still we live, and yet there is a piece in each of us that has been decimated forever. We will never recover what we have lost.
I look down upon this planet, and I wonder why we try.
It is evident by now that we have lost the capacity for peace. War follows in our wake. We came to retrieve the AllSpark, which has long since been lost, and we are still here. All that came of attempting to revive our planet was the relocation of the war from our planet of death to this planet of life. There is so much life on this planet. All of it we have sworn to protect. This is the promise we have made to them. But the promise would not need to have been made if we had never co
Keep in Touch!
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