|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The Green Zone at MidnightLike human teeth, the boots crunch
the throat-clear truck revving
to ship the soldiers completely elsewhere;
beyond the stucco sheet concrete
of the barricade, the dead heft
of ordnance underwater sound
scattering stars like dark shoals.
Searchlights detonate in the hot gloom.
They spill through the cobwebs of wires
and lie white on the sand, in pieces.
Dead NoteI slipped and wrote a poem
soft as old playing cards
the plastic snapped from the keyboard,
my finger pocking rubber like
a dead piano note; dust-breath.
Missing key, lone and ridiculous
as a Scrabble tile.
I slipped and wrote a poem
blunt as a hollowpoint.
The soft silt of flour on the keys,
globes of oil left jointed sinews
spelling sharp advice from the sweating
chocolate block, the slim kitkat
of the spacebar.
I slipped and wrote a poem
dead as stardust.
The thrum of typing through the letter mist,
insect clouds of occasional undressed
punctuation, crowded like yet-to-be-formed
letters failing to imagine the quiet indignity
of their shapes.
The CometWe stood shivering, my Dad and I, shrunk
under enormous arctic air, watching
the source of all tears spin silk into the stars.
Homeward bound, this mote-borne traveller;
pilgrim after warmth and light, a shattered vase
with nothing to end its fall, spilling glass dust
into a darkness larger than the fever-dreams of God.
Four thousand years ago, it lit the night
and saw the Akkadians scattered like dolls,
a forest of flags tattered in the chalk of moonlight;
urus turning the pages of the ocean;
the hundred-year pharaoh narrowing
rheumatic eyes at the first clear gleam of bronze.
You fall back into those millennia of night;
our planet turns, tilts us into darkness and dust.
Soweto StringsTremolo dusk. Sunlight rills cast
nets along the tigerstripe waist
dusted by ringlets of rosin smoke.
Protea's loose purple shade
sediments the honeyed brazilwood,
the heartache of acacia down in Soweto;
liquid boléro of heat. Zephyrs trill the aloe's
luthier curves, the purfling of matchbox houses.
Strings tuned to four crystal fifths, glazed
by the vibrato breeze.
RuinThis sluice of swamp,
weed-throttled and starred
by lilies mossed benches
lit by lichen like a night of fireworks
and the dregs of forgotten picnics
lost to sleep crumbs.
The gunfire of a diesel ticking over,
heaping sods of dry earth teeth
polished to a gleam of blue steel
by sparked stones.
Engines row against the earth,
snarling it with mesh and acetate,
pestling stone to powder under tangerine totems
riddled like the sides of bullet-flecked tanks
straining at their hydraulic sinew.
In the ruins where we
cricked our necks,
lost in the tent of shadows
where we strung candles and
the brambles still search
over sheaves of broken bricks.
But it won't Come OffHe is trying to wipe a stain from his spectacles.
His doe eyes are shallow pools black with bloom,
nodding from the glasses in his hand to the
bench's arpeggio score of faces.
The courtroom light cuts gems from the lenses
they squeal at the silk; he blinks deep as a frog,
huffing beads of breath on the cold glass.
A mote of dust caught from the cracked earth,
baked dry by how many summers cemented
by hot spit whipped in the oven air.
There is a cough, and he fumbles like a man
catching his dreams; his glasses lurch
like splinted birds and he clips them with a breath.
He is trying to wipe a stain from his spectacles.
They flash for an instant like rain-glazed windows:
a school filled with skulls, lined up like a jury,
teeth falling into their mouths like nuts.
Simple Girl Complicated ProblemsI know I am not the daughter you wanted
But at least you got it right the second time
My little sister found her place in your hearts
But I feel I have never really found mine
Why would you care to listen to your first born?
When you have a fresh blank canvas to create
All of those things that you wish I could have been
Had I not developed such negative traits
But those negative traits make me who I am
And shouldn't you love me without condition?
See my stubbornness as being strong minded
And when I talk, don’t interrupt just listen
I know I am not the daughter you wanted
I scowl but I still need your loving embrace
Though you barely acknowledge my existence
Apart from to tell me what I've done wrong today
But why would you ever want to talk to me
When an argument is never far away?
It’s the tone of your voice that hurts me the most
Rather than the words that you choose to say
To think I was once a baby in your arms
With such innocent eyes I could do no wrong
In many ways I
Little BirdLittle bird,
where have you flown?
how much have you grown?
How is your broken wing?
The one that I cared for,
that I put in a sling.
do you think of me
as I do you?
Do you wonder where I've gone,
what I've gone through?
do visit me again;
you've been the only one
I've ever loved;
my only true friend.
My Personal DevilHis kiss was that of fiery coal,
A peppermint-feel upon cracked lips.
His hands had gripped my soul —
Oh, the feel of ecstasy!
His eyes obtained the celestial sky
And were like the chilly arctic breeze.
There was no chance that I could deny
Such lively things…
His alabaster skin was so gentle, so smooth,
Mocking a similarity of mine as I awake at sunrise.
His touch had a way to soothe
The scorches upon my body…
My personal devil’s love was euphoria;
He had wrapped me in his hellish ways.
My body had been eaten away by chorea.
Yet, I crave his blaze.
Ignite me in the love you share!
Burn me with your singeing lips.
Show me how much you care!
Then drown me in your flickering flames.
His heated hands were placed upon my face.
His snakes spiraling up my legs.
Our lips were near a kiss, which he did not place,
And, instead, withdrew himself.
His deadly presence, his own personal darkness,
Was brightened by the sun.
I slowly awoke in emptiness
And lost my personal d
ParasiteWhen the day turns into night,
it begins, the everyday fight.
They begin to talk in my head.
If anybody found out they would tell me I’m mad.
I don’t know if the one who thinks is me.
Can’t these voices just let me be?
Speaking and confusing my thoughts.
For me these things are only frauds.
What if the things that I think are not mine?
Should I just lay here and whine?
I think they corrupted my soul.
No, maybe even my body as a whole.
This is the side of me that I have never shown.
At times like these it is dangerous to be alone.
My head feels like it’s blown off with dynamite.
I don’t know, maybe my brain is occupied by a parasite.
Peace is a lieHello there, why don’t we take a walk?
While we take a walk, I would really like to talk.
Did you ever asked yourself what is wrong with this world?
Why people are so screwed up in the head and their thoughts are twirled?
It is no secret that the world is at war.
And falling down are the masks that they wore.
Something in their heads seems to be broken.
Humanity is a monster and it has been woken.
When you think about it everything is a lie.
The only question you will have is: why?
Everyone is hoping for the big release.
But don’t be stupid, there is no peace.
Queen of NeverthenAtop the ashen bones, arrayed like thrones of Men
Sits none so dreary as the Queen of Neverthen
Great cobwebs, dust, and stolid, stale decay
Dead memories forgotten where they lay
A world, still and ever gray
That suffocates the ones who trespass in her den
Within a rotten skull, a fetid rat emerged
As swift as plague it bore and chittered as it surged
Low creaks and clatters sound akin to life
Its rodent teeth soon grinding like a knife
The Queen was happy with this strife
But nothing ever lasts save those who would be purged
Oppressive silence soon returns to her domain
Admiring her flock that she will never deign
A dull light shines behind their pallid masks
The company of corpses; all she asks
Falling StarsTwinkle, twinkle, the stars fall down
Down into the ocean, where we shall drown
Over and over until we awake
In a place, where we will break.
Your tears are the stars and your smile the sun
There is no happiness, for sorrow has begun.
Run, run, child! Run away now!
Please do not do this! Please do not allow —
Bang! Bang! The gun goes off.
So, child, let those stars takeoff.
No AirI never expected to love you.
I never expected to care.
I never thought you would be on my mind.
I never noticed if you were there.
I don't know when it started,
But I hope it never ends.
The way I feel with you tonight
Is more than I can comprehend.
And when you talk
about things that I don't know
I lose my mind a little.
But I love the way you glow
I can't help the butterflies
I can't concentrate when I'm with you
The truth is -- if I'm honest --
Sometimes I want to kiss you.
So maybe it's no secret,
And maybe you don't care,
But when I see you my heart beats fast
And suddenly there is no air.
Wind GrownQuiet grown
With green and ground
The ash and sound
Until the green has 'nother play
A wat'ry stream
Down with a tide
Across the beam
The first to know the last of one
Breath of space
Carved by your arm
A heady place
Awaits no harm
Because no eyes will watch or plea
Wind is wrapt
Around you braced
By time that kept
You wings misplaced
One cannot fly where wearies went
Height and breadth
Come with the stars
While nourished wealth
From flanks and far
The form is kept but not the brain
Stones will crack
Under your weight
Streams run black
The light you take
Unknown on high there's but your will
The path you made
Will flood and break
No more remained
Your flanks are slaked
Come back when you are broke and burned
Now hole refilled
Where life was held
The ash was forged
Until the wind the self will stay
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More