|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
ErodeAs a child I always had these ideas of my minder, that she had shrank with age, that age being an enigma but her doctor’s status within her past passed days kept her immortal I am sure. This pertained to her height, the assumption lay that in later years the internal framing of a person would significantly erode,such as water ebbs away at land, affecting their former, and tower worthy status.
To be honest I’m not too sure if that myth carries any weight, it is an unusual interest explanation and thought to have and unusualism from a child’s overimagination. Right up there with my back then, back in the day fantasy fate for the railway children but well I’m sure that one’s not too hard to guess now is it…
Old dearsThe wrinkle worms and warts, liver spots an’ dots lining about her face, crackin’ so the skeleton can eventually gnaw threw up bone bile in all its violent vile through ,the falcon nose you know and don’t love, grey, rat keg, knotted hair and dry lips. Long ragged black dress, rock n’ creak roll chair, peg with the lame legs we call her, swimming goggle like glasses, traces of chin hairs, one hat short of a witches craft costume…but who knows what the old dears knitting.
Nigh high, granny, old age, long past her prime dwarf,over one-hundred award no doubting it. On wreck rather than the mend which natural causes shall amend and I’ll be condemned for talking about her like this. Stubborn to our requests to put her in a home, take her off our hands she responds, “Home is where I already am”.
OdditiesIf they exist and if they play on your as pleasant things to you, do your oddities allow you, make your more open, more liberal, accepting of the stranger things the world has to offer up whether or not they interest you? Does your, is what I am saying, clashes with the conventional take on a certain strength, stronger power within you?
In my case it most certainly does so, I confirm that I conform to the notion that I as an oddity in itself am not in any place to judge other oddities indeed! For a hypocrite would that it me make. And that’s the interesting thing about weird, odd, we don’t take nearly as much issue with the enjoyments of those that call us out on being strange as we are….
DistantAs I witness the walk in, though do not respond in anger nor anger simply sigh at the invasive stupidity. The idea that even if you blocked or suggested they take several steps back their already on moronisity , battering ram march. I begin to think of how things go in my family , someone succumbs to the curse and then we all hate Christmas time or around then.
I wondered on the parting night, was I crying for her..or HER, I may never know, maybe it was for myself. Grandfather I here in the big MacArthur had a Japanese extra marital material perhaps a lover, somewhere out there the family strain hold Asian bloodline. I realize that we, my distant cousins must stop meeting like this, meeting at these funeral parlours on the only occasions we actually do so…and they are the closest of those who seem so far away…
Everything seems so distant be it by displacement, death and when it isn't it ends up too clos
OffenseWell isn’t it truly all well and good that you’ve gotten to that point that you can do as you like? However so intuned to the point of immune are you that you forget what offends others, makes you careless, you leak the horror that makes you happy because you can’t comprehend how sad it makes most people.
It may not offend you, but there are other people out there, best to stay, wait, regard, take care for your tongue in cases such as yours, play the quiet game and if not theres always the dying one,that can be arranged to. No one wants to hear what you have to share or say , so intuned with immune you’ve forgotten what it means to offend…that is your greatest offense of all…
a world without mirrorsThough many may see my face, in a world without mirrors, with reflective surfaces I would not be able to see my own self, I would be essentially nothing but to my own perceptions a faceless entity, blurred, blind to appearances. How then do I really look to other people? Can I trust them to tell the truth, will I want to hear it?
In a world where my face escapes me and it is the same for others, what do they feel? Do they feel the same as me? In a world where mirrors, reflective surfaces are not in service I suffer on. Some have become so desperate they have cheated the system and taken to using each other’s eyes to see themselves…it is an uncomfortable experience…
Bridge ClosedIn the city of spires
thrust upward through the body of cloud
a piercing spike of adrenalin,
as the wind fondly ruffles her hair,
doesn't stop her from jumping up.
Reaching to be seen or saved,
by a city that blinks and misses her -
a temporary peak on the skyline.
Doesn't stop her from slamming
into the steel slashes
of the trainline below.
Even the most beautiful places
to those blinded by the inside-out-agony
of breathing against their will.
The city of spires remember her
as the cause for a bridge closed
on a Sunday.
Poem for My 2nd Semester English Teacher(Short v.)You stapled these words to the page.
Like a modern day tyrant,
You denied them the little humanity
You trapped their souls into
And threw them to the curb,
I understand that certain things
Should be left Inhuman
But we even give hurricanes names.
You taught us to separate the person from the art,
But if the art is about that person, you can’t pull them apart
MaskShe wears a mask like it’s nothing.
Sometimes I forget it was made by demons.
I forget there’s a person living behind it.
FlamesThere are flames where
his head should be -
a poem left in the fireplace,
a dressing gown, a pipe,
forty pieces of silver.
This man promised you a winter
so warm and bountiful
spring would be ashamed.
He called you by name -
not the one that father knew
shoved under his bible.
But the one left behind
in the branches,
in the bucket of brambles,
and the columbines
buried at your feet.
Stones on the battlefield,
surrender in the grass.
What did his face
even look like behind the curtain,
counting those coins
and loosening the damp earth
from your shoes?
a love poemlike a dictionary ripe
with salted, sun spotted
words that emanate power
and splendor, i am unable
to describe you.
FriendshipFriendship is a tapestry
Woven through the years
With threads of joy and laughter
Happiness and tears
It's a work of art so priceless
It's shared by a precious few
Yet so easily created
By a loving friend like you
to nurse doe (whom we all know) i watched her
blood orange heart
cleanse and suture
old bullet wounds and
new bouts of lilacs,
lime, and blue
her alcohol and aloe
each one of us carries cemeteries beneath our skinyou are not the only one
to walk like there are
who looks both ways
before crossing the road
"knew a girl who";
you are alive
and you will experience
hurt, and you will
be so thankful
for every painful breath you take
because it's better than when
everything goes quiet
and all you feel is exhaustion.
there is more than just
one cold snap
before you enter
the winter of your life.
there are spells
of sadness and rage,
hate and denial
of all that you know
and all that you deserve;
and you are not the only one
to fight for everyday you are here,
alive and breathing
and striving to thrive
on such an unforgiving planet,
in such a world
that births emotional deserts
in its people;
you are not the only one
Antarctica eminenceMy dear Antarctica eminence, drifting on a frozen dewdrop how do you take your sugar? Is it prepared with pepper at its prominence? But for reason unknown nor circumstance that will not permit you it is claimed to be the death of you my liege, that there is no greater fear than the taste of what the unseen God would have you become, how it fills you with disgust that the sole reason for your creation…was an avatar for what could never be…a fool’s fantasy..
You are not you..in essence you are an offspring, of shoot of at least in part, a bizarre metaphor presented in horror of your creators deepest introspections. Given the goal that “he” desired for “himself” that you have buried under a campaign of blind hatred, my dear Antarc
what love is not.it was a s l o p p y first kiss where
my drunk lips fumbled against yours.
the dull thwack of my heart,
locked behind curved ribs
cleared my groggy brain,
clouded with lustful premonitions.
it was an e l e c t r i f y i n g first kiss where
you entwined your hands in my hair.
your mouth encompassed mine and
my breath became lost in the steady
of your chest.
it was a s h y first kiss where
i pulled away before you could explore.
your tongue grazed my teeth,
searching for a way past the ivory gates.
i dug my finger into the stubble along your jaw,
my nail lulling your carnal desires.
it was my first kiss with you.
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